Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son

Tuesday Tidbits


I know it’s Wednesday, I KNOW, but it feels like Tuesday because I barely managed to sleep.  You know that thing where you have a tiring day and you know the next day will be SUPER tiring, so you can’t fall asleep and then you inexplicably wake up at four a.m. and that’s just it?  That.

Today I drive up to Westchester for my usual classes, plus the biweekly student meetings, plus all the biweekly student meetings I would normally come up for on Thursday.  There was an error on the schedule and by the time I realized that, I had no childcare options for Thursday anymore.

Then I RUN to the car and pray for light traffic as I drive to a part of the city one should not drive to (the train has no chance to getting me there in time — in the old days I would have just said I couldn’t make it, which is perhaps what I should have done this time) and pay through the nose for parking so that I can pay through the nose for therapy.  This one does EMDR and said actually insightful things on the phone and was willing to talk about his methods and so on.  He is a friend of a smart friend, so I figure it’s worth a shot.  Then I realized after getting off the phone that I recognized his voice because of a spot on This American Life about testosterone.  Life in New York, I tell you what.

I contacted three potential therapists this time around, and they all got back to me: the power of the end of summer, I guess.  One was busy and recommended someone else.  One was this guy.  One, recommended by two friends, called me right back but got prickly when I asked about her methods. (“Could you tell me about your philosophy and methods?” “I believe people are a combination of identity and experience. More stuff along this lines.” “So, what kinds of methods would you use for someone like me?” “I think I just answered that.”)  She was otherwise nice, though, and gave me the names of two hypnotists she thought I should try.  Digging into all this stuff while teaching the history of asylums and mental health sects in the US gives me more patience for wacky ideas (mostly because reading all this stuff brings up uncomfortable truths about how psychiatry has and hasn’t changed), but I’m going to try contemporary woo for now.

Post-woo, it’s off to Brooklyn Heights, another unparkable neighborhood, where I hope to be able to shelve the car long enough to go rehearse the Bach Christmas Oratorio with the choir I joined last fall.  Here’s hoping listening to the first part in the car counts as practice.  Then home, at the only time of day it’s ever truly hard to find parking.

I am tired already.

Yesterday, or Tuesday Part One, the kids and I almost finished making a cold frame for our garden bed.  (We would have finished, too, if I hadn’t forgotten the screwdriver.)  The Bean has been wild to have one since last winter; someone in our building had wood scraps for free and someone else threw away a poster in a huge, plexiglass frame.  Jackalope only smacked her hands down into the wet finish of the wood twice.

Everyone was exhausted when we got home.  The Bean was a certified pain in the rear about dinner.  We’ve been having more full family meals, but this time I hadn’t made one (see: carpentry), so Sugar and I were pottering about during the exhausted wailings about how he just wanted to eat, which took the place of actually eating.  I had my back turned when there was a tremendous bang, followed by screaming.  Jackalope, flat on her back, on the floor behind her chair.  Much holding.  Much crying.  Eventually, ice cream for everyone.  When she had recovered enough to pause in her lamentations:

“I jump out chair.”

You don’t say.

Jackalope talks a lot now, by the way.  Mostly English words, but also a lot of “CAMIMI,” a word of her own devising that the Bean says means “excuse me.”  She also jumps off of a lot of things and can use her scooter (“ma goot”), inherited from The Bean, shockingly well.  She’s 20 months old.  Sometimes she throws her arms around me and says, ala Daniel Tiger, “I yike you just way y’are.”  She gets away with a lot that way.

Okay.  Time to get dressed.  In closing, I leave you with this, from a friend’s new tumblr you should really check out:
Oh, hell, the embed code isn’t working right.  Click through, will you?  I’ve got to get dressed.

6 thoughts on “Tuesday Tidbits

  1. What a long and busy day! I’m sorry today will be Tuesday, part two.

    My second child is also extra affectionate, and scary-good at physical activities at a young age. He got on his brother’s bike at 2 years old, and coasted down the driveway and turned the 90 degree corner onto the sidewalk without crashing. Meanwhile, I was running to him from two houses away, picturing him going into the street and getting hit by a car. (Our road is very not-busy, but a mother has infinite capacity for worrying.)

    Jackalope sounds adorable. I love that Bean translates for her.

  2. I was tired just reading about your day!

    Good luck with the new therapist. I don’t know if you know/read my friend Good Egg Hatched, but she is having similar troubles finding someone who takes insurance and approaches things in a helpful way. I hope you find a good match soon.

    Jackalope sounds adorable, and how lucky she is to have a big brother to translate for her.

    How is the Bean doing with school?

  3. It already sounds exhausting!
    SB is making every attempt to climb out of her high chair, too. I hope that therapist is worth his money. I don’t like it when people go all “I’m the expert here, don’t worry your pretty little head about it” on you.

  4. Good god–that is all rather epic. I’m sorry it has so be compressed into so little space, and only hope that means the rest of the space is emptier. AS IF. The cold frame is cool, and how delightfully repurposed its components are! Grow some cucumbers in there that a white rabbit can fall on. I am sorry you have to pay through the nose and exert yourself so intensely to get some help for your mind parts, but am pleased to hear you found someone you can tolerate, at least for now. (A while back I emailed the therapist I used to see in case she had recommendations in your area, and while she did, she was able to explain to me why the insurance thing is such a barrier. I was all naively like Why won’t anyone get back to my friend! It’s awful! And she was like therapists who take insurance get paid the same there that they do here in Cheaptown, and it’s just not sustainable. Which you knew but I did not, and only I record here in case anyone else is equally ignorant. Though I still think they are assholes for not getting back to you.)

  5. I love toddler language. Love it. This morning Sea was leaving for a short trip and Bingo kept calling her bag a “soup-case”. My heart!

    Finding a good therapist is cause for therapy itself. My insurance doesn’t cover any, so I’ve had to go through a workplace assistance plan thing that matches you up with somebody for short term counseling. Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who you’re assigned, and the therapists they have on their roster seem to be those who can’t get any other work. I’ve been going anyways, though, because sometimes just talking to ANYBODY can help… right?

  6. Hope you have had a good sing. We also meet on Wed evening, Mozart’s thing with the Kyrie piece at the moment, name escapes me. It’s so absorbing, isn’t it? Love that.

    Otherwise, great news on the therapist front. Hurrah! Great steps are taken. Fascinated to hear what EMDR is like if you feel comfortable telling.

    Really hope you sleeeeep tonight… (What a enraging swizz when there no child keeping you up, and you still can’t! Awful.)

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