2 terrible hours

"He's done with the copy machine, but it still says he has .40 on it."
"Ok, I'll just push the return coin button..."
"Oh, you can do that?"
"Yeah, but it'll spit out the money whenever it feels like it." *push push push*
40 seconds later - *ching ching ching*
"Here you go sir, it even gave you an extra 5 cents."
"Whoa, girl, that's better than McDonalds!"

?


The Saturday that aged us 2 years.

In the mall bookstore, noon. 10 feet away from Gavin, spent one minute looking at books two shelves over. Turned to get Gavin from the children's section, found an empty seat and no child. Searched aisles, no child. Ran outside, scanned crowd, no child. Searched book store again, and again. Asked cashiers. Split up, Mike reporting to security and me running back into every store we had visited. Checked bathrooms. Asked cashiers. Ran to car. Ran to bus stops. No child. Ran back to security desk, Mike pacing with baby and no child. Described boy for tenth time; orange slippers, jean shorts, black shirt, shoulder-length brown hair, looks like a girl. Panic setting in, ran to play area, arcade, toy store, candy store, no child. Shuffling hobos and shifty-eyed men stood out in vision, families blurring into soundless colors, distant sirens causing visions of hit-and-runs. Time bent into endless loop of distress. Legs cramping, sweaty, I took the baby from Mike and stood vigil while he set off into the crowd. Security guard lifted radio to mouth and started running. Information woman appeared suddenly in front of me with walkie-talkie, "We may be on to something." Security guard appeared at upstairs railing and grinned, thumbs-up. Gavin stood by his side, nonchalant. Fear collapsed into relieved anger. "He was in Game Stop." "Mom, I saw a Lego Indiana Jones game! Can I -" "NO."

Yes, after all our talks about safety, kidnapping, and how to ask for help, Gavin had gotten up, wandered from the store, gone up the escalator, walked across the mall, and into the video game store (which we had never been in before). Trembling, we sat at the courtyard fountain and looked at the time. 2:22. Gah. More than 2 HOURS of horrors.

Frazzled, we set off to finish our errands; were stranded in Walmart while the car got new tires. Ate at the in-store McDonalds, a very sad thing. Crowd was stressful. Went to Krispy Kreme to alleviate stress before 2-hour drive home in the dark. Leif's diaper sprung a leak and pee ran down my arm and onto the floor. Wiped the floor with napkins while Mike changed the baby. Bought donut holes and a KK shirt for Gavin and tried to relax by the donut conveyor belt. Admired my happy baby, accidentally poked him in the eye, left store with screaming infant. Feeling terrible about hurting my baby, tried to kiss him and accidentally knocked his head off my tooth. Joined baby in crying. Mike took infant and pressed my head to his shoulder. Gavin hugged my legs.

What a terrible day.

Sunday was a day of healing; called mom, cleaned house to celtic music, baked cookies, drank tea, knitted with baby sleeping on chest, made chicken francais, poured a bottle of moscato into Mike, bathed and got the kids to bed early, watched Bones, went to bed.

Dreamed of people long gone.

And on the plus side, I lost 3 pounds over the weekend. That's for 2 hours of running laps in the mall.

Monday. Drinking fennel tea to boost milks. Sleepy.

Knitting notes

Plea for reason: people, I beg you - do not model knitted hats on doll heads. It is very creepy and does not count as an "action shot". Unless the doll is being thrown from a window. Which it should be.

Drinking game: watch all 7 seasons of Buffy and have a beer every time a character wears a hand-knitted sweater. Extra points for spotting the background extras in the previous season's garments (yeah, I noticed when Anya was wearing that beige turtleneck in season 4 that Buffy wore in season 3). Someone had a sweet commission as knitter to the Slayer.


Reading: Handknit Holidays, Stop in the Name of Pants, and some reference books about chickens and pug dogs for illustrations. Halfway considering getting a pug dog just because they are so funny and ugly. That used to be how I bought shoes, though, and that resulted in the green-tennis-ball-fuzz-shoe incident of 1998. So maybe not.


Oh, and unrelated to anything - this morning I pulled on a pair of jeans and couldn't get them buttoned before realizing they were Mike's. This might not sound like a good thing, but it is; Mike is a slender guy, so the fact that I could fit my legs and butt into them is amazing. I might not be losing weight as fast as I'd like, but my body is still changing back into a normal shape. Still, it's damn annoying to weigh the same as him and be pudgy while he can be all slim.

rainy October

5 days on Oahu. Drove car onto ferry, ate nachos, did not see any whales. Gavin spent the ride pretending to be a zombie and getting shot by another child. Went to street fair, watched fire thrower twirl burning batons and then burn himself laying on hot pavement in cruel bit of irony. Was ungraciously greeted by RSCDS after more than a year away; "You're late! Where's your mother?" Knitted half a cardigan while listening to my mom's stories and drinking tea. Yelled at Mike for staying out late drinking at a 4-year-old's birthday party. Bought green girly shoes that match everything and nothing. Was defeated in Battle of the Overalls; spent years sneaky-like throwing out my mom's overalls. Mom spent years sneaky-like hiding her overalls from me. This time she found the only size 6 overalls on the island, bought them for Gavin, and dressed him as her twin. Giant toddler twins. I quit. Discovered that our return ferry home didn't sail when we thought it did - stranded extra day. Was yelled at by Superferry manager and stranded another day. (paperwork problem = their error. Am mentally writing complaint letter against manager, wondering if "ham beast" would work as identification in lieu of name.) Mike used logic to deduce that stranded-ness meant he needed to purchase a flat-screen tv. Left a sausage on the Pali lookout. Hunted for wine based on very fuzzy recollections of a sympathy bottle given to me and consumed in one sitting during the peak of my pain and heartbreak in November '06; it was red, in a dark bottle, with a low-sitting beige label with no fancy logo/name. Surprising how few wines actually meet all those criteria. We speculated that the friends who gave it to me probably shopped at Costco, and ha - it was found! Then we left it at my mom's, so we still don't know what it was. But it's at Costco, in the aforementioned bottle, costs $9.99, and is nice. Woke up at 4am for the second day in a row, stuffed obese cat in carrier, left eldest child with grandmother, drove across Oahu, rode on boat for 3 hours, drove 2 hours home with screaming infant, and went straight to work until 7pm. Not recommended. Gained 4 pounds. Lost 2 pounds.  

Death by Cute Mother dropped off child and superfluous kitten in Kahului yesterday. While the man went to pick them up, I stayed home and spent the day knitting with a baby sleeping on my chest and watching Carnivale with a cup of tea and the cat snoozing in a patch of sunlight. Mike arrived home with half the meat department of Costco. Gavin ran for his computer games, the kitten streaked through the house like she had on a jet pack. After hours of her savaging my ankles, I put away the dinner leftovers and suddenly found the house peaceful. Ah, she must have finally found a place to nap! I thought. No, she did not. Detecting a faint wail, I ran into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and out she popped. Fantastic, one day with the kitten and I've already closed her into the fridge. She thought that was the greatest thing in the world, and now I have to wrestle her out of the fruit drawers every time I get something from the fridge. By bedtime, the kitten (originally named Cece, then Zeze, then Intarsia, and now Sookie) was ready to curl up and suck on my earlobes  (gross) while I nursed Leif to sleep. Somewhere around 3am I woke with the alarmed notion that something was terribly wrong with the baby, and looked down to see that, no, he had not transformed into a fanged demon child; Sookie was trying to worm her way between Leif's mouth and my breast, and was flipping back and forth, chewing on my boob and using the baby's head as a scratching post. I tossed her onto Mike and we went back to sleep. About an hour later, in a sort of zombie half-sleep, I distinctly heard someone calling my name, twice, in a "wake up and come here" tone, and I jerked awake to discover that the house was quiet and dark and asleep. I later asked Mike if that had ever happened to him, and he said no, but I said that it happened to Kermit the Frog, and he did not seem to think this made things better. Finally, too early, the kitten and the baby woke up for the day and were adorable. I explained that 5:30am was no time for cute, but they did not listen.

   

Tired.