Empty Yellow Box

I hardly saw the squeaker yesterday, because we spent the morning trying to get new PA driver's licenses, and we spent the afternoon at the movie theatre (saw Superman Returns, which was enjoyable but not spectacular).

The PA Department of Motor Vehicles was really an experience. I thought MD's MVA was bad, but now I have a new appreciation for their efficiency and excellent customer service. We waited in line for almost two hours at the DMV, and there were only 20 people ahead of us.

But the VERY BEST PART was when I stepped up to take the vision test. I wear contacts, and I don't have great vision, so I was already a little anxious about it. So I look into the device and am relieved when three nice yellow boxes, two of which contain clear, crisp letters, come into view. I read the six letters confidently.

The DMV guy says, "You only read six letters. There are nine."

Huh?

I'm staring at the boxes. The first box has three letters. The last box has three letters. The middle box is empty. Bright yellow and empty.

"The middle box is empty," I say.

"No, it's not," he replies.

"Yes, it is. I'm quite sure it's empty. I'm looking right at it."

"It's not empty. There are 9 letters."

"No, there aren't! I don't see 9 letters!"

"They're there."

"No, they're not!"

"Is there something wrong with your right eye?" he finally asks.

"No..." I say, but I shift a little and realize that I was angled ever so slightly, so that I wasn't looking in the viewer absolutely straight on, and I blink a few times, and suddenly three more numbers come into view in the middle box.

I am relieved. I feel like an idiot, but I am relieved. So I read them out loud, and he's shaking his head like he just can't believe this idiot woman. But he checked off that I'd passed, and I got my license.

I think he could have told me to be sure I was looking straight on, rather than leaving me to feel like I was in a Monty Python skit. I can't imagine that it's never happened to anyone else. But I did get my license, so it doesn't really matter.

Meanwhile, the squeaker was enjoying the morning with his Nana.

Two little squeaker stories:

1) He was crawling around on the floor recently, and when I asked what he was doing, he said he was being a glyptodon. I stared. A what?

My two-year old knows a word I've never heard?

So I ask him: "What's a glyptodon?"

And he replies: "It's an animal a little bit like an armadillo."

"Oh. OK." So I looked it up. And he was right. I was impressed.

2) My husband and I were sprawled on the floor, playing with blocks in the squeaker's room while the squeaker flitted around us and knocked them over. Suddenly, he climbed between us, and snuggled up. "This," he said, "is where [the squeaker] lives."

Yes, indeed.

Mama

The squeaker has this book called Leonardo the Terrible Monster. It's about a little monster who isn't scary. He's so discouraged about it that he spends lots of time researching the identity of the most scaredy-cat kid in the world so that he can scare SOMEONE. When he finds little Sam, he pops out at him and makes scary sounds, and sure enough, Sam cries. But then Sam explains that he's NOT crying because of Leonardo, but because of a whole host of reasons, including stuff his big brother did and because his tummy hurts.

The squeaker is interested in the references to the big brother. Since I'd like him to have -- and to want! -- a sibling, this book is not the greatest introduction to the brother/sister concept. After all, Sam's big brother is the cause of his woes. But in any case, it gave us a chance to talk about it. I asked the squeaker if he'd LIKE to have a brother or sister, and he said, "no" without hestitation. I asked why, and he said simply, "Because. Mama." I thought this was a pretty clear explanation. He clearly didn't mean "Because, mama." Mama -- time with mama, mama's attention, mama's love. Yikes.

The squeaker's newest object of fascination is fireflies. Before the deluge of the last few days, we were spending our evenings outside, catching fireflies and watching the squeaker pretend to zoom around like one. He's also excited about looking for bats, but right now, it's all about the fireflies.

Biting Butterflies

I started the new job yesterday. The night before, I hardly slept at all because I felt so anxious. It didn’t help that the squeaker was so sad to see me leave for work in the morning. He cried and clung to me, saying “Mama, stay home!”

But he survived, and I survived. I met lots of people with names I’ll never remember. And I got settled in my office, which sadly lacks a window – but at least it’s an actual office, with walls and a door. I spent a lot of my first day just sitting around, but I think I’ll have work to do today, which is good.

On the home front, the squeaker saw some bats the other night, which seemed to impress him greatly. I also let him run around in the yard a bit sans clothing. He seemed to find it amusing. Unfortunately, the skeeters did too – after just a few minutes, he had two little bites on his bottom! He gravely informed me that they were “butterfly bites.” I’ve told him several times that butterflies are nice, and that they don’t bite, but he is unpersuaded. In his mind, the butterflies got him. When other kids are out catching butterflies with a net, my kid will be the one trying to swat them.

Washcloth Whale

Since my last day of work (last Wednesday), the squeaker and I have been spending nearly ALL our time together. We nap together. We eat together. We sit in the yard together. We read books. We hang laundry on the line. We munch on cupcakes.

In fact, right now he's eating a cupcake and watching me suspiciously.

My last day of work was nice. I was really sad to say goodbye to my wonderful teammates. I'll miss having an easy job that paid lots of money. But I won't miss working with an office that takes itself so seriously. I'm excited about a job that is a little less ivory towerish.

The squeaker seems glad to have mama around. Yesterday we went to the zoo with nana and some aunties and an uncle and cousin. It was fun, but nana loves to break the rules, so the squeaker had ice cream for lunch and no nap.

No nap meant that at 8 pm, the squeaker fell apart in the bath tub, screaming in frustration because he couldn't get the washcloth into the shape of a whale. Yes, you read that right. Much kicking and screaming ensued. The washcloth was thrown from the tub. The squeaker was beside himself.

Today is calmer. No effort to sculpt towels into aquatic animals. May peace continue to reign.

Tidbits

I am suffering from blogging withdrawal. We finally have dial-up internet access at home, but we are not sure how usable it is, now that we've been spoiled with several years of cable internet access. What if I can't blog from work at my new job?!? How will I keep up with the blogs I love?

So some exciting things that have happened since last Wednesday:

1) I took the squeaker to Thursday morning storytime at the local library. He was the youngest kid there. The other kids kept calling him "the baby," which caused him to look around in a puzzled kind of way, as if he wondered where this "baby" they were all speaking of was. The storyteller handed out Smarties, which the squeaker took with enthusiasm. He popped one in his mouth just as the kids quieted and the story began, which was unfortunate because he immediately (and loudly) declared "I don't like it!" and spit it out. I had to discreetly smear Smartie residue into my purse under the watchful eye of the librarian. The squeaker was not really interested in storytime, so we went elsewhere in the tiny library to read together. Then we came back after the story to join the other kids in decorating paper fish. The squeaker found some cute girls to help him glue the scales onto his fish. He was very proud of his work.

2) The squeaker always seems to find cute girls when he is in need of a little help. He played on the indoor playground at Chick-Fil-A, but found he was too small to climb up the tube to get to the slide. He couldn't get from one stair to the next, and since it was inside a tube, we couldn't help him. Another boy his age -- who was much larger -- kept passing him, sliding down, and then passing him again as the squeaker struggled to climb. We could hear his little voice saying "I can't do it!!" But then this little girl with golden curls helped him reach each stair. He was happy and grateful.

3) The squeaker got a handful of splinters from falling on his cousins' deck. We had to pin him down and remove them with a needle and tweezers while he shrieked and sobbed "I don't like it!" With a little encouragement, he'll launch into a dramatic re-telling of the whole tale, from the spill on the deck to the M & M reward that soothed the wounds of surgery. Mama and papa are still recovering.

The house is still chaos, but it's better than it was. Sometimes I kind of long to go home -- back to my familiar, friendly house. But having outdoor space to run and play in is fabulous.

Bittersweet

Official word of my departure from my job has been shared in the office, and it feels very bittersweet. Yes, the people here are crazy lawyers who tend to suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder and various other personality disorders, but I suppose I've come to love them all the same. (Except for the ones who won't say "hi" or even make eye contact in the halls -- I hate that! I'm very shy, and yet I manage not to ignore co-workers.) Some have stopped to say goodbye or just to check out the real estate that is my window office; after all, my leaving re-opens fierce competition for a window office among personalities who tend to take life a little too seriously.

But while my emotions are mixed, I'm increasingly sure that it is time to go. I think I've outgrown my position here, and current promotion restrictions and policies mean that I can't really move up. Plus, the commute is really a killer. By the time I get home, I am grouchy and tired. And the squeaker, who has been forced to wait for mama longer than usual, is also grouchy and tired. In fact, Monday night was an awful, awful night. The squeaker was bratty and whiny, and I was not as patient as I should have been. That work would compromise my mothering breaks my heart. And yet the very act of being a working mother involves some compromise of both, like it or not. Sometimes it's easy to forget that, and then the reality of that compromise suddenly rears up and punches you in the nose -- suddenly, you have that sense that you've sacrificed too much of your child's happiness. Thank goodness I only have to do this for a few more days.

In any case, the stinky naughty Monday night squeaker was replaced with an admitttedly unfamiliar angel squeaker last night. He was sweet and cooperative all evening. We played in his new turtle sandbox and read books. He came inside willingly at dinnertime. And at the grocery store, he didn't fuss when I scooped him up in the middle of his careful effort to rearrange the little bags of potato chips. I hope he can hang in there for just a few more days of the evil commute. Then he will have his mama back.

Embarrassed

With all of the issues this country is facing, I'm irritated and embarrassed that the social conservatives' obsession with gay people continues to dominate the political agenda. A constitutional amendment to "protect marriage"? Give me a break. Why on earth would we want to add bigoted limitations on personal freedom to our founding document? Of course, even supporters of the amendment know its all a farce intended to get them political brownie points and to hurt the principled ones who refuse to play along with such small-minded idiocy.

Sheesh.

Anyway, on a related note, one of the best things about becoming a Pennsylvanian is the opportunity to vote against this loser. What an embarrassment to humanity. Can't wait to vote!!

New Neighbors

Our new neighbors stopped by to introduce themselves earlier this week. They are an elderly couple and have lived in the house next door since 1953. They brought us soup, which was very kind.

They also tried to sell us on the church services at the church next to our house. Our property actually used to belong to this couple, but they sold it to the church's pastor several decades ago so that he could build a house there. And now the couple's son is the pastor at the church. They told us the times of the service and Sunday school, and said that it is a very contemporary service that the young people like. We thanked them for the information. But maybe we weren't enthusiastic enough, because the woman then asked if we'd gone to church in our old neighborhood.

I told her we hadn't.

Of course, my brain was screaming "No church for this atheist! Ick!", but that would be rude and I was trying to be polite. In any case, it was very awkward. I don't know if they realized that their new neighbors are heathens -- and living in the pastor's old house, no less!! I guess church is a big thing in the area, especially for the older folks. I hope that doesn't mean we are destined to be strangers in a strange land.