Category Archives: Strudel

My Brains Are Starting to Move, Too

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Strudel: I don’t feel good.

Me: Oh no. What’s wrong.

Strudel: My brains are starting to move.

Me: What? Show me.

Strudel: It hurts! My brains are starting to move!

Me: Where?

Strudel: (points to armpit) Here!

Me: WHUT.

Strudel has been banned off crayons for a few days as she colored all over the wall, fridge, table, and floor. I swear she just does it to make her sister have kittens. So last night our babysitter told me that she let her use crayons, and said that Strudel told her she was not banned. Apparently she began coloring and said a few minutes in, “Being banned off crayons sucks.”

Franny could barely form a grammatically correct sentence at almost three, poor little poodle. Franny was saying things like, “Her is a cat. MEOOOW.” Strudel asks about signs and writing on my shirt. Strudel is all new and Technicolor to me. They are SO different. Strudel is SO WEIRD.

Aftermafs

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It went well. I knew it would. Strudel is subtle with her little tippies, and Franny is kaboomy firecracka.

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They were so cute, NOM NOM NOMing their pancakes all colorful this morning.

Girl Sandwich and NYE

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So, I took the plunge this weekend and moved the kids into the same room together. What had held me back before was that Strudel was too young and then Strudel grew into a very light sleeper. Franny’s anxiety is affecting her, of course, but it is also affecting the whole family. This seems like the best thing for all of us.

Her mattress came yesterday and she slept on the floor on it last night. Mattress shopping was quite a trial. Companion, who when I met him was sleeping on a futon, had no idea how much mattresses actually cost. I was content with a budget one, as I always am. We priced out frames at IKEA to get an idea, but he had no idea a mattress would be more than a frame. Sometimes I have this weird feeling like I have dragged him into teh evil capitalist paradigm farther than he wanted to go. I couldn’t bear to take him into the fancy special room where mattresses cost as much as a liver transplant. I feel bad when his eyes bug out of his head.

They slept together last night, and I think they woke up a little too early, but did okay. Franny said she felt better being in a room with her sister. So we’ll see.

Yesterday we had friends over with their new baby, who is very cute and fun to hold. It’s a nice feeling, holding her. I feel like I’ve always been the one with the baby, the one who is struggling and being barfed on and trying to nurse while everyone else eats. I certainly wasn’t taking any satisfaction in their struggles–it was just nice to enjoy a baby. I also felt really good about coming to the end of reproducing. I thought that maybe the feeling of wanting more babies would never go away, and that I would just have to be reasonable and decide to shut off the baby faucet, but that I would always have secret regrets or yearning. But I don’t. What a relief. I feel so excited about other peoples’ babies. And also about sleeping for eight hours.

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The Late Shift

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Last night was restless. I heard Strudel shouting from the other room. I had that feeling like it was two-ish, because I was deeply groggy like I had been asleep for a while, and yet had not slept enough. She was shouting about a crazy man and sounded wide awake, so I popped in on her.

“There was a crazy man! And I want my mom and dad!” Strudel shouted, bug-eyed and sitting upright stiffly.

“Where was a crazy man?” I said.

“He was in your room, on one of your books,” she said.

I tried to think of which book was giving her the wigs. The cover of one of my magazines? Bill Buford’s vaguely Hitchcockian silhouette? A comic book?

“Pictures aren’t real, honey,” I said.

“I want to see my daddy.”

“Okay.”

“Tell him to go in here,” she said, as if I was a little stupid.

“Daddy’s asleep.”

“Please carry me, because I’m afraid of that crazy man.” Strudel held out her arms to me and I picked her up. She buried her face in my neck.

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Soy un Perdedor

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I have the Ronettes stuck in my head.

“Beee my, be my babeee!”

“Why you saying ‘baby,’ mom? Why you putting cheese in the mac and cheese?”

“Because that’s what goes in mac and cheese. Cheese.”

“Why you making me mac and cheese?”

“Because it’s lunchtime and….”

“Why’s that man outside doing that?”

“I don’t…see a man.”

“A squirrel! Why that a squirrel?”

“Well, because….”

“Why I have a heart sticker?”

“Because the library gives them….”

“Why there’s more noodles?”

“Why’s it raining?”

“Because god hates us.”

WOW! I finally finished a sentence. GO ME. NAPTIME!

Ah, same shit, different year.

Man, Fuck The Permit, I Know Where Ima Park Tonight

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1. I was pushing eggshells into the maw of the sink when I remembered: I had the most horrifying dream about my teeth last night. I was wandering around one of those doctor’s office complexes that are like rambling warrens.

Why do they do that? Why do they want patients to feel lost and overwhelmed? Is it sneaky psychological intimidation or dissatisfied architects who wish they were designing museums instead of medical-dental? Do doctors think they are giant bunnies?

ANYWAY. For some reason I stuck whitening strips on my teeth while I wandered around looking for my babydaddy, who was there somewhere in a room. Then a timer dinged and it was time to take the strips off. I pulled and pulled, but they were a little stuck.

My teeth started crumbling apart like some kind of fragile candy. It felt like the butt end of candy canes when you suck them down to slivers and they just snap off. I started spitting teeth out into my hand to see if any could be salvaged. There was a whole one with a root, but mostly they were brown and crumbling.

I looked into a mirror at my brown crackly nubs. “Have I always been this ugly?” I wondered to myself. I kept licking them, worried I was going to cut my tongue. I pushed a door open and walked outside and the light was blue, like the light is in the spring sometimes.

My ex drove by in his boat of a car. “Have you seen Franny?” I clapped my hand over my mouth, closed my fingers over my tooth fragments with my other hand, and shook my head. He chit-chatted with me for a few more minutes and then drove on.

Then, of course, I started to worry about where Franny was. I dropped my teeth and said, “Oh, well, I will deal with this later.” I began looking for her and I woke up.

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An ESL Rendition for the Mentally Ill

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PHOK YEAH. I made some pho. It wasn’t like a pho hut’s, which obviously gets a discount on liquid crack. But it was eatable.

It was pretty cool. I had Companion grill the onions and ginger whole on the barbecue first, per the instructions.

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Then it was peanut butter marrowbone time. I didn’t know what to expect. I always see these little guys in the store, jolly and glistening, so I didn’t expect the smell when I opened the package. I felt dizzy, like I was going to pass out or experience an unholy ascension or something. Marrow is godly cow butter.

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