Cold Spaghetti

About 48 hours after the bonk. See those black lines under her eyes, too? TOUGH COOKIE.

Jessica at Feministing.com posted about the V-Day events happening in New Orleans this weekend, which is great. But then she notes that none of the websites’ regular contributors could make it to the event, so she recruited outside of the area, and outside of the Gret Stet, actually, to liveblog the weekend.

What, are all the local feminists at French Quarter Fest and unavailable?

Did all the New Orleans’ feminists evacuate and not come back after Katrina?

Were there not enough Women’s Studies majors to chose from at Tulane?

What would have been wrong with the words of the thousands of women of New Orleans who will be attending the event?

And for those New Orleans’ women who won’t be attending due to their living in the poverty and isolation V-Day seeks to address, couldn’t feministing.com have offered to sponsor a few… in exchange for some words about the event?

V-Day is celebrated as an International call to the importance of Women’s Health; it is a performance piece that signifies a global movement. However, it is intentionally being done HERE, in NEW ORLEANS, featuring specific new monologues written about real women living HERE, because of the historical significance of our city’s history and what it has meant in the lives of the women of this place. This aspect of the event should not be overshadowed or forgotten. As is the case with any story of poverty and loss, the ones who suffer the most are women and children. New Orleans continues to be the poster child for both of these ills; these monologues have significance to how our city and our people will be remembered. Part of a global movement, yes, but RIGHT NOW signifying an important step in our recovery.

I understand why feministing.com may want to keep writers whom they know and trust to adhere to the kinds of writing the website wants to reflect (I love feministing.com, learn from the posts, and enjoy reading it … but yes, there was some criticism in that last sentence) — but within this context, I am disappointed that the website authors determined that bringing in an outsider was more important than finding someone local. Someone who could truly talk about the new monologues using both a feminist (or maybe ‘feministing’) lens AND the understanding of what it means for those pieces to be performed HERE.

No offense to the friendly youth coming in for the weekend to cover it. I’m sure her reflections will be thoughtful. But will she be able to comprehend what it means for the hundreds of women who have not yet returned and were brought back for the weekend’s events? Will she be able to capture the frustration, heartache, and loss that we in this place have come to recognize as daily aspects of life? Will she be able to contextualize how a monologue about ‘a woman in New Orleans’ can symbolize an entire city’s struggle for rebirth? No offense, but no. And if you can’t get that, well, you’re missing a HUGE part of what this weekend means.

UPDATE: Jessica has offered to include reflections from local women regarding the event on her website (see comments). Thanks!

I read somewhere that siblings have moments of conflict an average of 3 times every 10 minutes between ages 2 and 4, and that this number rises to roughly 4.3 times every 10 minutes between the ages of 4 and 7.

In my experience, this is complete nonsense. There is no such thing has a moment without conflict with siblings of ages 2-4. None. Even if I hogged tied both kids at opposite sides of the room, I know that Will could communicate “I’m not touching you” through ESP enough to make his sister whine, and that Kate could look hard enough at Will’s stuff to make him cry protectively over it. It’s like having to sadistic magnets drawn by forces they can’t understand and compelled to torture.

This is how it works.

Kate is sitting alone looking at a book. Will enters and begins to take over the book. Whining ensues.

M: “Will, please leave your sister alone. Kate please use your words.”

W/K (in unison): “But I want to read her this book.” / “NO WILL.”

M: “Will. Listen to what she is saying. Does she sound happy? She is trying to tell you to leave her alone. Kate. Please no whining. Use your words.”

W/K: “But… I want to read it to her.” / “AUUUUGHHHHH.”

M: “Will, why don’t you find a book that you can read to Kate after showers toni….”

Kate pulls book free and smacks Will on the head with it. There are screams. A papercut injury may have taken place. You have 1 second to react before the situation really falls apart: you address them together, make them each apologize, then lock them in closets for the rest of the day while you soak your head in a bottle of rum.

Another example.

Will is laying on the floor making paper airplanes. Kate walks over and sits on his head. He thinks this is great fun and the two start to roll around the floor. You stop taking tequila shots long enough to consider whether it is better to let them attempt to destroy each other (because you know that the ONLY way for this to end is with tears) or to intervene YET AGAIN in that annoying Mom way that you swore you’d never use when you became a parent. The same voice you used so terribly five minutes before. After considering the quandary for a minute, you realize that after a few more shots, you won’t hear the screams so clearly. You quicken the pace of your liquor.

I used to think that Paul constantly leaving his shirts inside out in the laundry would be the thing that pushed me over the brink of sanity. And while I die a little bit inside each time I find YET ANOTHER t-shirt that somehow did not right itself between removal and being thrown on the floor, I now know that what is really going to break me is a game of “MOMMMMM!! BUT SHE IS LOOKING AT ME!”

Thanks to a friend who happens to be a skilled plumber, Paul has learned a great deal about plumbing. With help, he fixed our problems, learned his mistakes (which were actually more about tools and equipment — apparently, his technique was good), and gathered up a few trade tricks. It made every bit of difference to have the help and I am on assignment for serious cookie-baking.

So, WE HAVE HOT WATER. AND LAUNDRY. WORKING TOGETHER. The shouting all caps somehow don’t reflect the true meaning of this in our lives. While soaking blackened socks in bleach water and Charlie’s Soap in the prep sink has been great fun, I’m thrilled to be able to make whites white again.

Paul painted the peak of the house the color we are currently considering painting the entire house. It’s a Benjamin Moore color called Yarmouth Blue. We’ll post pictures soon. We figured that even if we decided to go with a different shade, it would be close enough to this one that we could just leave them be different for awhile, since it’s in the back and no one would notice. (Can you believe that I didn’t even twitch when I typed that last sentence? That’s progress, people!)

The A/C guy is scheduled to come tomorrow and hook up one of the old compressors (it’s a 2-ton and apparently is undersized, but okay for now) and install the new compressor (which is a 3-ton unit that will supply the back of the house.) It’s not that we mind the fact that the house has been 85 degrees each evening this week… the temp isn’t the issue, it’s that we can’t get the humidity out of the air inside. Doors and drawers are swelling. Granted, we lived in situations much muggier and balmier than this with no electricity and no relief, without complaint, while I was hugely pregnant. But somehow, it feels hotter and more uncomfortable with kids around.

A tile artist is coming by to talk Sunday.

Monday, a drywall installer is coming to give an estimate. We found this guy through a woman I met online who offered advice months ago for various aspects of our renovation (I’d post an add to Craiglist looking for referrals/advice.) The drywaller is an IT-guy turned contractor and his name is Paul. Hmmm. I am mildly concerned that some sort of wrinkle occurred in time and that the guy who will walk through out door on Monday will be my husband Paul, about 5 years from now.

Insulation is being sprayed this coming Thursday.

Today, while Paul was under the house with our plumber friend, I ordered several thousands of dollars in plumbing and fixtures. This is with a generous discount. Valves, faucets, sinks, drain assemblies, shower heads, body sprays, trim kits, hoses, escutcheons, and more. It adds up FAST. Lead time for most of it is about a week, for the rest up to 28 days.

We’re using Cambria quartz composite for the countertops for the bathroom and laundry room. We picked the color for the bathroom and are close to one for the laundry.

We have a good idea what tile we’re going to use, in theory, but there is still a lot of time and thought required here.

—
We’re about to loose our Master Closet and half of the kids’ closet to the renovation for a few weeks. This means half of the closet space in our entire house is about to be lost. Things are actually going to get worse now before they get better. But at least we have a sense that they are going to get better!

Wanted: cheap lodging within a 3 hour radius of New Orleans. Preferably in a space where we do not increase the risk of disease exposure.
What: Paul needs us to clear out. He has a ton of work to get through so that A/C can be installed and we can be ready for insulation to be put in next week.
Where: We can’t stay in Mobile (it’s the Masters’ weekend) and the weather is going to be cold and overcast/rainy (go figure, after 6 weeks of gorgeous, perfect weather) so my plan to take the kids to the beach doesn’t make as much sense with a high of 74 on Saturday and 69 on Sunday. The money splurge only seems worth it if there is a beach involved.

Giardia test came back negative. Still waiting on a few other tests, though. Meanwhile, the symptoms linger in the afflicted of the household (although Kate’s could be related to her taking Amox).

Did I mention that Paul is unemployed a week from tomorrow?

Any suggestion on family health insurance to cover us for a few months (since COBRA will cost $1100+/month?)

Meanwhile, we hemorrhage funds as we bust tail to finish the back. (We planned for this financially, but the time to actually pick things out, get good deals, coordinate all the timing of deliveries, and figuring out how to make the time to get each step done before the next thing arrives… THIS is the challenge.)

I think this time in our lives is actually more stressful than those whirlwind two months when we… moved ourselves cross country, sold a house, rented, switched jobs, got married, sublet, bought a house, moved in, and were hospitalized for 4 days in a brand new city. All that? CAKEWALK. And it isn’t the job change or the money or any one big thing… it’s the fact that we both have so so so much going on and so so so much to do that it is paralyzing.

Before the sun came up this morning, Paul was awake. In the bathroom. Without giving away specifics, I think that our giardia concerns are well founded.

He woke me up a little after 7am, Will was awake and singing in the front, but Kate was surprisingly still sound asleep. This is all highly unusual. I made the beds, got out clothes for the kids, picked up a stirring Kate, made breakfast for everyone, and started making lunches. Paul was enjoying a few minutes of sleep on the couch and I wanted him to get in as much rest as he could.

Until, at 7:53, I saw that it was Will’s snack day. Damn.

Paul threw on clothes and walked up to Whole Foods (they open at 8). He came back a little later than expected because Salma Hayek was there (she’s in town for the V-Day to the 10th performances tomorrow night). When he does get back, he comes equipped with proscuitto and french bread*: we made 30 tiny proscuitto and cream cheese sandwiches on french bread, with grapes and cereal bars (bringing snack means both morning and afternoon snack). We finished lunches. This is between trips to the bathroom for Paul and me disinfecting everything around each of us every 30 seconds. Finally, at 10 minutes to 9, 45 minutes late, Paul and the kids are ready… and I notice Kate’s poop. Big. Loose. Poop.

Six minutes later they are out the door and I am washing everything with bleach water. (Have I sung my praises for bleach lately? Maybe it’s my inner epidemiologist — or maybe my inner parasitologist? — but I could not live without El Cloro.)

—
* For the record, I would have never, ever, thought of this. The sandwiches are beautiful, delicious, easy, and practically gourmet! Serious props to Dad on this one!

Will has been complaining of having “gas in his belly” for a few weeks. Other symptoms… complaining of tummy pain (‘gas in my belly’), diarrhea for days, disinterest in food… made us worry enough that we spoke off and on about taking him to the doctor. Finally, when he complained of his ear “popping” (Will-speak for ‘ear infection’), and then spiked a scary-high fever Sunday night to emphasize the point, we took him in.

He’s on Amoxcil for the ear. I relented, since he no longer requires torture to take medicine. (Guilty Mom admits: I thought it’d help with Kate’s medicine taking. It has, so I feel validated… but still guilty.)

We talked about the tummy stuff, too, with the pediatrician. It seemed timely since he’d thrown up that morning after spiking yet another fever. I was a bit nervous about the possibilities and had to suppress my inward groan when she said, “do you think it’s giardia?”

Yeah, actually, I do.

Although his symptoms may be falling off. It took three days to get enough poop sampled to fill the three vials for the lab. They were big vials. Will had to inform us when he needed to poop and I lined the toilet with aluminum foil at the back with instructions of what to do where. He seemed a bit disappointed tonight, when I told him we no longer needed to collect ‘specimens.’

“Oh, well,” he said. “Maybe next time.”

—
Another note. I saw my primary care doc for a follow-up yesterday morning and mentioned that giardia could be in our house. (Paul has been showing symptoms, too. Maybe Kate and I as well, although with me, I tend to have to be explosively bleeding internally before I even suspect something is amiss.) She was adamant that none of us could have this… we’d be sick, sick, sick… vomiting, diarrhea constantly, etc. “Really?” I said, “I thought that you could carry it and not even have symptoms?” “No way,” she said, “you’d be really, really sick. You wouldn’t be able to be up and around like this at all.” “Okay,” I said, “I must have misremembered.” I was still wary, based on my conversation with the pediatrician. So I checked it out. According to the CDC, I was right. Damn. I like this doctor and don’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding another. I don’t expect anyone to be 100% all the time, but now I’ll carry doubt.

Improv Everywhere is a theatre group who insert performance into regular life… depending on your view, it can be hilarious, annoying, eye-catching, surprising, or maybe even creepy? I think it’s brilliant.

Their most recent performance was making a Little League game a Big League event… with professional announcers, blimp, free snacks from vendors, and of course, plenty of fans. Watch the video before you read the glowing and thankful comments from parents, though. I didn’t and ended up having to reach for the Kleenex.

Better copy available on the Improv Everyday website.

Someday, maybe someday soon, one of the kids is going to ask us, “what is love?” We’re ready for it now.

LOVE is what arrived on our doorsteps this morning. Completely unexpectedly. Totally out of the blue. Without any hint of warning. LOVE.
That’s right. Julie sent us GARRETT’S POPCORN. She loves us THAT MUCH.

We are glad to share the love with others … you just have to get to our house soon.

(Thank you, Julie!!)