girlfiend

Over the past few weeks the Fiendling’s “shared” peaches and nectarines with us. He mostly just grabbed them with his hands and sucked on them, but I’m fairly sure he actually swallowed a good amount of peach one day. Tonight, for no reason other than because I felt like it, and I wanted to eat dinner without a fussing baby, I mashed up some avocado, put it on his tray, and let him go to town. He ate a small portion and smeared the rest of it on his shirt.

I let him feed himself, except when he threw the spoon on the ground, I picked it up off the floor, scooped up a teeny-tiny bit of avocado, and put the spoon in his mouth. He made a face, then swallowed. Boyfiend didn’t realize babies have small mouths and accidentally gave him way too big of a spoonful. After spitting it out and making a very, very unhappy face, the Fiendling went back to smearing avocado up his nose.

After dinner, Boyfiend interviewed the Fiendling about his experience.

When I was little I loved Kids Incorporated (K-I-D-S!) and Rags to Riches. I was also a huge fan of Parker Lewis Can’t Lose. There was a short -lived series called Spencer that I enjoyed, though I may have been the only one. Voyagers! was another of my favorites. I sometimes watched it twice in a row on two different channels. I had a bizarre crush on Meeno Peluce, who I later learned was Soleil Moon Frye’s brother. Speaking of Soleil, I was also an avid Punky Brewster watcher, though I couldn’t stand the animated series. It was on Sundays, either right before or right after Silver Spoons, another 80s classic.

I’m sure they were all terrible, but I loved them nonetheless. Except maybe Parker Lewis. I was older then, and I’m pretty sure it was good-good, not just little kid good. I wonder what crap shows the Fiendling will enjoy and inflict upon me.

It’s official. Boyfiend’s back at work and summer is over. I’m really going to miss having him around.

After the funeral last week we stopped at Bushkill Falls to improve our moods and enjoy “nature.” Nature is in quotes because Bushkill Falls is not advertised as the Niagara of Pennsylvania because of the beautiful, scenic waterfalls, but because of that fact that it’s a crowded, overpriced tourist trap. The “nature center” was little more than a hot, stuffy room crowded with stuffed animals. Not the cute, cuddly kind, the beady-eyed, once-living-now-dead kind. My favorite was the dead fox with the even deader rabbit in it’s mouth. After handing our tickets to the collecter we looked at the map and chose the long route, the 2 and a half hour red trail that’s advertised as being for serious hikers only. We had an infant with us, and I had to stop several times to get my coughing fits under control, but I’m pretty sure that 2.5 hour route didn’t take us much longer than an hour to complete.

Many of the other tourists were orthodox Jews with the wigs and the beards and the talles (tallises? tallet?) hanging out of their shirts, and because we were in the middle of nowhere, where I didn’t even know that had Jews I kept wanting to stop and say, “Hi. I’m Jewish too. ” But Orthodox Jews aren’t so much into talking to strangers, especially the menfolk who aren’t supposed to look me in the eye, so I kept my enthusiasm to myself. It was a good time, but oddly disconnected to nature with the stairs and the crowds, and I’m sure the waterfalls are more impressive in the spring, as water in Pennsylvania is usually pretty low by the end of the summer. Nonetheless, we were inspired by our post-funeral outing and decided to take another roadtrip.

We left Sunday morning and headed to Hazleton, PA to visit with Boyfiend’s great-uncle for a bit before reaching Pottsville, our final destination where we planned to visit the Yuengling brewery and nearby Hawk Mountain. We got to the hotel in the late afternoon, hung out for a while, then had dinner at the Dutch Kitchen in Frackville. The Dutch Kitchen was basically Cracker Barrel without the chicken fried steak. Boyfiend wanted to order the croquettes and the waitress told him, “No. You don’t want them.” Boyfiend told her he did, but she said, “No. They’re dry. Get anything else on the menu, but not the croquettes.” I pointed to the description on the menu that proclaimed them moist and delicious, but she informed us the menu was wrong, so he ordered the sausage instead. We went back to the hotel after dinner, swam in the indoor pool, then retired to our room for the night.

Boyfiend’s big plan for the following day was to do the brewery tour in the morning, eat lunch in Pottsville, go back to the hotel for swimming in the afternoon, then return to Pottsville for dinner. The brewery tour was surprisingly fun, but kind of bizarre at the same time. As you walk through the brewery you’re actually walking through the brewery. People are working around you and there’s beer being made where you stand. The last stop on the tour is the bar where everyone’s given two samples. They serve the children and non-drinkers birch beer first, then they serve the real beer drinkers. I had the Premium and the Black and Tan. It was nice to get a free drink (the entire tour is free) but the samples weren’t especially exciting because when we have beer in the house it’s usually Yuengling anyway.

After the tour we drove up the hill to where the mansions are and walked around a bit then headed back into town for lunch. Boyfiend unfortunately didn’t realize Pottsville has absolutely nothing going on. The two main streets had some businesses open and a few delis and pizza joints, but the only decent restaurant was closed and the bars, which I’d imagine were smoky, didn’t open until after lunch anyway. We ended up at Roma Pizza, which was pretty good, but the Fiendling was all sorts of cranky so we left before I got to finish my sandwich.

Since we’d seen all that downtown Pottsville had to offer, we decided to go to Knoebels for the afternoon. That place is amazing. I have never been to such a family friendly amusement park. Because we were traveling with the Fiendling, we weren’t really able to take advantage of the rides, but admission was free, parking was free, and most rides were priced at under a dollar. They have an enormous pool, and the biggest wooden roller coaster in PA, which costs only $1.80 to ride. It was such a refreshing change from Great Adventure, where you have to wait in line for two hours to get on a roller coaster. Walking through the park is like stepping back in time. I don’t think I’ll ever go to Dorney or Hershey or Six Flags again after spending a few hours at Knoebels. Check out the website. It’s awesome.

Tuesday we went to Hawk Mountain Sanctuary for a hike. It was lovely. We hiked up to the North lookout which had panoramic views of close to 70 miles, and took the escarpment trail back. When we chose that particular route we were unaware that escarpment basically means steep and rocky. We were bouldering with the baby in a backpack. Probably not what the makers of the backpack intended, but it was a lovely afternoon. In fact, the whole trip was lovely.

This Sunday we’ll be pressing our traveling luck by heading back to the shore. It will be our last trip of the summer. I’m feeling nostalgic for the summer already.

I’ve been a wreck lately, and for once it’s physical as well as emotional. In the past few weeks, in addition to the sad, sad funeral I attended, I’ve had bronchitis that wouldn’t go away, a suspicious mole removed, and last night I had a slight fever and a sore breast which better not be mastitis waiting to happen. Because the bronchitis made me cough up chunks whenever I exerted myself, I haven’t been to the gym in two weeks so I feel like a slug on top of everything else. Blah.

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Originally uploaded by sireia.

Speaking of blah, the Fiendling has been learning all sorts of new things these days. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that he’s been sitting unsupported for the past month and he’s starting to pull himself up a bit, though thankfully he’s only figured out one leg, not both. I’m not at all ready for full-blown mobility. He’s also added blowing raspberries and a number of new sounds to his cute baby repetoire. Now when he cries he doesn’t just make a sad baby coughing sound. He says, “Mama. Mama. Mama,” with tears running down his face which is heartbreaking. Luckily he also says “mama” when he’s happy and when he’s looking straight at his dad, so I know he’s not really calling my name. The other new sound of note is his “bwah” sound. He babbles, “bwah bwah bwah bwah bwah,” which ends up sounding like, “blah blah blah blah blah.” He’s so cute it kills me.

Here are the photo requests from S and GinaMarcela. (Erin, the one baby thing I could not live without isn’t quite a baby item, it’s the king-sized bed. The picture is here. But I suppose our stroller is a close second.)

The Fiendling’s favorite book doubles as a chew toy. It has crinkly pages as well as a squeaky page. The Fiendling never seems to get sick of One Sunny Day, though he spends more time chewing on it than reading it. It’s a counting book in English, Spanish and French. The ending, five, is predictable.

This is the playmat, the Fiendling’s most used play item. Just recently I noticed how odd it is. On the top left we have a rabbit waving hello, who’s inexplicably wearing a bowtie and buttons down his fur. He’s next to a lizard (that looks just like a frog) wearing bifocals and holding a feather quill. I suppose he’s the smart one of the bunch. On the right is a cow wearing her bell with her hands on hips. I like that her tail has made it’s way into the lizard’s box.

In the next row is an Elephant wearing a fez. I suppose the elephant is Moroccan, or perhaps he’s a fan of Matt Groening’s Akbar and Jeff.In the middle we have a happy sun with the words “Animal Friends.” Why they’ve chosen a smiliing sunshine for this center square, I do not know. Next to the sun is a duck. The duck, who looks as though he may be homosexual, is wearing nothing but his duck suit.

On the bottom right is a male cardinal. Like the duck, he’s not wearing anything but feathers. Perhaps it’s an avian thing. Next to the cardinal is a cat with a collar, who does not seem interested in hunting the bird or the mouse on his right. His lack of interest in hunting could be because he doesn’t recognize that she’s a mouse. She is holding binoculars and wearing pigtails and overalls. If it weren’t for the whiskers and the fact that she’s labeled “mouse” I wouldn’t be sure what she was either. I like that the bow on her tail matches the bows on the pigtails in her hair. She’s a very well dressed mouse.

These are the Fiendling’s toys. Many of them spend most of their days hanging from the playmat. from the top, then each row from left to right, favorites in bold

Picture of himself- he adores looking at pictures of handsome babies
Blue puppy dog- a favorite. The tail and ears fit perfectly in his mouth

Dog, cat, pig- From the playmat. On the back of each disc is a picture of the real thing with the names in English, Spanish and French, Hand with rings- an excellent teether. Windchime lion- he likes chewing on this one, and loves the crinkly mane but he’s not too into the sound, ladybug rattle- from the playmat, Squeaky bird- he loves, loves, loves the squeaky bird

Joshua giraffe- from another playmat thing, squeaky duck- just like the squeaky bird he loves this thing, Baby Einstein musical rattle- I hate the song, but he loves this toy. Frog rattle- there’s a mirror on the back and it makes an annoying frog noise when you press on the top. I hate it, he loves it. Are you sensing a noisy toy theme here? I think that swirly one on the right is called a giggle ball. It’s big and good to chew on.

A rattle with shapes, circular rattle- good teether, Whoozit- a favorite, frog rattle/teether- usually hangs on the stroller to keep him occupied during long walks. It has a little mirror in it, Dragonfly teether- incredibly annoying. It lights up, has a rattle, and makes laughing, boing, and woo-hoo sounds. Of course, it’s a Fiendling favorite. Big plush flower- has a mirror under the face, crinkly leaves, and sings Toyland when you pull the little stripy guy on the stem. This one really keeps him occupied on the playmat, but it’s not quite a favorite.

And here’s the nursery. On the left is the glider and crib. I love that the fan is painted red. You can also get a glimpse of our kickass elephant border. The middle shows the door, his shelves and a picture we havent’ gotten around to hanging. On the right is the changing table, shelves, and a small part of the built-in closet. We’re slackers. There’s still nothing hanging on the walls, and the picture frames on the boxy shelf thing don’t even have pictures in them. There’s not even a curtain or shade on the window. But in all fairness he just started sleeping in his room a couple of weeks ago. He doesn’t mind the lack of decor.

He was my first friend at college. I met him the summer before it started, briefly, while visiting a friend who was in the summer session for incoming freshman who had to pass the summer session to be admitted. Jesse, wearing a wife-beater, wrap-around sunglasses and big, baggy skater jeans with a wallet chain was tossing oreos into another guy’s mouth and catching oreos tossed in his. He was tall and handsome and he had a gleam in his eye and a wonderful smile. I met him again a month later at orientation and we were friends right away.

We both auditioned for the fall mainstage and both got parts. We went to academic affairs together to declare theatre as our majors. I knew he’d struggled with heroin addiction in high school and gone to rehab before college, but small town New Hampshire, while famous for its kind bud, didn’t have much to offer in the way of narcotics and he stayed clean for a long time. The thing about Jesse was that he could function. I remember a time when he didn’t look so good. He was grey and his eyes were dull. He didn’t smile as easily and he told me he was going through a rough patch, but he didn’t say much else. He was still around though. He went to class and rehearsal- he never dropped out completely. But I vaguely remember that he was spending time with Poppy, a girl who’d moved back to the area and didn’t get her nickname for nothing.

The funeral service was lovely. A number of people spoke about what a sensitive, charming, kind, and gentle man Jesse was, despite his struggles. And he was funny. I remember how he made me laugh and laugh, and he was honest. I’m not sure why this story is so memorable for me, why this is the story I want to tell, but freshman year I had an affair with a guy named Dave. We slept together and no one really knew except his roomate. Dave and I kept the affair going sporadically through sophomore year and discussed actually having a relationship. I wanted a relationship, but it never materialized and on drunken nights I’d show up at the apartment that he and Jesse shared, looking for some action. One night he was with another girl and even though we weren’t a couple it shattered me and for a while after that I made a fool of myself with him, drunk dialing, leaving notes, harassing him in bars and people kept trying to stop me and I didn’t listen. One night Jesse took me aside and said, “Dave is not your man,” and he was right. Dave was not my man, but I didn’t believe it until Jesse told me. I didn’t believe anyone else, but Jesse said it so simply and softly that I went home and cried and cried and got Dave out of my system. He was a good friend.

Dave was at the funeral. I hear he’s a funeral director himself these days. He got fat. Everyone else was at the funeral too. All of my friends from college including the stoners, the skaters and the theatre crew. Jesse was friends with everyone. People genuinely loved Jesse because Jesse was real. He was silly and goofy and insisted on snowboarding and skateboarding when he was in a play (even though he wasn’t allowed because it would look awfully silly if Oedipus had a broken leg) but he was also quiet and sensitive and serious. He was gentle, which was unexpected from a handsome guy of 6′3 with enormous feet and a huge grin.

We got to the cemetary on time but Boyfiend didn’t want to wait in line with the rest of the cars to park so he ended up parking way up a hill which annoyed me to no end. I walked down to the grave site with the Fiendling and immediately saw Joe and Pony and Alex whose name used to be something else, but she changed it after college. Then I saw Mac and Marty and Jim and Page and Dave who got fat and Turtle and Christian a couple of girls whose names I didn’t remember and Johnna whose name was really something else, but it got pronounced wrong once and she never bothered to correct anyone, so Johnna it stayed. Everyone was there and we hugged and made small talk for the few minutes until the service began. Boyfiend took the Fiendling for a walk when he started to make noise so I stood there alone for a while, crying, listening to Jesse’s mom and sister and ex-girlfriend and family friends talk about how wonderful he was, and how he struggled, and how he was in recovery but the struggles were too great. Mac was crying too and, even though we stopped being friends when he divorced his wife, when he put his arm around me I leaned on him and for a moment we cried together.The rabbi talked about his demons and biology and how maybe 10 years from now there will be some sort of cure for his struggles and demons and his sister said that her solace was that at least his struggle was over. No one said anything about drugs or overdose, so I’m only assuming. It could just as easily been suicide, but when you’re 29 years old overdose and suicide may as well be the same thing.

After the service, after I threw a shovel-full of dirt on the grave, we went back to his parent’s house so I could spend a bit more time grieving with my friends and pay my respects to his parents who used to say we looked like we could be brother and sister. Boyfiend was wonderful and stayed with the Fiendling who was also wonderful and people congratulated me on my baby and we made small talk about where we’ve been living and what we’ve been doing. No one really talked about the specifics, where he died and how he died, they just spoke of how sad it is that someone so young, someone we loved, is gone.

Yesterday I checked my junkiemail, an email account I don’t check daily, to find I’d received a myspace message from a friend from college, Joe. I’m not a myspace person, I mean I have a myspace profile, but I haven’t actually customized it beyond posting a picture and filling out the profile information and I haven’t even updated the profile info for years. But Joe, who isn’t a myspace friend or contact or whatever myspace calls them, sent me a message, so I logged in to find that a friend from college died.

He died. Jesse died. Jesse, my first friend at college, my first stage kiss, died. He died. I called Joe and left a message then called Mel, who hasn’t spoken to me in more than two years, to tell her that Jesse was gone. I called Mandygirl and Mix then went out to meet Doodlebug and Baby Doodle for water ice at Nevaeh’s.

Joe called back when I was at Nevaeh’s and confirmed my suspicion that Jesse died from an overdose. He told me the funeral was to be held tomorrow, Wednesday, at 10.30 a.m. in Jesse’s hometown in the-middle-of-nowhere-pennsylvania. I told him I’d see him tomorrow.

Everything got a little screwy. Boyfiend was disgusted that Jesse had overdosed and I was disgusted by his reaction. We fought over whether I’d go to the funeral alone or with him- I wanted to go solo, he wanted to join me. A few hours later we decided we’d go together and we’d go that night, last night, before the funeral so we wouldn’t have to drive 130 miles in the morning. The drive was fine for a while, we listened to Stern, but then the Fiendling started crying and things got tense all over again. We stopped at a diner for dinner and I got sick, the go to the bathroom three times in less than an hour kind of sick. When we arrived at the hotel the Fiendling was out for the night and my stomach was better so we drank some whiskey and went to sleep.

At three I woke up coughing. (I haven’t yet mentioned that last Friday I was given cough medicine and antibiotics for my bronchitis.) My coughing woke up the Fiendling so I fed him again, but an hour later I was still coughing. I was afraid to wake him again, so I sat in the bathroom for a while, then got the pillows from the bed and eventually awoke on the bathroom floor at 5.45 and returned to bed.

I’m going to write about the rest, specifically how the funeral service was sad, I saw a ton of friends from college, we stopped at Bushkill Falls on the way home, I talked to Mel for 3.5 hours and never addressed why she’s not spoken to me for two years, but not tonight. I’m really, really sad right now.

This second post for the photo requests is embarrassing, so I may not leave this up for long. Nervous girl asked to see a picture from my dyed and pierced days. Though I have many pictures of me with a nose ring and little silver hoops up and down my ears, I don’t have a single picture of me with dyed hair. I’m sure someone I know has to have one, but in all of my albums the closest I could find was a picture of me with dark reddish-black hair from when I dyed it to be Cher for famous person’s day in 8th grade.

So here’s a picture of me on my 15th birthday. With really bad, fuzzy braids and dreadlocks. Don’t judge me. I was young and didn’t know any better. This definitely qualifies for Hokie Erin’s request for the one thing I’d hoped no one would ask to see.

The Fiendling was up slightly earlier than usual this morning and took a nap slightly later than I would have liked. Later in the afternoon, after a long walk in the park, he fell asleep in his stroller for about half an hour. When he woke from this nap, probably around five, he wasn’t quite himself. He was smily and whiny all at the same time. At dinner, three hours later, I peeked his mouth. And there it was. Tooth number two. It hasn’t been fully liberated from the gum, but it’s there, poking through the surface.