mr. dylan, cool as a cucumber

If I could spend an hour with anyone in the world, it would be Bob Dylan. I don't even have anything I want to ask him, I just love the way he talks. I want an hour to listen to him in person and just catch his vibe. 

I don't even want to see him perform, at least not in the present day. (I would do pretty much anything to be transported back to Royal Albert Hall in 1966, though.)

Why do I love the way he talks? From a recent interview, published in the Wall Street Journal: 

Q: And since everything is at our fingertips, has streaming democratized music? Are we back to the days when “Strangers in The Night” can top “Paperback Writer” and “Paint It Black” on the pop charts?

A: We could very well be. There’s a sameness to everything nowadays. We seem to be in a vacuum. Everything’s become too smooth and painless. We jumped into the mainstream, the big river, with all the industrial waste, chemical debris, rocks, and mudflow, along with Brian Wilson and his brothers, Soupy Sales, and Tennessee Ernie Ford. The earth could vomit up its dead, and it could be raining blood, and we’d shrug it off, cool as cucumbers.

Everything’s too easy. Just one stroke of the ring finger, middle finger, one little click, that’s all it takes, and we’re there. We’ve dropped the coin right into the slot. We’re pill poppers, cube heads and day trippers, hanging in, hanging out, gobbling blue devils, black mollies, anything we can get our hands on. Not to mention the nose candy and ganga grass. It’s all too easy, too democratic. You need a solar X-ray detector just to find somebody’s heart, see if they still have one.

The entire interview — and it's long — continues in this register. Who on earth speaks like this? No one except Dylan, as far as I know. I don't really have any idea what he's talking about, but does that matter? It's like reading Nietzsche, if Nietzsche were a Jewish folk singer from Minnesota. 

almost two

Jonah has started saying thank you and it is quite possibly the cutest thing ever. (I am not biased, obviously.) I hand him is coat and he says "tank you!" I give him a hug and he says "tank you!" I give him milk and he says, "tank you!" It kills me. 

I remember back when he was a tiny infant and he first started to smile, it made me feel so much better, like he was actually a person and not just a blob. I want to go back in time and tell myself not to worry, that one day he will thank you for giving him dinner!

He also says please, though that one is harder for him to remember. When he wants something he really wants it, so saying please is just a step too far, it seems. 

I also loves to say "cheers!" and clink his sippy cup with my cup. Then he has to go say "cheers!" to daddy, then back to me to say "cheers!" again. I'm not sure how he learned that, but I love it. He also has a very funny and embarrassing habit of switching the sounds around in the word coffee, so it comes out like the f-word with "ee" at the end. He does it with buffalo, too — that sounds like "buddafo." Cup is now cup, though, I'm happy to report. 

He tries to play with the dog now, and thinks that her sticks and toys should be his. She disagrees, obviously, and when she takes a toy from him, he yells "SHARE!" a tactic he clearly learned at daycare. I think he's figured out what sharing means, though, so he switched to yelling "MINE!" instead. Much more accurate, though Freddy pays him no mind. She's still has the upper hand (for now). 

Jonah loves books and always asks to "pick a book" as soon as we go upstairs. Book snuggles are the best. When we're done reading, he asks for a kiss and tries to weasel his way out of bedtime. Hard to believe he's almost two. 

Nineteen months

My sweet baby is gone, replaced by a 33 pound toddler with lots of opinions. I like both versions, but the baby was significantly easier to entertain. He never yelled "NO!!!!" at me loud enough to shatter eardrums. But he also never made up a song for me with the lyrics, "Mommy, doo doo doo / Mommy, doo doo doo." I assume this is a version of baby shark? He sings it all the time. I'd say it's an even trade: you get attitude, but with it comes cuteness.  

He is now absolutely obsessed with a black and white stuffed dog he calls "Bupert." (I named him Rupert, but "r" sounds are difficult.) When Jonah is at home, Bupert is always with him. Thankfully, Jonah accepted my story that Bupert stays up at night to keep watch over him and so needs to rest during the day, which is why he can't go to daycare. Before we leave the house in the morning, we put Bupert to bed in the crib and say good night to him. 

The intense preference for Bupert started a few months ago, and after repeated washings he started to look much worse for wear. My mother-in-law, who originally gifted us Rupert, came through in a major way and sent us three extra Buperts! All in pristine condition, soon to be slobbered on and cuddled to death. Best gift ever. Jonah did find my stash of extra Buperts, though, and was somewhat traumatized by the experience. 

Bupert saw us through a case of hand foot mouth disease last month, a highly unpleasant experience. We also went through roseola in May and covid in June. Covid was nothing for Jonah but I got it and did a lot of coughing. (I actually have no confirmation that Jonah got covid, just that Josh and I did.) Roseola and HFM were exponentially worse than covid. I think the diseases with mysterious rashes are the worst. Is it really not possible to create a HFM vaccine? I would pay good money for that. 

Jonah has gotten very good at imitating words now, which is leading to some problems, since I have a bad habit of cursing. Hearing a toddler say "shit" in their cute little toddler voice is...jarring. The one thing he refuses to imitate is the word "cup." He insists on calling all cups "books." It's very strange, since he knows that books are books. My theory is that the words "bottle" and "cup" got smashed together in his brain somehow? But when I correct him he looks at me like I'm nuts, holds his cup in the air and says, "No, mama, is book." Ok then. 

He's good at his body parts: nose, hands, arms, feet, ears, eyes, tongue, hair. I changed in front of him recently and he learned about a new body part, boobs. This is what happens when you don't breastfeed! Now he walks around saying "boobies" all the time. I'm just waiting for the daycare teachers to mention it. 

His other favorite things to talk about are vehicles — bike, boat, car, truck — and animals — horse, fish, bear, rabbit, elephant. He says "moo" for cow, and "baaa" for sheep. He doesn't say "dog," which is surprising, since we have a dog. He is obsessed with the dog and follows her around the house, but he only calls her "sister." This has led to some understandable confusion. He has a dog who is his sister but not all dogs are sisters? And not all sisters are dogs? Learning about the world is a big project.

The saga continues

So...there's a lot going on and I'm not sure where to begin. The tl;dr is that I continue to be a restless, dissatisfied person who makes her life extremely complicated. Like, remember last year when I got evicted and moved across the country? And the year before that when I decided to get pregnant during a global pandemic? This summer is not turning out much different. 

No, I am not pregnant, and thankfully, evictions and pandemics are not on the docket, either. Buying a house does appear to be forthcoming, though. In our case it feels like it is taking foreeeeever, but I guess that's just how things work? We are under contract on a cute little house with a big yard. Inspections are finished, it's just slow lawyers who are holding things up now. I have not quite accepted that I will need to pack everything up and move again, but I am probably in denial because it appears as though that will be happening in the next month or so. I also have a lot of Thoughts about amortization schedules now, but I will not plague you with those. 

And, even crazier...it appears that I will be changing jobs again this summer? I don't know why that has a question mark after it. I am, indeed, changing jobs. It is decided. But I say this sheepishly because, yes, I know, I am a crazy job-hopper who is never satisfied at work. 

Like any addict, though, I will insist that this time is different! Really, it is! This time, I am leaving a job that has been pretty much a total disaster from day one. If you are surprised to hear that, it's because I wouldn't allow myself to admit it until a few months ago. Also I hate complaining about things when there's no solution, but now I've found a solution so I can complain! (Another solution would involve running my manager over with a bus, but I've decided against homicide this time.)

Anyway, I'm transferring to a new department within the same university, which should reduce the general upheaval this time. I will, for the first time ever, be working with engineers. Weirdly, I will be making much more than I have before, while also working on stuff I know nothing about. You would think that knowing nothing would lower my salary, but apparently if you put the word "engineering" in your title it automatically entitles you to a 12% raise. 

I do realize that what Tocqueville writes about restlessness pretty much directly applies to me and my constant job changes. But I am, after all, an American. I do indeed pursue well-being with a feverish ardor, "tormented constantly by a vague fear of not having chosen the shortest road that can lead to it." Perhaps I should, henceforth, pursue my well-being through the classic American pastime of buying useless kitchen gadgets? That seems like it would be infinitely simpler than my current approach. 

Seventeen months

The baby is now a toddler, I'm amazed to report. He has just started walking, he took his first string of independent steps on Mother's Day. I feel like he's been on the verge of walking for almost 4 months now—walking with his little wooden cart, walking while holding on to one of my fingers, walking around the sofa, etc. But not until a couple days ago has he been able to talk the length of the apartment by himself without falling down. When he does fall, which happens a lot, he gets right back up. He also walks with his arms up above his head, which is sort of hilarious, but it makes it easier for him to catch himself when he falls. 

He is the biggest kid in his daycare class, since most of his peers have been walking for a while now. I'm happy for him to move up, since I think he will enjoy playing with the bigger kids, but I'm also sad that my baby is now no longer quite such a baby! 

He is also a big talker now. He spends most of his time pointing to things and saying, "What's that?" again and again and again. It's like he's constantly downloading information. He asks the most questions about two specifics things: 1) the dog and 2) his penis. Every time he sees the dog he says, "What's that?" and same goes for his private parts. I'm guessing that these two things will remain sources of fascination for him for a long time. 

He is also obsessed with cars, and says "car" every time we see one, which is often. He is also obsessed with trucks but doesn't know the difference, so those are cars too. He says hello and mama and go and no and uh oh, all of which he loves to repeat ad infinitum. He has just started with "b" words: ball, bowl, banana. He's just started to refer to himself now, too: "Jono."   

the good, the bad

This week, for the first time in two years, I've been able to be at work without wearing a mask! And of course, just when I no longer need to cover my face, this is also the first time in two years that I have a giant pimple on my chin. 

I think this might be a metaphor for 2022. Now that we can finally go out and do things, everything is shit at twice the price. Awesome. 

mom tears

I don't think I've changed all that much since becoming a mom. If I've changed I've just become more like myself than ever—more of a homebody, more attached to having a plan—an amplification of who I was before.

One thing has definitely changed: I cannot learn about a child dying without starting to cry. It can be fiction, it can be non-fiction, it can be a 1,000 word essay or a 10 word tweet, it could have happened yesterday or 100 years ago—whatever it is, I will shed tears. Same with a baby being taken from its mother or lost in some way. 

Of course these kinds of things were always upsetting, but I don't ever remember crying over them before. Not unless I had a personal connection to the tragedy. Learning about a 1-year-old who died of scarlet fever 159 years ago is not exactly new information that requires my immediate emotional response. And yet, I will now cry over it. 

It makes sense, of course. In the course of human history, mothers who are attached to their babies probably do better on average in getting those babies to adulthood. Obviously I'm crying about my baby, and the idea of anything happening to him, but I also find myself crying for all the women who have had to live through their children's deaths. 

Up until about 200 years ago, half of all children didn't live to their fifth birthday. That is so much cumulative grief, I don't even know how to think about it. So instead you will now find me over here crying about it occasionally.  

the little things

 I took last Friday off because I had to work on Monday (which was supposed to be a holiday.) I totally wasted the day by going window shopping, seeing a movie, and driving 30 mins away to get pho. I was sort of miffed with myself for wasting the whole day, but then I realized that I hadn't had good pho since we left DC, three years ago, and I hadn't seen a movie for 2 years, since the pandemic started. (The shopping was still a waste of time.) 

The movie I saw was Licorice Pizza, which was fun. Paul Thomas Anderson movies used to make me vaguely angry because they are weird and slow, but I guess I enjoy that sort of thing more now. (Phantom Thread is one of my favorite films.) 

Anyway, I thought I wasted the day but then I realized how happy I am that movie theaters are open again and daycare is reliable (for the moment) and I can go by myself on a Friday afternoon and sit in a dark room and eat reese's peanut butter cups and turn my phone off and watch a story on a giant screen.