lessons from my daughter

Somehow I feel that Oona is on to something. Although this probably has more to do with genetics and the way her alleles lined up than any sudden realization that dawned on her at the time she started speaking. Both of my children have no trouble talking to adults, they're confident and comfortable speaking with them, something I never was at that age. I'm still probably working on this, which is why I'm writing about Oona.

But first I need to mention Owen. Owen is away for the week at his grandparents in the country. Oona goes next week. My mom will most likely never take them for a week because that would be too much for her, at least that's what I was told this summer. But that's a post for another day. So I'm calling the ex in-laws, and I dread calling there because, let's just say my ex-in laws aren't real interested in small talk with me. I called tonight asked how Owen was and if he had fun today and the reply was 'Oh yeah, here I'll pass you along to him and let him tell you.' Owen gets on the line says hi and then tells me there's a movie that just started on tv. I ask what he did today and his response is 'nothing much' then 'Iloveyouhaveagoodnight.' I told him he was being a turkey and that he'd have to talk to me more tomorrow. And then the phone just hung up. No one took back the phone to tell me what had actually occurred today or, God forbid, turned off the tv so he could focus for two seconds on a conversation with his mom. Mmmm, can you just imagine how much I look forward to calling them tomorrow.

Oona got the one and only fancy pink chair

So today was a day just for Oona and me. We went to get mani/pedis because Oona's never gotten one before and I must have mentioned this idea very briefly (like a nanosecond) in passing a couple weeks ago but Oona homed in on it right away and it's been mentioned frequently since then. So Oona was knelling over all the colors and it was tough for her to narrow it down to just four shades, two for the toes and two for the fingers, but she somehow managed. I think she had a better time than me. I put my feet in my boring unchanging water and was promptly scalded. Seriously, it was so damn hot I don't know how I escaped second degree burns, guess I got them out quick enough. Then I asked that they not cut Oona's cuticles or mine because, that's supposed to be an easy way to get a fungal infection, you don't want to break the skin's protective barrier. And yes having a fungal infection would suhuhck (have you ever seen how nasty peoples toenails get from them?) but the even worse thing, in my opinion, is that you have to take oral anti fungal pills for a long time (months) and they have horrific side effects just check out lamisil here. A little liver failure for you? Or how about sporanox with the small but very real risk of congestive heart failure? To be honest the one side effect of lamisil that I learned about and which scared me the most was ageusia or loss of taste. I read an article somewhere or other about a woman that got a toenail infection from a manicure, treated it and wound up with ageusia. Fortunately it was only temporary but just reading how profoundly it affected her was terrifying to me.

and yes not only is the chair fancy the water changes colors
from teal to blue to purply blue and back again WOW

I thought I had a fungal infection on my big toes over the winter, it turned out to be the my clogs for work were too small and rubbing the tips of my toenails ($125 down the drain for those white patent leather Sanitas) And, if you were to ever get a fungal infection on your toenails don't use fungi-nail, which is like a nail polish thing. Because even though it says fungi-nail in big lettering all over the goddamn package and shows an awful fungus ridden toenail, you will find somewhere on the bottle, in 4 point font, that it doesn't actually work for fungal infections of the toenails. Seriously. I kid you not I returned a bottle for just such a reason. The lady in lace didn't do the cuticles on Oona but the lady in what appeared to be a knock off lacoste started on me and I said no and damned if five minutes later she didn't use it on my pinky toe when I had very clearly said 'do not cut my cuticles. no cut. I don't want that.' Then I get the manicure and she says I should save money and just get a polish change because I don't want my cuticles cut but I did want the flipping hand massage stuff, yet didn't get it. Fucking waste of my money, especially considering my thumbnail smeared before I walked out the door. Grrrrrrrrrr

supercuts for men, women & Oona mismatched socks, only Oona

After the mani/pedi, if I get a fungal infection so help them, I took Oona to get her bangs cut because she won't wear them pulled back in a barrette and I can't stand them in her eyes. I cannot even stand seeing stars with bangs cut at eye level, it's a huge pet peeve of mine, hair in the eyes I think it  makes people look at least 40 IQ points less intelligent, and with some of those said hair in eyes banged stars they don't have much to work with on the IQ front. But watching Oona at Supercuts was something to behold. She is more comfortable talking to those ladies than me. I could hear her chatting with the lady doing her shampoo the whole time, telling her about watching Rugrats, and that her brother is out in the country with grammy and paw paw, and that her best friend is Chloe and she wants her to come over for a play date. And the lady doing her shampoo, another customer, the guy shampooing that woman, they were all totally charmed by her. Oona just says whatever comes into her head and never thinks twice to edit herself. She doesn't have concerns the way I do where I will over analyze (nobody cares what you think) and edit (don't say that you'll sound dumb) until I don't say anything. And the thing is Oona is really bright and articulate when she talks and I think she has so much passion for life and all the stuff she's talking about, it just bubbles over and infects those around her in a delightful way. Everyone seemed happier when she was around.

And I looked at myself in the mirror and I just looked sad. Like that absolutely revolting drivel Cindy Crawford spewed about the face you have at twenty being what god or genetics (secular or non-secular, I can't be compelled to get the actual quote) gave you, but the face you have at forty being the one you earned. So she has earned an overly tweaked look that lifted the sexiness right out of her lovely ever so slightly hooded yet sultry eyes. But can that trite cliche be true? Had the past twenty three years earned me this face where my eyes always look sad and, yes, very tired. My previous post about the incident with the fellow last week. I came in friday and he was fine with me. Like it didn't even register to him and briefly my blood pressure spiked and I thought I've got to delete that post! What if he finds it. Because I'm sure my blog is something he's going to happen upon and read in his infinitesimal downtime. I'm taking things way way too personally, or I'm overly sensitive and when people flare up and get nasty but then cool down and are their happy go lucky selves five minutes later I'm still hurting from that flare up. Or it's some combination of the not registering, taking things personally, highly sensitive person perfect storm of melancholy. I feel like I try so hard at everything and it gets me nowhere near where I want to be. I wonder if I'm trying too hard. Do I have to let go somewhat?  I wouldn't even know how to go about doing that. This is when I want some of what my daughter has, that innate confidence and fearlessness.