Whatever the question, the answer is DADDY

"Put your toys away, it's dinner time." On different days I could have been saying this to a child or an adult in my house, but here I'm being called out by the wise ass bartender. I have some shrimp summer rolls to balance out a pint of sour, but am fiddling with an Instagram post, or rather my sad typing skills. I'm hunched over my phone unless I catch myself; I'm close-to-doomed posture-wise. Old Tribe Called Quest is playing and I can't resist answering that Yes, I can, kick it. Dweeby, all of it. At least I'm out.

Anyway, we are, yet again, in the midst of major transitions:

A.) The girl starts pre-school next week, three afternoons. Suddenly she won't be seeing her primary babysitter -- lovely and capable, she brought her ukelele with today, to play "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," and show my daughter a couple simple chords. So sweet, it made my heart hurt. But by golly, the girl is ready for an expanded world! More people, more activities. She wakes up, asking what we're going to be doing for the day. "But where will we go??" Well. As fun as I have sometimes thought myself to be, I'm not entirely up to the role of constant entertainer.

But, so. Suddenly she will be off, for much longer periods than my usual babysitting breaks, and clearly now my personal growth will shoot forward, yes? Either obvious immersion in new creative projects or return to frequent writing and/or figuring out career goals for my imminent future. I think I may have the start of staycation syndrome: I will have a week off, now I can entirely fix my life.  I should dial it back a little, while still raising the bar for myself, if that makes sense. A little bit of a re-boot in the midst of everything. Because more changes are most definitely coming in the next couple years, so holy hell, I should take advantage of this now.

Obviously, too, it will be strange with her away from myself and the house for over 4 hours at a go, and three days in a row, but watching her at a school visit yesterday showed us (yet again) that while she sometimes holds back in larger kid groups, she will probably hold her own just fine. She has no problem correcting people about what she wants; and she will eat All the foods if you let her. They were alternately sharing thick banana slices. The teacher clarified for our daughter that the rule is, "we have two hands, so we can take two pieces at a time." "Oh," she gestured, "I can fit two in each hand~~"

B.) The Mommy Love is gone. Oh, it's just submerged! You say. Fine. I'm not fishing. But I'm used to the love fest, even in the midst of trying times (which there have been A LOT OF recently), but now it's Daddy this and Daddy that. There was always the puppy love, on the evenings he came home before her bedtime, he has always been a bit halo-ed, BUT. Last week:

Moments after I came home, to relieve the babysitter: "I wish DADDY was here. I just LOVE HIM SO MUCH."

"I know, but he's at work. How much do you love Mommy?"

"I LOVE DADDY SO MUCH. I just love you a little."  So this + LOTS of *Ahem* oppositional behavior = AWESOME TIMES. Possibly exceeding my patience levels. I mean, it takes all the affection to deal with someone hitting you, kicking you, and then demanding block tower time (in which, make no mistake, she will bully you about all your block decisions).

At the preschool visit yesterday, the little ones were doing "journalling," which involved them drawing pictures of their family, and telling the teacher what they wanted written about the page.     "Daddy!" she called, in syrupy tones across the room,"I drew a piiiiiiicture of you!"  The teacher prompted her about other family people to add. "There's no one else I want to draw," my daughter said. Decisively. Rick touched his forehead to my shoulder, while he shook with silent laughter. I understand this is developmentally normal. But experientially? NOT A FAN OF THIS PHASE.

This morning, she begged and pleaded for her father to get up, who was intent on sleeping in. "I want one of you to come see me in my room, I mean NOT YOU MOMMY, I mean DADDY but both of you. DADDY GET UP" I was, naturally, happy to sleep in; but eventually when Rick came to fetch me, he was followed by the little one, bellowing at me, "DON'T GET UP, MOMMY DON'T GET OUT OF BED, YOU DON'T, STAY IN BED, NOT YOU"  which really didn't inspire a rise-and-shine attitude. After I shifted to the kitchen, it was followed by more bellowing: "STOP TALKING, DON'T SPEAK!!!!" I drank coffee at the dining room table, while she ran between the kitchen and the living room. My groggy lack of interaction failed to appease, as she ran through, silently mouthing, "DON'T SPEAK" while holding her hand like a stop sign in my face. Mmmmhmmm. I may be rather old, but I will surely enjoy preschool this time around. 

****An Only Goat is a Lonely Goat

Ahhhh, transition! Rocky patches have (almost inevitably) surfaced, but today was a good day. Like most of us, part of me is all about fast forwarding to the next comfort point, but I also know the shake up is a good thing. How else to develop a more exciting life?*

Not that every little thing has jumped the rails. Some things continue apace: my car is still issuing its deathly rattle. Another random batch of house things are on the fritz, with the most prominent case being my multi-bulbed dining room light. A couple weeks ago, I was startled by a sharp POP from the general area. It took a few minutes to figure out one of the bulbs had not just gone dark, but burst from its glass shade, oh-so-conveniently leaving the threaded metal screw part of the bulb embedded in the shade base. *Super!* Since then, two more bulbs have gone out. Wiring? Seems like wiring, right? I have yet to call anyone, as both my house and car have been money hungry lately. Great. Well I guess I'll have to get my drawing in before it gets dark. Clearly, I'm a bull-by-the-horns kind of gal, domestically speaking.

*And by more exciting, I mean NEW office job over OLD office job!** Woohooo, I'm wild,WILD, I tell you! It's possible they will also teach me to use a flamethrower. But if so, they have neglected to mention it. They do, however, have pizza lunches on Thursday. Or every other Thursday. And the same dynamics of work (/dorm) kitchens the world over, judging by the signs. "Where food goes to DIE" (helpfully/menacingly pinned on the fridge. last word, underlined) and "DO NOT TURN OFF THE COFFEE POT DURING THE DAY" (in case the all-caps lacked sufficient emphasis, the letters have been bolded. A brief explanation of why one should not turn off the coffee pot follows. Circling and exclamation points have been drawn in).

**{Disclaimer: blogger disavows any notion or implication that she is less than excited about her new job and all the opportunities it contains. She is most certainly pleased, but acknowledges that collectively speaking, office jobs may not set the world on fire. Hey! flamethrower tie-in!}
 
Meanwhile, Outside is in need of the lawnmower, though perhaps the backyard raccoon***, who has returned after a couple years' absence, would disagree. I banged on the deck door and watched him with a penetrating, intimidating gaze. Get out of my backyard.

The raccoon raised itself and halted, eyeing me. You're no threat. I have tons of digging to do. And he wasn't lying. He has done a hell of a lot of digging. I expect this will make lawn-mowing more exciting, whenever I actually get to it.

***I know, I doubt it's the same one. This one is smaller and looks more like a red panda. Behold, exotic troublemaker, trekking from the Himalayas, to mix with suburbanite scavengers! Or not. Either way, I'm going to get hissed at when I hang out on my deck. Hmmm. 

...And on a Belated Note

When not selling at an art open house this weekend, I revisited "Paul's Boutique", "Check Your Head" and others in honor of MCA's passing. I love the humor and energy of the Beastie Boys' music and loved that all members also explored other creative outlets and causes. Terrible that Adam Yauch lost his battle with cancer and not even 50. Obviously loss to cancer at any age is wrenching, but it's also tempting to protest: but he did *so* much in the time he had, think how much more he could have done~~ Anyway, posts and coverage about him abounds, another post isn't needed from me. My friend Angel, who can be credited with introducing me to espresso and winning me over to beer (through steady, micro-brew introductions over about half a year), also convinced me that the Beastie Boys were worth a listen, despite what seemed to be stoopid frat boy anthems. I hope that they retire the group name and grow however they're meant to, in new directions...

And then the news of the beloved Maurice Sendak. Ginger sent me a link to his obit and it's everywhere on Facebook, but I haven't been able to read any of them in full. He was a giant in the world of children's illustration and storytelling, who dramatically changed the landscape of picture books. His legendary cantankerousness was balanced by sensitivity to truth of feeling and respecting children as individuals, even when he didn't like them... This interview nicely conveys Sendak's belief in the need for danger and "teeth" in children's lit. If you care to revisit any tales beyond the usual WTWTA and Night Kitchen, I suggest a trip to the following:

• Kenny's Window**** (an early one. Kenny has a dream. And in that dream is a garden and a rooster with four legs and seven questions to puzzle out. Sendak hadn't quite hit his tell-tale style at this stage, but the story is charming and engaging.)
• We're All in the Dumps with Jack and Guy (two nursery rhymes, paired together and partially springing from Sendak's encounter with a would-be cardboard box "city" made by the impoverished on the outskirts of LA, in the 90s, if I recall correctly) 
• Dear Milli (stunning illustrated version of a Grimm's tale, which only came to light in 1983; a woman sends her girl child into the forest to protect her from encroaching war. The child finds a house and winds up spending years with a saint, though it passes like a day. As always, he folds elements from his life into the visual interpretation of the tale: i.e. the Holocaust, beloved pet dog, etc.)
• Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present (by Charlotte Zolotow; this one is pretty straight forward -- no mashing together of pop culture and holocaust imagery here -- but pleasing in its repetition and thoughtfulness). 

These are sitting next to me as I type and will be happy companions to morning coffee...Flavorwire's tribute features a cool selection of images and quotes.

At least, from his last interview with Terry Gross you got the sense that here was someone who was ready to go; he spoke about bearing witness to the death of his partner and the deaths of his friends; he told Terry he was glad that he would die before she would, so he wouldn't have to miss her. Yes, that episode was a total tearjerker. And yes, they replayed it during fundraising.

I realize the news has already swiftly flown past, but in case you're still interested, it looks like Fresh Air has remembrances of both, here (Sendak) and here (Yauch).

And even with the later rise, its high time to go to bed. Sleep well, Everyone and make the best of the rest of your week!