We helped out at an Obama lemonade stand in our town center over the weekend. Never before in my life have I felt so suburban, y'all. A lemonade stand indeed. Bambina totally wore the Obama pins. I felt a wee bit odd because even though Barry is my boyfriend, I refuse to politicize my kid and make her wear any partisan shirts and whatnot. I would never buy her an Obama shirt and put it on her as if she is an extension of my political views. So there's my kid in the Obama pin, "the one with his face" that she just had to have. I'm starting to think, "Aw, Barry would love this!" when she says, "but don't worry Mama, I'm voting for John McCain." You'll recall she did this with HRC back in the primaries just to tweak me. I gave her a mock shocked face and said, "Sweet girl! Why are you voting for John McCain?!" Her answer? "Because he's the mean one!"
Prior to the lemonade stand we went to a Families With Children From China picnic at a local park. It was really neat to be surrounded by people who look just like us and who don't ask questions like, "Why didn't you adopt from America?" I'm not sure Bambina is at an age where she cares yet, but I could tell the older kids got a lot out of being together. In a surprisingly outgoing move, Bambina did announce without prompting that she was going to do the sack race. We made a big deal out of her participating and the fact that she won a prize (see?! participation has its rewards!). The better part of the picnic, however, was spent dodging goose poop and watching a beagle chase various fowl back into the pond. As you can imagine in Preschooler FunLand, this was a 45 minute spectacle not to be missed. And then we went home.
Oh! I forgot to mention that I rode the T the other day. All the way to Gummint Center to visit our cousin who was in the hospital. Here's an intentionally blurry pic of me and Bambina wielding our Charlie tickets. Note the smile. Yeah. That was before I noticed that the AC was on the fritz and before a rather smelly dude sat behind me on what became a very crowded train. Which precipitated a mild, internal panic attack as I started imagining all the germs I was breathing in from all these disgusting humans who had odors and textures--and the temerity to get in my airspace. I think what did it was the smells. Like, you can talk yourself out of any kind of germophobia AS LONG AS YOU AREN'T SNIFFING IN SOMEONE ELSE'S MIASMA. Actually smelling another human near me is what freaked me out, like, if I can smell the odor, what am I ingesting?!!! I could not get off that effing train fast enough. When we got to the hospital I damn near told our sweet cousin to get out of bed because this girl was gettin' in. Luckily I got over it in time to make the ride home. But I do have to confess a lack of ardor for riding again any time soon while AC is still required on board.
In other news, Bambina starts her last year of preschool tomorrow. Yes, I feel old. But in a good way. Old in the sense that I get to look back on wonderful things rather than assuming (as I did when much younger) that they are all in my future. Quite simply, I cannot believe this child is 4. This person I used to feed, bathe, and sing to sleep now lectures me, "Mama it is bad manners to eat more than one fry at a time," "Mama, you didn't say thank you!" This person who once depended on me for everything is now so torn between wanting to do everything herself and yet needing Mama. It makes her crazy sometimes, trying to resolve the frustration, and all I can do is be grateful that a) she's normal and b) she's not thirteen yet. Seeing all the other 4 year-olds at that picnic did so much for my psyche, because they were all, with a couple of exceptions, anti-social toward grownups, needing coaching in social skills ("Now, ask her if she'd like to see your doll. Good girl. Now say thank you..."), and making statements that all the parents agreed are not stated in their home, so where do they come from?! Bambina is currently obsessed with being the fattest person in the house. She sticks her belly out, rubs it, and says, "Look at my belly! I'm the fattest in the house! Mama, you only get to be the medium fattest. Dada you are the thinnest fattest."
As you know we NEVER discuss body issues with her, not about her, not about ourselves, never, not ever. I don't think I've ever referred to anyone as "fat" in front of her either, so much do I not want to give her the impression that there is a judgment to be made about a person based on their weight, be it high or low. So it's kind of hilarious to see her embracing the chub, wanting to be fat. I was a fat kid, and believe me it is no joke. But since she is by far the child least likely to be 40 pounds by age 6 it's kind of entertaining, simply because she sees no negative value in it. She thinks it's the best thing to be the fattest in the house. And I'm not going to disabuse her of that notion, even though I am wondering where she even heard the word.
In other, other news, I'm walking in the Dana Farber Jimmy Fund Marathon Walk on September 21st. If you would like to send a few bob my way to pass onto the good people who saved my life, send me an email and I'll give you the link to the Team Haggis page. The team was started by the BBDD and he's doing the whole damn thing. Me, I'm in it for just the 5 mile leg because--hey! Gimme a break! I had a damn transplant only last year!--and because I'll be jogging strollering it with a 4 year-old who won't last for the long haul (she says as if she herself would!). I'd just post the link, but it's got last names and all, and not everyone likes to be linked to a smutty pointless blog. :)
And with that, I'm off to stew about the GOP convention... ;)
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