wandering eye
Posts

• I Don’t Love You Anymore!

  

  The Munch is still in a state of healing from her eye surgery. It is for sure WAAAYYY more complex than I imagined, and as it stands right now the doctor is thinking that we may have to do another operation. I of course REALY don’t want to put Munch through that, so have been going hard on the holistic healing front.

  In these past few weeks I’ve taken her to a variety hippy doctors, and they all say her body is still processing the trauma of the experience. Because I want to be as proactive as possible, there are a bunch of things I am trying in order to address both the emotional and physical distress. This is the short list:

  1) Eye patch glasses: Munch didn’t want to wear an eye patch because she didn’t think patches were “fashionable,” and the adhesive gave her cheek a rash. So I made her some super sweet Hello Kitty glasses with a ballerina patch over the good eye. Now she looks like a punk rock pirate, and will wear them around her friends.
  2) Pills for her blood/liver: My acupuncture lady said we needed to support her liver/blood to keep tendons and eyes healthy. I brewed Chinese herbs for 2 days in hopes that Munch would drink it, but she refused because it tasted like “monkey poop and pee.” But she did learn to swallow pills so at least that is happening – but she is also now irrationally excited about swallowing pills… which makes me somewhat concerned for her future and doing ecstasy. PS I am also now drinking the “monkey poo and pee” drink because I don’t want it to go to waste, and it tastes more like giraffe semen.
  3) Eye Games: We play games with flash cards where I make her move her eye around. This game has now evolved to me also playing, and working out my eye, which can now bench press 250 lbs.
  4) Massages: I massage her leg to stimulate blood production, her feet to lower stress, her head to relax the brain, and her eye to bring awareness of healing. This is a 30 min process where I have to keep her relaxed and entertained so she doesn’t squirm around. This means I tell stories the entire time, which I make up from the top of my head. I now have carpel tunnel syndrome in my hands from all these damn massages, and probably should enter an improv group for my amazing off the cuff story telling abilities – although many of them end with someone farting really loud.
  5) Singing: Now I have to make her sing as much as possible because the vibration in her head is healing, but she HATES it when I sing because The Munch is a musical snob… sooooo this one isn’t going so well.

  I have also been taking her to healers who do cranial sacral work and trauma release. I have noticed that when we get home from these visits, she has total meltdowns that night. The Munch isn’t really one to have tantrums, so I figure she is getting out these buried emotions that she kept in while trying to be cooperative during the surgery. She was excessively stoic, and maybe needs to get some of the fear and rage out?

  I have been trying to give The Munch space to have these outrageous moments of outburst, and not take them personally or get angry with her for acting out. I know her well enough to know this isn’t her normal behavior, so there is no point in punishing her for needing to release. But this is what it looked like last night.

  The Munch: Mamma, can I have a candy cane?
  Toni: There is no way! It is bedtime, and you can’t eat a candy cane right before bed.
  The Munch: But I WANT ONE!
  Toni: That is understandable because candy canes are delicious. But you have to wait until tomorrow. You can have one then.
  The Munch: Well I can eat it anyway, and you can’t stop me.
  Toni: Of course I can. I am way bigger than you and can take it from you. I would rather you just put it away and have it tomorrow.
  The Munch: Try and take it from me.
  Toni: I am not going to do that.
  The Munch: Just try and take it from me.

  Okay fine… I am the grown up and could have refused. But she was TAUNTING ME OKAY!

  I grabbed the candy cane and it she held onto the hook, and now the other half was in my hand.

  The Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOU BROKE IT!!!! WAAAAHHHHHHAAA
  Toni: Dude I am sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. It was an accident!
  The Munch: WELL YOU DID BREAK IT!! WAHHHHHAAAA
  Toni: You told me to try and take it!
  The Munch: WAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHHAAA!!! YOU BROKE IT!
  Toni: I didn’t mean to break it, but you did tell me to try and take it. Besides, you can have the pieces in the tomorrow. It gets all broken up in your tummy anyway. I will save them for you.
  The Munch: I DON’T WANT IT TO BE BROKEN! I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE! AND I AM TAKING MOLLY FROM YOU AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE MOLLY AGAIN. EVEN THOUGH SHE IS YOUR FAVORITE STUFFY.

  The Munch then went into my room, and got my stuffed animal dog named Molly, and hid her. Okay fine a grown up isn’t supposed to sleep with stuffed animals. But I have had molly for 25 years! I always sleep with Molly!

  The Munch: There! Now Molly is hidden and you will never find her!
  Toni: Munch I hear that you are angry, but I think you maybe need some time to think and calm down and then we can talk.
  The Munch: NO! I am locking you in my room and YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE!
  Toni: Never? What if I get hungry?
  The Munch: You will get nothing to eat!!!
  Toni: So I would just starve to death in your room?
  The Munch: YES!!!
  Toni: So when people ask you “what happened to your mom?” you would just say “oh I got super mad because she broke my candy cane so I locked her in my room. She eventually starved to death and died.”
  The Munch: Yes!
  Toni: Don’t you think you would maybe miss me?
  The Munch: YES I WOULD!
  Toni: Okay well can we think of a solution for you to feel better so you are not yelling or trying to starve me to death?
  The Munch: NOTHING WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER EXCEPT FOR WATCHING MY LITTLE PONY OR EATING A NON BROKEN CANDY CANE.
  Toni: Well, neither of those things are going to happen.
  The Munch: WELL THEN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME HAPPY!
  Toni: Of course I can’t make you happy! You have to make your elf happy! Can you think of something that might make you happy? Like maybe you could jump on the bed and then into my arms.
  The Munch: Ummm okay.

  Then she was totally fine and we did our 45-minute healing routine and I got early onset arthritis. This morning we talked about it…

  The Munch: I love you. You’re the best mommy in the whole universe.
  Toni: Remember when you told me last night that you didn’t me any more? Did you mean that?
  The Munch: No… I was just angry.
  Toni: I know. But when you say harsh things, even when you are angry, it can really hurt someone’s feelings. You have to always be careful with your words, because you can never take them back.
  The Munch: Well you didn’t seem like your feelings were hurt last night.
  Toni: That is because I’m your mom, and moms are always more forgiving towards their children. Not everyone will be that way. I knew you didn’t mean those words, but I also know you have been going through a lot, so have a lot of emotions you are working through.
  The Munch: Maybe you also knew you shouldn’t have broken my candy cane.

  She does look pretty bad ass right?

  

  December 16, 2015 • 5 years old, Behavior, Disciplining, Family Drama, Health, Mommyhood, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 4057

  Read More

• The Worst Day of My Life! (Munch’s Eye Surgery Saga)

  

  The night before Munch’s wandering eye surgery I couldn’t sleep. Not only because The Munch was getting her eyeball cut open the next day, but also because The Munch was getting HER FUCKING EYE BALL CUT OPEN THE NEXT DAY! I guess the thing I was most nervous about was the anesthesia. It would be a real bummer if that shit killed my kid.

  We had to wake up at 5:45 in the morning to get to the hospital on time. The Munch was in good spirits, and there was a beautiful sunrise on the way. Seemed like a good day to stay alive. When we got there we were waiting in the waiting room and a mother came out from the back where the surgeries were taking place. She was hysterical, and collapsed in her husband’s arms to weep. Munch’s dad and I looked at each other and were like “holy shit.”

  The woman was crying because she had just watched her kid go under, which was obviously pretty traumatic. I looked at Munch who was peacefully coloring, and knew I was in for a fucking experience. Yet because I am a good New England woman who was raised by WASPs, I also knew I would probably just keep all my feelings deep inside and have mental breakdown later when it was appropriate.

  When we were called in, we went to the back room to get prepared. They gave The Munch hospital pajama’s to put on – which was probably the most traumatic part of the story from her perspective. The Munch did NOT want to wear these tiger pajamas. She is SUPER compulsive about her clothes, and seriously wears the same outfit for 3 months in a row. Getting her to change her clothes is like trying to change the mind of a religious fundamentalist.

  But you know what? Because The Munch is a good New England child raised by WASPs, she kept all her feelings inside and put on the outfit. There were a pair of yellow sox she didn’t want to wear, because she NEVER wears socks inside, but when the nurse asked her to put them on, she complied.

  The Munch was then poked, prodded, examined, and check out. She did everything she was asked, and was extremely cooperative. The nurses and doctor kept saying “what a good listener she is,” and “she is so composed and brave!” Which she was! She knows how to be stoic in times of stress, but I also knew that she wasn’t expressing what she was actually feeling – because she learned from the BEST!

  The Munch was then asked what flavor she wanted her anesthesia mask to smell like, and she chose watermelon. When it was time to take her back, I had to put on MY blue hospital gown and doctor’s hair net. And holy shit I did not like that… especially since I and been wearing the same thing all week.

  I held Munch’s hand, and we walked to the operation room – both in outfits we did NOT like. The room was filled with nurses with their blue masks. Munch was told to lie on the bed, and when she did, her little body looked so small. The nurses started strapping her down, and put the anesthesia mask on her face.

  Toni: Does it smell like watermelon?

  Munch nodded her head, and looked around. I put my hand on her heart, and started doing reiki on her. (I of course am a certified reiki practitioner which is a type of healing touch – I mean you can’t be a new age mom and NOT practice reiki. It’s in the handbook). The Munch looked into my eyes and I smiled at her. You can’t act scared in situations like that! Even though in my mind I was thinking “ummmmm this is so mother fucking scary, maybe this was a bad idea.” I was trying remain calm as Munch’s tiny body convulsed as the anesthesia took over.

  Nurse: This is totally normal… nothing to worry about. She is already asleep.

  Munch’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she thrashed around. Then suddenly, she was still. It kind of looked like she died.

  Nurse: Give her a kiss on her cheek.

  I kissed Munch on her cheek and everyone looked at me.

  Nurse: Are you okay?

  Toni: Of course.

  I went back out the waiting room and immediately sat down to meditate. So yeah, maybe it is kinda weird to be sitting on a waiting room floor meditating, but that is the kind of person I am. I then did some distance reiki on Munch to support the surgery. Which also included whispering and weird gestures. Again, because that is how I roll.

  The TV was on, and I could hear Curious George. It was the same episode Munch was watching on the drive to the hospital. It made me think of her, and wonder if the sound of Curious George would forever mock me if something terrible happened.

  After two hours the doctor came, told us everything had gone well, and that she was sleeping. The doctor explained that she was going to go do another surgery, then come back and check on Munch because if she had over-corrected/under-corrected the eye, she was going to have to do another surgery that day.

  Now part of me thinks that if Ben Carson is a skilled surgeon, then surgery can’t be THAT hard. But isn’t it also kind of insane that a doctor operates on MULTIPLE people a day. If I had just cut open a kid’s face, I think I would need the rest of the morning to recover.

  When The Munch finally woke up, she was in a lot of pain and really disoriented.

  Munch: Can I put my clothes back on?

  The Nurse: We have to wait for the doctor to see you first.

  We sat with Munch as she tried to make sense of the world, and I held an ice pack to her face. The doctor came and put all these eye drops in her eyes, which really stung and hurt her. But The Munch didn’t complain, and just let it happen.

  Doctor: She is probably the easiest patient I have ever had.

  I started to FREAK THE FUCK OUT that the doctor was going to say she had to go back in and do another surgery. I watched as she did all her doctor texts, and noticed she was surprisingly peppy considering she had just done 3 operations and it wasn’t even 10:30 am. Usually by 10:30 I have accomplished eating breakfast and not peeing on my hands.

  Thank Mother Gaia the doctor was happy with her job, and said we could leave.

  Munch: Can I put my clothes back on now?

  We brought The Munch home, and she was pretty fucking miserable.

  Munch: This was the worst day of my life! Almost as bad as if I had Becca over for a playdate!

  Toni: Whoa really? And is Becca really that bad that she is worse than surgery?

  Munch: She is just so annoying and asks too many questions.

  Toni: Well, I hope you are nice to her anyway.

  Munch: I am. I just never wanna have her over for a playdate!

  The doctor had given us eye drops and eye gel to put in Munch’s eye for the healing process. But you know what you really don’t want to happen to your eye after people have been cutting it open it all day? Putting eye drops or eye-jelly in it! I knew she didn’t want to do it, but Munch’s eye also looked like a cyborg! The whites were completely red, and I felt like I should probably do what I was told.

  Toni: Listen Munch, Mama will do the eye drops first, and you will see it doesn’t hurt. It’s not the stingy kind the doctor had. That kind had steroids in it. This is just plain moisturizing eye drops!

  Munch: NO I DON’T WANT ANY MORE EYE DROPS!

  The Munch then started to cry… but these weren’t normal tears. These were tears of blood. Seriously, my child was CRYING BLOOD! Part of me wanted to take a picture of it for Instagram. It was just so poetic, and disturbing. But even I knew that wasn’t a good idea. (Please note that was me being SUPER mature and putting someone’s feelings above my own artistic social media expressions).

  Toni: Watch Munch, I will do it to myself and show you it doesn’t hurt!

  I put the eye drops in my eye, and you know what? It fucking hurt.

  Toni: Uhhh let’s try the jelly instead.

  After an hour of negotiations and 4 cookies later I finally got the jelly in her eye.

  That night I slept in the bed with Munch because I wanted to make sure she was okay. It was a bit like sleeping next to a rabid octopus who was on meth. She did not sleep the whole night. She kept thrashing, pulling at the covers, sitting up, and wiggling around. By the time morning came around I was delirious.

  Toni: Munch are you okay? You didn’t sleep all night.

  Munch: How do you know that?

  Toni: Because you were moving around and I was right next to you! Was your eye hurting?

  Munch: Yes but I didn’t want to complain. I was trying not to wake you up so you could sleep.

  Ummmmm that is so fucking sweet, and obviously indicative of how many times in my life I tell her not to wake me up!!!

  The Munch wanted to play with her toys, but she also was seeing double out of the eye she got surgery on. The first thing she wanted to do was make a necklace out of beads. You know what is really hard to do? String beads onto a necklace when you fucking can’t see. It was so heartbreaking to watch her attempts, and a really ironic activity choice on her end. She would eventually get the bead on after about, oh I don’t know… 45 tries or so. Then she wanted to play with her “play mobile toys,” which are literally the size of molecules. All her toys are so goddamn tiny!!!!!!!!! Why can’t they make a princess crown that is bigger than a ladybug wing?!

  At this point Munch’s eye really hurt, but she didn’t wanna take the medicine.

  Munch: I don’t want that grape medicine because it is too sweet, and so was the watermelon they made me breathe in! IT IS TOO SWEET AND I WON’T TAKE IT!

  Okay, so I guess that serves me right for being an organic eating hippy who gives Munch dirt flavored gum as a treat.

  I tried putting the medicine in ice-cream, but she wouldn’t eat it. I tried crushing up the pills, hiding it in Nutella, and spreading on toast – but after a few bites she noticed.

  Munch: Why does this Nutella taste like grape?

  Toni: It doesn’t.

  Munch: Then what is this purple powder right here? YOU ARE TRICKING ME!!!!! WHY ARE YOU TRICKING ME!!?

  Toni: I’m sorry! I just want you to fell better! I don’t know how else to make you take the medicine.

  Munch: I AM NEVER EATING GRAPE MEDICINE ON NUTELA AGAIN!

  My mom then went to the store to get “baby aspirin,” which according to my mom tasted delicious. She gave it to Munch who immediately spit it out.

  Toni: Come on Munch, just eat it.

  Munch: IT TASTES DISGUSTING!

  Toni: No it doesn’t Here, lemme try it. I will show you.

  I took one of the “baby aspirin” and chewed it to show Munch she was being ridiculous.

  Toni: Jesus H. Christ that is fucking disgusting!!!!!!!!! Give me that bottle mom.

  So it turns out it was just regular aspirin. Not children’s chewable aspirin. Just adult aspirin you swallow. Now not only had I taken an aspirin for the first time in 15 years for no goddamn reason, but I also couldn’t get the taste of aspirin out of my mouth for the next three days.

  Toni: MOM WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

  My mom went BACK to the store and got another painkiller that tasted like cherry. Thank god Munch would take that one.

  That night I was really on the brink of sanity. I was trying for an hour to get Munch to do the eye jelly, and she wouldn’t. Every time I got close, she would get super upset and run away. I couldn’t hold her down, because it is her eye I am dealing with, and you can’t force someone’s eye open.

  Munch: I don’t want you to see the redness!

  Toni: Munch I don’t care about that!? Would you care if I had a red eye?

  Munch: No. But I don’t want my eye to be red. I don’t want jelly in my eye! I shouldn’t have chosen the surgery. I should have just seen double forever!

  Toni: Dude this is the worst it’s gonna be. You’re gonna feel so much better tomorrow I promise! And then you won’t see double any more.

  Munch: I don’t care if I see double… I wish I never had surgery.

  Toni: You are gonna be all better soon. We just have to put the jelly in your eye to help you.

  Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT ANY MORE JELLY IN MY EYE!

  My Mom: Why don’ t you leave, go get some dinner – I will do the eye jelly, give her a bath, and put her to bed.

  Toni: No. I am not leaving. I’m just going to put her to bed.

  My Mom: I can put her to bed. You have to take care of yourself too. Just get out of the house, eat, and take a break.

  Toni: No I wanna be there for her.

  My mom: But she is resisting you to resist you right now. Just go. I can do it once she has settled down and in a better mood.

  Toni: I’m just gonna put her to bed, then I will go.

  My Mom: Let me put her to bed, you are being really annoying!!!

  Whatever Mom, you are annoying!!

  I put Munch to bed, went downstairs, and got dressed to go get food. As I was leaving I could hear the bath running, and Munch chatting away happily to my mom. I ran upstairs and there she was, out of bed, and in the bath.

  Toni: What the dick Mom? She was just in bed!

  My Mom: I got the jelly in her eye, and now she is having a bath before going back to bed.

  Toni: Oh. Thanks.

  All and all, Munch was really fucking impressive. It was not a great experience, but I am hoping it works for the long term,and this is the only time she has to go through it. Not to mention how fucking nice, supportive, loving, and caring all our friends were. SO THANK YOU for going through this journey with us! Especially her little friend who was so worried about what Munch went through, she watched videos of eye surgeries for over an hour to understand the experience. I am dead serious about that…

  

  

  

  

  

  

  November 23, 2015 • Adventures, Family Drama, Health • Views: 3671

  Read More

• The Munch is Getting Eye Surgery Today

  

  The Munch is getting her eye surgery today. This was a CRAZY hard decision for me to make… which is why I actually didn’t make it. She did.

  The Munch has a wandering eye. It doesn’t happen all the time, so I didn’t want to do anything about it. I have such an aversion to Western medical practices, and will use any approach to avoid the white man’s medicine. I will drink pine needle sap mixed with fish scale flambé or give myself a cayenne pepper enema before taking a Tylenol. The idea of surgery is so outside of my spectrum of comfort. I even brainstormed training a crow to guide Munch’s eye back into place, but it kept shitting everywhere and trying to make a nest in my hair.

  Munch’s eye has been wandering around for years, and I have attempted a variety of different hippy approaches – cranial sacral therapy, eye patches, raven’s blood… But every time I took her to the eye doctor they said the same thing. “There is nothing you can do, and it’s not going to get better – only worsen with age.”

  The problem from Munch’s perspective is that she sees double. It really bothers her when she sees two of everything, especially because she’s not on acid. She’s been asking for over a year to do the surgery and get it fixed.

  Now I know The Munch doesn’t know the dangers of anesthesia, truly understand the recovery process, or has the mental capacity to process the statistics of risk. She just wants her eyes to work. But her confidence and desire to get this done is something that I decided to trust.

  It is really hard to make major decisions about someone else’s body. In fact, it’s pretty terrifying. But this surgery is Munch’s choice, and I want to follow her intuition. Especially because she was not that interested in experimenting with using unicorn urine, so I’m fresh out of ideas.

  Please pray for her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  

  November 18, 2015 • Health, Parenting • Views: 3994

  Read More

• Peer Pressure Boston Adventure

  

  I used to be strong. I had never been susceptible to peer pressure. I was committed to my convictions, and believed in the validity of my perspective. And then something happened. Something that confused me, wore me down, and pushed every button of my being like I was a Nintendo 64. That something I am referring to was the meshing of my DNA to create another human.

  Since squirting out The Munch, I doubt myself more. Not because I don’t think I know what I am doing, but because there is someone talking in my ear every second of my life, and I have no peaceful moments to think. I am easily flustered because from the second The Munch opens her eyes, she is spouting the utterings of her consciousness like silence is something that must be destroyed by the sound of her high-pitched voice. When she is not talking, The Munch is doing something that I for sure don’t want her to be doing – but because she is being quiet I take my sweet time investigating the shit show she is creating in the other room.

  The other morning I was rushing to get ready to take Munch to the doctor’s in Boston to get her lazy eye checked. Unlike my hippy doctor where we make appointments days in advance, the “White Man’s Western Medicine Doctor” means I made this appointment 6-months ago… and of course I was running late. Why you may ask… because a certain someone had to change her clothes 7 times that morning. (I have a lot of sweatpants to choose from).

  While I was getting everything ready, and packing snacks for the car, The Munch was in the bathroom “playing.” When I finally went in to grab her, I discovered that she was actually painting the bathtub, and her face, with red glitter.

  Toni: Whoa dude… that is an insane amount of glitter.
  Munch: I was just making the bathtub pretty and my eyes beautiful for the eye doctor.
  Toni: Okay cool… but that is really quite a lot. Let me wipe some off so your doctor doesn’t think I am breeding you to become a stripper in Tampa.
  Munch: Where is Tampa?
  Toni: Uhhhhhh Munch… why isn’t the glitter coming off?
  Munch: Oh. Because I glued it on.
  Toni: What?
  Munch: Yeah… I just used this glue right here…
  Toni: Wow… you sure as shit did.

  I then shoved my harlot daughter into the car and started frantically driving to Boston. Even if we didn’t stop once, we would maybe have 3 minutes to spare. When we were about 20 minutes away, I called my mom and asked if she would figure out the exact building we had to go to in Mass General…. She called back to say my appointment was at 9:45 not 11:15.

  Toni: That is a fucking lie!! WHAT THE DICK!!!!!!!!!! They told me 11:15!!!!!!!!!! I even called the other day and they never corrected me? WHAT THE FUCK!!
  My Mom: I don’t know what do say. You can still spend the day in Boston and enjoy yourself while I hang with Munch?
  Toni: AHHHHHHHHH I CAN’T ENJOY MYSELF! It is going to take 7-months to make another appointment. FUCK FUCK FUCK!
  Munch: Mamma, what is wrong?
  Toni: We missed your appointment…
  Munch: That is okay. We can just go another day.
  Toni: Munch you don’t get it… that means I just drove 2-hours for nothing when I could of spent the day hating myself in front of the computer!

  When we got to Boston, my mom suggested I go to the hospital and beg them to see me. My whole walk there I prepared my speech. My approach had to be flawless or else they would turn me away from the hospital, and I would have gotten Ebola for nothing. Luckily I convinced the receptionist to see us because I am just that convincing. The doctor did a bunch of tests and told me exactly what I knew she was going to tell me. All the hippy stuff I did is great and all, and it is cool that she wore the eye patch, but she still suggests surgery. Come to think of it, she probably knew she was going to suggest this from day one, and the eye patch was just a formality. Something tells me eye surgery is kind of like the c-section for ophthalmology. Not always necessary, but a well-rehearsed process.

  After we left, my mom offered to take Munch for ice cream so I could walk around and think about what to do. I said that was a good idea, but I really didn’t want to think about this at all so I decided to walk down Newbury Street and look for some birthday presents for the Scorpios in my life. Okay, now here is where everything went to shit for me. I was already in a fragile state from the chaos of the day, and I have not gone “shopping” in maybe 5 years. I live it the sticks, and the only place I go to buy stuff is the farm stand to get some squash cookies sweetened with intentions. Being in a store with sales people overwhelms the shit out of me. I start to panic just thinking about them asking if they can help me, and the potential disappointment they will feel if I say “no thank you” – or even worse… leave the store without buying anything! The responsibility for their wellbeing is just too much to bear!

  I walked into a store that seemed big enough were I could just peruse on my own, but this girl could smell my vulnerability. She came up, and stuck to me like a barnacle. She wouldn’t stop talking. It was almost worse than Munch because she actually expected me to talk back. At least Munch has the decency to talk AT me. My social anxiety disorder started kicking in, and I desperately wanted her to go away – but she kept smiling at me!! It is not that she was mean or anything. In fact she was super cute and friendly. Yet she wouldn’t stop showing me stuff in the store that she liked. I started to get so flustered I didn’t even know what was cool anymore because this 19-year old chick was chirping in my ear about music school and growing up in San Francisco.

  For some reason, my reaction was to lie about every question she asked me. I don’t know why I did this, but according to this girl I live in Boston, work in graphic design, and have a phobia of balloons. I also have a guinea pig named Coco who I knit sweaters for, and I only wear wool socks. Things got so out of hand. I didn’t want to buy anything, but I couldn’t leave unless I did. I felt too guilty because we had been talking all this time, even though I didn’t want to be talking to her in first place. She showed me some hats, and even tried them on for me. I picked two thinking it would be the cheapest option, and left paying $145!!! FOR TWO FUCKING HATS!! I can’t believe I got peer pressured by a child to buy an $80 leopard print hat!?

  By this point I was about ready to have an aneurism. I decided grab some dinner for my mom and Munch, and go home. Yet the restaurant I ordered from had a wait of 20 minutes to get our food. Wait… did I mention that my phone was dead by this point?? Well it was!! I couldn’t just sit somewhere no phone to stare at and entertain me. THAT WOULD BE FUCKING INSANE!!

  I went back to the street, but everywhere I looked there were shops! I went into one jewelry store hoping I wouldn’t be noticed. Everything was insanely expensive and I was spotted within seconds. “How can I help you?” The expectations of the sales clerks were too much! I felt like I was disappointing them just by being there. It was as if I was the tap dancing son of a football coach in the South. I had to run out of there and hyperventilate against a wall. Why did they keep saying “hi” to me!! What do you want from me?!! Can’t you just leave me alone to look at stuff I will never buy?

  I still had 18 minutes to kill, so I decided to stand outside of restaurants and read their menus. This may have been slightly strange for the diners in the windows, but at least I didn’t have to converse with them, or pay for their rigatoni.

  (Here is sparkle eyes Munch… and the top picture is me and that stupid fucking hat)

  

  October 29, 2014 • 4 years old, Adventures, Family Drama, Health, Mommy Mind, Mommyhood, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 4263

  Read More

• Perfect in Your Imperfections

  

  When you see a picture of yourself, what is the first thing you notice? If you see a video of you just acting like you, what do you see when staring at your own moving image? Do you think to yourself – “wow, look at that special person, way to go me!” Or do your eyes immediately gravitate to all your imperfections?

  I remember back in the day when there used to be answering machines, the sound of my own voice was more irritating than puking kittens sliding down a chalk board while a tea kettle whistled in the background and a car alarm went off. I couldn’t stand how I sounded, and it was really hard to believe that anyone could tolerate that horrendous auditory assault that came out of my face hole.

  Nowadays, it is too easy to document everything, and see exactly what people see when they look at you all day. So many pictures of myself make me think “holy fuck – that is what I look like when I am not paying attention and staring off into the cosmos? I need to shut my damn mouth and work on that weak chin of mine!” It is hard to remember that people probably aren’t as critical of you as you are of yourself because everyone is too busy thinking of themselves. But still… it is really humbling to come face to face with all the fucked up faces you make throughout any given day.

  I envy the days when it took half a lifetime of sanding sand just to make a mirror. The human mind is designed to pick a part the good and sift out negativity. We are critical by nature, and often our own harshest critics. That is probably why we envy the naivety of children so much. They live in this blissful state of not noticing or caring about the little flaws that seem so detrimental to us. A small child won’t think your tummy is pudgy, but rather see your paunch as comfy pillow. I remember loving the feeling of lying on my dad’s stomach because it was soft, and not rock hard abs jutting into my cheekbone.

  Kids are really oblivious to their own imperfections as well. They run around with chocolate on their face, their hair all fucked up, and not caring that their clothes are covered in snot stains. There is innocence to their lack of awareness. So it has been really challenging to watch how The Munch has to encounter the reality of her flaws because of her wandering eye. Everyday now Munch has to wear her eye patch, so she is forced to remember that something isn’t right about her.

  Munch: Mom I don’t want to wear the eye patch. I HATE wearing the eye patch.
  Toni: I know it isn’t easy. But you have to wear it so you don’t get surgery and the doctor doesn’t have to poke your eye.
  Munch: Will the doctor take my eyeball out?
  Toni: Uhhhh I don’t really know how it works, but it doesn’t look fun.
  Munch: I don’t want the doctor to take my eyeball out.
  Toni: Well, they would put it back in. But that is why you are wearing the patch. So your eye gets strong, and you don’t have to.
  Munch: But why do I have a lazy eye?
  Toni: Because nobody is perfect, and we all have problems.

  Sigh. Even though I know this to be true, it is just hard that she has to be aware so young. I am hoping that this means she will have a higher tolerance and acceptance of herself in the future.

  (Here is mom rocking the patch to make Munch feel better)

  

  July 21, 2014 • 4 years old, Mommyhood, Musings, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 5482

  Read More

• Vanity and Beauty In The One Eyed Beholder

  

  We are living in an age of vanity. There are too many technological gadgets to document ourselves, and too many outlets to broadcast our glory. I mean, is there any point in looking cute if someone doesn’t capture your image for a new profile pic?

  I don’t think that technology is making us vain as much as it allows this pre-existing condition we often fall victim too. The difference is the ease to which we can connect to our vanity, and the instant gratification of people encouraging it with likes, thumbs up, and comments. It is almost impossible not to be somewhat seduced by it all.  When you are looking your best you kind of want the world to notice – or at least acknowledge a perfect hair day.

  Not that there is anything wrong with wanting to look good. Physicality does play a role in attracting people to you. If you are super smelly, look disheveled, and have plaque on your teeth coated in rotting meat residue – no one is going to want to spark up a conversation. We of course want to be somewhat presentable to instigate relationships. The problem is that if you are going to excessively care when people think you are hot, you are also going to care when they think your not. I am not just talking about having an off day wearing cargo shorts and Tevas.

  I sometimes worry about The Munch and the challenges of raising a daughter in a culture obsessed with female beauty.  Of course, The Munch isn’t exactly helping the situation with her mania towards fashion, and penchant towards all things ultra fancy and princess like. I really can’t tell where the Disney seduction ends and the awareness of prettiness begins…

  Soooooo… The Munch has a wandering eye – which although is exciting to have that kind of spirit in an organ, it is still something I have to address. I have been taking her to get cranial sacral work for about a year to try to avoid surgery. It has helped, but her eye is still like a deadbeat dad who keeps trying to take off when things get difficult. The next option is to have her wear a patch on the strong eye so she is forced to use the weaker one. To be honest I have been not only been dreading, but also avoiding this option. The Munch is SOOOOO particular about what she wears, I didn’t know if it was going to become this major battle of the wills. I can’t even get her to wear socks she doesn’t like – let alone a fucking eye patch on her face.

  I found the coolest, sparkliest, shiniest eye patches on the market – The Munch would for sure scoff at a flesh colored Band-Aid with zero pizzazz. Luckily there were some options that had a little swagger to them. I was nervous about how it would be received so I brought Munch to the chiropractor who has been helping her, and we put it on her ceremoniously.

  She actually took it pretty well. The only thing she complains about so far is his her eye getting hot and sweaty.  She doesn’t seem evenly slightly concerned about looking like a princess pirate.

  The Munch really reminded me that you don’t have to let physical “imperfections” limit your confidence, especially when you have style.

  

  July 14, 2014 • 1st time for everything, Musings • Views: 22396

  Read More