Martin is now like, a rock star. He really is a great storyteller. He’s also great because he hired me at the library. Can you imagine, I went in, expecting a stodgy librarian, and there was Martin, resplendent with beard and man-jewelry? Anyway, congratulations to Martin, a truly wonderful person as well as a great teller of stories.
In all the confusion of moving and such, Maya turned one. She is now a one year old, and although she is not yet walking (or talking, thank God), speed crawling is definitely one of her finer skills. I was inundated with memories of Ben’s first birthday — what a big deal we made, the party we had, the many, many pictures we took. We had two cakes, people. Two cakes.
Maya’s birthday passed with hardly a glance. Marti made a chocolate cake and we sang Happy Birthday. I worked until 8 p.m.
So, a few days later I went to Mrs. Tiggywinkles Toy Store, a fabulous specialty toy store here, with Maya and credit card at the ready. Why, you may ask? Why, guilt, of course! When you practically ignore your second child’s birthday, a fun way to appease guilt is to spend money. This is what drives the U.S. economy, I tell you — guilt.
Anyway, I got the manager all excited as I asked the prices for the imported children’s rugs from Germany ($280) or the European tricycles ($195 and up). I tried to get Maya to walk with one of those little wooden push toys ($149) but she brought out what Marti likes to call “the bitchy voice” and proceeded to speed crawl to the wooden stairs of the children’s jungle gym equipment. I was not paying $7500 for stairs, so I tried some other things…wooden stove with vegetables and fruit ($115). Or a rocking horse! A real, old-fashioned rocking horse, with leather saddle and reins ($250). Finally, a store employee handed Maya and little wand filled with water and sparklies ($3.50) and she waved it in glee.
I had found my gift.
I couldn’t only spend $3.50 for Maya’s birthday, because that would be far too practical, so I also bought her a little rubber bouncy horse and a rubber ball, and some fabulous new soft leather baby shoes. (Maya is displaying them below)
I got a wand for Ben, too, and even though I tried hard to spend money and be stupid about it, I spent less than $100. The manager waved me sadly away as I stepped over the $200 tricycle on my way out.
So, Maya got a bouncy horse that was immediately commandeered by Benjamin, and a ball and a sparkly wand. Our friends came over with another cake, which we ate but Maya pretty much ignored, and we actually had a candle to light. 
Luckily she got some practical gifts from them (clothing). And, because our camera is packed somewhere, we only have the pictures our friends took — not the dozens of pictures we had for Ben’s birthday.
Ah well. Sorry, Maya, for when you read this at 35. Maybe next year…
We’re still in moving hell. We are suspended in moving hell. I am sweating myself to death in a swamp-cooled house, living out of boxes, and it is Never. Going. To. End.
Ben got accepted to the premier private school here in Tucson, and now we have to figure out if we’re going to qualify for financial aid or if we need to come up with some cash.
We are looking at rentals…and rentals…and more rentals. And laughing at people who are trying to rent for $1400 a month when we could buy a new home for that. And some days I dream that we’ll just get the carpet ripped out of the old house and have the roof fixed and then we’ll just move back in, because I can’t take the stress anymore of being in flux and not know where I am going. I am territorial; I need to stake out my territory. It needs to be circled, its corners peed in, its orifices sniffed. Right now I am a cat without a territory, and I am trying to keep from peeing on the bed in pure frustration.
(For those who are worried, this is pure analogy. I DO NOT actually pee in corners or sniff orifices)
Must go chase neighbor kids out of house…
