Pauly 2.0

Poker Chick arrived home late today. She opened the door to the mini in pajama bottoms and only the head of her top on running..."It's my mommy! My mommy's here!" We love this greeting and it never gets old. But tonight Poker Chick saw a very cute but curious new teddy bear sitting on the mini's chair in the middle of the room.* Before she could blink, the mini ran toward it "Mommy! Come see my new bear! My bear!" She grabbed and hugs the bear. "His name is Pauly!" And so we see history repeating itself in most bizarre ways. A special prize to whoever can guess who Pauly was.

*Special thanks to the Saba for not only purchasing said bear but for making sure he is allergy-friendly

The Hump Day Rant

Poker Chick wishes Emily hadn't executed her archive-mania so quickly because then you'd be able to read how she is feeling right now in words much more eloquent than her own. Still, this post will give readers a taste; it refers to an early post where she decided she's not getting involved anymore. In this case, she was nobly trying to help her sister find her cat a home while the husband endured chemotherapy. She found a home for the cat, drove five hours alone in a car with the vomitous feline, and still somehow managed to piss these ungrateful people off. Here's Poker Chick's version of the same damn story.

We start with concern over Big Boy. He had some unnerving test results, and Poker Chick happened to have a personal friend that specializes in the kind of medical advice he desperately needed. Nothing major, just the usual "do I have cancer?" (probably not) and "do I need surgery?" (probably yes) kind of stuff. The medical establishment in his country did not exactly instill confidence with their wishy-washy recommendations and "inconclusive" results. So what did Poker Chick do? That's right peeps, she tried to help.

She had him send copies of the test results. Showed them to her friend. The friend took them to his office. Reviewed (and interpreted) them with his partner. Discussed options. Discussed costs. Made a recommendation. And offered to see Big Boy. Big Boy agreed to get this second opinion but only had one day free before leaving the country to go back home. Though they were booked for weeks, her friend pulled a hail-mary: An appointment. Hospital rounds were re-arranged, the office was going to open at 7, and Big Boy would be seen by the team that books up for months in advance. All the time he needed. Laying out his options in English. Only one problem.

The appointment was for 8am, and that didn't work for Big Boy. He had a 10am appointment he was worried about missing. Could it be 3? Um, no. This isn't a freakin' McDonalds! When Poker Chick's friend had her c-section, did she say "oh gee, 7am doesn't really work for me. How's 5? Could I get the Operating Room at 5?" No, she di'int. That would be absurd. But that's exactly what was happening here.

Poker Chick persevered, suppressed her immediate urge to scold, wanting to do the right thing. She offered a solution: she would order a car. Order it herself, give them directions. She was willing to pay for it if that was the issue. All Big Boy would have to do is get into the car at 7am and they'd take him there, he'd see the doctor, and they'd take him directly from there to his appointment. Great, right?

Yeah, right. He didn't want to wake up that early. Couldn't wake up that early. See, at his age, he needs his sleep. Too bad her friend couldn't sleep in either now that he had to go into the office at 7am anyway, but it's cool. Poker Chick is sure he doesn't need sleep and his wife and two small kids with ear infections didn't need his help at home anyway. Poker Chick was annoyed but prepared to call her friend with her tail between her legs.

OK, we get it. He's ungrateful. But no, it gets better!

Big Boy yelled at her. No, screamed. Five minutes of justification why he can't do it and she should have known and can't she change it and she doesn't understand blah blah blah. He couldn't believe she did it for 8am, doesn't she know how important his later appointment is? How could she expect him to do that? She sighed and curtly said goodnight which was of course somehow offensive to him as well.

Yes, we know we can't believe it either. Silly Poker Chick. Don't you know better than to get involved?

How to Break Poker Chick's Heart

So while the mini seems to enjoy school (sort of) the separation process is not going as easily as Poker Chick had hoped. Today we finally acknowledged that she was only torturing her child by being there through the day when she is normally at work. So she left in the hopes that the screaming tantrums, leg biting and hair pulling would eventually subside. Cut to the evening. PC tries to ask about school.

"What did you have for snack?" "Nothing". Her eyes are serious and her expression intense.
"Challah?" "No". "Graham crackers?" "No. I didn't eat anything."
"What songs did you sing today?" "No songs."
"Did you read a story?" "No."
"I saw you sitting with your teacher, what did you do?" "I wasn't with my teacher."

Exasperated, PC pulled out the only weapon she had left:
"Did you go to the playground today?" "Yes." Aha! Success! Let's go with it!
"What did you do on the playground?" "Nothing." Uh oh.
"Why not?" "Because...because...I wanted you." And then she stares me down for a full minute to see how I react. I'm speechless. Finally she smiles and screams "But now you're home and I so happy and I'm going to give you a BIG hug!" and throws herself on top of me.

Yikes, and ouch. When did this kid learn to articulate feelings? And is she doomed for a lifetime of therapy before even making it out of toddlerhood? If somebody could help talk Poker Chick off a ledge, that'd be cool.

Thumbelina

One of the joys of growing up with immigrant parents is laughing at words they are often unable to pronounce words correctly in languages that are not their native tongue. Poker Chick never quite considered that this mis-prononciation might also have affected her own. Until now. Thanks to J and Miss Feena, she made a shocking discovery. Here's the story:

Poker Chick's father likes to sing. Not professionally, he's not even that good, but he used to go around the house singing silly old songs during her childhood. Most of these were forgotten, but now he is singing these songs to the mini. During last week's visit, he taught her a favorite. "Tumbelina, Tumbelina, tiny little thing. Tumbelina dance. Tumbelina sing." (yes, Big Boy's a Danny Kaye fan). Poker Chick got nostalgic and smiled; she'd known this song all her life and now the mini was shouting it with gusto and giggles.

Imagine the embarrassment when she shared what was supposed to be a cute story with her friends and discovered it's supposed to be "Thumbelina". Gasp! She'd been living a lie her whole life. (On a side note, she did some digging into the origins of this song and actually found an explanation for her father's lifelong obsession with the name "Cornelius").

Now, here's the best part: when she told this to Big Boy he began to try and sing it correctly: "Sumbelina, Sumbelina, tiny little thing...."

Sigh. Silly foreigners.

OK, so it's already on the semi-perma-list on the right, but we're creating a unique post for this because anyone with $50 and an iota of a sense of humor has to see this show.