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teenage politics.

The Ramona baby and I had an adventure this weekend.

We went to Seattle! By ourselves! (well, sans dad. Grammi and Auntie Lindsay went with us, and were fabulous).

Here are the highlights:

Ramona finally starting to show her teeth when she smiles.

Ramona crying when shown this video.

Ramona being back to her shrieking, babbling self.

Ramona kicking her legs for joy at the wonders of Pike Place Market (she especially liked the flowers).

Ramona getting to hang out with various second cousins and great aunts and uncles and being adored.

The lowlights (is that a word?):

Ramona having the poop blowout of the century not 30 minutes into our journey (on her clothes, the carseat–everywhere!).

Ramona being awake and ready to play from 12-2am. and at 5am. and at 7am.

And that’s it, really. So the trip really did skew to the good. In non-baby related news me and Lindsay got to go see a reunion show by MxPx, which was a surreal trip down memory lane. I was expecting a bunch of aging hipsters in carefully disgruntled American Apparel attire reliving their punk youths, but instead everyone pretty much looked like I did when I was 16–lot’s of band t-shirts, terrible tattoos, pseudo rockabilly hairstyles.

The band itself was great, and they played the album “Life in General” in its entirety, and the sister and I sang along to every word.

It really was like no time had changed at all . . . except that it had. There was a delicious baby waiting at home for me. I didn’t have a desperate crush on the bass player. I didn’t find solidarity be screaming along to lyrics about time being the enemy.

Instead, I just felt a wave of relief that I wasn’t 16 anymore. That the years of Big Emotions (it seems to happen around ages 2-3 and again at 13-16) are over, that I did grow up and have already experienced a wide range of people and places and have a lot more to do.

I am glad I am a grown up.


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