"Biblical Proportions" would be a great name for a band.
I just spent the last hour thinking about pickles and nothing else. When I finally broke, I actually ran (well, shuffled quickly; I'm wearing socks, and the floors are slippery) down the hall to the refrigerator. Half the jar is gone now. I'm so glad the foods I always crave the most (except chocolate) have like three calories. Or I would be a very fat woman.
We went to a friend's birthday party tonight. It was fun. The cake was awesome. No, I mean, wow. It's the kind of cake that makes your mouth squirt saliva when I think about it six days later. We took The Child with us, of course. Well, we thought about leaving her at home by herself, but we've been finding booze bottles under her crib and used-up cigarettes in the radiator, so we thought it best to bring her with. She handled it very well, only falling apart about ten minutes before we left. The nice thing about noisy parties is that when your child starts freaking out, the only elements of Purple Rage people notice are the visual ones (she turns a beautiful shade of eggplant). Scream all you want, kid! No one can heeeeeeear youuuuuu! Mwahahahah.
Anyway, this party was a surprise party arranged by her husband, from whom James got the invitation. I didn't know this until we were in the car on the way there; James forgot the word "surprise" when he told me about it. It is only by magical coincidence that I didn't spill the beans to her her in an email I wrote yesterday. I've never ruined a surprise before, and I'm a little disappointed that I missed my chance. Next year, maybe.
I've discovered Yahoo! Answers. I didn't even know I had a Yahoo! account until today, when I stumbled upon a Yahoo! Answers answer after Googling something. I think it was maybe "why won't my baby stop crying" or "what decibel and frequency makes plaster crack".
(yeah, we had a rough day)
That website just *schlooped me in. I started answering questions. I tell you what, nothing makes you feel more superior that Yahoo! Answers. "i gots som prenatals left ova. im gunna just crush em up an mix wit water cuz i don wanna by formula... how much u think baby need" Yes, for serious. That was a real question. And I'm pretty sure the question asker was yanking our chains, but I still started foaming at the mouth. I tell you people, righteous indignation is addictive.
*Yes, I made it up. The noise it makes when you say it seemed appropriate.
The child had another haircut today. We have actual hair cutting scissors instead of meat cutting scissors, and I actually thought about it in advance instead of just hacking away willy-nilly and leaving random gouges in The Child's head suit. Dare I say it, she looks adorable. And fuzzy again. She'll be fourteen before I allow her to grow her hair long enough to lie flat.
I'm off for my end-of-the-night smugness fix. Look for me a Yahoo! Answers.
(Why is it that that ! in the middle of "Yahoo! Answers" drives me crazy, but I'm totally okay with very inappropriate parentheses usage?)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
More LOST! and a baby picture...
...to appease all you Lost haters/Grace fans. I have no idea why the color is suddenly all washed out on this picture. She's really not anemic.
I think the statue is Anubis. I've found pictures of him in which he has only four toes on each foot. This matches up with the hieroglyphics we've seen. Also, Anubis's counterpart in Greek and Roman mythology is Cerberus. Darn you, Lost, for not letting us see more of the statue! Darn you to heck!
Dude! Amy's Sawyer's mom!
Is Paul played by the same guy that played Kate's best friend? No info up yet on IMDB.
That's either a Coptic cross or an ankh, Egyptian symbol of life often toted around by Egyptian gods. Such as Anubis. Does Horace start flipping out because he sees Paul alive?
Oh, PLEASE tell me the new conflict isn't Juliet vs. Kate for Sawyer's heart. If it is, I'm going to barf. Let's see. Kate: selfish, self-absorbed, commitment-phobic, sneaky, snarky, defensive, has great hair and upper arms. Juliet: sarcastic, highly intelligent, can fix a Dharma van and perform surgery, has great hair and upper arms. WHO WINS? This shouldn't even be a contest. I'm not Juliet's biggest fan, but she's twelve steps above Kate, the Homicidal Harpy. If this is what's next on Lost I'll be beyond upset.
I think the statue is Anubis. I've found pictures of him in which he has only four toes on each foot. This matches up with the hieroglyphics we've seen. Also, Anubis's counterpart in Greek and Roman mythology is Cerberus. Darn you, Lost, for not letting us see more of the statue! Darn you to heck!
Dude! Amy's Sawyer's mom!
Is Paul played by the same guy that played Kate's best friend? No info up yet on IMDB.
That's either a Coptic cross or an ankh, Egyptian symbol of life often toted around by Egyptian gods. Such as Anubis. Does Horace start flipping out because he sees Paul alive?
Oh, PLEASE tell me the new conflict isn't Juliet vs. Kate for Sawyer's heart. If it is, I'm going to barf. Let's see. Kate: selfish, self-absorbed, commitment-phobic, sneaky, snarky, defensive, has great hair and upper arms. Juliet: sarcastic, highly intelligent, can fix a Dharma van and perform surgery, has great hair and upper arms. WHO WINS? This shouldn't even be a contest. I'm not Juliet's biggest fan, but she's twelve steps above Kate, the Homicidal Harpy. If this is what's next on Lost I'll be beyond upset.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
From large to extra large in five short months
I think someone is starting her six-month growth spurt early. For the last couple weeks, she's been napping beautifully during the day, usually falling asleep right away, then going two hours at a time before I wake her up. Well. Hah. This morning, I put her down for her nap at her usual time. Shrieking ensued. I did the pat-her-every-ten-minutes-and-tell-her-I-love-her thing for 45 minutes. When we were just starting out the enforced napping, I expected this, and it didn't worry me.
Well, today it was clear that something was wrong. These weren't intermittent I-don't-want-to-sleep shrieks; they were full-blown gurgly someone-is-killing-me shrieks. I fully expected to go in there to find her being stabbed to death by whatever it is that's haunting our house. But she was dry, warm, and didn't seem to have gas. She seemed hungry. No, she seemed HOOOOONGREEEEE. So I fed her. And she gulped and gulped and gulped away, like it was the first and last meal of her life. Normally, if she's eaten less than three hours ago, it's a struggle to get her to eat anything at all. I'm hoping it's just a growth spurt and I didn't totally screw up our nice, established routine.
Speaking of hauntings, I was mostly joking. But this house gives me the creeps sometimes. There are the normal creaks a house makes when it settles. There's the whumpf of the furnace and water heater turning on. But there are also other crazy noises, and sometimes The Child will stare fixedly at something over my shoulder and begin screaming. I don't believe in ghosts, but I still get the heebies. Especially when I'm singing to her in the dark before I put her to bed. I'm sure it's just my overactive imagination, but I always feel like something is leering over my shoulder.
I've agreed to help my pastor's wife with a baby shower in a couple weeks. Any suggestions for quick, delicious foods? I'm already going to make some of that garlic dip and some of that chocolate fruit dip I made for Awesome Friend's shower. I still have dreams about those. Anything else?
Well, today it was clear that something was wrong. These weren't intermittent I-don't-want-to-sleep shrieks; they were full-blown gurgly someone-is-killing-me shrieks. I fully expected to go in there to find her being stabbed to death by whatever it is that's haunting our house. But she was dry, warm, and didn't seem to have gas. She seemed hungry. No, she seemed HOOOOONGREEEEE. So I fed her. And she gulped and gulped and gulped away, like it was the first and last meal of her life. Normally, if she's eaten less than three hours ago, it's a struggle to get her to eat anything at all. I'm hoping it's just a growth spurt and I didn't totally screw up our nice, established routine.
Speaking of hauntings, I was mostly joking. But this house gives me the creeps sometimes. There are the normal creaks a house makes when it settles. There's the whumpf of the furnace and water heater turning on. But there are also other crazy noises, and sometimes The Child will stare fixedly at something over my shoulder and begin screaming. I don't believe in ghosts, but I still get the heebies. Especially when I'm singing to her in the dark before I put her to bed. I'm sure it's just my overactive imagination, but I always feel like something is leering over my shoulder.
I've agreed to help my pastor's wife with a baby shower in a couple weeks. Any suggestions for quick, delicious foods? I'm already going to make some of that garlic dip and some of that chocolate fruit dip I made for Awesome Friend's shower. I still have dreams about those. Anything else?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Gimme NOW!
The Child can now roll back to front (a month early!). She can't roll front to back (a month late!). She hates being on her stomach. This is going to be fantastic fun.
Some jerk on YouTube yelled at me because MAH POOR INNUSINT BEBE IS BEIN TORCHERRED YOU F***** IDJIT!!! This bothers me a whole lot more than it should. Especially since I put in the video description (for this very reason) that the tights on her head didn't bother her at all. She doesn't even seem to notice they're there. Why did that comment piss me off so much? I have no idea.
The house is really, really clean. I have nothing to do with myself. This morning I went around the house, picking up clothes that didn't even really need washing, and I started a load. It's too cold to go outside for a walk. I like to save TV for when I'm feeding Grace. What to do? Help me, Internet!
My little party was on Saturday. There were a few gifts: a Baby Einstein video, an adorable jumper, a handmade hat (is adorable; must get pictures of MAH POOR INNUSINT BEBE in it), a gift card to TGIFriday's + free babysitting for an evening, and a cute bib. I don't plan to have Grace watching TV for a very long time, but I'm keeping the video anyway. 99% of all the people I know who were all anti-TV when their babies were small finally caved around two years. And the ones who didn't still let their kids watch a few minutes here and there. So I'll keep it.
It's better than Sesame Street. I hate that show more than you could ever imagine, especially since Demon-Posessed Tickle Me Elmo came out. Now I don't just hate the show; it also gives me the heebies. I tell you one thing: Barney will never cross the threshold of this house. Never ever. Just thinking about that purple atrocity makes my skin crawl. I once babysat kids who liked Barney and Power Rangers. A lot. And by "a lot", I mean those kids would have laid down their lives for any of the characters of those two shows. It very nearly came to that one night after I was forced to watch the same Barney video six times over.
It's supposed to be 40F on Wednesday, then 46F on Thursday. Saturday and next Wednesday look like they'll be a little chilly, but after that, it looks like spring may finally be creeping in. This is good because I'm climbing the walls. We had nice weather juuuust long enough that the 20s feel too cold to go outside now, and now it's been in the 20s for several days. Hahah, Wisconsin, you're freaking hilarious.
I'm stir crazy and nervous and antsy. I hate this part of the year almost as much as I do the onset of winter. I'm trying to teach Grace how to roll, and I'll watch her struggle for a toy just out of her reach. It's millimeters from her grasp, and this infuriates her. That's how I feel about spring and warmer weather. It's right there; why can't I just have it?
Some jerk on YouTube yelled at me because MAH POOR INNUSINT BEBE IS BEIN TORCHERRED YOU F***** IDJIT!!! This bothers me a whole lot more than it should. Especially since I put in the video description (for this very reason) that the tights on her head didn't bother her at all. She doesn't even seem to notice they're there. Why did that comment piss me off so much? I have no idea.
The house is really, really clean. I have nothing to do with myself. This morning I went around the house, picking up clothes that didn't even really need washing, and I started a load. It's too cold to go outside for a walk. I like to save TV for when I'm feeding Grace. What to do? Help me, Internet!
My little party was on Saturday. There were a few gifts: a Baby Einstein video, an adorable jumper, a handmade hat (is adorable; must get pictures of MAH POOR INNUSINT BEBE in it), a gift card to TGIFriday's + free babysitting for an evening, and a cute bib. I don't plan to have Grace watching TV for a very long time, but I'm keeping the video anyway. 99% of all the people I know who were all anti-TV when their babies were small finally caved around two years. And the ones who didn't still let their kids watch a few minutes here and there. So I'll keep it.
It's better than Sesame Street. I hate that show more than you could ever imagine, especially since Demon-Posessed Tickle Me Elmo came out. Now I don't just hate the show; it also gives me the heebies. I tell you one thing: Barney will never cross the threshold of this house. Never ever. Just thinking about that purple atrocity makes my skin crawl. I once babysat kids who liked Barney and Power Rangers. A lot. And by "a lot", I mean those kids would have laid down their lives for any of the characters of those two shows. It very nearly came to that one night after I was forced to watch the same Barney video six times over.
It's supposed to be 40F on Wednesday, then 46F on Thursday. Saturday and next Wednesday look like they'll be a little chilly, but after that, it looks like spring may finally be creeping in. This is good because I'm climbing the walls. We had nice weather juuuust long enough that the 20s feel too cold to go outside now, and now it's been in the 20s for several days. Hahah, Wisconsin, you're freaking hilarious.
I'm stir crazy and nervous and antsy. I hate this part of the year almost as much as I do the onset of winter. I'm trying to teach Grace how to roll, and I'll watch her struggle for a toy just out of her reach. It's millimeters from her grasp, and this infuriates her. That's how I feel about spring and warmer weather. It's right there; why can't I just have it?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
LOST!
Oh, thanks, LOST. I really needed to see that horrifying shard of shin bone ONE MORE TIME.
HALLELUJAH! Locke's alive! And maybe a little creepier than he was before. Is this really Locke? It better be. Like I said, if Locke is really dead, I'm done with this show.
Tunisia? I am telling you, people, ley lines. Check this out: Ley Line in Tunisia.
Abaddon! Yes! I love this guy. I love the actor, I love the creepy character. Also, he is very handsome. In a creepy way.
Widmore? I love this show. Is he evil? Is he really going to help for the right reasons? Who is the Devil? Widmore or Ben? Or are they opposing factions within the same side?
Holy crap Walt is twelve feet tall. Is Michael really dead? I mean, if Jin survived, it's possible Michael did, too. Of course, Jin was out on deck when the explosion happened, and I think Michael was down below.
Abaddon! No! He might be evil, but I liked him! That surprised me so much I jumped.
Terry O'Quin has some creepy toes. But how I love him. He's so badass on the Island and so pathetic and sad off the Island, and he just nails that; I don't even know how he does it. He was great on Alias, too.
Ben really did seem to want John to live. He didn't change his mind until John talked about spilling the beans to Sun. Ben knows they can't get back to the Island without everyone who left. Now, either he's desperate to get back for selfish reasons or because he knows something terrible will happen if they don't return. He did seem upset about killing John, but he did it anyway. Does he know John will come back? And why is he okay with letting Sun's baby, Aaron and Walt stay off the Island?
Okay, here's what I think: I think Ben isn't good or bad. Yes, I think he's power-hungry; he's pissed that Locke is the special one. But I think that's a secondary motivator; Ben is on the Island's side, and everything he does is in the best interest of the Island. North on his moral compass points to whatever is best for the Island. Now, he might be wrong about what is best for the Island, and his desire to regain Jacob's favor may skew his judgement, but I don't think he's 100% evil. He killed Locke because he knew Locke wouldn't be able to break his promise to Jin, removing any motivation Sun would have to return. It just so happens that killing Locke removed the person who supplanted him. Bonus!
Widmore, on the other hand--I think everything he does is to gain power. I don't think he was ever in charge of the Others, as he told Locke he was. I think he wanted to be, and he challenged the authority of whoever was in charge. Does this sound familiar. Could it be... Satan? He's spent the rest of his life trying to get back theGarden Island and gain control, and he will do anything to achieve those goals.
He fooled Locke by comparing himself to Ben, asking, "Have I ever tried to kill you, John?" (paraphrase) This is completely irrelevant. John himself would kill anyone who was a threat to the Island (Naomi! Does anyone remember her?), and he would offer up his own life if he thought it necessary. It doesn't matter that Ben has tried to kill him and Widmore hasn't. What matters is that Ben has killed and tried to kill for the sake of the Island and Widmore has only ever done anything for Widmore.
Remember Desmond going to Widmore and asking for Mrs. Hawking's address? Widmore gives it to him despite the obvious danger his own daughter will be in if Desmond goes down this path. He gives it to him because he knows Mrs. Hawking and the gang will find a way back to the Island. Now, I don't know why he needed to send Desmond if he knew where she lived all along; maybe he thought that Desmond needed to return, too, in order for the plan to work. But I bet ten dollars that he's either on plane, followed the plane, or has one of his people on the plane. Something. There's a reason he gave Desmond what he wanted, when before he wanted nothing to do with him.
Also, Abaddon's name. In the Bible, the place or person Abaddon is evil, associated with Sheol, death, and darkness. I know this doesn't make it 100% certain that he's not a good guy, but it's possible. Or maybe it's a red herring, and he's really an angel of light.
I'm starving. Lost makes me go hungry. I think I have a problem.
HALLELUJAH! Locke's alive! And maybe a little creepier than he was before. Is this really Locke? It better be. Like I said, if Locke is really dead, I'm done with this show.
Tunisia? I am telling you, people, ley lines. Check this out: Ley Line in Tunisia.
Abaddon! Yes! I love this guy. I love the actor, I love the creepy character. Also, he is very handsome. In a creepy way.
Widmore? I love this show. Is he evil? Is he really going to help for the right reasons? Who is the Devil? Widmore or Ben? Or are they opposing factions within the same side?
Holy crap Walt is twelve feet tall. Is Michael really dead? I mean, if Jin survived, it's possible Michael did, too. Of course, Jin was out on deck when the explosion happened, and I think Michael was down below.
Abaddon! No! He might be evil, but I liked him! That surprised me so much I jumped.
Terry O'Quin has some creepy toes. But how I love him. He's so badass on the Island and so pathetic and sad off the Island, and he just nails that; I don't even know how he does it. He was great on Alias, too.
Ben really did seem to want John to live. He didn't change his mind until John talked about spilling the beans to Sun. Ben knows they can't get back to the Island without everyone who left. Now, either he's desperate to get back for selfish reasons or because he knows something terrible will happen if they don't return. He did seem upset about killing John, but he did it anyway. Does he know John will come back? And why is he okay with letting Sun's baby, Aaron and Walt stay off the Island?
Okay, here's what I think: I think Ben isn't good or bad. Yes, I think he's power-hungry; he's pissed that Locke is the special one. But I think that's a secondary motivator; Ben is on the Island's side, and everything he does is in the best interest of the Island. North on his moral compass points to whatever is best for the Island. Now, he might be wrong about what is best for the Island, and his desire to regain Jacob's favor may skew his judgement, but I don't think he's 100% evil. He killed Locke because he knew Locke wouldn't be able to break his promise to Jin, removing any motivation Sun would have to return. It just so happens that killing Locke removed the person who supplanted him. Bonus!
Widmore, on the other hand--I think everything he does is to gain power. I don't think he was ever in charge of the Others, as he told Locke he was. I think he wanted to be, and he challenged the authority of whoever was in charge. Does this sound familiar. Could it be... Satan? He's spent the rest of his life trying to get back the
He fooled Locke by comparing himself to Ben, asking, "Have I ever tried to kill you, John?" (paraphrase) This is completely irrelevant. John himself would kill anyone who was a threat to the Island (Naomi! Does anyone remember her?), and he would offer up his own life if he thought it necessary. It doesn't matter that Ben has tried to kill him and Widmore hasn't. What matters is that Ben has killed and tried to kill for the sake of the Island and Widmore has only ever done anything for Widmore.
Remember Desmond going to Widmore and asking for Mrs. Hawking's address? Widmore gives it to him despite the obvious danger his own daughter will be in if Desmond goes down this path. He gives it to him because he knows Mrs. Hawking and the gang will find a way back to the Island. Now, I don't know why he needed to send Desmond if he knew where she lived all along; maybe he thought that Desmond needed to return, too, in order for the plan to work. But I bet ten dollars that he's either on plane, followed the plane, or has one of his people on the plane. Something. There's a reason he gave Desmond what he wanted, when before he wanted nothing to do with him.
Also, Abaddon's name. In the Bible, the place or person Abaddon is evil, associated with Sheol, death, and darkness. I know this doesn't make it 100% certain that he's not a good guy, but it's possible. Or maybe it's a red herring, and he's really an angel of light.
I'm starving. Lost makes me go hungry. I think I have a problem.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I can't believe I'm excited about a high of 37F
I'm such an awesome mom. Yesterday I put The Child down for a nap. She was quiet as a mouse (nay, quieter!) for two whole hours. Not a peep from the monitor. I went into wake her up and discovered that I'd never turned the monitor on. I win at motherhood!
She's getting too big for the front-facing kangaroo hold in the sling. Her bottom and thighs are so meaty that I practically have to break some bones and dislocate my own ribs to get her in. But she hates the tummy-to-tummy hold (I think it's that she can see BOOBS RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, MOM, WHY ARE YOU TAUNTING ME?), and her back's not strong enough yet to do the hip carry. Anyway, when I finally get her in the forward-facing way, I think she thinks she's levitating by the power of her fingers. When we're sitting or standing, she'll play with a toy or chew on her toes or gabble like a drunken fishwife, but when I start walking around, she splays her fingers out and does little circle motions with her arms. Like panicky jazz hands.
Yesterday I put a pair of her tights over her head and took video. I must upload that because it's probably the funniest thing I've ever seen.
Don't worry; it wasn't torture, as she didn't seem to mind it one bit.
We went shopping yesterday. She has grown out of her 6-9 month onesies. I don't know when it happened, really; five minutes ago she was swimming in them. So we went to the outlet mall, and I got her 15 slightly large onesies. They may fit for 32 seconds. I swear that child eats the equivalent of a whole cat every six hours. I suspect she has a stash of something hidden under her mattress. Hopefully it's not pieces of the neighbor's cat.
I also went to the Dress Barn outlet. For years I've shunned the place. I refuse to buy clothing from a place called "The Dress Barn". But Grace was getting antsy, I needed shirts, and it was the closest women's store. Most of the clothes in there were made for sixty-year-old women. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but I'm twenty-six. However, SCORE on the clearance rack. I found two very flattering shirts--one a long-sleeved black shirt that makes me look thin and beautiful (it even plucks my eyebrows for me) and the other a long-torsoed, short-sleeved grey sweater. Combine this with my new haircut, and I feel like Giselle Freaking Bundchen. I'm still tempted to black out "The Dress Barn" on the tags with permanent marker. The Dress Barn. Makes me feel like a cow.
Speaking of Cat, The Child realized today that Cat was a touchable object. Before, if she even noticed Cat, she'd just stare at it like, "You're not a baby. You're not a Big Person. What are you?" But today, Cat registered on her radar while we were sitting on the couch. She reached out and touched Cat. To my complete surprise, Cat did not remove The Child's fingers from her body; instead, she just looked at me resignedly, like, "That thing is pretty much here to stay, isn't it?" We were all having a great time enjoy the softness of Cat's fur, and then The Child decided she couldn't be sure of what Cat was until she had a good taste. She reached out, clenched her little fist, and pulled. Instead of Cat coming to her mouth, as she'd intended, she just yanked out a whole bunch of fur. More resigned looks from Cat, and The Child stared and the hank of fur in her hand like, "What just happened?"
It hurts me to admit this, but I've moved past the point of grudging warmth and into full-on affection for Cat. Three cheers for Zyrtec, I say! Either that, or I'm getting used to her particular allergens.
Enough about the kid. Remember how we had Lawn Care Ed and his wife Marge over for dinner a couple months ago? I thought we had a good time. They left, all smiles.
We haven't seen them since. I know they're still alive because their eight thousand cars are in different positions around their yard and driveway every time I walk by, but not so much as a "howdy neighbor" from them since. I'm no gourmet chef, but I'm pretty sure the soup I made was all kinds of fantastic, so I don't know what the deal is. Maybe they're intimidated by our class and elegance.
Tomorrow I have friends coming over. Friends. Coming over. This is normal when it's old friends that I've known for years. But these people are Church People, whom I've only known for a few years. They're very nice Church People, and I'm sure one day I'll feel comfortable with them. But that won't be until I'm 30. Right now all I can think about is the disaster state my house is in.
And what am I doing? Sitting in the rocking chair in my bathrobe. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet.
I don't really know how it gets so messy around here. I put things back when I'm done with them, dishes get to the sink, and I do 47 loads of laundry a day. And yet it still looks like Babies R' Us and the Gap had a kegger in here last night.
Update:
These are best viewed in high quality.
I am the most evil mother that ever mothered.
She's getting too big for the front-facing kangaroo hold in the sling. Her bottom and thighs are so meaty that I practically have to break some bones and dislocate my own ribs to get her in. But she hates the tummy-to-tummy hold (I think it's that she can see BOOBS RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, MOM, WHY ARE YOU TAUNTING ME?), and her back's not strong enough yet to do the hip carry. Anyway, when I finally get her in the forward-facing way, I think she thinks she's levitating by the power of her fingers. When we're sitting or standing, she'll play with a toy or chew on her toes or gabble like a drunken fishwife, but when I start walking around, she splays her fingers out and does little circle motions with her arms. Like panicky jazz hands.
Yesterday I put a pair of her tights over her head and took video. I must upload that because it's probably the funniest thing I've ever seen.
Don't worry; it wasn't torture, as she didn't seem to mind it one bit.
We went shopping yesterday. She has grown out of her 6-9 month onesies. I don't know when it happened, really; five minutes ago she was swimming in them. So we went to the outlet mall, and I got her 15 slightly large onesies. They may fit for 32 seconds. I swear that child eats the equivalent of a whole cat every six hours. I suspect she has a stash of something hidden under her mattress. Hopefully it's not pieces of the neighbor's cat.
I also went to the Dress Barn outlet. For years I've shunned the place. I refuse to buy clothing from a place called "The Dress Barn". But Grace was getting antsy, I needed shirts, and it was the closest women's store. Most of the clothes in there were made for sixty-year-old women. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but I'm twenty-six. However, SCORE on the clearance rack. I found two very flattering shirts--one a long-sleeved black shirt that makes me look thin and beautiful (it even plucks my eyebrows for me) and the other a long-torsoed, short-sleeved grey sweater. Combine this with my new haircut, and I feel like Giselle Freaking Bundchen. I'm still tempted to black out "The Dress Barn" on the tags with permanent marker. The Dress Barn. Makes me feel like a cow.
Speaking of Cat, The Child realized today that Cat was a touchable object. Before, if she even noticed Cat, she'd just stare at it like, "You're not a baby. You're not a Big Person. What are you?" But today, Cat registered on her radar while we were sitting on the couch. She reached out and touched Cat. To my complete surprise, Cat did not remove The Child's fingers from her body; instead, she just looked at me resignedly, like, "That thing is pretty much here to stay, isn't it?" We were all having a great time enjoy the softness of Cat's fur, and then The Child decided she couldn't be sure of what Cat was until she had a good taste. She reached out, clenched her little fist, and pulled. Instead of Cat coming to her mouth, as she'd intended, she just yanked out a whole bunch of fur. More resigned looks from Cat, and The Child stared and the hank of fur in her hand like, "What just happened?"
It hurts me to admit this, but I've moved past the point of grudging warmth and into full-on affection for Cat. Three cheers for Zyrtec, I say! Either that, or I'm getting used to her particular allergens.
Enough about the kid. Remember how we had Lawn Care Ed and his wife Marge over for dinner a couple months ago? I thought we had a good time. They left, all smiles.
We haven't seen them since. I know they're still alive because their eight thousand cars are in different positions around their yard and driveway every time I walk by, but not so much as a "howdy neighbor" from them since. I'm no gourmet chef, but I'm pretty sure the soup I made was all kinds of fantastic, so I don't know what the deal is. Maybe they're intimidated by our class and elegance.
Tomorrow I have friends coming over. Friends. Coming over. This is normal when it's old friends that I've known for years. But these people are Church People, whom I've only known for a few years. They're very nice Church People, and I'm sure one day I'll feel comfortable with them. But that won't be until I'm 30. Right now all I can think about is the disaster state my house is in.
And what am I doing? Sitting in the rocking chair in my bathrobe. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet.
I don't really know how it gets so messy around here. I put things back when I'm done with them, dishes get to the sink, and I do 47 loads of laundry a day. And yet it still looks like Babies R' Us and the Gap had a kegger in here last night.
Update:
These are best viewed in high quality.
I am the most evil mother that ever mothered.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sometimes I just stare at the title box...
...and nothing ever comes to me.
In the nearly six years that we've been married, we've never had a scale. I've wanted one, but I'm kind of a tightwad and don't like spending money on things we don't need. Unless it's chocolate. Well, any type of food, really; there's a reason James does all the grocery shopping.
James came home with a scale a while ago. It not only tells me my weight, but also my body fat percentage and my water percentage. Now, I don't really care very much about my weight by itself, but the body fat percentage is downright depressing. I've started drinking and writing emo songs. At least booze is fat-free!
The Child is obsessed with plastic bags. It's a shame they're so dangerous for babies. Give her a plastic bag, and she doesn't need anything else. I bet I could stick her on a bed of hot coals with a plastic bag in her hands, and she wouldn't even peep for hours, not even when she started starving. The Plastic Bag: the neglectful parent's dream come true!
She also started waking up super early out of nowhere about a week ago. I kind of stumbled around scratching my head about that one for a few days before: LIGHT BULB! It's getting light earlier. So I installed blackout curtains over her window. Well, I tacked a dark sheet and a blanket to the window frame (see above, re: tightwad). The dark green and bright red look lovely in her purple room. I'm surprised she hasn't had any seizures yet.
Also, we finally got a baby monitor. This is good and bad. Whereas before, I'd spend half the evening and half her naptimes dashing halfway up the stairs to investigate phantom cries, I now sit in my chair with my laptop, reassured by the quiet static of the monitor. And whereas before, I'd never hear it if she made little tiny peeps in her sleep, I now hear every single grunt and raspberry she makes. Her early weeks conditioned me so well that any noise she makes when she's supposed to be sleeping sends my stomach plummeting into my toes (anothersleeplessnightanothersleeplessnightanothersleeplessnight!). Ye Olde Knot O' Dread disengages me from whatever enjoyable activity I'm immersed in and yanks me into those first few weeks of dim, anxiety-ridden days and nights. Hurray!
But mostly it's a good thing. I can do stuff around the house in rooms where I couldn't have heard her cry before. Crap. No more excuses not to get the dishes done.
Maybe not a good thing.
And finally, we had a wicked snow storm yesterday. Two Tuesdays ago it got into the 60s. Yesterday we got 47 feet of snow, and I had a hair appointment an hour away. I was determined to go, however, and I spent the most terrifying hour of my life negotiating an unplowed Highway 18 with white knuckles and a squeaky bladder.
Alas, poor mullet! Ye be gone.
For the next, oh, week, I have fabulous hair again. Until random strands start sprouting at light speed while the rest of my hair trudges out my head as slowly as possible. I also have fabulous eyebrows again. I'm too lazy to stay on top of the plucking, so by the time haircut day rolls around, I look like Sylar from Heroes. I am not plagued by a hunger for braaaains or followed by ominous clocky-type music. Though that would be pretty awesome. The music, I mean.
In the nearly six years that we've been married, we've never had a scale. I've wanted one, but I'm kind of a tightwad and don't like spending money on things we don't need. Unless it's chocolate. Well, any type of food, really; there's a reason James does all the grocery shopping.
James came home with a scale a while ago. It not only tells me my weight, but also my body fat percentage and my water percentage. Now, I don't really care very much about my weight by itself, but the body fat percentage is downright depressing. I've started drinking and writing emo songs. At least booze is fat-free!
The Child is obsessed with plastic bags. It's a shame they're so dangerous for babies. Give her a plastic bag, and she doesn't need anything else. I bet I could stick her on a bed of hot coals with a plastic bag in her hands, and she wouldn't even peep for hours, not even when she started starving. The Plastic Bag: the neglectful parent's dream come true!
She also started waking up super early out of nowhere about a week ago. I kind of stumbled around scratching my head about that one for a few days before: LIGHT BULB! It's getting light earlier. So I installed blackout curtains over her window. Well, I tacked a dark sheet and a blanket to the window frame (see above, re: tightwad). The dark green and bright red look lovely in her purple room. I'm surprised she hasn't had any seizures yet.
Also, we finally got a baby monitor. This is good and bad. Whereas before, I'd spend half the evening and half her naptimes dashing halfway up the stairs to investigate phantom cries, I now sit in my chair with my laptop, reassured by the quiet static of the monitor. And whereas before, I'd never hear it if she made little tiny peeps in her sleep, I now hear every single grunt and raspberry she makes. Her early weeks conditioned me so well that any noise she makes when she's supposed to be sleeping sends my stomach plummeting into my toes (anothersleeplessnightanothersleeplessnightanothersleeplessnight!). Ye Olde Knot O' Dread disengages me from whatever enjoyable activity I'm immersed in and yanks me into those first few weeks of dim, anxiety-ridden days and nights. Hurray!
But mostly it's a good thing. I can do stuff around the house in rooms where I couldn't have heard her cry before. Crap. No more excuses not to get the dishes done.
Maybe not a good thing.
And finally, we had a wicked snow storm yesterday. Two Tuesdays ago it got into the 60s. Yesterday we got 47 feet of snow, and I had a hair appointment an hour away. I was determined to go, however, and I spent the most terrifying hour of my life negotiating an unplowed Highway 18 with white knuckles and a squeaky bladder.
Alas, poor mullet! Ye be gone.
For the next, oh, week, I have fabulous hair again. Until random strands start sprouting at light speed while the rest of my hair trudges out my head as slowly as possible. I also have fabulous eyebrows again. I'm too lazy to stay on top of the plucking, so by the time haircut day rolls around, I look like Sylar from Heroes. I am not plagued by a hunger for braaaains or followed by ominous clocky-type music. Though that would be pretty awesome. The music, I mean.
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