If It Was My Fault, She'd Be Mispronouncing "Truck"

The word is "clock", Peanut. C-L-ock.

The Importance Of Careful Diction

Your mispronunciations are usually very cute, Peanut. Like when you say "Okee" for Okay. But the word Peacock has *two* syllables, not one. Please try and remember that. Especially in public.

I'm Late, Again

My job seems to involve a lot of people yelling at me. I don't mean this figuratively, either. I am speaking of full-out screaming, pounding on furniture, and slamming doors. It didn't use to involve quite so much of this, perhaps because I was able to stay patient with people who were wrong for a while longer than I am now. I do my very best not to say or even imply, "You are a lying moron, and I have proof of this", but apparently I am not able to hide it as well as I used to. Either that, or I have had a remarkable run of luck dealing with complete loons, which is entirely possible, given my former nickname of "Freak-Magnet". Although the yelling today was not actually directed at me, in the act of demonstrating what she would say to the person she was angry at if that person was present, the woman still spent fifteen minutes shouting so hard and pounding the desk she broke out in a sweat. And why are asses always involved in these things? Skanky-ass (me), skinny-ass (certainly not me, but instead the other target, whose ass is on vacation with the rest of her)? You don't see me bringing up the size or relative quality of their asses, though believe-you-me, there is something to be said.

As a result, I am in need of a little love. Something besides the collection notices to keep my morale up enough to dig out the least wrinkled clothes out of the laundry and face the office anew. I am talking about National De-Lurking Week.



As the post title implies, I am late to this event, but I have an excuse, as I was busy being told I was a skanky ho by a woman with a cocker spaniel. Though truthfully, I have been on-time twice since Peanut was born. Still, better late than never. Just one small sentence will make my day, I promise you. And if you've posted before, don't feel as if you aren't welcome. I don't know what sort of love my mother withheld from me as a child that I need to get my self-esteem from people who live in my computer (kidding, Mom), but it does help. In return, I promise that I will make serious time to return emails, respond to comments, and comment on other blogs this weekend.

And if that isn't enough reward for you, you can take your skanky ass back under the rock you came out from.

It's Very Touching!

You know that part of The Heffalump Movie when Lumpy finds her call and trumpets so her mother can find her and the mother (voiced by Brenda Blethyn, by the way), comes crashing through the trees? And then as Lumpy tells her that Roo needs to be saved from that giant tangle of logs, and Mummy looks at Kanga and sees the look of fear/terror in her eyes, and goes over and saves him?

When watching that makes me have to force myself not to weep, you know the hormones are a bit out of whack. And that makes for a long week for Big Daddy.

We'll Work On The Tin-Ear

Peanut has discovered her voice.

She talks non-stop. I can't understand most of what she says unless it is in context, but she is certainly trying. She sings the theme song to Elmo's World charmingly out-of-tune. Her favorite game to enourage us to not put her to bed is to start running through all the things she knows: She'll point to and name the parts of her face and body, she'll count, she'll name colors, she'll do animal sounds--all the things that she refuses to do when we ask during the day.

Which brings us to her other new developmental stage. She has decided sleep is for losers. I know all of you with toddlers who never have slept will be just broken up about this (you know who you are), and for you I will point out that she still doesn't cry about going to bed or me leaving. She just doesn't sleep. She'll lie in bed and talk to herself and to her animals for an hour or more. Occasionally she will call us with requests for juice (denied), milk (usually denied), Pooh book (denied, as we have undoubtedly read her more than one before bedtime), tooter (scooter, denied), and finally, the simple Uppy!, which is sometimes denied and sometimes granted, depending on how low my willpower is at the time. When she finally goes to sleep, she'll wake up an hour or so later, and do it all again. She doesn't usually wake up any later, but she is still pushing her nap later and later with the same tactics at Grandma's house.

What many of you don't know is that right after Big Daddy and I got married, I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I spent the next nine or ten months pretty much doing nothing but sleeping and watching Dallas. Watch enough of that and anyone will be ready to either get up and about or kill themselves, so I gradually worked myself up (i.e. walked to the mailbox and back for a few days, then walked out to the car, etc.)to where I could work, but I was not and still am not as energetic as normal people, even with a good night's sleep. I need a lot of sleep to be able to function, and even just one night with poor sleep really screws with me. When Peanut was a newborn, it wasn't as bad as you'd think, because first of all she slept a lot and second of all I always slept with her. It got harder as she got older, but because I was home alone all the time, I was still able to nap when she did. Now, though, I can't do that, so this not-sleeping thing is a little scary for me. While now she is happy talking to herself in her crib, I am afraid that won't last and I will never, ever sleep again.

Anyway, if you're still with me, I will share one milestone she reached last night, finally. I was holding her and she pointed to Big Daddy and said, "Happy! Love you!"  Then later, when trying to keep me from leaving her at bedtime, she announced, with appropriate signs, "Love you! Peanut love you!"

That definitely makes up for some missed sleep.

He Doesn't Remember This, But He'll Take My Word For It

Ten years ago today, I was walking back from The Lemongrass Grill in Park Slope, Brooklyn, with my friend Carlos. A skinny guy wearing a green thrift-store overcoat was walking toward us and Carlos said, "I think that's the guy who is staying downstairs with Chris and Nickie" (a couple who were his downstairs neighbors). He nodded at him, and the guy said something like, "How're y'all doin'?" and continued on.

And now we have a kid, a house, and a dog.

Happy Anniversary of the Day We First Met, Big Daddy. I love you.

It's My Birthday And I'll Cry If I Want To

This morning, I woke up feeling well-rested, and was surprised to see that it was still dark out. So when I looked at the clock, and it was almost 8, my first thought was, "My birthday is always going to be remembered as the day the sun didn't come up".

Luckily, it was only that it was cloudy and rainy outside, but it kind of set the tone for the day. I now know that unless it is to confirm a wanted pregnancy*, there really is no good reason for one to be at the gynecologist's office on one's birthday. There are, however, many bad reasons**. At least they took pity on me and didn't make me stand on the scale.

I had a lovely holiday week, how about you? On Christmas Eve we went to my mother's for dinner, and were joined there by Anna, her husband, and TLM. I will post pictures tomorrow (I'm on Big Daddy's laptop and don't have them available), because Peanut and TLM are two mighty cute kids. On Christmas Day we had my father, brother, and grandfather over for my Grandpa's birthday dinner (yes, his birthday is the 25th, and my dad's is January 1, with Big Daddy's in early December. Apparently my family gets frisky around March). Grandpa turned 92, and very much enjoyed his chocolate cake.

On New Year's Eve, we joined Anna's family at the home of one of our mutual friends (I know her from Peanut's playgroup, as her daughter is a week younger than Peanut). We had dinner and wrangled children, then we put the kids to bed and had adult talk with wine and yummy chocolate cake that Anna made. We also had jelly doughnuts, or sufganiot, because J.'s family was also celebrating Hanukkah. Coming from a town with fewer Jewish families than I could count on three fingers, I had no idea that jelly doughnuts were actually a traditional Hanukkah food, but was more than happy to learn. It was a really nice way to spend an evening, one which we don't get to do very often anymore. After we got home, the neighbors set off fireworks to celebrate the new year. They did this for Christmas too, by the way.

And even today ended up okay, because my mom made dinner and my stepbrother and stepsister both joined us and Peanut flirted with my stepbrother and wanted to be held by my stepsister and didn't cry once. I also decided that, in honor of Annika, I would go to the Red Cross and give blood. It has been shamefully long since I've done it (the last time was not a pleasant experience), and I have resolved not to let it be so long again. Big Daddy will be leaving town tomorrow so I couldn't do it today (part of the bad part of the last time was the utter exhaustion that hit the next day), but I will by the end of the week. Reading Annika's story will bring you to tears, but her family is so strong and loving that you can't help but be inspired. I am quite sure that Moreena would prefer not to be a role model of this kind, but she has become mine.

Speaking of strength, if you have a minute, go over and give Rae an internet hug. Rae was I think the first internet stranger to find and comment on my blog, and she has recently gotten some terrible health news. But don't anyone tell her how lucky she is to have her daughter. I know people say this trying to comfort, but when you are grieving the loss of any future children, it doesn't feel comforting. I can tell you that for some reason, having numerous total strangers post something telling you to hang in there, we're rooting for you, quite often does help when something bad is happening, though it seems silly.

And one more prayer, and then I'll stop, this one for my friend Kim who just got bad news regarding child-custody. Girl, I'm so sorry.

So this aging thing means you are supposed to learn perspective, right? Who knew this internet thingy would be so helpful for that?

*No, I am not now nor was I pregnant, nor was I expecting to be.

**No, I'm not telling you. This isn't Dooce.***

***"Damn right, it isn't!" is not an appropriate response.