Posts from — November 2008

Rarer than a photo of a Yeti

“When’s the last time we had a picture taken of just the two of us?”

“Um, how old is Bug?”

“Right.  HEY! WE NEED A CAMERA OVER HERE, STAT!”

Rare footage

November 28, 2008   4 Comments

Inevitably, I’ve started writing about my boobs

Internet, there are Things preventing me from blogging.  Things like the rest of my life.  But part of the problem is that what with the two kids and Bug being home from school this week on Thanksgiving break, any (two-handed) time I use for blogging is time away from other things like eating or using the bathroom.  Like right now, my stomach is satisfied, but I’m holding it, if you know what I mean.  And thus concludes the Information You Did Not Need to Know portion of this post. Maybe.

LG is a supremely excellent sleeper, a fact that I have been shouting from the mountain tops.  However, she does seem to have some evening colic, and just that word COLIC kind of makes me dizzy with fear and loathing.  Anyone who has dealt with it understands what I’m talking about.  She’s just gonna fuss.  Period.  End of story.  Luckily it really only lasts for 2, sometimes 3 hours, but in those hours it takes all hands on deck, because nothing, not even the Almighty Boob is going to fix the situation.  And as a bonus, she has timed these fussy periods with the closing of Bug’s door as he drifts to sleep at night.  A time that usually signifies the removal of the Grown Up Who Setteth the Supreme Example for All Little People costume into the Sloth on the Couch With Giant Bowl of Ice Cream and TV Turned to ANTM attire.   LG is refusing to let me slip into something more comfortable.

But, as I always say, back to my boobs.  Breastfeeding, while totally fantastic and bond-a-rific and lovely, is also slightly akin to jail.  You are trapped, one handed, in one spot (not that I haven’t, uh, gotten up and answered the phone, say, with baby attached to front) while you sit amidst the chaos and muck that is your house.  So you have all kinds of time to make mental lists of the gazillionty four things you need to accomplish as soon as the baby releases you from bondage.  The problem is, as soon as that happens, you have to burp them and change their diaper and settle them in comfortably somewhere and then by the time that’s all done, you look around and say, “Right, what was it I was going to do?  Oh yeah, watch Mad Men online.” And two and a half hours later the whole maddening cycle starts again.

BLEARRRGH I have more to say, but there are little gritchy-gritchy noises happening to my left that I must attend to. (Um, I’m talking about the baby, in case that’s not clear).  I suppose I could leave her on her own more than I have so far and let her gritch it out for a few minutes, but there’s a small problem: SHE’S SO DAMN CUTE.

So I must go.  But I will start my Thanksgiving gratitude list early: I’m thankful for these 20 free-handed minutes I just had to talk to my friends, The Internets. Hope you all have a good Turkey Day.

November 26, 2008   1 Comment

This post pecked out courtesy of my middle finger

Dear Baby Hiccups,

Here’s the deal.  Maybe that one time, back when Baby #1 was in utero, we might have encouraged you once or twice by noticing you with a laugh of wonderment and awe.  But I’m fairly certain those feelings dissipated quickly once that diaphragm you were jerking around got big enough to toss my dinner plate off my pregnant belly.

Then when Baby #2 took up uterine residence, I was clear from the get go that you were No Friend Of Mine.  I believe you may have heard me use such words as “annoying”, “really annoying”, and “OMG HICCUPS AGAIN WHY GOD WHY” to refer to you.  And yet you persisted.

But let me put you on notice: this baby is a SLEEPER.  She SLEEPS.  We are not sure what we have done to deserve this honor from the Baby Sleep Gods, but we graciously and humbly accept the bounty we have been given.

And so I sayeth unto you: DO NOT SCREW THINGS UP.  I know the cool hiccups hang out at night with the just fed, freshly diapered and slumbering babies, but we do not need any of your kind around here.  I will take out a restraining order if I have to.  And just so we’re clear, YES, I AM TALKING ABOUT LAST NIGHT FROM 2-3 AM.

So lay off.

Sincerely,

Grumbly McLikeshersleep

November 24, 2008   No Comments

Love, asleep

 nap for two

November 21, 2008   11 Comments

No mention of the B-A-B-Y

I love the show Mad Men.  I can’t even explain why, except to say that there is something about those men with their cigarettes and liquor and greasy combed back hair that just does it for me.  It’s the kind of show that is great for a look back at the Way Things Used to Be, which sometimes produces a chuckle, and sometimes makes me go MY GOD we used to suck, didn’t we?  And by “we” I mean “male chauvinist pigs.”

Also: the women and those outfits!  They wear heels and pearls to cook dinner!  Lipstick and hose to the grocery store!  And: girdles! I can barely pull on a pair of jeans these days while I’m schlepping the laundry around and shoving toys under the couch.  Yesterday I wore my pajamas under a sweatshirt the whole day and then just took the sweatshirt off for bed time.  What?  Isn’t that what the feminist movement was all about?

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My wardrobe has significantly expanded as my shape has deflated. (FYI, “deflating” is WAY different than “slimming down”) I’m realizing now how limited my options were in the last month of my pregnancy, especially when the weather cooled off and I had exactly one pair of pants and one sweater that would cover my swelled self.  My mind is boggled in the morning when I go to get dressed.  So many options! (Read: probably 5 or 6 shirts now as opposed to 1) Although I will say that while most all of me has deflated, there is definitely one part of my body that has been fruitful and multiplied, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. And while you might think this would make me look all voluptuous and come hither, what it really does is prevent the bottom of my shirt from reaching the top of my pants.  This creates a little showcase of the part of my body I would most like to hide right now, as it looks kind of like pummeled bread dough.

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Maybe you’ve heard of a little band called Ben Folds.  Maybe you haven’t.  Maybe you’ve heard of my brother.  Maybe you haven’t.  BUT.  I will rectify both those situations POST HASTE:

Ben Folds is having a contest for college a cappella groups in which they invite them to submit one of their songs in a cappella form, and if BF likes it the best, they’ll get to record it on an album.  With Ben Folds.  Like you do.  So my brother arranged this little ditty for his a cappella group:

Anyway, you can try to find a better version of “Gone” by an a cappella group on YouTube, but it’s not there. DO YOU HEAR THAT BEN FOLDS?

(I’m pretty sure they totally read my blog.)

November 19, 2008   2 Comments