As the parent of a toddler, you can spend a lot of time talking about the potty. The Royal Potty. The “if you can master this, I will never have to wipe up your ass again long in to adult life.” It’s the promise of freedom. It’s the realization that your daughter is a big girl now. It’s entirely too much joy when she squeezes out two ounces of piddle in the big porcelain god.
I’m just sayin’.
For a long time I was proud of what LB ate. We had a large portion of garden burgers, tofu, peas, green beans, mango, grapefruit, plain yogurt. She had a “treat” of organic whole wheat crackers and milk at Starbucks and never ever had a muffin or other processed sugar-laden baked goods. We held on to the theory that she’s so pure starting out, she wouldn’t know what... Read more
If I was a Super Hero, I’d be super anxiety gal. I’d probably wear yoga pants because this 19-weeks-pregnant ass should never be crammed in to spandex, but I’d surely have a cape and probably a wrist-watch thing that could read the future and comfortable shoes.
Not that I’ve given this much thought or anything.
See, I have this secret power in which I take my worst fear and turn it in to reality. Lately, I’ve noticed how much more afraid I am when I’m pregnant. I’m afraid something is going to be wrong with the baby. I’m afraid my husband will die and not be here to see this baby grow in to a person and want to borrow the car and get witty and crass. I’m afraid the cough my daughter has will spread in to some... Read more
“Goodnight, LB. Have a good nap.”
“No music, go to sleep.”
Oh, oh! Nose running!
Wipes nose with tissue. “Goodnight.”
Oh, oh! Pooping?
“You’re not poopy, goodnight.”
Oh, oh! Dora Bandaid?
“You don’t need a bandaid. Love you. ‘night.”
Oh, oh! Spanking?
I’m starting to feel the very small movements of CB inside. I feel tiny flutters and sometimes a tiny bump and I reach to rub my belly but by then he/she is gone. It’s such a marvelous feeling, one nearly worth the weeks and months of throwing up, back pain, and acid reflux. It’s familiar this time and I picture my baby tossing arms and knees and feet around its tiny home.
Remembering the first few times I began to feel LB moving around, I searched in the archives for something I wrote about this time during my last pregnancy, and I realize every baby is an individual but every baby is still a miracle.
Chris Rice has a new song out called, “Smell the color nine.” I was working on my baby mix (the CD I’m making for our... Read more
My new innaproriate Internet user handle: Snowpussy 12/Jan/2007
Just call me snowpussy. That’s right: Snowpussy.
I realize in other parts of the country you get snow that lasts longer than three hours and doesn’t cause an entire city to shut down and all but here? We don’t. We get nine months of rain. It’s what we’re famous for.
I don’t make these things up 11/Jan/2007
Did you know it was Delurking week? That’s right! DeLurking Week! (Thank god it’s not just a day or I’d totally miss the whole dog ‘n gay pony ride.)
So, here’s the gig, you get to comment and say hi even if you NEVER COMMENT AGAIN. See the freedom I just bestowed on you? See the power I have? I just gave you free reign to read and never say anything if you so desire because I’m drunk with that kind of authority. But once you comment, I know you’ll want to do more because once you start, you. can’t. stop.
This is your chance to say hi! You want to join the fun because hey! Your name will be in lights! (Or lighted... Read more
A sequel (sort of) 10/Jan/2007
Because I know you people are dying to find out what happened to LB at school. Because I know you are waiting on pins and needles to see if I have to go back to the Nazi Nurse. Because I know you are clutching at your seats to find out if LB has flung more poo in her crib. Because I know you are all wondering if I’ve contacted those other moms I met. Because I know you want to hear more... Read more
I’m the one with black socks and velcro shoes 09/Jan/2007
Sometimes, Internet, I think I’m a 73 year old man with black socks, shorts, and velcro shoes because what *is up* with all this new fangled technology, anyway?
First there was a blog. Crickets chirped when I posted and three people read the blog: My mom, Mr. Flinger’s mom, and a gal I knew at work who loved to procrastinate. I had to learn the rules of blogging the hard way.
Then there was Flickr. What? You can be invited in to groups? People can leave comments? You can have your most recent uploaded pictures on your side bar? How do you do that? I wanna, I wanna!
I just dropped my child off at college with a binki and a blanket and her Buddy 08/Jan/2007
LB started “school” today. I thought she was ready. I KNEW she was ready. A week ago she would’ve walked herself to the school flipping me off the whole way if she knew how to get there. She is such a fiery, independent little woman on the inside but a soft shell of goo toddler on the outside. Today I saw soft goo toddler melt down in complete angst as her mommy walked out the door.
I think I died a little.
When LB was a year old she started going to a babysitter’s house two days a week. This transition wasn’t hard at all. She walked in, saw toys and never turned around to see if I stayed or left. There was very little guilt except the glancing blow between classes when my mind had a few minutes to think about the child I grew and birthed... Read more