Boy Wonder this morning: "Mommy? You're the best mother in the deep blue sea!"
Way too much Spongebob around here lately. WAY too much. Still, I appreciate the sentiment.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Saturday, December 30, 2006
You can't go home again
Especially if it wasn't actually where you lived. But visiting is still nice.
Becoming unemployed three months after acquiring a mortgage sucks like a Hoover. Or a Dyson. Or perhaps Jenna Jameson. However, it does give one the leisure to say, "Hm. Can the boys and I come along?" when one's mother says, "Your dad and I are making the drive to visit your grandparents." And it gives one the leisure to pack a load of duffel bags, backpacks, and laundry baskets full of toys, books, and tiny outfits, borrow a portable DVD player to keep Boy Wonder happy on the four-hour drive, and go.
Visiting my paternal grandparents was always an event. We drove down every year on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and stayed through the long weekend. The train tracks are visible from the house, and my cousin and I slept on the sun porch, so we got to watch (and listen to) the passing trains. The day after Thanksgiving, my mother would head out shopping with her two sisters-in-law. After my cousin and I hit junior high and got interested in shopping, we'd go too. Before then, we'd hang around with Grandma all day, eating leftover turkey and playing Scrabble, Yahtzee, and all sorts of cool card games. On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, we'd all go see a movie, and I still remember the year my dad and uncle picked the movie and we saw Highlander II. My cousin and I hadn't seen Highlander, and since we had no idea what was going on, who any of the characters were, and why so darn many people had to be decapitated, we found the sequel pretty disturbing. Anyway. Last time I visited my grandparents, things were a bit different. It was 1995. I was 19 and majoring in English. Working two jobs, still living at home, and beginning to wonder if I was really accomplishing anything. I had just started dating Dragon.
My grandparents' house hasn't changed very much in twelve years. The sun porch is still there, but no one slept there; it had been converted to the smoking lounge for the duration of our visit. (Grandpa: pipe; Grandma: cigarettes; Anithe & Co.: asthma.) Reader's Digest condensed books fill the shelves, but this time I didn't have time to read any of them. (Or anything else, for that matter.) The cuckoo clock is still on the wall of the second spare bedroom, which the boys and I took over, and it still, thankfully, doesn't cuckoo. There's still a park at the end of the block, within easy walking distance.
Of course, being there feels different. Growing up, Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa's house was always a special, carefree time for me. Well, of course it was. I wasn't the one making the mortgage payments, or worrying about how to keep a kid occupied on a four-hour drive, or looking at the giant wooden play structure and wondering how many splinters my kid was going to get. Now, "carefree" is so far removed from the realm of how I'm feeling these days that I go off into gales of laughter just thinking about it. I can't help but wonder if Thanksgiving was always a special, carefree time for my parents, too, or if they were usually consumed by thoughts of work, finances, and other assorted grownup things.
And of course, we had a nice time anyway. Boy Wonder did very well with the drive, chattering away and then happily watching movies, and Baby Boone alternated between sleeping and babbling happily in my general direction. My grandparents found them both charming, and decided that Baby Boone is the happiest, smiliest baby in the world. And, although the Worry Train is running endlessly in my head, my kids weren't worrying about anything. Boy Wonder loved the long hallway in the house, the blue swing at the park, and the geese at the neighborhood pond. Baby Boone hardly cried at all, unless I left his field of vision (Velcro Baby is teething).
And the train still passed by and whistled at night, and a faint odor of tobacco smoke still hung in the air. And, for a moment, I felt comforted and secure, just as I used to feel after my cousin and I finished chatting about boys and clothes and settled down to sleep.
For a moment. And then I ruffled a sleeping Boy Wonder's hair, hugged a sleeping Baby Boone closer, and vowed to do my best to make their childhood holidays special and carefree.
Becoming unemployed three months after acquiring a mortgage sucks like a Hoover. Or a Dyson. Or perhaps Jenna Jameson. However, it does give one the leisure to say, "Hm. Can the boys and I come along?" when one's mother says, "Your dad and I are making the drive to visit your grandparents." And it gives one the leisure to pack a load of duffel bags, backpacks, and laundry baskets full of toys, books, and tiny outfits, borrow a portable DVD player to keep Boy Wonder happy on the four-hour drive, and go.
Visiting my paternal grandparents was always an event. We drove down every year on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and stayed through the long weekend. The train tracks are visible from the house, and my cousin and I slept on the sun porch, so we got to watch (and listen to) the passing trains. The day after Thanksgiving, my mother would head out shopping with her two sisters-in-law. After my cousin and I hit junior high and got interested in shopping, we'd go too. Before then, we'd hang around with Grandma all day, eating leftover turkey and playing Scrabble, Yahtzee, and all sorts of cool card games. On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, we'd all go see a movie, and I still remember the year my dad and uncle picked the movie and we saw Highlander II. My cousin and I hadn't seen Highlander, and since we had no idea what was going on, who any of the characters were, and why so darn many people had to be decapitated, we found the sequel pretty disturbing. Anyway. Last time I visited my grandparents, things were a bit different. It was 1995. I was 19 and majoring in English. Working two jobs, still living at home, and beginning to wonder if I was really accomplishing anything. I had just started dating Dragon.
My grandparents' house hasn't changed very much in twelve years. The sun porch is still there, but no one slept there; it had been converted to the smoking lounge for the duration of our visit. (Grandpa: pipe; Grandma: cigarettes; Anithe & Co.: asthma.) Reader's Digest condensed books fill the shelves, but this time I didn't have time to read any of them. (Or anything else, for that matter.) The cuckoo clock is still on the wall of the second spare bedroom, which the boys and I took over, and it still, thankfully, doesn't cuckoo. There's still a park at the end of the block, within easy walking distance.
Of course, being there feels different. Growing up, Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa's house was always a special, carefree time for me. Well, of course it was. I wasn't the one making the mortgage payments, or worrying about how to keep a kid occupied on a four-hour drive, or looking at the giant wooden play structure and wondering how many splinters my kid was going to get. Now, "carefree" is so far removed from the realm of how I'm feeling these days that I go off into gales of laughter just thinking about it. I can't help but wonder if Thanksgiving was always a special, carefree time for my parents, too, or if they were usually consumed by thoughts of work, finances, and other assorted grownup things.
And of course, we had a nice time anyway. Boy Wonder did very well with the drive, chattering away and then happily watching movies, and Baby Boone alternated between sleeping and babbling happily in my general direction. My grandparents found them both charming, and decided that Baby Boone is the happiest, smiliest baby in the world. And, although the Worry Train is running endlessly in my head, my kids weren't worrying about anything. Boy Wonder loved the long hallway in the house, the blue swing at the park, and the geese at the neighborhood pond. Baby Boone hardly cried at all, unless I left his field of vision (Velcro Baby is teething).
And the train still passed by and whistled at night, and a faint odor of tobacco smoke still hung in the air. And, for a moment, I felt comforted and secure, just as I used to feel after my cousin and I finished chatting about boys and clothes and settled down to sleep.
For a moment. And then I ruffled a sleeping Boy Wonder's hair, hugged a sleeping Baby Boone closer, and vowed to do my best to make their childhood holidays special and carefree.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Variety show
Baby Boone news
Still walking. Four or five steps at a time, even! He is also babbling a great deal, saying, "Na na na na!" so much that I expect him to launch into "Hey, Jude" fairly soon.
Converation with Boy Wonder
"Mommy? I lost something. I lost my driver's license." (Not sure where he got that turn of phrase. Dragon and I have not misplaced any licenses lately.)
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I lost my driver's license in the woods, so we need to go find it. But we need to watch out for the bear. Bears are angry when you wake them up. Especially when they live in the jungle."
"Uh-huh."
Christmas decorations, inappropriate use of
I was attending to Baby Boone in his highchair when I heard, "Mommy, thank you so much for these Christmas boots! They're just what I always wanted! I love them!" from the living room. Now, there weren't actually any boots in the living room, as far as I remembered, but sometimes Boy Wonder will forget about something he hasn't worn for a while and it will be "new" again--I thought he was talking about his Thomas the Train slippers. Until I walked into the living room to see him walking around in his underwear with a Christmas stocking on each leg. The stockings reached fully to his hips and then some, and he was strutting around like a cowboy wearing heavy chaps. (Very festive chaps that would have gotten him laughed off the range.)
Still walking. Four or five steps at a time, even! He is also babbling a great deal, saying, "Na na na na!" so much that I expect him to launch into "Hey, Jude" fairly soon.
Converation with Boy Wonder
"Mommy? I lost something. I lost my driver's license." (Not sure where he got that turn of phrase. Dragon and I have not misplaced any licenses lately.)
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I lost my driver's license in the woods, so we need to go find it. But we need to watch out for the bear. Bears are angry when you wake them up. Especially when they live in the jungle."
"Uh-huh."
Christmas decorations, inappropriate use of
I was attending to Baby Boone in his highchair when I heard, "Mommy, thank you so much for these Christmas boots! They're just what I always wanted! I love them!" from the living room. Now, there weren't actually any boots in the living room, as far as I remembered, but sometimes Boy Wonder will forget about something he hasn't worn for a while and it will be "new" again--I thought he was talking about his Thomas the Train slippers. Until I walked into the living room to see him walking around in his underwear with a Christmas stocking on each leg. The stockings reached fully to his hips and then some, and he was strutting around like a cowboy wearing heavy chaps. (Very festive chaps that would have gotten him laughed off the range.)
Saturday, December 16, 2006
I ain't no fortune-ate one
Here is what yesterday's fortune cookies had to say!*
"Seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion."
Well, shoot. I can't tell you how absolutely useful this advice is in my current unemployed situation.
"The world is always ready to receive talent."
Uh-huh. I don't think the place I interviewed with is ready to receive talent, because I haven't heard from them yet. I haven't heard from anyone else yet either.** I expect the anxiety dreams to start any second now. Possibly even when I'm awake.
"Your playful spirit heals and inspires others."
How heartwarming. Well, I was cracking jokes nonstop as I packed up my office. I sure hope someone found them healing and inspirational.
*Yeah, I ate three fortune cookies. With the mood I'm in, I'm lucky I didn't run behind the counter and grab them all. I would have analyzed all the fortunes, too.
**Except the pizza place. I use my Yahoo email for ordering stuff online (um, when I'm ordering stuff online, which is not now), and also for my resume. Unfortunately, this means that I'll see that there are new messages, get all excited, and then crash when I find three coupons for cheese sticks and the Big Giant Pizza special.
"Seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion."
Well, shoot. I can't tell you how absolutely useful this advice is in my current unemployed situation.
"The world is always ready to receive talent."
Uh-huh. I don't think the place I interviewed with is ready to receive talent, because I haven't heard from them yet. I haven't heard from anyone else yet either.** I expect the anxiety dreams to start any second now. Possibly even when I'm awake.
"Your playful spirit heals and inspires others."
How heartwarming. Well, I was cracking jokes nonstop as I packed up my office. I sure hope someone found them healing and inspirational.
*Yeah, I ate three fortune cookies. With the mood I'm in, I'm lucky I didn't run behind the counter and grab them all. I would have analyzed all the fortunes, too.
**Except the pizza place. I use my Yahoo email for ordering stuff online (um, when I'm ordering stuff online, which is not now), and also for my resume. Unfortunately, this means that I'll see that there are new messages, get all excited, and then crash when I find three coupons for cheese sticks and the Big Giant Pizza special.
One small step for a baby...
... one cry of "HOLY HELL, WHAT NEXT?" for all mankind.
I mean, seriously. Baby Boone rolled over the day before he turned three months old. He started crawling at five and a half months, on a Saturday, and by the following Monday he had figured out how to pull up to a standing position. He has spent the last few months doing the walking-while-holding-on-to-furniture thing, and his latest trick involves happily pushing a laundry basket around the room, shopping-cart style. And yesterday, at the age of eight months and seven days, he took his first steps. Tiny, shuffling steps, but steps nonetheless.
I am a bit afraid about what this means for the future. Boy Wonder climbed out of his crib two months before his second birthday, and he walked at eleven months. If Baby Boone is walking at eight months, when's HE going to climb out of his crib?
I mean, seriously. Baby Boone rolled over the day before he turned three months old. He started crawling at five and a half months, on a Saturday, and by the following Monday he had figured out how to pull up to a standing position. He has spent the last few months doing the walking-while-holding-on-to-furniture thing, and his latest trick involves happily pushing a laundry basket around the room, shopping-cart style. And yesterday, at the age of eight months and seven days, he took his first steps. Tiny, shuffling steps, but steps nonetheless.
I am a bit afraid about what this means for the future. Boy Wonder climbed out of his crib two months before his second birthday, and he walked at eleven months. If Baby Boone is walking at eight months, when's HE going to climb out of his crib?
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Random acts of grossness
Yesterday, Boy Wonder came running into the kitchen and said, "Mommy! Mommy! Baby Boone has a snot bubble!" He did indeed, and was not best pleased when I attempted to remove it with a tissue. He also let loose several Sneezes of Terror, and found those somewhat distressing as well, freezing in place until I raced for a tissue to wipe his face. Fashion tip: if you have a sneezy infant, DO NOT wear a black shirt.* Your infant will leave very visible snail trails all over it.
Later in the day, we went shopping. Boy Wonder jumped into the front of the cart, bent down, and, to my very great horror, picked up a piece of popcorn from the floor of the cart and put it in his mouth, all before I could react. Oh, man. I managed to stop him from picking up the second piece of floor popcorn, and we discussed appropriate reactions to seeing popcorn on the floor in a public place. (There's only one appropriate reaction, in my opinion: LEAVE IT ALONE.)
*I can't actually follow this advice myself, since we have a lot of black clothing around here. Black clothing that needs to be washed frequently.
Later in the day, we went shopping. Boy Wonder jumped into the front of the cart, bent down, and, to my very great horror, picked up a piece of popcorn from the floor of the cart and put it in his mouth, all before I could react. Oh, man. I managed to stop him from picking up the second piece of floor popcorn, and we discussed appropriate reactions to seeing popcorn on the floor in a public place. (There's only one appropriate reaction, in my opinion: LEAVE IT ALONE.)
*I can't actually follow this advice myself, since we have a lot of black clothing around here. Black clothing that needs to be washed frequently.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Sorry, wrong number. No, really.
We've now had our non-cell phone hooked up for a few months, and have been getting the usual assortment of wrong numbers--mostly, people who haven't updated their address books and are trying to reach JaVon and Queena. However, this time we get a bonus. Apparently, someone named Dennis used to have our phone number. And apparently, Dennis had some outstanding debts. We have gotten a load of those "Hello! This is Debt Collection Agency! Call me at 1-800-COUGHITUP immediately!" calls, and I have had the very great joy of calling these numbers to get our number taken off of their lists post-haste. It doesn't seem to be working.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Compare & contrast
Around this time of year, my father-in-law and his wife head off for a nice tropical vacation at an all-inclusive resort. This year, it will be even nicer than usual. On Thursday, his wife called to tell me that they'd arrived safely...and that their room had been upgraded four levels, so that they have a particularly luxurious suite with free room service and a free in-room bar for the duration of their ten-night stay. I am immensely happy for them, and hope they have a wonderful vacation.
Also on Thursday, I think our high here in town was fifteen (15) degrees. Boy Wonder spent the day producing Sneezes of Terror ("Oh, honey, don't cry; I'll wipe your nose! No, don't use your hand...oh, gross. I'll get a washcloth. Hold still, OK?"). Baby Boone didn't fall asleep until after 10PM, and shortly after I placed him in his cozy crib, Boy Wonder woke up screaming with an attack of spasmodic croup, and I was up until midnight comforting him and trying to get him breathing comfortably again, and then Baby Boone, who had of course woken up screaming about twenty minutes after Boy Wonder started screaming, had to be comforted (by me, because for some reason he was having none of Dragon) and placed back in his cozy crib. Which happened sometime around 12:30, I think. Poor guys. I thought croup was supposed to fade away as kids grew older and their airways got bigger, but I'm pretty sure that's what it was. I guess Boy Wonder is just lucky!* And I still have no job, of course, and have the added bonus of being in Interview Limbo--I had an interview on Monday, which is of course great, and it seemed to go just fine, but I have now thought of approximately 567 things that I should have said during the interview.
On the plus side, I have now thought of 567 things that I should say during my next interview, whenever it may be and whoever it may be with. Boy Wonder appears to be feeling better now, although he still sounds quite congested and was extremely cranky at bedtime. Another company expressed a vague interest ("We'd like to see some writing samples, please"), which is reassuring. And I may not have a free in-room bar, but I am having a beer.
And we'll go to Story Time next Thursday, I think.
Also on Thursday, I think our high here in town was fifteen (15) degrees. Boy Wonder spent the day producing Sneezes of Terror ("Oh, honey, don't cry; I'll wipe your nose! No, don't use your hand...oh, gross. I'll get a washcloth. Hold still, OK?"). Baby Boone didn't fall asleep until after 10PM, and shortly after I placed him in his cozy crib, Boy Wonder woke up screaming with an attack of spasmodic croup, and I was up until midnight comforting him and trying to get him breathing comfortably again, and then Baby Boone, who had of course woken up screaming about twenty minutes after Boy Wonder started screaming, had to be comforted (by me, because for some reason he was having none of Dragon) and placed back in his cozy crib. Which happened sometime around 12:30, I think. Poor guys. I thought croup was supposed to fade away as kids grew older and their airways got bigger, but I'm pretty sure that's what it was. I guess Boy Wonder is just lucky!* And I still have no job, of course, and have the added bonus of being in Interview Limbo--I had an interview on Monday, which is of course great, and it seemed to go just fine, but I have now thought of approximately 567 things that I should have said during the interview.
On the plus side, I have now thought of 567 things that I should say during my next interview, whenever it may be and whoever it may be with. Boy Wonder appears to be feeling better now, although he still sounds quite congested and was extremely cranky at bedtime. Another company expressed a vague interest ("We'd like to see some writing samples, please"), which is reassuring. And I may not have a free in-room bar, but I am having a beer.
And we'll go to Story Time next Thursday, I think.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Snow, man
Overall, I like living in Wisconsin. It's an interesting mix of cities and farms. A friend who moved to Washington, D.C. mentioned that she kept getting lost while using the public transportation; she'd stay on the train for a few extra minutes and wind up in front of the Treasury Department. That sounds pretty exciting, actually; in Wisconsin, getting lost gets you to several cows and a grain silo. Unless you're downtown in the city, in which case you'll run across every one-way street known to humankind. But the lake is beautiful, the skyline ain't bad either, and there are trees everywhere. I like it here.
Good thing, too, otherwise I would be entirely distraught when we get days like Friday. In case you live in a bubble and did not hear any news about The Storm that Slammed the Midwest, we had quite the blizzard on Friday, with twelve inches of snow falling in our very own neighborhood. As first-time homeowners, we went through the special experience of having to do all of our own snow shoveling! And my car got stuck at one end of our alley, and I had to dig it out! With the assistance of some of my new neighbors, and a police officer! And then Boy Wonder's boot came off as we walked through an alley full of snow, and he absolutely lost his tiny mind!
He was better on Saturday, though, when the snow had stopped falling and we went outside to play in it. Unfortunately, our foot of snow does not consist of the kind that's good for packing into snowballs and snowmen. At least we tried...
Good thing, too, otherwise I would be entirely distraught when we get days like Friday. In case you live in a bubble and did not hear any news about The Storm that Slammed the Midwest, we had quite the blizzard on Friday, with twelve inches of snow falling in our very own neighborhood. As first-time homeowners, we went through the special experience of having to do all of our own snow shoveling! And my car got stuck at one end of our alley, and I had to dig it out! With the assistance of some of my new neighbors, and a police officer! And then Boy Wonder's boot came off as we walked through an alley full of snow, and he absolutely lost his tiny mind!
He was better on Saturday, though, when the snow had stopped falling and we went outside to play in it. Unfortunately, our foot of snow does not consist of the kind that's good for packing into snowballs and snowmen. At least we tried...
