A is for Anxiety.
B is for Bat...and Basement. And, as of this afternoon, Bigass Bumblebee. Because I'm not nervous enough about going in the basement, apparently. (The bee was caught and released.)
C is for Crazy, which I am driving myself.
D is for Darkness, which I am striving to avoid whenever I go in the basement.
E is for Exclusion (of Bats), which should begin sometime next week. E is also for Eagerness to get that Exclusion going.
F is for...oh, Forget it. I am not going to be able to think of anything else.
Up next: happier topics, such as Boy Wonder's birthday party.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Four!
Boy Wonder turned four today. This has caused him to ponder some weighty matters, like when exactly his Batman cake will be arriving, who will be coming to his birthday party, and whether or not he wanted to turn four at all. This morning featured Wild Mood Swings, involving a dramatic floor-flinging and shouts of, "I don't WANT to be four! I want to be THREE LIKE THIS forever!" This was after, upon waking up and being informed that it was finally Tuesday, his birthday, he said, "I'm four NOW? Really? Wow! I'm FOUR today!" and smiled charmingly.
He did make one important decision, though. On the way home today, he spent ten minutes deciding what he was going to be for Halloween. He's got it narrowed down to Batman, the Green Goblin, Spiderman, or Batman. Or maybe the Green Goblin. No, Batman! Or Cookie Monster. (That last one threw me. We still have roughly ten zillion Sesame Street DVDs, acquired back in the day where he'd burst into tears if one was not played for him immediately upon arriving home and I had a constant loop of "Honker Duckie Dinger Jamboree" playing in my head, but he hasn't asked to watch one in ages.) No matter what he decides about HIS costume, though, he is quite sure about mine. He has decided that I will be Catwoman. So, if you'll excuse me, I need to go exercise. A lot.
He did make one important decision, though. On the way home today, he spent ten minutes deciding what he was going to be for Halloween. He's got it narrowed down to Batman, the Green Goblin, Spiderman, or Batman. Or maybe the Green Goblin. No, Batman! Or Cookie Monster. (That last one threw me. We still have roughly ten zillion Sesame Street DVDs, acquired back in the day where he'd burst into tears if one was not played for him immediately upon arriving home and I had a constant loop of "Honker Duckie Dinger Jamboree" playing in my head, but he hasn't asked to watch one in ages.) No matter what he decides about HIS costume, though, he is quite sure about mine. He has decided that I will be Catwoman. So, if you'll excuse me, I need to go exercise. A lot.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The joker
Boy Wonder is learning about jokes lately. Knock-knock jokes in particular. In fact, he spent Friday's drive home (about 35 minutes) telling me a wide selection of them!
However, "learning" is the operative word here. He knows about knock-knock jokes, and knows that people think they are funny, but he doesn't quite understand why the plays on words or sounds are funny. Therefore, his knock-knock jokes are not so much jokes as verbalizations of random adjectives and nouns, with a "Knock, knock?" thrown in for flair. He thinks they are all hilarious. I'll let you judge for yourself; please enjoy the selection below.
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Potatohead!
Potatohead who?
POTATOHEAD HOUSE! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHH! THAT WAS A FUNNY ONE, MOMMY!
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Fire engine!
Fire engine who?
FIRE ENGINE BICYCLE!
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Tree!
Tree who?
Tree grass! No, tree grass marker! HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!! THESE ARE FUNNY JOKES, MOMMY!
However, "learning" is the operative word here. He knows about knock-knock jokes, and knows that people think they are funny, but he doesn't quite understand why the plays on words or sounds are funny. Therefore, his knock-knock jokes are not so much jokes as verbalizations of random adjectives and nouns, with a "Knock, knock?" thrown in for flair. He thinks they are all hilarious. I'll let you judge for yourself; please enjoy the selection below.
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Potatohead!
Potatohead who?
POTATOHEAD HOUSE! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHH! THAT WAS A FUNNY ONE, MOMMY!
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Fire engine!
Fire engine who?
FIRE ENGINE BICYCLE!
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Tree!
Tree who?
Tree grass! No, tree grass marker! HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!! THESE ARE FUNNY JOKES, MOMMY!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Basement got bat
I have three very nice essays, all handwritten (on my lunch hour at work!) and ready to be keyed in and posted. However, regular programming has been temporarily suspended while I obsess about the BAT in my BASEMENT. Not the nice blue plastic kind that's used to hit a whiffle ball; that one's in our backyard. No, a REAL bat. Brown, winged, about the size of my hand. Seen on Tuesday night, as I entered the basement to do laundry, flipped on the light, and very nearly hit the deck as an unidentified flying creature zoomed around the basement a few times before vanishing. Surprisingly, I did not shriek.
There is a BAT in my BASEMENT. Some bats carry RABIES. Rabies makes people DIE. I've gotten a degree in general bat information from Google University over the past few days, and have run across many sites about Beneficial Bats, and how they eat insects, and really, only 10% of them might carry rabies, and we are all statistially likelier to get hit by cars than we are to catch rabies from a bat. This does not make me comfortable with a family of bats living in my insulation, however. Professional help (of the bat exclusion kind, not the psychiatric kind) should arrive early next week.
Back to continued freaking out over BAT in BASEMENT.
There is a BAT in my BASEMENT. Some bats carry RABIES. Rabies makes people DIE. I've gotten a degree in general bat information from Google University over the past few days, and have run across many sites about Beneficial Bats, and how they eat insects, and really, only 10% of them might carry rabies, and we are all statistially likelier to get hit by cars than we are to catch rabies from a bat. This does not make me comfortable with a family of bats living in my insulation, however. Professional help (of the bat exclusion kind, not the psychiatric kind) should arrive early next week.
Back to continued freaking out over BAT in BASEMENT.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Parenting by the book
Every once in a while, I get the urge to read a parenting book or two. Of the "parenting memoir" variety, that is. I find being a parent a fascinating experience, and obviously I enjoy writing about my kids and my experience. So of course I'm interested in reading about the parenting experiences of others.
Next time I get the urge to read a few parenting books, however, I will announce it here. At that point, please remind me that I should really be doing something else with my time. Like cleaning my basement. Or cleaning the garage. Or even sticking nail files up my nose. Because EVERY TIME I've picked up a parenting book lately, I've ended up rolling my eyes and saying, "God. What a twit. I can't believe someone got paid to write that."
On the parenting bookshelf lately:
Alternadad. I grabbed this book off of the freebie table at my former office, and then didn't get around to reading it for quite a while (mostly because I grabbed it about an hour before the place became "my former office"). If you spend a lot of time online, you've probably heard Neal Pollack's name at some point. He writes for Salon.com, and sometime last year he wrote a piece about his son getting expelled from daycare for having a biting problem. Many, many people had many, many strong reactions to this piece. I wasn't fond of it either; I recall reading it and thinking, "Boy, he and his wife sound like a couple of twits. Really unsympathetic twits, too. And if I were the parent of the other kid and read this story, I would be livid. I can't believe he got paid to write that." (He writes about it in more detail in this book, and makes everyone involved seem a bit more sympathetic.) But he also inserts lots of references to smoking weed, and about how he is a WRITER, and his wife is an ARTIST. It got distracting, rather like the Slacker Mom's constant references to her childhood on a Wyoming ranch.
I'm Too Sexy for my Volvo: A Mom's Guide to Staying Fabulous!. Oh, man. This one is for affluent women who live on either coast, and not for normal people who live in flyover country. She lost me at the part where you're supposed to take the money you'd spend on fine wines, which you're not drinking during pregnancy, and spend it on fifty-dollar soap to pamper yourself.
It may not seem like the two books I'm snarking on here have a lot in common, but. One focuses on being a cool dad with a creatively fulfilling career, smoking a lot of pot and delighting in the kid dancing and saying, "Rock and roll!" And the other is subtitled A Mom's Guide to Staying Fabulous! Seems to be a lot of concern about parenthood not changing Who You Are, and having the need to trumpet that from the rooftops. Perhaps it's because I was never cool or fabulous to begin with, but I was never worried that becoming a parent would drastically alter my personality. Pre-kids, I read a lot, and had a couple of favorite TV shows. Sometimes, I went to book discussion groups, or out to a movie with a friend. Now, I watch a lot more TV (yay DVR), but I'm still reading a moderate amount. And once, I went to a movie with a friend.
The Motherhood Manifesto: What America's Moms Want--and What to Do About It. A foray into nonfiction! This book certainly seemed to have some valid points (American women would probably really love having flexible work schedules, and being able to work from home, and being able to find high-quality daycare that fits their schedule and their budget, and having longer, and paid, maternity leaves to start with). Unfortunately, I couldn't concentrate on those points, because this book was edited by a crew of drunken monkeys. What with the misplaced modifiers, misuse of commas, and general grammatical hilarity, I was too distracted to read more than a couple of pages without giggling, rolling my eyes, or both.*
So, that's enough of that. Until next time, when I pick up a paperback with an interesting jacket design and some intriguing back cover copy about One Person's (or One Family's ) Unique and Special Parenting Experience. Coming soon to a bookstore near all of us, I'm sure.
*If you find a typo here, sorry. I try to self-edit as much as I can, but if you decided that I'm hypocritical and go looking for typos, I'm sure you'll find some. Anyway, keep in mind that this is a BLOG, and it's FREE; it's not an actual published book produced by an actual publishing house, which presumably has some sort of editing process in place.
Next time I get the urge to read a few parenting books, however, I will announce it here. At that point, please remind me that I should really be doing something else with my time. Like cleaning my basement. Or cleaning the garage. Or even sticking nail files up my nose. Because EVERY TIME I've picked up a parenting book lately, I've ended up rolling my eyes and saying, "God. What a twit. I can't believe someone got paid to write that."
On the parenting bookshelf lately:
Alternadad. I grabbed this book off of the freebie table at my former office, and then didn't get around to reading it for quite a while (mostly because I grabbed it about an hour before the place became "my former office"). If you spend a lot of time online, you've probably heard Neal Pollack's name at some point. He writes for Salon.com, and sometime last year he wrote a piece about his son getting expelled from daycare for having a biting problem. Many, many people had many, many strong reactions to this piece. I wasn't fond of it either; I recall reading it and thinking, "Boy, he and his wife sound like a couple of twits. Really unsympathetic twits, too. And if I were the parent of the other kid and read this story, I would be livid. I can't believe he got paid to write that." (He writes about it in more detail in this book, and makes everyone involved seem a bit more sympathetic.) But he also inserts lots of references to smoking weed, and about how he is a WRITER, and his wife is an ARTIST. It got distracting, rather like the Slacker Mom's constant references to her childhood on a Wyoming ranch.
I'm Too Sexy for my Volvo: A Mom's Guide to Staying Fabulous!. Oh, man. This one is for affluent women who live on either coast, and not for normal people who live in flyover country. She lost me at the part where you're supposed to take the money you'd spend on fine wines, which you're not drinking during pregnancy, and spend it on fifty-dollar soap to pamper yourself.
It may not seem like the two books I'm snarking on here have a lot in common, but. One focuses on being a cool dad with a creatively fulfilling career, smoking a lot of pot and delighting in the kid dancing and saying, "Rock and roll!" And the other is subtitled A Mom's Guide to Staying Fabulous! Seems to be a lot of concern about parenthood not changing Who You Are, and having the need to trumpet that from the rooftops. Perhaps it's because I was never cool or fabulous to begin with, but I was never worried that becoming a parent would drastically alter my personality. Pre-kids, I read a lot, and had a couple of favorite TV shows. Sometimes, I went to book discussion groups, or out to a movie with a friend. Now, I watch a lot more TV (yay DVR), but I'm still reading a moderate amount. And once, I went to a movie with a friend.
The Motherhood Manifesto: What America's Moms Want--and What to Do About It. A foray into nonfiction! This book certainly seemed to have some valid points (American women would probably really love having flexible work schedules, and being able to work from home, and being able to find high-quality daycare that fits their schedule and their budget, and having longer, and paid, maternity leaves to start with). Unfortunately, I couldn't concentrate on those points, because this book was edited by a crew of drunken monkeys. What with the misplaced modifiers, misuse of commas, and general grammatical hilarity, I was too distracted to read more than a couple of pages without giggling, rolling my eyes, or both.*
So, that's enough of that. Until next time, when I pick up a paperback with an interesting jacket design and some intriguing back cover copy about One Person's (or One Family's ) Unique and Special Parenting Experience. Coming soon to a bookstore near all of us, I'm sure.
*If you find a typo here, sorry. I try to self-edit as much as I can, but if you decided that I'm hypocritical and go looking for typos, I'm sure you'll find some. Anyway, keep in mind that this is a BLOG, and it's FREE; it's not an actual published book produced by an actual publishing house, which presumably has some sort of editing process in place.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
You can always go...downtown
Today, I re-entered the world of Gainful Employment. I forgot to mention this earlier, perhaps because it freaked me out a little, but my new job is downtown. In the city. In an actual high-rise building. Surrounded by a lot of other tallish buildings. This is somewhat exciting; even before my 19-year-old self headed off to Arizona, I'd never spent much time downtown.
As it turns out, high-rise buildings have their advantages. The one I work in now features an attached parking structure, a small coffee shop, a restaurant, and a convenience store. There are electrical outlets in the bathrooms (er, at least the women's bathrooms); if I were so inclined, I could plug in a curling iron and style my hair right there. (That's a pretty big "if," considering I can't remember when I last used my curling iron, don't even remember where I put it when we moved back to Wisconsin three years ago, and don't ever bother actually styling my hair anyway. But if I wanted to style my hair in my new office building, I could.) The convenience store proved remarkably convenient this morning. I don't know what possessed me to wear a skirt today, what with the six (!) inches of snow we were expecting, but wear a skirt I did, and stick my thumb through my pantyhose I also did. I had just decided, rather anxiously, to arrange myself mindfully so that the large run forming in them could not be detected easily, and then I walked past the convenience store and delightedly beheld an entire RACK of pantyhose. So I bought a pair, and once again displayed a professional appearance. Which lasted until about noon, when I stuck my thumb through the new pantyhouse. There's got to be a lesson in this somewhere; I think it's probably "Don't wear skirts. Stick to pants. And stop telling the Internet about what you wear under your skirts."
So I'll tell you, briefly, about my new office. (But not too much, since now that I have a job I'd like to keep it.) I have a nice cubicle, which is located next to some windows. I can see a good portion of downtown, including some nostalgic landmark-type buildings. (This is a nice change from seeing the parking lot, a dumpster, and some geese.) Free coffee and tea are available in the break areas, and the coworkers appear quite pleasant.
And then we all got home for the evening, and Action Hero said, "Hi! HI! Hiiiiiiiii! Ha! Hai! Hi! Hei!" and waved frantically. Then he climbed up onto the couch and started walking around on it.
As it turns out, high-rise buildings have their advantages. The one I work in now features an attached parking structure, a small coffee shop, a restaurant, and a convenience store. There are electrical outlets in the bathrooms (er, at least the women's bathrooms); if I were so inclined, I could plug in a curling iron and style my hair right there. (That's a pretty big "if," considering I can't remember when I last used my curling iron, don't even remember where I put it when we moved back to Wisconsin three years ago, and don't ever bother actually styling my hair anyway. But if I wanted to style my hair in my new office building, I could.) The convenience store proved remarkably convenient this morning. I don't know what possessed me to wear a skirt today, what with the six (!) inches of snow we were expecting, but wear a skirt I did, and stick my thumb through my pantyhose I also did. I had just decided, rather anxiously, to arrange myself mindfully so that the large run forming in them could not be detected easily, and then I walked past the convenience store and delightedly beheld an entire RACK of pantyhose. So I bought a pair, and once again displayed a professional appearance. Which lasted until about noon, when I stuck my thumb through the new pantyhouse. There's got to be a lesson in this somewhere; I think it's probably "Don't wear skirts. Stick to pants. And stop telling the Internet about what you wear under your skirts."
So I'll tell you, briefly, about my new office. (But not too much, since now that I have a job I'd like to keep it.) I have a nice cubicle, which is located next to some windows. I can see a good portion of downtown, including some nostalgic landmark-type buildings. (This is a nice change from seeing the parking lot, a dumpster, and some geese.) Free coffee and tea are available in the break areas, and the coworkers appear quite pleasant.
And then we all got home for the evening, and Action Hero said, "Hi! HI! Hiiiiiiiii! Ha! Hai! Hi! Hei!" and waved frantically. Then he climbed up onto the couch and started walking around on it.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Toys in review
Before last Saturday, I thought that we had a fine selection of beeping, talking, musical toys. I now realize, however, how wrong I was. We did not have anywhere NEAR enough. Fortunately, with the arrival of Action Hero's first birthday, which relatives helped us celebrate on Saturday, that terrible lack has been remedied.
The toy of the hour, in fact the toy of the year, is called My First Electronic Ride-on. It looks sort of like this, without the fire engine motif. It does feature some fire-engine sound effects, however, along with some police-car sound effects, a horn, some music, and various other noises. And it does not have an adjustable volume, and its volume is set at Pretty Darn Loud, thanks. I am really happy we got a pushing-type toy, as Action Hero has started pushing the laundry baskets, dining chairs, and end tables around in the absence of noisy plastic push toys. Action Hero loves this toy; he spent much of Saturday evening pushing it back and forth between the kitchen and living room. Finally, as it was getting pretty late, he trundled it into the kitchen...and, to our surprise, came back without it. (Dragon asked him, quite seriously, "Did you go park your car?" He had, under the kitchen table.) Being Action Hero, he has since figured out how to stand up on its seat and wave his arms gaily in the air. Today, he used it as a step, and he can now climb up on both the couch and the futon. Heaven help us all.
Next, he received a toy guitar, which also doubles as a toy violin (complete with toy bow). It is almost as tall as he is, but he likes it. So does Boy Wonder. Conveniently, this one has a volume switch, and is easily kept at a reasonable volume.
Another gift that's appreciated by both boys: a pinball machine. No volume button; riotous music; festive lights.
The musical ladybug pull toy went over well with all of the children in attendance. In fact, little twenty-month-old Cousin M grabbed it nonchalantly on her way out the door, perhaps thinking to slip it under her coat. It is bigger than her head, so that didn't work so well. Action Hero barely noticed the ladybug on Saturday, but by Sunday evening was merrily pulling it around.
A frog book, which says "Ribbit! Ribbit!" loudly, provided ME some amusement last night, as I pressed the button repeatedly and watched Action Hero try to figure out where the noise was coming from. He was pleased to find the book, and chewed off a corner of the cover before dropping the book and heading back to his ride-on toy.
Which, duh. I can let y'all know exactly what it looks like, with a serious driver besides. Here you go.
The toy of the hour, in fact the toy of the year, is called My First Electronic Ride-on. It looks sort of like this, without the fire engine motif. It does feature some fire-engine sound effects, however, along with some police-car sound effects, a horn, some music, and various other noises. And it does not have an adjustable volume, and its volume is set at Pretty Darn Loud, thanks. I am really happy we got a pushing-type toy, as Action Hero has started pushing the laundry baskets, dining chairs, and end tables around in the absence of noisy plastic push toys. Action Hero loves this toy; he spent much of Saturday evening pushing it back and forth between the kitchen and living room. Finally, as it was getting pretty late, he trundled it into the kitchen...and, to our surprise, came back without it. (Dragon asked him, quite seriously, "Did you go park your car?" He had, under the kitchen table.) Being Action Hero, he has since figured out how to stand up on its seat and wave his arms gaily in the air. Today, he used it as a step, and he can now climb up on both the couch and the futon. Heaven help us all.
Next, he received a toy guitar, which also doubles as a toy violin (complete with toy bow). It is almost as tall as he is, but he likes it. So does Boy Wonder. Conveniently, this one has a volume switch, and is easily kept at a reasonable volume.
Another gift that's appreciated by both boys: a pinball machine. No volume button; riotous music; festive lights.
The musical ladybug pull toy went over well with all of the children in attendance. In fact, little twenty-month-old Cousin M grabbed it nonchalantly on her way out the door, perhaps thinking to slip it under her coat. It is bigger than her head, so that didn't work so well. Action Hero barely noticed the ladybug on Saturday, but by Sunday evening was merrily pulling it around.
A frog book, which says "Ribbit! Ribbit!" loudly, provided ME some amusement last night, as I pressed the button repeatedly and watched Action Hero try to figure out where the noise was coming from. He was pleased to find the book, and chewed off a corner of the cover before dropping the book and heading back to his ride-on toy.
Which, duh. I can let y'all know exactly what it looks like, with a serious driver besides. Here you go.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Happy birthday, baby!
(Disclaimer: I am a writer, or at least I fancy that I'm a writer. I am not a photographer, but I am aware that these photos are not spectacular. If you want clear, striking photography, go see Hawkins.)
One year ago:
.JPG)
Earlier this week:
Yeah. That's the BABY, climbing the STAIRS. He is under the impression that he can climb down stairs as well, but he cannot. His little legs are just too short; he'll place one leg on the step below the one he's standing on, grab the railing, and try to step down, only to discover that his other leg is stuck on the higher step.
Private birthday festivities before this weekend's extravaganza (or, "What the hell is this stuff on my hands?"):
One year ago:
.JPG)
Earlier this week:
Yeah. That's the BABY, climbing the STAIRS. He is under the impression that he can climb down stairs as well, but he cannot. His little legs are just too short; he'll place one leg on the step below the one he's standing on, grab the railing, and try to step down, only to discover that his other leg is stuck on the higher step.
Private birthday festivities before this weekend's extravaganza (or, "What the hell is this stuff on my hands?"):
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Whoo-HOO! (And dammit!)
Good news first!
In an astonishing change of fortune, the interviewer who said she really liked meeting with me? Twice? Well, she ACTUALLY MEANT IT! Enough to call me yesterday and offer me a job, in fact! I am so relieved that I can't adequately express my relief verbally. As an added bonus, I just received my offer letter (I've never gotten an official offer letter before, so this is very exciting), and received a pleasant surprise: apparently, there's been a change in title. I responded to an ad for a Standard Title, and the offer letter lists the title as Slightly Fancier Title That Looks Much Better on a Resume. (Not that I hope to be getting my resume ready again anytime soon. Aieee.)
(Note to passerby: if you've recently contacted me about freelancing, I'm still interested. Not getting stuck with no freelance contacts again, me.)
And, since the good must usually be balanced with the bad (at least at my house), the bad news. Well, not really BAD bad, just awfully inconvenient.
Into every life, a little rain must fall. And, since it is spring in southeastern WI, plenty of rain has been falling lately. When we bought our house, one corner of the basement was slightly damp due to the heavy rainfalls we had late last summer, but things dried out fairly quickly, and I was hopeful that we wouldn't have any more issues. HAHAHHAHAHA. There I go hoping again! I was merrily going about my morning, getting things tidied up for Action Hero's impending birthday festivities and dragging my work-appropriate clothing out of storage bins. I escorted the work-appropriate clothing to the basement, where I placed it in a laundry basket and went to go remove some items from the dryer...which was surrounded by a wet floor. Further investigation revealed water, and plenty of it, in two additional locations. Ah, the glamourous life of a homeowner. Mopping operations have commenced, I am thanking my lucky stars that we never decided to clean out and use the laundry chute (because we'd have a big pile of gross wet laundry), and my dad will stop by and bring his dehumidifier.
Off to finish the mopping operations, continue birthday preparation, and sign and return my offer letter!
In an astonishing change of fortune, the interviewer who said she really liked meeting with me? Twice? Well, she ACTUALLY MEANT IT! Enough to call me yesterday and offer me a job, in fact! I am so relieved that I can't adequately express my relief verbally. As an added bonus, I just received my offer letter (I've never gotten an official offer letter before, so this is very exciting), and received a pleasant surprise: apparently, there's been a change in title. I responded to an ad for a Standard Title, and the offer letter lists the title as Slightly Fancier Title That Looks Much Better on a Resume. (Not that I hope to be getting my resume ready again anytime soon. Aieee.)
(Note to passerby: if you've recently contacted me about freelancing, I'm still interested. Not getting stuck with no freelance contacts again, me.)
And, since the good must usually be balanced with the bad (at least at my house), the bad news. Well, not really BAD bad, just awfully inconvenient.
Into every life, a little rain must fall. And, since it is spring in southeastern WI, plenty of rain has been falling lately. When we bought our house, one corner of the basement was slightly damp due to the heavy rainfalls we had late last summer, but things dried out fairly quickly, and I was hopeful that we wouldn't have any more issues. HAHAHHAHAHA. There I go hoping again! I was merrily going about my morning, getting things tidied up for Action Hero's impending birthday festivities and dragging my work-appropriate clothing out of storage bins. I escorted the work-appropriate clothing to the basement, where I placed it in a laundry basket and went to go remove some items from the dryer...which was surrounded by a wet floor. Further investigation revealed water, and plenty of it, in two additional locations. Ah, the glamourous life of a homeowner. Mopping operations have commenced, I am thanking my lucky stars that we never decided to clean out and use the laundry chute (because we'd have a big pile of gross wet laundry), and my dad will stop by and bring his dehumidifier.
Off to finish the mopping operations, continue birthday preparation, and sign and return my offer letter!
Monday, April 02, 2007
And milestones to go before he sleeps
Eating applesause is a serious business. He did actually manage to dip a spoon in the applesauce, and then place the spoon in his mouth, a few minutes before his photo was taken. Apparently, that was too slow a method for him, and he commenced to drinking the applesauce straight from the container.
More milestones: last night, he drank from a sippy cup. Then he dropped it and said, "Uh-oh." And he can climb a lot more than the bottom three stairs now; he can climb the whole darn staircase. Photos of that coming soon, as soon as I remember to grab the camera when he heads for the stairs.
