HEELS

We aren't getting a tree this year. The one in the pictures is at my parent's house and is fake. It's a good fake though, and often visitors can't tell.

We aren't getting a tree for several reasons:

1) We'll spend the whole holiday at my parent's house anyway
2) I could really use the money in other ways
3) I always forget to water them
4) I hate the mess they leave
5) I hate disposing of them when it's all over
6) Cole is enough of a hazard just walking- I don't need to see him around MORE ornaments or trying to climb the tree, which would be inevitable
7) I don't feel like getting into the dead tree discussion with my nephew.

I think that's enough.

We've done live trees before, but, thanks to my stellar ability to kill all plant life within my house and a 5 foot perimeter surrounding it, they end up the same way as the pre-dead ones. What's the point? I'll buy a wreath and string up some lights. Hell- maybe I won't even do that and instead will just sit on my couch sipping burbon-laced eggnog and watching episodes of Buffy for the next three weeks (and I think I'm fat NOW!).

Sounds good. Will you join me?

(And I even have more, but they won't load.)

We took our Christmas Photos over Thanksgiving weekend. Cole was such good sport about it all.

"Hey. My cheeks really ARE so squeezable!"

"HAHA!! Now I have almost all of the toys and Spencer only has ONE! ONE!!"

We got this one which is just about as good a picture as we could hope for of all of us at the same time. I am far from photogenic, but I don't totally hate this.
(By the way, I am not taller than John, we were just sitting on uneven pillows.)

And I really quite like this one. We'll ignore my butt and focus on the beautiful baby face peeking out of the hat.

Cole played hard and got really tuckered out at the end of each day. He and the kitty dreamt about butterflies together.

Like I said, I've been tagged. I think I've only been tagged by one person ever before, and my answers were so horrible and boring that no one ever wanted to hear me list anything ever again. But, because I've been asked (and am always looking for things to write about besides "Ooh! I have a cute baby toddler! See! Cute=content! Really!), I will try.

Here are the rules:

Each player of this game starts with the "6 weird things about you". People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME:

1. Umm. Nope. Can't tell you about that one.

2. Not that one, either.

3. Ditto.


Oh, okay. I'll do it for real. Except, I think if you've read my 100 things you already know these. Except I don't keep a link to my 100 things. So yay! We'll pretend this is 100% brand spankin' new content. Yay! again.

1. I have to put on my right shoe first. Every time. When I try on shoes at a store where the clerk is supposed to "help" you with the shoes and they hand me the left shoe first? I have to ask for the right. Otherwise I just feel wrong all day. Dirty-like, or something.

2. I have an irrational hatred of the phrase "Local Artist." To me, if you have to play up the fact that they are local, they must not be very good. Please never refer to me that way. I will cry.

3. It really, really bugs me when Cole's socks don't match his outfit. Even when he's just going to bed. I change his socks to match his pj's.

4. When I was a teenager I wondered if I was a lesbian (I am SO not) because I thought that certain girls were pretty. I hadn't quite learned the difference between aesthetic attractiveness and sexual attraction. There was no experimentation needed for me to come to the conclusion I finally did. Stop thinking about Catholic school-girl pillow fights! Stop it! I'm not even Catholic!!

5. (By the way, this is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I'm not that weird.) I have conversations in my head. Sometimes I'll say parts of them out loud accidentally. I usually "talk" with my hands. Quite animatedly. I'm sure I look like a crazy person. I've done speeches about politics, the environment, accepting awards, divorcing my husband, family members dying. I've taught whole classes. I tell people off like CRAZY. I'm very dramatic.

6. I'd rather be fully naked than wearing just socks. Or just a bra. Maybe that's not so weird- I mean, after the undies- what the hell!

So there you go. Right now I could probably come up with a couple more, but they really aren't that weird. Well, maybe they just sound normal to me because I'm the one who does them. Huh. I dunno.

I'm not going to tag anyone 1) because I don't want to force anyone into doing this or feeling bad that they haven't and, more importantly, 2) I have no friends. But if you are desperate for material like I am and you feel like sharing, please drop me a line so that I can come over and read your deep dark squiggly secrets because I'm totally a voyeur like that. Show me somethin' baby.

I'm back. The 5 days flew by. I blinked and they were gone. Evaporated. I'm sad.

But we did have a wonderful time. My 82 year old grandmother and her husband came up from Arizona and stayed from Wednesday night to Sunday morning. My grandmother is still so sharp and clever and funny- it gives me a lot of hope for my father and for me in our old age. I hope she outlives her mother, who was in her mid-90's when she passed. I really want Cole to get to know her. She's one of my favorite people.

My lovely sister and her son were also there. It was great to see my sister, but we are so comfortable with each other that it feels like we don't really take advantage of the times we get to see each other. I saw her for a few days, but I still miss her as much as if I hadn't seen her at all.

It was a little tougher seeing my nephew. He's a brilliant kid- so precocious. He's funny and can be so sweet. But, being 4 1/2, he's also not so good at sharing with his little 13 month old cousin, Cole. He mildly terrorized Cole all weekend- not because he's mean, just because he's kind of jealous and a bit controlling. I knew Cole had had enough when he started fighting back. Spencer tried to take a toy away from Cole and Cole shrieked, shook his head violently, and ripped the toy back out of Spencer's hands. Then I tried to give Cole a quick bath and Spence decided to join, which I thought would be fun (I remember playing in the bath with cousins and other kids and we had a great time) until Spencer climbed in and Cole started crying. Cole has NEVER cried in the bathtub. Not even the first time I bathed him. Just NEVER. Poor kid was enjoying some alone time with his mommy and having Spencer come in was just too much. Cole has been having little nightmares ever since. He'll be sleeping when all of a sudden he'll arch his back and cry until I touch him or move him.

I think they'll be able to be friends eventually, but their ages are just too different right now. Cole can't move fast enough for Spencer and Spencer's still a little too rough for Cole. I hope time can change that. Neither will probably have siblings, so they may be the closest family either one has someday.

Cole had a big weekend in other ways, too. He now is fully walking. That's all he wants to do. He walks across the room, turns around, and walks back. He walks in stores. He tries to step up and down stairs. What's more, he can now stand up by himself with nothing around. No more scaling, no more pulling up- all by himself. He's truly a toddler. The running will come next.

His vocabulary exploded. He's amazing. My mom says that he can say almost as many words as I could when I was 18 months old. He's moving SO fast. He used signs for the first time, too. He now uses the sign for hat and food. I know that he understands signs, but it was the first time he actually used them.

And he's willful. Ugh. I'm finally getting what I deserve, it seems. We had a couple of shrieking episodes in the last couple of days. He was shrieking, not me, though I wouldn't have been too far behind if it had continued much longer. He cries when his expectations are thwarted, when he doesn't get to do when he wants, when we make him do things he doesn't want. He's finally a person! Who expresses preferences! It's really cool when I think about it abstractly. Not quite as cool when he's having a meltdown in the middle of the store.

I think he's at that stage (or, rather, one of those stages) where he understands and wants to do more than he can express or actually do. I think he's incredibly frustrated. I try to keep that in mind when dealing with his tantrums. It'll get better, I'm sure. Then it'll probably get worse again, but that's what growing up is about.

We took some really nice pictures while my grandma was here. They are so nice that I'll actually put some up of me as soon as I remember to bring the disk in. I haven't liked pictures in a while, so that was a nice change.

We had turkey and all the good stuff (stuffing cooked out of the bird for me because I'm a freak about food poisoning). I didn't eat too much. No, really. I had one normal portion plate and let it go at that. I maybe snacked a little too much, but I never felt stuffed. It was nice. Not making myself sick on Thanksgiving- how novel! Cole enjoyed actually getting to eat with us this year. The peas were a big hit, as was the stuffing.

Strangely, I feel like I didn't get enough pie or turkey leftovers. Usually I can't think about eating more of any leftovers after Thanskgiving, but this year they were used up so quickly. I could really go for a turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce (homemade only!) right about now. Mmmmm. And some stuffing. And a little pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

I'm so hungry.

It was a great holiday and I'm really warming up to the idea of Christmas this year. Last year Christmas was a very sad time because I couldn't be with my extended family. This year we will be together, and that's what I really want for Christmas. Presents are just a nice bonus.

Wait- I just realized what I REALLY want right now. Pumpkin pancakes. O Yummy! Oooh- tummy growling. It is very angry with me for not giving it pancakes. Send pancakes fast before it eats me instead!

(It also seems that I've been tagged, but that will have to wait a bit because I should really do something while at work today. Silly, I know.)

I don't have much to say except...

Happy Thanksgiving! Love, Buck-tooth Bubba

The title from a recent article in our local newspaper:

"Mystery Horse Involved In Arnold Accident"

Did it wear a mask and cape?

My step-grandfather died last night. I just found out. At least, I think it was last night. Maybe it was this morning. I don't know.

But I'm not sad. No, really! And before you think me heartless, let me explain. I have known him since I was about 4 or 5, but we have never been close. I grew up mostly in California and they (my grandma and my step-grandpa) lived in upstate New York. We saw them only every couple of years most of the time. Then they up and moved to Malawi, Africa with the Peace Corps and we hardly saw them at all.

It was kind of a shock when I learned that he had cancer. It was more shocking when I learned that he had been sick for some time but had been forgoing treatment and ignoring his doctors.

He was not a... nice man. He was rude and almost cruel to my grandmother. He was very controlling. He was strange to our whole family. When we visited one time when John and I were still dating (but living together already for years), he insisted that we sleep in separate beds. When he found out that we had pushed the beds together, he nearly threw us out. I would have understood if I had believed for a second that he was actually appalled and was so conservative that he didn't want to believe that we slept together. But it wasn't his sensibilities that were bruised. It was his control-freak nature. He wasn't old fashioned, he was just kind of a jerk.

He ended up liking John more than he liked most of us, I think, because John could talk to him about everything. He was a very intelligent and educated man. He was a Urologist. He loved to talk to John about politics and religion and science, and John was so patient.

He had escaped as a child from Nazi Germany. Who knows what that would do to a person.

My grandma loved him, and if anything could make me sad today, it would be thinking about that. Despite his crumminess, she was loyal and loving to the end.

He had been bedridden for quite some time before he actually died. They were just controlling the pain, and barely that, I think, near the end. It's better that he's gone. He had no joy in life anymore it seems. He went very peacefully.

One of my favorite stories about him is that he performed his own vasectomy. Being a urologist, he was technically qualified. He got halfway through the procedure when he was called to a meeting he felt he couldn't miss. He patched himself up quickly and went along to the meeting. Some time into the meeting, he felt a wet, sticky sensation in his lap. He realized that his patch job wasn't quite complete and excused himself to go finish the job. Nutcase.

I know that my grandma is hurting. That is the hard part. But I also know that she is okay. My aunt, one of her daughters, lives in the same town and is with her today. It would be great if we could bring her out here for a little while. I bet a visit with Cole would do her lots of good.

I'm sure she is relieved that his suffering has ended.

Rest in peace, grandpa Nick.

We did some hanging out with my nephew (4 1/2 y.o.) this past weekend. Here are some things we learned:

It is okay to catch and kill fish. It is even okay to run around screaming like a banshee in delight when said fish are caught. It's okay to torture play with the dying fish in the bucket, giggling about "blood water." But it is NOT okay to eat dead animals.

And:

A race is only a race if you are winning. Otherwise the race is called off. Make up a good sounding reason (such as "Oh... um... my pedal won't turn." "But your pedal is turning just fine now." "Oh... um... Let's Race!") for stopping, regain your lead, and announce that the race is back on. Repeat as necessary.

These are important life lessons here people. Learn them. Use them.

Aarrrgghhh!!!! THE TORTURE!!!

John and I went house hunting on Saturday. We saw the inside of the house we already liked so much.

Let's just say that now I want to cry every time I think about how much money we DON'T make.

It's far from a perfect house. It has ugly, utility-type carpet in the bedrooms, the owners have been letting their dog poop in the garage (poor animal), the backyard is a freakin' MESS, the bathrooms are small. But you know how I know that I love this house? I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT. Not one of the issues that it has bugs me a bit, even though I KNOW it would in other houses.

This house has so much potential. The backyard, despite being a shambles, is HUGE and could be so much. John was dreaming of a basketball court in the lower half and I was dreaming of a gazebo. We could (eventually) have both and the yard would still not seem crowded.

The kitchen is beautiful. They just renovated it and did a really nice job.

The master bedroom and bath are small, but I can already see pushing out the wall and making a gorgeous master suite complete with jacuzzi tub (droooool).

I can see us teaching Cole to ride a bike on the street (it's a very quiet neighborhood) and decorating for Halloween. We'll have barbeques in the backyard.

I can just see us being a family there. Not that would we wouldn't be anywhere else, but... you know what I mean.

And it hurts so much to think that some other family will be living there because there's so little chance that we can afford it.

Damn you, tiny paycheck. DAMN YOU!!!

What's wrong with me?

I have this inner turmoil/anxiety/mild depression today. It started with hearing of the death of someone I don't even know, but whose progress I had been tracking on this crazy internet thing. It happened on Friday. It's the kind of tragic death that makes you want to hug your family and cherish every moment you have with them, telling them how much they mean to you all the time.

Then I got a call about how much our ignorance about ovens was going to cost us. $100 to $120 because we didn't know better. It pissed me off. I called John and just wanted to be mad at him for not stopping jiggling the effing handle when I asked him to stop jiggling the effing handle already and, therefore, costing us $120 that could go toward a house of our own. I forgot all about the snuggly "forgive and forget and love your loved ones so hard that they'll never doubt" feeling that I'd been having just minutes before. I just wanted to blame him.

I'm an asshole.

Is it redeeming at all that I know I'm an asshole? Probably not.

Really, as much as it sucks right now, the stupid $120 doesn't mean anything. We'll pay the fucking bill and forget about it. Not being mad at John is worth more than that.

So I am announcing my plan for self-improvement. No more passing the blame just because it hurts, because it hurts others, too. I'm taking responsibility for my laziness and forgetfulness and my other- many other- faults. I need to. They don't belong to anyone else.

Maybe I should start a new feature here: Melancholy Monday. Yeah- THAT'S the way to keep your readers! Bum them the fuck out on a day that's crappy already! YAY!!

You guys rock.

You wanna know what's sick? I have a gorgeous son who is so much fun to play with, a nice husband, a lovely dinner planned for tonight, plenty of chores that could get done, and a dog who would, I'm SURE, love to go for a walk. Do you know what I can't wait to do when I get home?

Effing watch episodes of Buffy.

I. LOVE. THIS. SHOW. I am thoroughly addicted. We had to bump our netflix up to three discs at a time to try to satiate my need. John made the mistake of putting an actual movie in the queue (weird word...) and I just about lost it. (It turned out to be a pretty good one- Thank You For Smoking, but still.)

I think we're on the 4th season now. I will cry when we get to the last. CRY.

If you've never seen it and you have some time to burn, give it a try. And be sure to have your sense of odd humour with you.

Oh!Oh! The part I absolutely love about it is that Cole's favorite song is the themesong to Buffy. He can recognize it by the howls at the beginning. If you've never seen a 1 year old bouncing and headbanging his way through a Nerf Herder song, you haven't lived. It's a beautiful thing. Or maybe scary, because now you know how much we watch these that he can recognize the song so easily...


(I feel like I've written about this before, but I can't find it in my archives. Either way, I think it's probably yet another indication of my impending insanity.)

(Really, I'll be much better after my 5 days off. Just wait it out. Only 4 more work days!)

How frustrating. To work as hard as we do and make as much as we do (which isn't a lot, but still should be enough to get us out of the working poor category) and still not be able to afford much of anything in the way of a house.

I won't go into details, but we are about $100,000 short of qualifying for a mortgage that would get us something worth having. It's sad that a young, educated, two-income family would have this much trouble in America these days. It scares me for other people who I know are worse off than we.

No decision has been made because we may have some hidden resources that would get us a lot closer. But we may not. We may be forced to rent forever.

No wonder people rush into interest only or adjustable rate mortgages without thinking of the future. They make it so easy to choose those options. We will not.

I still want that house so badly. It sounds so materialistic, so shallow, but it really hurts that it may be so far out of our reach. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility, but pretty damn close.

I just found a house that I'm really excited about. It's 3 bed, 2 bath, 1536 sq feet, tree in the front, fenced lawn in the back, nice kitchen (I'm big on kitchens, stereotypically). Best of all? It's right down the street from Cole's daycare and only about 5 minutes from work. It's a really nice neighborhood.

I'm now imagining walking Cole to daycare in the morning, waving to the other families we know (2 of them already!) who live on the same street. The house isn't perfectly beautiful, but with everything else it seems... well, perfect.

Of course, I won't tell the realtor that.

I always feel like I need to point out the really bad parts of a house (or a car) that I might think of buying. I feel, somehow, that it makes it seem like I'm doing them a favor by buying it, therefore getting a better deal. I'm not really sure that this is true, but I can't help myself.

Anyway, I'm going tomorrow to get pre-approved for a mortgage so that if we really like the place we can make an offer.

I'm nervous about the pre-approval thing, though. I have no idea what kind of credit we have. We were... less than perfect in college. Things have been pretty good since then, but I'm not sure we've put enough distance between that time and now to have the good outweigh the bad. We'll see.

So Friday. Yeah. I wasn't here. Unexpectedly.

I got a call late on Thursday from his daycare that Cole had a fever and was "inconsolable." I knew already that he had the two ear infections (I think I mentioned that, right?) but I hadn't filled his antibiotic prescription because I hate antibiotics. HATE.

Anyway, I rushed to pick him up and found him to be his normal, happy self. But he did have a fever (102) and so needed to go away from other children. The policy at the daycare is also that he needed to stay at home the next day, so I was FORCED into staying at home on Friday with a not-really-very-sick child and feeling fairly well myself. Big BIG bummer, I tell ya.

I did break down and get the effing prescription, though. M*@#*$&%@$* doctors.

Cole was the preciousest monkey this weekend. Such a sweetie. I think I kinda love him. Weird. What freak loves their own beautiful perfect child?

He now gives kisses on command. (Hear that? That was my heart exploding with joy.)

He's also been biting ALL.THE.TIME. Little pooper. At least he only bites me. When I yell and say "NO BITING!" he just gives me a devilish grin and taps his lips. STINKER! I think he must think that "no biting" means "oh yeah! Bite me again because it's like tickles and I know it means that you really love me." He actually left marks on Saturday. I know he's teething, but- damn. It still freakin' hurts.

(Anyone know how to make a 1 year old stop biting? Anyone?)

Now I feel like I have a sinus infection. I have so much pressure in my sinuses, headaches, and a sore throat. Yuk. I'm really glad that this is the last full week before Thanksgiving (when I'll have 5 days away from work in a ROW!!).

Okay. Enough randomness.

I am and I am not on Blogger. No, this is not a zen thing. I use Crumpled as my host, but I publish and have comments through Blogger.

I can never do anything the easy or simple way. I can actually blame it on my husband for real this time, except that if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be doing it at all, so I thank him instead.

More later.

(But what else is new?)

I'm usually 4th string back-up receptionist where I work. With so many people out sick or leaving early today, I'm up to the second on phones.

The first on phones called me a couple minutes ago to ask if I could cover phones for a bit so that she could clean the kitchen (if there are saints in the world? She is one of them.). I said of course and then got into some other work I had.

Not five minutes later, the phone began to ring. At every ring I thought "why aren't they getting that? Why aren't they effing getting that?" It was almost at the last ring before the service picks up when I realized Oh eFF! I'M supposed to be getting that.

I'm such a dork.

John is trying to convince me to switch to Blogger so that I can use their Beta features. I'm less than impressed at the moment. Blogger irritates me in general and I've found nothing, features wise, to make the hassle of the switch worth it. In some ways I'd love to switch to MT or something like that, but my host doesn't support it and I'm not so obsessed that I'm willing to go out and spend money for my very own spot (though, elex- I'm sure we should be pitching in at some point here. Just let us know, man.).

The point of this is if any of you are on Blogger Beta and want to pitch it to me (or do a pros/cons thing), I'd be very interested and grateful. At the moment I'm feeling pissy about it, though, and that never lets me weigh something fairly. I'd love to hear from some real users.

Honestly, I don't give a s**t about tags. More stability would be nice. Being able to post pictures when I want to would be real special. That's what I really care about. And preserving all of the effing work I've done in the last (what- 3? something?) few years. It's not good, but it's mine and it documents parts of my life that aren't in any other way.

So thanks in advance, if you choose to drop me a line. You're fantastic.


**The title of a funny adult short story book by Roald Dahl (I love him so much). You should read it.

Cole finally had his One year check-up today. Aside from two ear infections, he's doing great, according to the doctor. I coulda told you that. Not fond of this doctor.

He gave me another prescription for antibiotics for Cole's ears, which John and I have already decided not to fill, and instead will just keep an eye on him. If it seems like he's actually being bothered by them , then we'll fill it. But with the cough, the vaccination boosters (3), and the flu shot, I just couldn't bring myself to pump more junk into his little body (that was 4 shots total. FOUR.). Besides, antibiotics are so rarely even necessary for ear infections. Most other countries don't even prescribe for them because they just go away on their own more often than not.

I hate how overprescribed antibiotics are in this country. Sometimes I really hate American medicine in general. But I suppose we save a lot of lives and make stunning new advances in treatment and all that. So...anyway.

I had to fight with the doctor about the chicken pox vaccine. I don't believe that it's good. At all. I'm still feeling a little paranoid that, even though I told him that Cole was NOT to have that vaccine, he forgot to tell the nurse who prepared the shots and he got it anyway. I need to get his records to try to put my mind to rest there. I might sue if he went ahead with it anyway, and I'm really not litigious by nature. It's that important to me.

For reference, Cole's last stats (only about a month ago):
30 inches
24 pounds

Cole's new stats:
31 inches
24 pounds


Seriously- I could have sworn that he gained a few pounds. I think that everyone who holds him regularly would have been in agreement. But there it was on the scale- 24 pounds. He's stretching out and getting to be a lean little boy. Really, he looks fabulous. We'll start his modeling career any day now.

Can you imagine growing an inch in one month though? No wonder he's cranky sometimes.

He was very brave about the shots (did I mention there were 4?). The first one went in and he just gave me a funny look. It was only when the second was being pulled out that he realized the level of suckitude that he was experiencing and started to cry. He cried until I pulled him into my lap to try to get his mind off of it all with a magazine with cute babies in it (he's very into pictures of babies right now). Then he discovered his Bugs Bunny bandaids and all was well.

I asked for a sticker from the receptionist so that Cole would have something to keep him busy on the ride to daycare. She gave me this look like she really didn't want to give him one and then sighed and asked if there was one already up there that he'd like. I just grabbed one and left.

It turned out that I grabbed a ghost sticker that had little face stickers so that you could put a the facial combination you chose on the body of the ghost. I made one with a funny face for Cole and stuck it on is fingers. I knew he was playing with it in back, but I didn't pay much attention (as I was driving at the time). When we got to daycare I discovered that he had chewed the head off of the ghost and that the head piece was missing. He had fallen asleep at some point during the ride and I feared that he had the piece in his mouth. I pulled down his lower lip and, just as if he had been a chewer all of his life, there was the mashed up ghost head, sitting like a little plug of tobacco. Yuk.

Oh, as we're going with the general theme of Cole updates, he's been hitting at school. His daycare lady tells me that he's extremely stubborn and willfull (I wonder where he got that?) and that when he thinks that he's right he's liable to hit the party who is threatening to take what he thinks is his. He hasn't hit us at home. Usually he does the "cry until I get it back" routine (which doesn't work even a bit, so I'm not sure why he's persisting) or the "passive resistance/act like I suddenly can't stand and no longer have any shoulders" routine. Cute. I thought he was supposed to be older before we got this crap. Anyway, the point is that I can't even work with him about hitting because we never see it. I feel a little guilty, because I know that he is one of the favorites where he goes and the girl he is hitting the most is kind of not (my daycare lady is weird. Great with the kids, but a psycho freak bitch otherwise.). I do think we've finally stopped the biting though. Brat (goddamn, do I love him).

But not surprising, sadly.

I just checked the election results for everything I voted on. They were in an online article from our local paper. It gave the comparisons between how our county voted and how the state voted (California). If the county I live in had its way, the Republicans would have swept the floor with the Democrats in every race. We're an anomally. Thankfully, the rest of the state balanced us out.

It's strange to be reminded once again of how different my views must be from the people around me. Nothing like an election to make you feel like an outsider.

How about you? You didn't vote? Are you crazy?

Cole's pretty pleased with how things are generally turning out, too.

Bye bye, Rummy baby. We'll miss you! Wait. No we fucking won't! See ya, bitch!!

Just effing do it already.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am an absentee voter. However, this year, after almost completely filling out my ballot, my dear husband "cleaned," otherwise known as "moving my shit into places I would never look for it" which caused a nearly un-ending rant by me about how he was opressing me and denying me my rights as an American citizen, yaddayaddayadda.

He, of course, claimed that he did no such thing and, when I assured him it was all his fault (like all other bad things in this world except AIDs, which I just don't see how he could be responsible for, so I'll give him the benefit of doubt) he said that he was sure it wasn't and that I always blame him (of course- it's always your fault!) and never apologize when it turns out I'm wrong (that's because I never am).

If today had passed and I had been denied my right to vote, John would have had to think very carefully about whether he actually wanted to eat any food that I had prepared for him. I think his diet would have suddenly switched to Taco Bell and soup. (Because I would have poisoned him, not to put too fine a fucking point on it.) (Do you like how I mix my faux-swear words and actual ones? I can swear for real in the parenthesis because it's just in my head.)

Lucky for John, I found my ballot this morning. On top of his bureau. With a joke book called "Science Made Easy."

See- it's all his fault. John? I'll apologize when I'm actually wrong. Don't expect to hear it any time soon.

'Cause I'm perfect, of course. And you're not.



**You all know that I don't really blame my husband for everything and that I love him and am grateful that he cleans at all and that I actually wouldn't poison him. Not for a mistake, at least. I also don't believe that I am perfect in any way and I only hope to be as smart and funny as John when I get older, but it's no fair because we're the same age and he has such a tremendous head start on it.**

Cole and his cousin waiting for the arrival of the cake.

What the eff is that, Mom?

Oh...Yum!

What? Do I have something on my face?

Did I get it?
(Note- Dog fixed at messy-baby side)

This part's delicious... What gene pool did he come from?

Maybe this explains it. This is my, um, father. It was a costume party. Really.


And I usually don't let him eat so badly. This is a lot more normal, I swear.

I still feel funky. I'm not really feeling sick ,but I also don't really feel well. If I knew it weren't impossible (and believe me- it's IMPOSSIBLE), I'd wonder if I were pregnant. This feels like early morning sickness- queasy, craving salt, tired constantly, headaches... Of course, it also could just mean that my appetite is finally coming back after its hiatus of the past week. I think I've also been dangerously dehydrated. I'm bad about that whole "drinking fluids" thing. Some days I only get my cup of coffee in the morning. That's bad, isn't it?

Tonight, a bunch of tired parents are going out to a Dervish concert. Tired parents except for my mother, who is well-rested. She told us yesterday that she's going to drive herself there just in case she wants to stay out later than we do. It feels strange to have gotten to a point in my life when my Mom, who's in her early 50's, is more ready to party than I am. Oh wait. No- this is MY mom we're talking about. Never mind.

Cole did a better job of sleeping through the night last night. More accurately, I did a better job of not getting up and bringing him into bed with us, like the lazy, sleep-deprived mother I am. We all slept better. I wish it made more of an impact on how I feel now.

That's all I have right now- randomness. That's just how my head feels. Getting any actual work done today should be an interesting excercise. Wish me luck!

My 4 year old nephew, Spencer (who was a very cool "bat who is a vampire"), was at a door trick-or-treating. The homeowner was very generously giving out full-size candy bars. Spencer's eyes were gleaming as he gazed at the huge candies on display. My Mom said "Wow, Spence. What do you say?" Spencer: "Can I have one of each?"

Don't you love the innocent greediness of kids?

The lady let him have two. When we got into the car to go home, I told him that he could choose one candy to eat during the ride. He reached his hand into his pumpkin sack and, when I asked him if he had chosen which one, he said "YES!" and pulled out a giant Baby Ruth. I told him that that one counted as several candies and that he had to choose another, carefully pulling out everything I didn't want him to have as I spoke. (I ended up having to take that candy bar away because it was open on one end. He was very brave about it) He chose a little box of Dots and was very adorable with how he explained to us that each one tasted different and that he had seen those candies before but had never tried them and now he was very glad to know what they were because he never knew that before and always wondered (whew!).

I miss that- the new discoveries and experiences of childhood. I'm glad that I now have children around through whom I can live vicariously to experience that wonder again. Unfortunately, it also means that I have to experience the pain again. Spencer was running around on Halloween, trying to break into other groups of kids and make friends. He was rejected time and again. It made me realize that those wounds of rejection and the pain of friendless lonliness from my childhood are still very raw, even so long after. That shit sticks with you. I saw Spencer being so friendly and trying so hard and it was all I could do not to cry. I want better for him and for Cole. I want the pain that I went through to be enough for them, too. I want to have pre-paid for them so that they don't have to feel it.

And so now I'm seeing what it means to be a parent. Besides all of the responsibilities and no sleep and expenses and all of those other things that you can partially foresee, it also means that you feel every blow and every triumph. It means that you go through childhood again. And, if your childhood was rough, it can be like a nightmare. I'll feel all of the hurt that Cole feels, but not be able to do anything about it but just be there for him when/if he needs me.

I didn't mean for this to turn melancholy. Actually, I was only going to tell you about that funny thing that Spencer said.

The next morning, Spencer woke up and had peed in his nighttime diaper. He was embarrassed about it and decided to hide it from my parents by flushing the diaper down the toilet. The water reached into the hall, my Dad's room, under the wall into his closet, into the guest room, and into the front hall. They had to rip up all of the carpet and padding so that the subfloor wouldn't warp. Luckily, they have had the carpet since the house was built, roughly 23 years ago, and were getting ready to replace it all after the new year. Spencer was so upset about what he had done, he rolled himself in a little ball, crying and saying that he was bad over and over. Poor guy. He's not a bad kid. He's a great kid. But he's a KID. He does dumb stuff because he doesn't understand all of the consequences yet. I wish I could give him all of the knowledge I have so that he can make better choices now.

And that's what my parents always tried to do and I hated it. So I'll just be there for all of "my" kids- Cole, Spencer, Haylee, and Taylor. I love you all and I'd do anything to give you a life without pain, but I'm afraid that means no life at all. So, pain it will be, but I hope only in small doses, and I'll always try to be here to kiss it and make it better.

Happy Halloween!

Oh, wait. That was yesterday, wasn't it?

Ummm... yeah. I'm still out of it. We had a lovely party on Saturday. I was so stressed out that it was like I wasn't even there, but it was wonderful to have so many fantastic people in our house. Thanks for making the trip, everybody, from both near and far.

But Sunday I started to feel really run down. And Monday I came to work, but only made it until 10:30. I went home with chills, painful skin (does this just happen to me? Because everyone I explain it to thinks I'm crazy), and aches. Every time I turned my head I felt dizzy. It was so awful. I didn't even bother trying to come to work yesterday.

I did take Cole out last night with his cousin. We went to about 7 houses and then called it a night. I don't think I could have walked any farther. I was feeling so wasted that I didn't even remember to take pictures. Luckily, other people were with it enough to take pictures at is birthday party on Saturday and it is only thanks to them that I can share this cuteness with you.








But this one is from last night after trick-or-treating. He was just pooped and crashed out on the couch. I love the child's pose (aka- butt-sticking-up). He's just so sweet.


(That's the unitard that was under his bee costume. He looks hilarious in it. I told him he looked like a modern dancer and he chose that moment to make a very artistic arm movement. When I copied him he thought it was VERY funny. John and I were laughing so hard that my eyes were watering.)

(I have also been promised pictures of a birthday-cake-frosting covered baby boy which I will share with you as soon as I see them!)