So sad when you have a bad day and are irritable with little children deserving of more patience, and one of them looks at you sadly, then walks away, murmuring, “You used to be so good.”
June, 2009
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Not Good
Monday, June 29th, 2009That’s Hot
Thursday, June 25th, 2009The baby ate a slice of jalapeño off of the floor last week. I saw him do it, but thought it was a blueberry, so I let him. (Disturbing subtexts of this post that I will not be touching on: 1. There are both jalapeños and blueberries available on my kitchen floor. 2. I do not stop my baby from eating what he finds on said floor.)
Hot Fireshot (REALLY Hot Fireshot in this case) just barely put the jalapeño slice into his mouth before spitting it out and screaming holy hell. Whatever reaction I might have imagined that a baby would have upon tasting a jalapeño was nothing compared to the reaction he actually had. I gave him water and ice bits, then I gave him a plum to suck on and I nursed him. I desperately ripped off his pajamas to see if there was a rash, and considered calling 911 because I was sure I read in the newspaper that a baby was badly hurt from eating a jalapeño. Then, suddenly, he stopped crying, grinned at me, threw his arms up in the air and said, “Touchdown!”
Alpacas Are Cuter Than I Thought
Wednesday, June 24th, 2009
Lost Shoes
Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009“She LOST her daughter’s shoes!”
“NO! HOW do you LOSE your child’s SHOES?”
“I KNOW!”
Then, much head-shaking and eye-rolling and tongue-clucking from the two women conversing, and some squirming and glaring from me. I didn’t feel like getting into this conversation, particularly to explain that I lose shoes, my own and my children’s, fairly regularly.
I also kept quiet because this conversation was fascinating me.
Two women I had just met, both with small children, were discussing their “friend,” a mother of three children, from infant to elementary age. Their “friend” had just gone back to work, and she was struggling. Sounds like a good time for someone to swoop in and help her out–OR, tear her to shreds in front of strangers at a cocktail party.
There’s more:
“And my neighbor babysits for her, and she actually had to call her mother to find out how to start the dishwasher because it was so full of dirty dishes that she couldn’t even find a plate to give the kids their snack! And she has TWO dishwashers! BOTH full of dirty dishes!”
(They are horrified at dirty dishes; I am horrified that a teenaged babysitter cannot figure out how to wash a dish.)
“And the other night she had the kids up at 8:00 pm making cookies because she feels all guilty for missing out on stuff with them and they didn’t even do their HOMEWORK!”
“And she keeps leaving work early to try to see them before their bed time!”
After a night of meeting lovely new people (and finding out later that some of them hated each other because some people’s brothers had affairs with other people’s sisters while married to someone else’s twin or something like that-also fascinating), the night was over, and I grabbed my baby, who was stashed behind a couch, asleep in his car seat, and went out to my car.
As I was driving away, I fervently hoped that somewhere in this city that woman was making cookies with her children at an inappropriately late hour, while crumpled, undone homework sat in the corner amid some lost shoes and both dishwashers were full . . . but she didn’t care because the cookie-making was just what she needed.
Why is this web site blue and missing all the posts from 2009?
Sunday, June 21st, 2009I am trying to upgrade the wordpress thing, otherwise known as breaking my web site because I don’t know what I’m doing and whoever thought doing my own domain and all the weird stuff that goes with it was a good idea for a techno-idiot like me is not too clever, either…
I learned something new today:
If you upgrade something and you export your stuff to your desktop first, but the export file says something about “PART,” then that means only “PART” of it exported, and the rest is gone. But if you have a clever, computer-y person to help you, then you can piece the missing PARTS together from said person’s Google reader and from cached pages in sort of a haphazard, taped-together way that’s better than nothing and will lead to you staying up all night and very annoyed yet thankful you’ve barely written on your blog lately because the PARTS you missed are not terribly extensive and you feel in such a rush to get the missing parts found that you don’t have time to write in real sentences, just run-on ones . . .