Mar
8
Baby steps
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Life with an infant and a toddler is continuing to kick my ass, but I kind of feel like maybe the steel-toed boots have come off, for the time being anyway. I am occasionally experiencing the fleeting sensation of being capable of surviving this craziness, or if not entirely capable then at least not constantly on the verge of, ha ha, running out of the house screaming.
Dylan’s fussiness while eating has dialed back to a much more manageable level, and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because I switched formulas, maybe it’s the Mylicon I dose him with on a regular basis, maybe a few of the kinks in his developing GI system worked themselves out, maybe the planets are briefly aligned in our favor and any minute now I’ll be doused in barf and wishing I’d never said a thing about our improved state of affairs . . . it’s a goddamned mystery but I’ll take it.
He’s pudgier and peering around with interest and is growing those ridiculously chompable thigh-rolls and overall he looks much more like a baby and less like a furious raisin. It is getting easier to actually enjoy him, rather than feeling a Sense of Duty to pretend like I am.
(Is that an awful thing to say? I don’t know, I know people say they loved every minute of sitting at home with their newborns and spending hours gazing at their tiny little faces but is it possible their memories are CLOUDED, just a bit?)
In other news, Riley woke up last night wailing and batting at an ear so I took him to the pediatrician this morning. Right before we left JB’s brother (who is staying with us for the weekend) told him to have fun seeing the “shaman”, and the entire way there Riley babbled nonstop about the SHAMEN who was going to FIX RIWWY’S EAR and I was starting to feel vaguely embarrassed about what the doctor might think if Riley called her a shaman, but it turns out I was worrying about the wrong thing because as soon as we were situated in the waiting room Riley started shouting GO ‘WAY, GOV’MENT! LEAVE RIWWY ALONE! and really, all he was missing was a tiny tin foil hat. Jesus.
The Unabomber, lounging in front of Blue’s Clues to Conspiracies and Mind Control.
Storing nuts for the winter.
Mar
6
Ladies and gentlemen, my husband
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Completely infantile discussions I have had with JB lately:
JB: “Hey, I heard a joke today. There’s this husband and wife lying in bed and the husband turns to her and starts trying to get some action, and she tells him, ‘Not tonight, I have a gynecologist exam in the morning’. So the guy thinks for a minute and then asks, ‘You don’t have a dentist appointment, do you?”
Me: “Ha. Not bad.”
JB: “I think you could substitute the term proctologist, too.”
Me: “Right.”
JB: “Because—”
Me: “I GET IT.”
:::
Me (to JB who has just walked in the door from work): “Jesus, thank god. The baby just yakked on the sofa, Riley’s been acting like an asshole all afternoon, I didn’t get one spare minute to myself all damn day long and if I see one more dirty dish left on the table for the fucking cleaning fairy to take care of I will sink into madness and I will take you all with me.”
JB (thinking for a minute): “So . . . no ‘welcome home BJ’, then?”
:::
Me: “Let’s see, so we need eggs, cheese, frozen waffles for Riley . . . and what’s this item, a little something called Boner Rise?”
JB: “Heh.”
Me: “Dude, what are you—twelve?”
JB: “Made you say ‘boner rise’.”
:::
JB: “I’ve got another joke. How do you keep a gay guy in suspense?”
Me (thinking): “. . .”
Me (eventually): “How?”
JB (sniggering): “. . .”
Me: “Ohh. Ha.”
JB: “Har!”
Me: “Now I am gay.”
:::
Me (to JB, who has just stepped out of the shower): “You know, now that I spend so much of my day dealing with tiny penises, I have to tell you, you look enormous in comparison.”
JB: “Why thank you.”
Me: “I mean, like, elephantine almost. It’s sort of terrifying.”
JB: “You have my permission to share that on your blog. About my elephantine dong, I mean.”
Me: “You do know I mean elephantine as compared to an infant’s, right?”
JB (not listening): “Make sure you mention the part about it being terrifying.”
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