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Archives from 2002-2006

Helmets and facial deformities and infant chiropractic adjustments, oh my. I am gripped—GRIPPED I SAY—by a strong desire to change the subject, so . . . hey, do you have plans for Easter, or as my brother-in-law calls it, Jesus Comin’ Out of a Hole Day? JB’s parents are visiting for the weekend and I suddenly realized that JCOOAHD is this Sunday, holy (har!) crap, and I don’t have any bucolic family activities planned. No feasting on spring lamb or traipsing gaily through the (presumably dogshit-free) backyard in search of colorful eggs. We haven’t described the Easter bunny to Riley nor have we put together a basket of goodies for him, which I consider an EPIC FAILURE on my part because I may be a godless heathen but I do believe in a kid’s right to gnaw on chocolate deities a few times a year.

Maybe we’ll just rent Donnie Darko and have him watch it with us. What, it features a rabbit.

Oh, not really. I bet I end up running to the store tomorrow afternoon and buying Riley a basket full of random crap (“Here, have a D-sized battery!”) and some cellophane grass which the cat will probably choke on. And hopefully so, because I have decided that a 4 AM wakeup call from someone other than Dylan is currently punishable by DEATH.

What do your weekend plans include?

I took Dylan for his pediatrician checkup this morning and after the doctor verified that he’s pudgening up at a respectable rate, and pooh-poohed my description of the unpleasant eating/spitting up period he went through (“Yes, babies tend to do a little spitting up until around 6 months of age,” she said, at which point I considered grabbing her stethoscope, yanking her close, and shouting directly into the chestpiece: “I AM TALKING ABOUT A SCREAMING-WITH-PAIN BABY WHO SPRAYS VOMIT INTO YOUR FACE EXORCIST-STYLE, DOES THAT SOUND LIKE ‘A LITTLE SPITTING UP’ TO YOU?”, but decided against it because 1) she was in charge of the needle that was soon to be plunged into Dylan’s defenseless thigh, and 2) whatever, he seems a hell of a lot better in that department now so my need to advocate on his behalf has switched to “Is it okay if I laugh at him when he goes cross-eyed, or should that actually be freaking me out?”), she noted that he tends to turn his head to the left and advised me to encourage him to turn the other way as often as possible.

“If you notice that it’s more than just a preference, that his neck seems to be weaker on that side, we should get physical therapy involved,” she said, “so just make sure to keep an eye on it.”

What? How the hell do I know if his neck is actually weaker or if he just likes the view off to the left? Physical therapy? The kid is 6 weeks old, he’s like a flailing squid! His shit is still under construction, nothing works worth a damn yet — I mean, drop this boy in the forest and he’s TOAST: no survival skills whatsoever!

So anyway, I guess I’ll be keeping an eye on that. I suppose if his head starts drooping off to one side like a thirsty tulip we’ll know he needs to do some neck crunches, or something. I sure am glad to have something to vaguely worry about, my Fret-O-Meter was running dangerously low.

In other news, some of you know I also write at ParentDish, but did you know how often I write over there? I shoot for two posts per day, and the reason I write so often is because they pay me per post. They do not pay a LOT per post, and therefore the only way to earn a halfway decent check at the end of the month is to write, write, write.

I like earning this money because it’s enough to make a positive impact on our budget, and it makes me feel good to get paid for something I generally enjoy doing. The audience at that website is so large, it’s inevitable that some readers are going to disagree with me no matter what I say (or point out the various ways in which I am a bad person, or be offended by my choice of words, or generally treat every entry as a giant stick which has somehow become rammed up their own ass), but while I don’t enjoy receiving sanctimonious comments on a regular basis it isn’t so bad that it makes the experience unrewarding. I figure as long as people are ragging on me and not my kids I can shine it on. Plus, some of the more hyperbolic commenters are truly entertaining with their responses—I had no idea there were so many ways to wind someone’s chain. Is any subject free of controversy? The answer is NO!

Also, in some perverse way it has been helpful for me to have so many writing obligations during this time of maternity leave. It just makes me feel more productive, which helps combat that I’ve-been-working-like-a-dog-all-day-and-have-nothing-to-show-for-it feeling. And having even more ways to connect with people and hear their parenting stories makes the isolation of staying home each day a lot more manageable, despite the occasional foamy-mouthed nutbar.

So anyway, if the all-mommyblog-all-the-time stuff doesn’t turn you off, you should come visit me there. Sometimes I slip in a cuss word or two!

Lastly:

I don’t always burn my child’s face with cosmetics, sometimes I put boxes on his head and tell him it’s a crown. “You’re King Tab!” I say, and he’s like, dude, this is bullshit.

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