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Archives from 2002-2006

I was visiting with my friend Ashley today and as she watched Dylan struggle to be upright in my lap she predicted he’d be sitting on his own soon. About an hour after she left, he proved her right:

STAGE ONE: THE TINY GORILLA STANCE.

STAGE TWO: STARTLING NEW VANTAGE POINT.

STAGE THREE: HOLY CRAP! HOW YOU LIKE MAH DICDIAPER NOW?

STAGE FOUR: SLOW-MO CARPET FACEPLANT.

You should know that I actually did put the camera down at that point to rescue him. Although he was pretty funny-looking, all mashed into the carpet with his hands trapped underneath him. It would have made a great contribution to this site.

I went and got a skull-cushioning boppy pillow for him, but at that point he was all about kicking back and going, did you SEE that shit? Whoah.

I have fallen off the diet wagon in a big way the last few days, as evidenced by multiple servings of birthday cake, a variety of Trader Vic’s pupu-pork-products, a pizza I cooked as a special treat in the hopes Riley would deign to eat a slice with me (he did not) (the boy is in a survive-on-air-and-Goldfish-crackers stage, which is making me bugfuck crazy along with nearly everything else having to do with being three years old), a Cupcake Royale cupcake the size of my head, and for tonight’s healthful dinner, a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich, just like big fat painkiller-stuffed Elvis used to like.

Right. So, renewed commitment is needed, immediately. Starting right now! Brisk clap! Otherwise, it will be a matter of days until I’m exploding out of my clothes and I just took the last of my too-baggy outfits to Goodwill. Imagine the craptastic feeling of having to buy new stuff in the same size I thought I’d kicked to the curb.

I’d blame my backsliding on PMS, because I think it may be that Special Lady Time, but (and, um, this is where you stop reading if you are a boy or a coworker or some embarrassing combination of those two attributes) ever since I got this Mirena IUD I can never tell if I have my period or not. I mean, there’s a certain amount of evidence that occasionally makes an appearance, but there’s this issue of light spotting, too, and they’re basically the same sort of — ah, anyway, when my doctor told me about this magical IUD that basically got rid of your period I was all, WOO NO MORE TAMPAX, but in reality it’s not gone altogether, it’s just reduced and unpredictable. There are definite benefits to never having those Supersized Days, if you know what I mean, but this namby-pamby peekaboo menstrual cycle business has me all screwed up, like I’m wearing a broken watch. I suppose for some people it would be disconcerting to never get that full assurance that you’re not pregnant, too. Myself, I find that small children make for excellent birth control and a renewed appreciation for the blow job.

HI! IT’S TOO MUCH INFORMATION DAY! WELCOME!

In other news, we hit upon a fantastic solution for that miserable post-dinner pre-bedtime witching hour, which is that we head out for a walk with Dylan in the stroller and Riley in his bike with the push handle. Before we got that bike (it’s a Radio Flyer that looks a bit like this) our walks were a meandering, snail-paced affair, with Riley spending half the outing arguing about having to hold our hands in the street and the other half riding on JB’s shoulders, but now we can cruise the neighborhood at a decent clip. The kids are wholly entertained and distracted, and JB and I can actually bullshit uninterrupted for twenty minutes at a time. Bliss! Oh, it’s the little things, it really is.

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