• Previous posts

  • Goodbye K-12
  • Swipe left, swipe right
  • When you’re sliding into first
  • Pet musings
  • Employable
  • Ruled by weiner (no, not that kind)
  • And then there were three
  • In between days
  • Achoo but make it grateful
  • A good time with Father John
  • Haunted when the minutes drag
  • A seat at the table
  • A visit from an old friend
  • Reluctant but hopeful upgrade
  • HRT over 50

Archives from 2002-2006

I remember when Riley was just starting to talk, testing out variations on “ba” (“ba pa” was his first word, for the backpack carrier he rode around in, the same one we now use to carry his brother, sunriiiise, sunseeet), and JB and I marveled over the barely-comprehensible notion that someday he would probably be talking to us in that nonstop, breathless sort of little kid way, and we joked about how he would surely hit the stage of asking “why” because isn’t that what kids do, they say “why” a lot, right?

Well, and here we are, a blink of the eye later, with a boy who often talks so much he trips over his own words and holy jesus with the WHYs. Why this, why that, why why why why why why WHY, Mommy? And sometimes I am patient and dish out endless explanations (“Because that’s how traffic lights work; see how this one’s red and that means we have to stop, but those people have a green light and that means they can go, and . . . “) and sometimes I make up weird shit to entertain myself (“Because all of the lights are controlled by a tiny invisible elephant, and his name is Frank. Make sure you wave to Frank so he turns our light green!”) and sometimes if the whys have piled on each other, over and over and over again, and I find myself trapped in some spiraling vortex of verbal madness (a la the last 2 minutes of this brilliant and pants-shittingly hilarious [NSFW] Louis C.K. routine), then I use the gold standard in parenting fall-backs, “Because I said so”, which is of course what you say when you can’t say “CLOSE YOUR GODDAMNED WHY-HOLE BEFORE I GORILLA GLUE IT SHUT, SWEETIE.”

The whys can be tiring but he is an awful lot of fun these days, talking with me like some sort of person and all. We’ve moved past the truly bizarre Martian conversations we had when he was two, and now he’ll casually say things like, “Hey, Mommy! How was your day at work?” Of course, he also likes to randomly grab one of his buttcheeks while yelling “Banana muffins!”, but that one can be blamed entirely on JB.

In the meantime, Dylan is doing a lot of elated roaring. Seriously: he roars these enormous “EERRAAAARR!” noises and it’s kind of crazy. I took him with me to Old Navy today while I poked around and he was greatly entertained but also gripped by the desire to roar nonstop. It was a little embarrassing but also sort of hilarious, how I’d wheel him up to some rack of cheap shirts and he’d take a look and shoot his arms and legs straight out in excitement and ERRRAAARR at them, like he was just blown away by the fact that they were two for $14.

OMG RIB-KNIT CARDIGANS 2 for 1.

In other news, I’m working on a project that has to do with fitness and health and I’m looking for stories from people who wouldn’t mind publicly sharing their successes, tips, challenges, goals, and so on. If you’d be interested in contributing, drop me an email, okay? I’d love to hear from you.

I was rambling to JB last night about how challenging Dylan is lately — a mostly good-natured baby for sure, but always wanting something, no longer content to bounce in his chair or pound on the exersaucer for more than a few minutes at a time before making his fussy “HEHHH, HEHHH, HEHHHH” sound that makes my brain feel like someone’s slowly shoving pieces of it through a paper shredder — and how hard it is to deal with his nonstop needs for changes and meals and entertainment while Riley begs me to sit with him and read a book or build yet another towering stack of Legos and I kind of feel like I often end up shortchanging everyone. I get irritated with the baby, who yells to be fed but then acts like I’ve set him on fire when I get him situated in his chair and continues to bitch me out between each and every blessed bite; I get irritated with Riley, who seems to be in some sort of nonstop talking stage, talk talk talk talk talk talk talk oh god with the talking, and he’s even started with the “why?” thing (“Hey Mommy? Hey Mommy? Hey Mommy? Why’s that window?” Don’t bother trying to get the details, like why’s that window what? Open? Shut? Existing? See-through? Because forget it, ask for clarification and you get “Why’s that tiny ALLIGATOR? Hey! Where’s my yellow ball? Is the moon up? Where’s Daddy? Why’s that, why’s that, why’s that SANDWICH.” It’s like talking with someone who has taken a large portion of both methamphetamines and LSD) and having him chatter in my ear while I’m frowningly steering spoonfuls in Dylan’s mouth and Dylan’s whipping his head around to hear about the fucking window and arrrrgh, bananas on the wall again.

I went on to explain at great length about how I don’t wish for Dylan’s babyhood to go by more quickly, god no, he’s already eight months old and how did that happen (“Why’s that eight months old?”), it’s just that I am thinking that I am maybe not so great at multitasking this exact age combination of children and it’s just really haaaaaaaaaard sometiiiiiiiimes and that was about when JB said yeah, totally, um you know what I have to go to the bathroom. I suppose I should be glad he didn’t remind me that he can’t hear me when I whine and to use my words like a big girl.

The tough thing about parenting is that no matter how dreary it gets, no matter what fleetingly crappy stage you’re in, you pretty much just have to deal with it. I mean, you can complain, but it’s not like you have the option just to, like, bow out. This is also the very good thing about parenting.

In other news, I would like to dole out a dickpunch or two to the next know-it-all who gets condescending about current events in the economy and snottily reminds people not to panic, like they’ve got some Magic Eight Ball the rest of us don’t. Hey, I’m not exactly in a full-lather panic over here, but I have bills and career changes and savings and college educations and oh, our LIVES to consider and fuck it, I will stress out about this shit if I want to. Which I DON’T, but HELLO. See also: people pooh-poohing global warming because This Has All Happened Before and It’s Part of a Natural Cycle So What’s Everyone Worrying About.

Lastly, some random polling questions:

• Bedtime for baby: what time do you do it? Dylan’s been going down around 7:15-7:30, but I often have to fight to keep him up until then, despite a quick late-day nap. I’ve been afraid to put him down earlier because I don’t want him to get UP earlier, but maybe he wouldn’t?

• 3-year-olds: does yours eat? Like, actual food? Because what the hell, mine doesn’t.

• Are there any fitness-related websites that you particularly like?

• Facebook: am I the only one too stupid to figure it out?

← Previous Page

• My product review site:

  [Older recommendations]