Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Riley was fussing the other night, and as I held him and walked around the living room at 3 AM I tried singing into his velvet-soft head, cradling him close to my heart.
Hush little baby don't you cry
Mama's going to buy you...
um...
a lemon pie. The fuck? How does that song go? Something about a bird, right? Magpie? Seagull? Pelican? It's a pelican, right? Hush little baby don't be angry like Sean Penn
Mama's going to buy you a pelican I realized that I couldn't remember the words to any lullaby, with the exception of that "when the bough breaks" song which is just plain creepy. And so I did what any modern parent would do: I went to google, so I could build up my lyrical repertoire. I can now do a mean "Itsy Bitsy Spider", I'll tell you what. However, it was a little disconcerting to find out what some of the real lyrics are to that bird song: And if that looking glass gets broke,
Papa's gonna buy you a billy goat What? A billy goat? Oh hell no, kid. Also, what's this crap about "Papa's" gonna do this, Papa's gonna do that - who's up with your whimpering ass at 3 AM? Yo MAMA, that's who. JB prefers to stick to the classics when he's singing to his son. Classic ROCK, that is. JB claims that other than "Ring of Fire", the only song he can remember all the words to is AC/DC's "Jailbreak", and so he sings that to Riley in a gentle Muzak, lounge-y voice. There was a friend of mine on murder
And the judge's gavel fell
Jury found him guilty
Gave him sixteen years in hell I suppose I should be glad it's "Jailbreak" and not "Big Balls". I've got big balls
They're such big balls
And they're dirty big balls Truthfully, we could probably read the back of a cereal box to Riley in a singsong voice and it would work ("RiiiiibooooFLAVINSSS!"), but I'm hoping the early introduction to AC/DC won't have any impact on his future taste in music. I probably shouldn't hold my breath, though. 
:::
It's been over 20 days since I was in the hospital, and I am still finding surgical tape residue on various parts of my body. This may lead you to make some assumptions about my bathing practices; let me assure you I do, in fact, use soap. Whatever they stuck on me left one hell of an adhesive in its wake, and it's resisted scrubbing, picking, and out of desperation, an ill-advised encounter with nail polish remover. In terms of sheer tenaciousness, I'm pretty sure this substance rivals the shit out of whatever NASA was using to keep those heat tiles attached to the space shuttle. I'm scarred, my belly button is weirdly saggy, AND I have tape goo that apparently will be plastered to me until the END OF TIME. However, I did get to switch to a thin maxi-pad for "lite flow", so hey - everything's coming up Milhouse! ::: I took a picture of the spoils from our vegetable garden a while back - behold the actual edible produce! 
Then there's...this: 
Techically, that's a carrot. A penny has been placed nearby for scale. I have no idea what went wrong. Farmin's hard work, by gum. ::: And now for my Riley moment of zen: 
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