Jan
21
Yesterday, in dreary bullet-point format:
• Riley came down with a miserable cold, complete with feverish whimpering and Repulsive Old Man Cough
• We had to cancel hanging out with our friends who we hardly ever get to see and they have a BRAND NEW BABY and I was totally concocting a multi-step plan for how I could get away with nomming their son’s toes without looking like some kind of toe-nomming weirdo
• While JB was visiting an office just north of us, his truck was broken into, his dash torn to shit, the navigation system ripped out, and his MacBook Pro stolen:
On the other hand, OBAMA IN THE HIZZOUSE! So, you know, not all bad.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had a laptop with personal information on it go missing but boy, is it ever a phenomenal pain in the ass. I should clarify that in this case it’s a pain in JB’s ass, since he’s the one running around like crazy making sure passwords are changed and accounts are notified and fraud alerts are placed and so on, but of course I have to live with him, so let’s just say everyone’s ass will be glad when this is over. Luckily, our homeowner’s insurance will cover the cost of a new laptop, because I can already tell by the twitching and occasional lunges towards my own computer that JB’s going through some hardcore withdrawal.
An additional bummer is that we’ll have to drive my car to Oregon this weekend while JB’s truck is being repaired (his brother’s wedding is finally coming up, and guess whose best man speech was on a laptop that got stolen yesterday?), and now that we have two largish front-facing booster seats, there’s about six inches of room between them in the backseat. So that should be pretty comfortable when one of us, likely the one who doesn’t have “control issues” about letting other people drive AHEM, has to get back there to tend to the baby.
Maybe one of the children could ride in the trunk? Whichever one is being most loud and irritating, say? They should be fine back there, right, if they have good airflow and a toy or two to keep them entertained? Man, talk about two birds with one — oh, I’m kidding.
(Sort of.)
In happier news, Dylan has started doing this thing where he picks up a TV remote, holds it backwards to his ear, and makes little jabbering noises, because — ha! — he’s on a phone. God damn if it isn’t the cutest thing ever. We should get him a little Bluetooth headset so he can be Baby Douchebag Handsfree Cellphone Conversation Guy.
Is not actually a douchebag. Well, not all the time, anyway.
Jan
19
Dylan can sign “milk” and “more” now, and he is quite the imperious little butterball, holding up his starfish-hands and demanding that I come scuttling over with yet another schooner of Go & Grow Similac for Young Master. I’m amazed and thrilled that he can actually communicate this way — I shouldn’t say this about my own bright young child but it’s sort of like watching a dog performing a trick, and I suppose I shouldn’t react to his clumsy finger movements with screeches of “Oh, good boy! GOOD BOY!” but really, I can’t help it. At least I don’t toss him a Snausage as a reward. I mean, I would, but he’s not too into the finger foods yet.
It’s hard to believe he’s going to be a year old in just a few weeks. Is it terrible that we don’t really have any kind of fancy birthday celebration planned? Because, well, we don’t. I imagine there will be some cake and family festivities, Poop Party Style, but that’s about it. Perhaps a nice gift of baby-safe power cords with Extra Chewy Centers, if they make such a thing.
I doubt he’ll mind about the lack of formal fanfare, though. (Well: duh. Like any baby is emotionally invested in whether or not their first birthday includes themed napkins and group activities.) When he’s not, you know, being a giant pain in the butt, this boy is awfully good natured. I often think his childhood must be more interesting than Riley’s was, what with the constant entertainment provided by his brother, the general bustle and chaos of our household, and of course the seemingly endless stream of injuries caused by my inability to focus on him at all times (latest one? Lip-first into the wood floor when Riley cluelessly pulled a blanket out from under him, and oh my god, the bleeding, it was like that scene in The Shining with the elevator and the GIANT WAVE OF BLOOD). I hope he remains generally happy-go-lucky as he gets older, for many reasons, but also specifically for birthdays, since he got screwed with this February business. Riley and JB get August, Dylan and I get The Month When All Hope Is Lost, Except for the Tentative Emergence of Daffodils.
Also, I’d like it if he never grows out of wanting to spend as much time as possible snuggling with us. I know better, I suppose. Still, I can always hope.
In other news, I am both super excited that the inauguration is finally here and wishing, sort of, that it was already over, everything having gone off just fine and everyone filled with excitement over the new presidency and ready to get to work and, you know . . . safe.
I plan to watch the ceremony on TV tomorrow morning before heading to work. What about you? Anyone actually going?
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