Nov
8
JB’s brother is visiting for the weekend and I keep meaning to get a picture of him and Dylan together, because the resemblance is strong between those two — or as I mentioned on Twitter yesterday, awkward. Like what kind of fucked-up Flowers in the Attic secrets are we hiding over here?
Well, none, DOY. Genetics are just weird that way. Riley’s got a freaky double-jointed thumb on his left hand; so does JB’s brother. Dylan’s red hair and grey eyes look like a throwback from my grandmother’s brother, whose entire branch of the family tree has red hair. Those rosy cheeks of Dylan’s? Behold a relative of mine who was born in 1840:
Okay, fine, maybe it’s the colorization of the photo, but STILL.
My father’s family all have Spanish names, dark skin, and brown eyes; I tan like a mofo in the summer and have brown eyes and brown hair. JB has brown hair and light, easily-burned skin; his beard has red tinges to it. My aunt has blonde hair, my mom has brown/auburn hair, JB’s father is tall, JB’s mom is blonde — none of us blood relations particularly resemble each other. I think Dylan’s the one who most echoes JB’s side of the family at the moment, but it all seems to change from month to month and depends entirely on expression and angle.
What do you think? Who looks like who?
Nov
7
I’m typing this while watching Dylan on the video monitor, and the little so-and-so is sitting up in his crib, loudly decrying the indignity of naptime. Sitting up like an angry gorilla, instead of lying there on his back like an angry crab. Huh. That’s new.
Notice that I continue pecking away at my laptop instead of tending to him, because 1) I am a heartless bitch, and 2) what the fuck, Koko, you were half-asleep in the carseat five minutes ago. How is it that a baby can pass out while strapped to a plastic bucket, his head tilted at an alarming sniper-victim angle, but the instant he’s placed on a comfy mattress his eyes fly open like Levelors? What properties does the five-point harness provide that are missing in the crib? Did we inadvertently buy the Graco Sweet Dreams Puff O’ Ether seat?
Motherhood is so cruel. If I’m not tiredly helping a baby fall asleep while wishing mightily for a nap of my own, I’m convincing a 3-year-old to finish the peanut butter sandwich I’d LOVE to be eating for lunch instead of more lowfat goddamned cottage cheese.
Aaaand, he’s out. HOLY SHIT WE HAVE CONCURRENT NAPTIMES REPEAT CONCURRENT NAPTIMES ALERT THE MEDIA. Time to wrap this up, I’ve got a trashy magazine and a sofa ass-dent calling my name.
Elsewhere Blogging this week:
• My workout handicap, which involves mucus
• Favorite shopping blogs at Work It, Mom!
And a silly video of nothing much:
-
My product review site:
[