May
13
May 13, 2007
The weather didn’t cooperate today and it was kind of gray and chilly and unpleasant outside. I did three loads of laundry and picked up our mounds of clutter and vacuumed and cleaned the kitchen, and at that point the last thing I wanted to do during Riley’s afternoon nap was pull on my running gear and leave the house because seriously. THREE LOADS.
But I’d gone shopping earlier in the day and I had bought two pairs of pants, pants with a 6 on the size label. Size six, and I still cannot believe it. I haven’t owned a six in I don’t know how many years. I don’t even want to wear these pants, I want to staple them to my forehead with the label out because SIX. Holy crap, six.
So after we went out to lunch with Riley and spent some time playing in the chilly, gray backyard, I pulled on my running gear and left the house. And when I got back I felt like I could power up a million lightbulbs. That’s how good I felt. Like I could set things on fire with my brain.
I cannot think of a better Mother’s Day present, and I gave this to myself. I said goddamn! Goddamn.
May
10
May 10, 2007
I don’t think JB quite knows what to do with me when I start doing weird shit like posting pictures of my stomach on the internet. He casually mentioned last night that for what it’s worth he thought my belly looked pretty good, which was sweet, especially the part where he didn’t ask me what in HELL I was thinking, and what was I going to publish next, a picture of my ass?
Which: no. Never fear. Unless I get a tattoo on one butt cheek that reads “SEXYBACK”, which I am totally thinking of doing, now that I’ve taken your advice and downloaded that goddamned song and am completely, embarrassingly addicted to it, to the point of blaring it over and over during my commute and dancing around in my seat like a total idiot (helpful tip: instead of having other drivers observe your lameness while doing the Chicken-Peck Head-Bob Thing in time with your music, choose the Alphabet Butt Maneuver instead, where you jauntily grind your butt around on the seat to spell the alphabet, or in the case of listening to “SexyBack”, T-I-M-B-E-R-L-A-K-E!).
I grabbed a bunch of other songs from your awesome list of suggestions and friends, my Ultimate Playlist for Running is now both generously populated and savagely cool. I will have to try doing the Alphabet Butt Maneuver while jogging. Because how great would that be? Well, sure, not for observers.
In other news, Riley said “shit” yesterday. I have no idea why. Okay, maybe it was because I said “Oh shit” while changing his diaper and discovering mid-removal that his diaper had a Festive Surprise in it (rookie mistake, I know, but he had pooped earlier and I was not expecting a twofer). I’m not saying that’s for sure the reason, there’s still the possibility this can all be blamed on JB somehow, all I know is that Riley immediately answered with his own version (“Ahshit. Shih.”). Then I found myself saying the Ess Word again later in the day when I discovered a bunch of food squirreled away in the bottom of his highchair, and sure enough, Riley chimed right in: “Shit. SHIH!”
Later, I berated myself for the slip-ups: “Jeez, what is my problem. Someone isn’t learning!”.
JB: “Yeah. Well, Riley sure is.”
(I’d like to know how a man who recently used the word ‘fuck’ as a noun, verb, and adjective, all in the same sentence, can get all hoity-toity about MY language, but whatever.)
I mentioned the cussing thing yesterday over at Purple is a Fruit, and I noticed today that Club Mom linked to my blog in their little newsletter thingie. “Do you give your toddler non-watered down juice?”, it reads. “Let him eat macaroni and cheese for days on end? Are baths a weekly, not daily, occurrence? In Purple is a Fruit, MomBlogger Linda confesses that she’s not perfect, especially when she’s mocking her son’s temper tantrums.” I figure between that set-up, the confession that I fed Riley mold, and the fact that my child can now say “shit” along with “baba”, the pitchforks and GRAH CAPS LOCK GRAH should be emerging any minute now. (Update: hey, what do you know.)
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