Feb
8
February 8, 2007
I’ve been feeling slightly panicked all week long because I had this freelance project due today and dude, if ever there was a bad week to try and get something like that done, it was this week (seriously, I can’t hack the single parent life, I am barely maintaining a non-offensive level of personal hygiene over here and if you saw my house right now you would probably report me to CPS for endangering the child with massive amounts of Dog Hair Exposure), but oh thank Jebus I managed to wrap it up last night and my relief warrants some cutting loose tonight, if you know what I mean and I think you do (WHEAT THINS).
I’m Contractually Forbidden from telling you what sorts of articles I’ve been working on, but I just want to say this: if you ever read a “lifestyle tip” disguised as friendly chatter from a large corporate entity, the advice it contains may in fact not be written by an expert of any kind, but rather produced directly from someone’s ass, namely mine. Oh, the things I have pulled from my ass! (Say, wouldn’t that make an interesting Dr. Seuss book?) In fact, I believe I’ll fashion myself some business cards: Linda Whatsit, Ass-Taffy For Hire.
Hey! I have a new friend, who (whom? fuck, I can never remember) Riley and I visited on Wednesday. Ashley is not only totally cool and fun to be around, but her living room was filled with toy trucks (not by choice, I’m sure, she has two sons), and so obviously Riley was in seventh heaven. I cannot believe Riley’s knowledge of All Things Truck-Related, I was flipping through this awful book with him tonight and on a whim I asked where the tractor was, and he pointed at it. Ditto dump truck, fire engine, and front loader—he knows them all. This is the same kid who says “BA!” for pretty much every word in the English language, so I don’t know . . . I think he’s a truck savant, or something.
And by the way, why am I so interested in Anna Nicole Smith’s death? WHY?
I don’t want us to all get bored of the What Are YOOoooo Doing This Weekend game, so let’s do something else: what was the high point of your week? I think mine was yesterday evening when I was getting Riley’s dinner ready and he walked up behind me and put his arms around my legs and burrowed his face into my Old Navy fleece sweatpants. He just clung to me for a moment, a little koala, before reeling off after his ball (“BA!”). A brief moment of sweetness and stillness, so revered and rare in the full-tilt world of toddlerdom. Runner-up: today, when I submitted my Ass Taffy text file.
And you?
Feb
5
February 5, 2007
I stepped on the scale this morning and saw this: 143.
I weighed 149, I think, the last time I got on this same scale. It was at the end of the day, and I know that makes a difference, and plus, our scale is kind of hoopty, but STILL. WTF, I say. W.T.F. I look the same, I swear. Shouldn’t my jeans require an extra belt-hitch or something?
Anyway, thank you so much for your suggestions and ideas and commiseration, I can’t tell you how comforting/inspiring/all-around-awesome it is to get feedback on the whole nonthrilling exercise issue.
(I, uh, bought a “Turbo Jam” DVD. Which hopefully will get used, unlike my Carmen Electra Aerobic Striptease DVD which I’ve always been too embarrassed to actually follow.)
This week pretty much nothing is going to happen workout-wise, though, because I’m on single parent duty and really, that’s a cardio routine all on its own. From the military shower in the morning (soap up, rinse off, you’re OUT OF THERE SOLDIER) to the paranoid cell-phone checking to the Mint-400-style drive to daycare in the evening, my heart rate stays nicely elevated all day long. In fact, I might need to replenish my ion supply soon, and lucky for me JB has access to such a thing in Taipei right now:
Yes, nothing like a refreshing can of Pocari Sweat to put the spring back in your step. Mmm mmm.
We talked with JB via webcam tonight and while Riley was excited and laughed hysterically at JB zooming his face towards his own camera and acting goofy, when it came time to sign off he broke down in tears. “Ba ba,” he sobbed, waving his little hand. “Ba ba Da Da.”
Oh, our little boy. He’s growing up so fast. Look:
I feel the need, periodically, to publicly declare my love for him, and so indulge me when I say he brightens my life in every possible way, he is the sunshine and the smell of everything happy and good. His stumpy, fast-forward walk makes me smile, the way his cornsilk hair feels under my hand soothes every bit of me. He frustrates me to no end, and yet my love for him grows and grows and grows, every day, every day. It’s just as I worried, when he was a newborn: will I keep loving him more? And more? How can I stand it? And the answer is yes, you will keep loving more and more and more, beyond what you ever thought you could stand, and your heart will accommodate.
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