Jun
5
June 5, 2006
You know those little cylindrical containers of Pillsbury biscuit dough, the kind where you have to peel off the outer cardboard thingie in a process that’s as psychologically devastating as watching someone blow up a balloon for the deliberate purpose of popping it (WHY?), a process involving a horrific suspension of space and time as all the matter in the universe stops motion while the can….slowly….builds…..pressure, and oh god IT’S GOING TO BLOW, and I can’t handle it I can’t handle it oh my god oh my god?
You know? Those?
Okay. I have kind of a “thing” about those dough containers. It’s okay, I can admit it. I’m a little…I find them disturbing. Highly disturbing. I do not like touching them. I do not like the cardboard striptease and I MOST DEFINITELY do not like the startling “pah!” and the sudden emergence of dough, all pale and fleshy and…moist.
Well, I am greatly relieved to tell you that the good people of Pillsbury finally decided to provide a non-diabolically-evil version which comes in a handy pouch. A benign little plastic pouch that does not force you into a terrifying, drawn-out mechanism that ultimately results in an explosion.
Thanks, Pillsbury. Now I can once again enjoy your incredibly fattening biscuits. My ass thanks you, too.
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How awesome is this news item: Man proves too fucking stupid to be saved by God.
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JB is in Taipei this week for an “international information technology show” (aka Nerdfest Asia 2006) and I’ve already screwed up the TV remote.
I made him write down the instructions for switching between the TV and the DVD, as they are insanely complicated and involve pushing lots of buttons in order to set things to HDMI or COMP1 or URDUM or whatever the hell. We bought a new TV last fall, as soon as it became apparent that movie theater excursions were officially a relic of our baby-free past, and while I love it very much for its ability to show every single pore on David Caruso’s bulbous snout, the whole entertainment system deal that JB has lovingly surrounded it with is extremely complex. One accidental button push, and suddenly the screen is black while the audio pumps out mariachi music.
I followed his directions yesterday in order to play the Baby Einstein DVD that gives me 20 blissful minutes of Occupied Child, therefore I love it so much I want to marry it and have its babies and make all its babies watch it too, but afterward I pushed…something, apparently the button labeled “Stop Working Altogether”, and the TV done went dead.
I explained to Riley that in the absence of Disney-owned programmed entertainment involving octopus puppets and classical music, he would have to find another activity that would distract him long enough to allow me to blow-dry my hair.
Cat doesn’t seem to wholeheartedly approve, but until she starts 1) killing rats, or 2) fixing TVs, she’s by-god on baby duty.
Jun
4
June 4, 2006
I try and remember to jot down some notes at the end of each month on what Riley’s doing (as if I don’t obsessively document every moment of his life as it is, right?), if you’re interested, here’s what I wrote for May:
Nine months! It’s hard to believe, but the calendar says it’s so.
During this ninth (!) month, Riley finally has the sitting-unsupported thing nailed. Well, except for when he inexplicably flings himself backwards. For that reason, we usually still stick a boppy pillow behind him to catch his fall.
He is insatiably curious and when we hand him an object he hasn’t seen before, he raises his arms and shakes all over with delight. Then he turns it over and over in his hands, whispering “Teh. Teh.”
He makes this sound when he’s sleepy, it tends to precede a nap by a half hour or so: “EEHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Sometimes he changes it slightly: “AAHHHHHHHH.” It sounds like a creaky door, sloooowly opening.
He says “dadadadadada” a lot, and “gagagagaga”. And “dorduhdeedorduh”. And “BMMMMMMTHHPLLT” (drool-loaded raspberry).
Riley loves it when we hold his hands and help him ‘walk’. His favorite foods are strained bananas (still!) and “Yobaby” yogurt. He eats about 4-5 jars of food a day. He has millions of toys, but his favorites are probably the Dora the Explorer book a daycare classmate’s parents gave him (he likes to wave it around and pound on it), the fish-on-a-stick thingie that once was attached to an activity gym, a plastic measuring cup, and anything random on its way to the trash (empty CoffeeMate bottle, Lean Cuisine box, etc). He isn’t crawling, but can move a surprising distance on the floor by rolling. He started out the month by doing something we called Chicken Peck Hand: pointing at things with his thumb and middle finger clasped and ‘pecking’ them; now he uses a pointed index finger. He loves to watch his Baby Einstein video while sprawled on his back and idly moving a toy around nearby. He is very interested in the dog and the cat, much to their dismay. He is fascinated with my hair and often trails his fingers through it with surprising gentleness.
He has three teeth: two below, and one (left) on top.
He does not like the vacuum cleaner.
Lately we’ve been bringing him in our bed in the morning after he’s eaten and taken a short nap, and it’s the happiest time imaginable: playing with him and making him laugh, watching him watching us.
At his nine-month appointment, he weighed 18.5 lb and was 29.25″ tall. He wears “Cruisers” stage 3 diapers. I put him in the seat of the grocery cart – rather than propping his carseat in there – for the first time today. He was fine. I should have done that a while ago, I suppose.
I wish I could remember every single thing he does and write it all with a magical pen that brings back noise and smell and touch so I never have to leave this month behind, like all the other months, kissed goodbye and laid to rest. It’s such delicious sorrow to always be moving on, always be moving forward through the days with Riley, for as much as we enjoy every new moment and every new stage, it breaks my heart over and over to know that at the end of this day, it’s gone, and we won’t have it back again. Even though tomorrow brings its own joy. Even though everything just keeps getting sweeter.
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