Recognized

I was at my weekly American MILF Society meeting this morning, and for the first time ever someone actually recognized me from my blog (or, more likely, recognized the children) and came up to say hello. Now, I've been mentally preparing for this moment for years, planning how I would be all witty and cool and totally better in real life than I am online, but when it came right down to it, it was all I could do to string a few barely intelligible sentences together. I just kept thinking how I wished I had done something with my hair, or brushed it in the past 24 hours even, and wanted to say "look, I swear I am just about to start doing something about this pot belly" or "hey, yeah, I'm a loser, didn't you know?" Oh well, it was still fun.

I totally forgot to tell you that Owen stood up last week. He was sitting on my lap and then all of a sudden the child was upright. Sure, he would have gone ass over tea kettle if I hadn't caught him, but still. This child need to chill the fuck out and loll around on the floor for a while longer.

Be advised

If posting here suddenly becomes (even more) sporadic, or I disappear entirely for a time, I assure you that it is not because some tragedy has befallen me or because I have thrown in the towel. No, it is more likely due to this. You see that stuff under Owen's (massive) belly?

Wait, here's a better angle.

You see it now? That pile of... of... air? Yeah, he's about 4 minutes away from learning to crawl.

Grosser than gross

People, what follows is disgusting. I am telling you now so that if you are not in the mood for something disgusting or know you are sensitive to things of a disgusting nature, you can click away now and save yourself from the nastiness. Also, so that you will not continue reading this post and then come to the end, fully disgusted, and chastise me for grossing you out. You have been well and fully warned, and I don't want to hear it.

Still here? Are you sure? Ok then.

Owen has a lovely habit of getting a mouthful of food and then getting too distracted by either the joy or injustice of life to bother swallowing it. Which leads, as it did at lunch today, to a charming and adorable baby with a mouthful of avocado drool. And hey, if I have to look at it, so do you.

Nasty, yes?

Moving on, since you all have to listen to me bitch about my hands, I figured you may as well see what I'm bitching about. My hands, let me show you them.

Left hand, not too bad, even wearing my wedding ring lately, which I was unable to do for months.

Right hand, much nastier, but only about a four out of ten at the moment.

There now, don't you feel sorry for me? Don't you feel the sudden urge to send me copious amounts of wine? And brownies? Yes, yes you do.

Somewhat less pissy

Since you asked, the NP took it upon herself to chastise me for breastfeeding on demand, regaling me with all the ways in which it would damage my child. It seems that all three of her perfect children were breastfeeding only three times a day by six weeks. Sadly, I was too flabbergasted at being slammed for the way I feed my child by someone who should damned well know better to offer any response, but wish I had been quick enough to come back with Leah's suggestion of "And your children survived? You didn't have to take them to the ER for rehydration?" Ah well, next time. Not that there will be a next time with this woman, but I will be better prepared for the next idiot who recommends starving my child.

Pissy

So, yesterday was fun! First thing in the morning, my laptop bit it. Now sure, I bought the thing for peanuts on Ebay three years ago and have known it was only a matter of time, but I was really bitter. I kept trying and poking at it and cussing at it and the fucker just would not boot. So finally, round about late afternoon I decided to plug it back in, and that fixed it. The sad thing is that this is not the first time I have done this.

Anyway, while my laptop was hosed I packed up the kids and went to visit my doctor to say hey, you have to do something about this miserable rash on my hands because there are times when a bullet to the brain starts sounding like a damn reasonable cure, and my doctor, who is really a Nurse Practitioner, decided to take the opportunity to criticize my parenting. Which, the hell? That has nothing to do with my poor, poor hands, and anyway the children have their own doctor so I think criticizing my parenting falls under his professional purview, not hers. But then she gave me sweet, sweet drugs, so I suppose it is a small price to pay.

Except that then Chris got home unexpectedly early and I bolted out the door as soon as he got here to fill my prescription (couldn't do it earlier because first Owen fell asleep in the car and then I had given Mia my solemn vow that we would go to the pool) and they said if would take 15-20 minutes and after 40 I got fed up and left, so I have to go an entire night without my sweet, sweet drugs. Which hey, I've had this crap for nine solid months, so what's one more night? And anyway, they are supposed to help "some," which is not exactly an awe-inspiring endorsement. But still, some is better than none.

Owen my friend, I could have real damn drugs if it weren't for you. You owe me for this one. Big time.

And! And! My blog is not emailing me my comments, so I am sitting here feeling all alone and unloved and wondering why the hell nobody thinks my kid is cute, because my kid is hella cute, and it turns out that my blog is just feeling bitchy and wants me to feel like an outcast. Bite me, blog.

Wow, does anybody else think I need to chill?

Owen Wednesday #26: Daddy's Hat Edition

The best part is, we have very similar shots of Mia. Does anyone else feel a montage coming on?

Day in the life

Beth: Babe, do you want orange juice or grape juice?
Mia: Orange juice!
Beth: Orange juice?
Mia: Orange juice!
Beth: Not grape juice?
Mia: No, orange juice! I hate grape juice.
Beth: Ok, here's your orange juice.
Mia: WAAAAAAAA! I want grape juice!

Beth: Watermelon or grapes?
Mia: (Contemplates meaning of life.)
Beth: Watermelon or grapes?
Mia: (Begins removing clothes.)
Beth: Watermelon or grapes?
Mia: (Wanders off to find her tea set.)
Beth: Mia! Watermelon or grapes?
Mia: Grapes!
Beth: Grapes?
Mia: Grapes!
Beth: Not watermelon?
Mia: I hate watermelon!
Beth: You love watermelon.
Mia: I hate watermelon!
Beth: Grapes it is then.
Mia: (Accosts her brother, just to pass the time.)
Beth: (Serves grapes.)
Mia: WAAAAAAAAAAA! I want watermelon!
Beth: Fine, a big piece or little pieces?
Mia: Big piece!
Beth: To bite?
Mia: Yes!
Beth: Not to eat with a fork?
Mia: No!
Beth: Ok, a big piece of watermelon coming right up.
Mia: (Blows spit bubbles.)
Beth: (Serves watermelon.)
Mia: WAAAAAA! I want it cut!
Beth: (Bangs head against refrigerator. Repeatedly. Hard.)

Some days, I dread the arrival of September, because WAAAAAA! My BABY! Is going to PRESCHOOL! And I am NOT PREPARED! Other days, I think hey, seven hours a week without a petulant three year old riding my ass? Bring it on!

Meanwhile, Owen cut two teeth this weekend. WAAAAAA! My BABY!