Dear Phisherman,
"Look BIGGER this coming new year with these trial pills"???! Do you realize who you're talking too? Have you not heard the news? I don't need no stinking pills, I'm growing a baby and have no trouble "looking bigger," you. . .you. . .you. . .JACKNUTS!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Party like it's 1999
Ten years ago tonight, I was at my friend S' parent's house out on Long Island for a huge house party to celebrate Y2K. Remember that? We were so afraid that the computers would crash and the world would end? I ended up going to sleep early with a migraine, whoo. hoo.
Ten years ago, I was a pack a day smoker of Camel Lights.
Ten years ago, I had no romantic prospects, and wondered if I would ever get married.
Ten years ago, I lived in Boston.
I can't believe how much has happened in the last ten years, and I don't even know how to write about it, but I'll give it a shot.
In October of 2000, I quit smoking and except for a few slip-ups here and there, I've been relatively smoke free.
In July 2001, my friend S told me that he would pick me up in any city with a major airport west of the Mississipi. And with the Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces" playing in my head, I bought a one-way ticket to Denver, CO with only a couple of hundred dollars to my name, no apartment, no job. I didn't even have a sleeping bag, and when we camped in the Rocky Mountains, I covered myself in clothes to keep out the cold.
On August 5, 2001, we drove on I-80 into the San Francisco Bay Area.
The day before Thanksgiving 2001, I took a one-day temp job doing data entry on a bankruptcy case and the course of my life changed dramatically. It was a start-up made up mostly of temps, who set up camp on one side of the floor. Everyone was pretty nice, except for this kind of creepy guy who didn't really talk.
On July 5, 2002, I had my first date with that creepy guy, who turned out to not be so creepy after all.
In November 2002, I got my first job with health insurance, at the company that had brought me in for one day.
On April 8, 2004, I accepted Josh's (creepy no more) marriage proposal.
In October 2004, I celebrated my smoke-freeness by walking 60 miles over three days to raise money for breast cancer. I also got a new job in solar, working for the utility whose 2001 bankruptcy got me that one-day temp job.
On July 2, 2005, Josh and I got married in Healdsburg, CA.
In December 2005, we went to Hawaii for the first time (Kauai) for our honeymoon.
On November 15, 2006, I had a miscarriage. After crying our eyes out, Josh told me this: "First, we know that we're fertile, so that's good. Second, if we have a kid anytime in the next couple of years, we wouldn't have had that baby without this miscarriage, and I bet we wouldn't be able to imagine life without that baby." Truer words were never spoke.
On October 2, 2007, we welcomed Jacob Prewitt Henig into our lives and I can't say enough about that.
In April 2008, I took on a $50M project to bring more solar to low income apartment buildings in Northern California.
On March 22, 2009, I challenged my fears and ran a 5k.
Sometime in May 2009, we made Keiki.
10 years ago, I was at a party. Tonight, I'm eating Thai food with my husband while we watch "True Blood" and our son sleeps in his crib, and his sibling dances in my belly. No cigarettes, one glass of wine, and when I go to bed early tonight, it will be with much happiness.
And there you have it, Internet. Looking forward to the next 10 years.
Ten years ago, I was a pack a day smoker of Camel Lights.
Ten years ago, I had no romantic prospects, and wondered if I would ever get married.
Ten years ago, I lived in Boston.
I can't believe how much has happened in the last ten years, and I don't even know how to write about it, but I'll give it a shot.
In October of 2000, I quit smoking and except for a few slip-ups here and there, I've been relatively smoke free.
In July 2001, my friend S told me that he would pick me up in any city with a major airport west of the Mississipi. And with the Dixie Chicks' "Wide Open Spaces" playing in my head, I bought a one-way ticket to Denver, CO with only a couple of hundred dollars to my name, no apartment, no job. I didn't even have a sleeping bag, and when we camped in the Rocky Mountains, I covered myself in clothes to keep out the cold.
On August 5, 2001, we drove on I-80 into the San Francisco Bay Area.
The day before Thanksgiving 2001, I took a one-day temp job doing data entry on a bankruptcy case and the course of my life changed dramatically. It was a start-up made up mostly of temps, who set up camp on one side of the floor. Everyone was pretty nice, except for this kind of creepy guy who didn't really talk.
On July 5, 2002, I had my first date with that creepy guy, who turned out to not be so creepy after all.
In November 2002, I got my first job with health insurance, at the company that had brought me in for one day.
On April 8, 2004, I accepted Josh's (creepy no more) marriage proposal.
In October 2004, I celebrated my smoke-freeness by walking 60 miles over three days to raise money for breast cancer. I also got a new job in solar, working for the utility whose 2001 bankruptcy got me that one-day temp job.
On July 2, 2005, Josh and I got married in Healdsburg, CA.
In December 2005, we went to Hawaii for the first time (Kauai) for our honeymoon.
On November 15, 2006, I had a miscarriage. After crying our eyes out, Josh told me this: "First, we know that we're fertile, so that's good. Second, if we have a kid anytime in the next couple of years, we wouldn't have had that baby without this miscarriage, and I bet we wouldn't be able to imagine life without that baby." Truer words were never spoke.
On October 2, 2007, we welcomed Jacob Prewitt Henig into our lives and I can't say enough about that.
In April 2008, I took on a $50M project to bring more solar to low income apartment buildings in Northern California.
On March 22, 2009, I challenged my fears and ran a 5k.
Sometime in May 2009, we made Keiki.
10 years ago, I was at a party. Tonight, I'm eating Thai food with my husband while we watch "True Blood" and our son sleeps in his crib, and his sibling dances in my belly. No cigarettes, one glass of wine, and when I go to bed early tonight, it will be with much happiness.
And there you have it, Internet. Looking forward to the next 10 years.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Spam
Dear “Sweetsugarlips,”
You just turned 18? Congratulations! Oh the places you’ll go, the people you’ll meet. You can vote now, good for you!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
You just turned 18? Congratulations! Oh the places you’ll go, the people you’ll meet. You can vote now, good for you!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
34 Weeks: Stats & Cantaloupe Brain
BP: 102/72
Fundal Height: 36cm (36 weeks)
Weight: +1 (I TOLD you it was the cookies!)
In the great VBAC/C-Section debate, we are undecided. Low BP is a good sign that I won’t have preeclampsia, a form of pregnancy induced high blood pressure, which can only be relieved by delivery, which would mean C-Section (no inductions, remember?). I’m still measuring 2 weeks ahead, but that is steady from the last few visits, so the good sign is that baby is not continuing to grow faster than my birth canal would like.
The longer I stay in the middle zone, the more comfortable I get with either type of delivery. I have moments of really wanting to power through a med-free vaginal birth, but that seems like an extreme fantasy. What does feel good is that I’m doing what I can to stay healthy and so far, my body is cooperating. We’ll see how these last few weeks go, but for now I’m still enjoying this middle place.
Evidently Keiki is the size of a cantaloupe this week, and my own melon feels a little mushy inside. This week I’ve had a serious case of nesting. Nesting plus Monkey Brain plus 3rd trimester pregnancy fatigue makes for an ugly scene.
So far, we have Jacob’s new bed and a bigger dresser for the kids (KIDS!!) to share. We hung curtains after having a jury-rigged budget situation that looked like a sheet hanging over one window ever since we got our new windows in October. A new faucet to replace the old one from 1972 that was so low that as long as you didn’t put dishes in the sink, it would be just fine. And as long as you didn’t move the spout in any way, it wouldn’t spit at you. A new showerhead, bath spout and knobs means that we can turn the shower on and off without fear that one might fall off again and we’d need to use the pliers to turn on the bathwater.
And when I say we, I don’t mean me. I mean that my brother Ben put up the curtains, and Josh found the plumber, and I frantically added items to the Honey Do list. And since I can’t do much with this big turkey (cantaloupe, my A$$!) strapped to my belly, I sit frustrated by my lack of physical ability to help while my mind goes on, listing all the things we “need” to do.
You see Internet, when pregnant with Jacob, we pretty much had everything set long before he was born. We both had the anxiety that drove us to get the crib, wash the clothes, install the car seat. That was before we had a little person who wants to play Legos instead of letting you read car seat reviews. That was before poopy diapers and bath time, and one more reading of Chicken Bedtime is Really Early took precedence over buying Dreft to pre-wash baby clothes.
With Keiki, our mantra has been, “Oh, we have everything, we just need a new car seat.” While this is true for the most part, we still have to get out the Moses basket, wash the newborn clothes, find a place to store them, and be ready. And Keiki could come in as soon as three weeks. THREE WEEKS!!!! It doesn’t help to get all bent out of shape, but what can you do when you are 8 months pregnant and can’t walk off your anxiety without Braxton-Hicksing yourself into submission? Well, you make a big list of stuff to do and spew it at your spouse. Honey, I’m sorry you married a crazy crackpot who may be crazier by the minute.
At the end of the day, we do have everything, I just need to get to the pool or something and burn off the nervous nesting energy. Although I must say, our new drapes look quite lovely, and I can’t stop washing dishes with our shiny new faucet.
Fundal Height: 36cm (36 weeks)
Weight: +1 (I TOLD you it was the cookies!)
In the great VBAC/C-Section debate, we are undecided. Low BP is a good sign that I won’t have preeclampsia, a form of pregnancy induced high blood pressure, which can only be relieved by delivery, which would mean C-Section (no inductions, remember?). I’m still measuring 2 weeks ahead, but that is steady from the last few visits, so the good sign is that baby is not continuing to grow faster than my birth canal would like.
The longer I stay in the middle zone, the more comfortable I get with either type of delivery. I have moments of really wanting to power through a med-free vaginal birth, but that seems like an extreme fantasy. What does feel good is that I’m doing what I can to stay healthy and so far, my body is cooperating. We’ll see how these last few weeks go, but for now I’m still enjoying this middle place.
Evidently Keiki is the size of a cantaloupe this week, and my own melon feels a little mushy inside. This week I’ve had a serious case of nesting. Nesting plus Monkey Brain plus 3rd trimester pregnancy fatigue makes for an ugly scene.
So far, we have Jacob’s new bed and a bigger dresser for the kids (KIDS!!) to share. We hung curtains after having a jury-rigged budget situation that looked like a sheet hanging over one window ever since we got our new windows in October. A new faucet to replace the old one from 1972 that was so low that as long as you didn’t put dishes in the sink, it would be just fine. And as long as you didn’t move the spout in any way, it wouldn’t spit at you. A new showerhead, bath spout and knobs means that we can turn the shower on and off without fear that one might fall off again and we’d need to use the pliers to turn on the bathwater.
And when I say we, I don’t mean me. I mean that my brother Ben put up the curtains, and Josh found the plumber, and I frantically added items to the Honey Do list. And since I can’t do much with this big turkey (cantaloupe, my A$$!) strapped to my belly, I sit frustrated by my lack of physical ability to help while my mind goes on, listing all the things we “need” to do.
You see Internet, when pregnant with Jacob, we pretty much had everything set long before he was born. We both had the anxiety that drove us to get the crib, wash the clothes, install the car seat. That was before we had a little person who wants to play Legos instead of letting you read car seat reviews. That was before poopy diapers and bath time, and one more reading of Chicken Bedtime is Really Early took precedence over buying Dreft to pre-wash baby clothes.
With Keiki, our mantra has been, “Oh, we have everything, we just need a new car seat.” While this is true for the most part, we still have to get out the Moses basket, wash the newborn clothes, find a place to store them, and be ready. And Keiki could come in as soon as three weeks. THREE WEEKS!!!! It doesn’t help to get all bent out of shape, but what can you do when you are 8 months pregnant and can’t walk off your anxiety without Braxton-Hicksing yourself into submission? Well, you make a big list of stuff to do and spew it at your spouse. Honey, I’m sorry you married a crazy crackpot who may be crazier by the minute.
At the end of the day, we do have everything, I just need to get to the pool or something and burn off the nervous nesting energy. Although I must say, our new drapes look quite lovely, and I can’t stop washing dishes with our shiny new faucet.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monkey Brain
Dear Self,
If you call the faucet a sink ONE MORE TIME, we are through, Missy!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
If you call the faucet a sink ONE MORE TIME, we are through, Missy!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Spam
In Re: I sent you a deadly animal
Dear Phisherman,
Actually? You sent me a DEAD animal. On Christmas Eve. Thanks for nothing, Bub.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Phisherman,
Actually? You sent me a DEAD animal. On Christmas Eve. Thanks for nothing, Bub.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
To the dead rat in my holiday crate
Disclaimer: This is a true story about finding dead rats in my garage. For those of you readers who may be disgusted by this (I am when I think about it) and never want to visit my house, please remember that we all have the equivalent of a long-dead rat somewhere in our lives. And if you don't, you’re either in denial or we can’t be friends because you are too damn perfect.
Dear Willard,
As I searched through my garage on Christmas Eve, looking for Josh and my stockings, I stumbled upon a crate full of holiday decorations. At first I was excited (paydirt)!
And then I saw the droppings.
And then I saw grey fur.
And then I ran in the house and said to my husband, “There’s something that I’m afraid to look at.” And God bless him and the United States of America, he confirmed my nightmare as I stood convulsing with the heeby-jeebies on the threshold to our kitchen. And then he removed you, and threw away the crate and everything. He said your corpse was light; you had probably been there for a long, long time.
I know that after we had the exterminator run you and your kind out of our attic and garage last April, we should have done a full clearing and shop-vacced the crap out of our garage. But then spring turned to summer and early pregnancy, and morning sickness, and blah, blah, blah Monkey Brain, and since there was no more scratching in the walls or on the ceiling, we kind of forgot about you and yours.
And then, Josh found the baby rat dead in a box by our underused Bowflex (Really, universe? You think I’m going to work out in that space without having panic attacks?). And then we cleared out some garage space and found a crate with evidence of you and your family. Clearly you were hungry if you felt the need to eat half of my heating pad. And while I appreciate how easy you made it to sort through that crate (EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!!!), we didn’t have the energy to go through every crate and box that has been sitting in our garage since we bought our house in July 2008.
And then, the Christmas spirit had to take hold of me and I wanted to find those damn stockings. I’m really glad they weren’t in your crate; it would have sucked to throw out my mom’s hard work.
I hope it wasn’t long and painful. Josh and I have been wondering, were you clocked by the rat trap near our water heater and then wandered around in a daze until your little body just curled up and died? Please tell me that there are no more of you, because there is a baby tub on a high shelf that I am really scared to pull down.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Dear Willard,
As I searched through my garage on Christmas Eve, looking for Josh and my stockings, I stumbled upon a crate full of holiday decorations. At first I was excited (paydirt)!
And then I saw the droppings.
And then I saw grey fur.
And then I ran in the house and said to my husband, “There’s something that I’m afraid to look at.” And God bless him and the United States of America, he confirmed my nightmare as I stood convulsing with the heeby-jeebies on the threshold to our kitchen. And then he removed you, and threw away the crate and everything. He said your corpse was light; you had probably been there for a long, long time.
I know that after we had the exterminator run you and your kind out of our attic and garage last April, we should have done a full clearing and shop-vacced the crap out of our garage. But then spring turned to summer and early pregnancy, and morning sickness, and blah, blah, blah Monkey Brain, and since there was no more scratching in the walls or on the ceiling, we kind of forgot about you and yours.
And then, Josh found the baby rat dead in a box by our underused Bowflex (Really, universe? You think I’m going to work out in that space without having panic attacks?). And then we cleared out some garage space and found a crate with evidence of you and your family. Clearly you were hungry if you felt the need to eat half of my heating pad. And while I appreciate how easy you made it to sort through that crate (EVERYTHING IN THE TRASH!!!), we didn’t have the energy to go through every crate and box that has been sitting in our garage since we bought our house in July 2008.
And then, the Christmas spirit had to take hold of me and I wanted to find those damn stockings. I’m really glad they weren’t in your crate; it would have sucked to throw out my mom’s hard work.
I hope it wasn’t long and painful. Josh and I have been wondering, were you clocked by the rat trap near our water heater and then wandered around in a daze until your little body just curled up and died? Please tell me that there are no more of you, because there is a baby tub on a high shelf that I am really scared to pull down.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Monday, December 28, 2009
It's the end of the sleep as we know it
While the impending arrival of Jacob’s sibling will certainly put a wrench in our sleep, Josh and I have made a conscious choice to alter our ability to get a good night’s sleep for the next, oh, lifetime. This weekend, we purchased and assembled a bed for Jacob. WITHOUT BARS.
You see, when your child is in a crib, you know exactly where they are. And once they are past the SIDS stage, and you keep the knives out of reach, they are pretty much as safe as it’s gonna get in their little wooden cage. That is, until they pull off their diaper and smear poop on the wall and maybe eat some of it, but that only happened once, I SWEAR.
At first, he was not impressed and did NOT appreciate our messing around with his room without a toddler change management permit. We tried to win him over with talk of a “big boy bed,” but he couldn’t care less. This is one of the many things about Jacob that I love. He sits there sucking his thumb, fiddling with his ear, never trying to crawl out of the crib, never wanting to be bigger than he is. I need to remember to savor this when he wants to drive at 13 and get married at 30 (just kidding!).
Once the bed was set up, he came in again and loved it. He rolled around and played “sleep,” directing me to “Take you glasses off, Mama,” knowing that if I’m wearing my specs, I’m not really sleeping.
This is the end of an era. Once he is fully sleeping in his bed (we are in a slow transition starting with weekend naps and building up to week nights), there is nothing to stop him from getting out of it, other then abject fear, and I still want to save that parenting technique for a rainy day. So we’ll have to lock the baby gate, close the doors and hope he doesn’t learn to climb up to the high shelf that stores the bathroom chemicals while we snooze away.
Sometimes, on the weekends, Josh and I sleep through Jacob's initial wakings and he falls back asleep. Those days are long gone, my friends. A new day will come soon when I will wake up with a little toddler face near mine, and who knows how long he’ll have been there, my three foot stalker watching me sleep. And after I stop hyperventilating, he’ll say, “You awake?” and I’ll see that it’s 5:30 am, and I will have to be awake, won’t I?
You see, when your child is in a crib, you know exactly where they are. And once they are past the SIDS stage, and you keep the knives out of reach, they are pretty much as safe as it’s gonna get in their little wooden cage. That is, until they pull off their diaper and smear poop on the wall and maybe eat some of it, but that only happened once, I SWEAR.
At first, he was not impressed and did NOT appreciate our messing around with his room without a toddler change management permit. We tried to win him over with talk of a “big boy bed,” but he couldn’t care less. This is one of the many things about Jacob that I love. He sits there sucking his thumb, fiddling with his ear, never trying to crawl out of the crib, never wanting to be bigger than he is. I need to remember to savor this when he wants to drive at 13 and get married at 30 (just kidding!).
Once the bed was set up, he came in again and loved it. He rolled around and played “sleep,” directing me to “Take you glasses off, Mama,” knowing that if I’m wearing my specs, I’m not really sleeping.
This is the end of an era. Once he is fully sleeping in his bed (we are in a slow transition starting with weekend naps and building up to week nights), there is nothing to stop him from getting out of it, other then abject fear, and I still want to save that parenting technique for a rainy day. So we’ll have to lock the baby gate, close the doors and hope he doesn’t learn to climb up to the high shelf that stores the bathroom chemicals while we snooze away.
Sometimes, on the weekends, Josh and I sleep through Jacob's initial wakings and he falls back asleep. Those days are long gone, my friends. A new day will come soon when I will wake up with a little toddler face near mine, and who knows how long he’ll have been there, my three foot stalker watching me sleep. And after I stop hyperventilating, he’ll say, “You awake?” and I’ll see that it’s 5:30 am, and I will have to be awake, won’t I?
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
“Harddrill her today?” If “her” is my living room wall and you are willing to come hang my new double-curtain rod, count me in!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
“Harddrill her today?” If “her” is my living room wall and you are willing to come hang my new double-curtain rod, count me in!
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Pillow Talk
"You know, I kind of understand how Edward feels about Bella. The uncontrollable attraction and obsession, just being totally drawn to something."
"Is that how you feel about ME?"
"That's how I feel about cookies. . ."
"Is that how you feel about ME?"
"That's how I feel about cookies. . ."
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Spam
Dear Brandie,
Yes, I did get your e-mail, but I’m just not going to respond, so please stop. Listen Brandie, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my man, is Joshy.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Yes, I did get your e-mail, but I’m just not going to respond, so please stop. Listen Brandie, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my man, is Joshy.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Jacob’s Other Family
Every weekday, Josh drops Jacob off at daycare, where he is loved, loved, loved. And while I am grateful that he gets another form of parental attention in addition to all that Josh and I provide, there are moments.
Sometimes, when I think about daycare, I can certainly empathize with Fundamental Latter Day Saints (FLDS) co-wives and their potential jealousy.
Sometimes, when I think about daycare, I can certainly empathize with Fundamental Latter Day Saints (FLDS) co-wives and their potential jealousy.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Spam
Dear Phisherman,
You sent a glitter to me? A real live glitter? I'm all about the Christmas bling, but I didn't buy anything for you, and as a WASP, I can't receive a gift without returning the favor. Thanks all the same.
You sent a glitter to me? A real live glitter? I'm all about the Christmas bling, but I didn't buy anything for you, and as a WASP, I can't receive a gift without returning the favor. Thanks all the same.
33 Weeks: Pineapple Dreams. . .I Wish
Well, I’ve rallied a bit since last week. I can’t do too much, but I don’t feel like I’m going to fall over. I can’t walk far, so I’m looking forward to working from home in a couple of weeks and hauling myself into the nearest YMCA pool for some weightlessness.
The main thing this past week is that I’m no longer sleeping through the night. I never really sleep through the night while pregnant, waking up every few hours to change position or pee. But lately, I actually wake up and can’t get back to sleep. This feels like Mother Nature’s way of preparing me for the caring of a newborn, but don’t you think I should be stockpiling sleep while I can, and not stripping it from me in advance? Oh Mother Nature, what a cruel mistress you can be!
The main thing this past week is that I’m no longer sleeping through the night. I never really sleep through the night while pregnant, waking up every few hours to change position or pee. But lately, I actually wake up and can’t get back to sleep. This feels like Mother Nature’s way of preparing me for the caring of a newborn, but don’t you think I should be stockpiling sleep while I can, and not stripping it from me in advance? Oh Mother Nature, what a cruel mistress you can be!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Monkey Brain
Seen on Facebook in reference to a friend’s homebrew video:
“Try dry hopping the finishing hops or don’t steep it as long.”
Dry hopping? Finishing hops? Long Steeping? Is this some sort of fertility treatment for bunnies? My monkey brain is going in rapid circles like our old dog Maggie when she was ready for a walk.
So. Much. To. Comment. On. Monkey. Brain. Exploding.
“Try dry hopping the finishing hops or don’t steep it as long.”
Dry hopping? Finishing hops? Long Steeping? Is this some sort of fertility treatment for bunnies? My monkey brain is going in rapid circles like our old dog Maggie when she was ready for a walk.
So. Much. To. Comment. On. Monkey. Brain. Exploding.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Monkey Mama
Sometimes when Jacob wakes up, he’s peed out of his diaper and his jammies are a bit wet, so after I plopped him on the floor recently and found my own shirt a little moist, I shrugged it off. I SHOULD have changed him right there and then, but my belly was already squealing, and Daddy was nowhere to be found. Lifting him again was just not an option. What’s a little wetness among friends, right? He’d get changed soon enough.
Onward we went, into the kitchen for a little chocolate soy milk and Gorilla Munch (Gilla lunch!) cereal. A few minutes into breakfast, I noticed some water spots on the kitchen floor. Huh? There’s no milk with the Gilla Lunch. Then I notice that Jacob, still in his feety pajamas, is sloshing around the kitchen. How are his feet wet? And then I go in to check the front of his diaper, and all I get is a feel of little toddler penis through his jammies. I should not be feeling little toddler penis, I should be feeling crinkly full diaper. Did Daddy FORGET to put the diaper on last night? I’m still dazed and confused, not seeing the reality in front of me.
And so I strip my kid, right in the kitchen, and somehow, Jacob has made his way into his bottoms (which snap to the tops, making it very difficult to get little hands down the pants) and pulled down the front of his diaper. I’m both shocked at my pee covered son, who has no sense of self-consciousness, and kind of amazed at the MacGuyvering skill that allowed him to do this to himself.
The worst part? The part that goes on my list of embarassing mother acts? I scooped up the naked boy, and with an eye on the clock and not enough time for a bath, gave him a sponge bath with Baby Wipes and put on his nice Christmas outfit and sent him off to Josh’s school for the day. Smelling a bit like pee. Where, oh where, is my handbasket?
Onward we went, into the kitchen for a little chocolate soy milk and Gorilla Munch (Gilla lunch!) cereal. A few minutes into breakfast, I noticed some water spots on the kitchen floor. Huh? There’s no milk with the Gilla Lunch. Then I notice that Jacob, still in his feety pajamas, is sloshing around the kitchen. How are his feet wet? And then I go in to check the front of his diaper, and all I get is a feel of little toddler penis through his jammies. I should not be feeling little toddler penis, I should be feeling crinkly full diaper. Did Daddy FORGET to put the diaper on last night? I’m still dazed and confused, not seeing the reality in front of me.
And so I strip my kid, right in the kitchen, and somehow, Jacob has made his way into his bottoms (which snap to the tops, making it very difficult to get little hands down the pants) and pulled down the front of his diaper. I’m both shocked at my pee covered son, who has no sense of self-consciousness, and kind of amazed at the MacGuyvering skill that allowed him to do this to himself.
The worst part? The part that goes on my list of embarassing mother acts? I scooped up the naked boy, and with an eye on the clock and not enough time for a bath, gave him a sponge bath with Baby Wipes and put on his nice Christmas outfit and sent him off to Josh’s school for the day. Smelling a bit like pee. Where, oh where, is my handbasket?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Spam
Dear Tri-Cleanse,
I don’t need to fight holiday fat because I have a big Christmas goose growing in my belly. Thanks for the offer, but I think giving birth and the subsequent emptying of my uterus will be enough cleansing for me.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
I don’t need to fight holiday fat because I have a big Christmas goose growing in my belly. Thanks for the offer, but I think giving birth and the subsequent emptying of my uterus will be enough cleansing for me.
Sincerely,
Monkey Brain
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