"I Pity the Fool Who Doesn't Find Me Adorable!"

Because M. is growing so tall, I already had to unpack all of her 6-9 month clothes. And when I did, guess what I found? M.'s Mr. T onesie that had been hiding in there waiting for her to grow cool enough to own it. And own it she did. Of course, I put her hair in a stylish mohawk to emphasize her coolness, and then we went out to breakfast where she proceeded to impress me by sitting in a high chair for the first time (yay!) and by eating some of the Cheerios that the waitress brought her. Thanks, Auntie Erin and Uncle Brian for getting M. this, the coolest of onesies.






















I am BAD-ASS!

Hanging in my High-Chair

Look, Ma! I ate all my Cheerios!

So tired after my day of coolness...I will sleep dreaming of Mr. T

Random Bullets

Okay, so I was doing really well with the blog for a few weeks and then, not so good. I have had a really busy, stressful couple of weeks and I hope you all forgive me for becoming a bit lax in my writing. So, to catch up, I am going to steal an idea that I see in lots of other blogs I read and do some random bullets.

• As an update from my last blog: I was so looking forward to Meredith's untimely demise, and then she comes back from the brink...damn. Ian was really hoping for the show to change its name to Yang's Anatomy--he, too, was disappointed. Maybe this near death experience will make Meredith a little more grateful. In the meantime, Battlestar Galatica continues to be the greatest show on television. Those characters are grateful...grateful for every day their lives aren't interrupted by Cylon attacks, grateful for every day that they continue to survive when the rest of the human (?) race has been annihilated. So, for those of you who have told me (rightfully so) that I am expecting too much out of GA, seeing that it is just a glorified soap opera, I say, BG has proven to me that shows can be smart and sexy and entertaining without being annoyingly overly-dramatic and completely unrealistic.
• Applying for community college jobs sucks. It sucks worse than applying for grad school even. I am so sick of answering the same questions over and over again in the same application packet. When asked for the third time to list my degrees and teaching experience, I am so tempted to write, "Look at my CV, cover letter, transcripts, letters of recommendation, or the annoying on-line application I have already filled out. Are the members of your search committee so stupid and lazy that they can't figure out that this information has already been presented to them FIVE DIFFERENT TIMES?!" But somehow I think that would hinder my chances of getting an interview.
• Now that Matilda has figured out how to roll from her back to her belly, she has conveniently forgotten that she already knew how to roll from her belly to her back. This results in many cases of screeching face-down baby. No amount of coaching convinces her that she can rescue herself from the horrors of tummy time. So she continues to constantly roll herself over onto her belly only to begin shrieking for somebody to roll her back. Very annoying.
• Early springtime in Reno. Air-conditioning on in the car one day, ice scraper out the next. I once had a very clever classmate tell me that "There is no Spring in Reno...Winter and Summer just fight for a while." I'm rooting for Summer.
• Our house is for sale. The friends we are renting from decided to put it on the market, so now we have realtors and strangers poking through our home all the time. This only cements in my mind my dislike of realtors. They call at the last minute wanting to show the house and then get all prissy with me if I can't be home exactly when they need me to be. Dear Realtor X: We are renters who gain nothing from the sale of this house except an eviction notice. The fact that we allow you in at all is only because we rent from friends. Do not expect us to go out of our way to make life more convenient for you. No, Saturday from 2-4 is not a great time for us...how would you feel if somebody asked you to cut your day off in half? Oh wait, you get a big fat commission from the sale of this house. Tell you what--if you show up with a twenty every time you want to show the house, I'll be more obliged to go out of my way for you. I may even let you in the house when you show up 45 minutes early and I have just gotten ready to take a shower. Otherwise, bugger off. Sincerely, The Renter Who Hates You.
• My new favorite thing is Charlie and Lola. My rampant Anglophilia made it necessary for me to start Tivo-ing this lovely British children's show, and now I can't get enough. I'm pretty sure I like it more than M. She's still on Elmo (don't even get me started on Elmo). Oh how I wish that I could live in Britain so that M. would grow up to be witty and well-spoken like Lola. Well, I guess she can grow up witty and well-spoken here, but it's just not the same without the accent.
• Finally, here are some new pictures of M. She is awfully cute, but I don't think she has any future in baby modeling since the minute she sees a camera she decides to start chewing on her lower lip while examining her navel. These two pictures were gleaned out of about 3 dozen taken. Thankfully, our photographer Heather is very, very patient.

Why Grey's Anatomy Can Kiss my Ass

So Ian and I didn't get around to watching Grey's Anatomy until last night (a sure sign that the thrill is wearing off--with the show, that is, not with Ian), and instead of being moved by this "unforgettable special episode of Grey's Anatomy," I was totally pissed off. I've just about had it with these doctors and their constant fits of petty depression. This week, Meredith tries to "disappear" into her bathtub and is comforted by Izzy who "ate everything out of the fridge last night." Why are these women so constantly unhappy?! What is so bad about their lives ?! Let me lay it out for you: These people work in an amazing hospital where they love what they do--they love it so much, in fact, that they never truly want to leave work. And why would they? I mean, all of their best friends work in the same place...they get to talk with their friends, eat with their friends, and laugh with their friends whenever they want. And let's not forget the enormous amounts of money they get paid to do this. Not that the money matters; all they ever spend it on is booze, rent, and student loan payments (except for Izzy, who has no student loans, and Meredith, who inherited her huge, gorgeous Seattle home). Let's not leave out the fact that they all conveniently fall in love with people they work with, which makes sense since everyone in the hospital is ridiculously good-looking!

And then the complaining begins...

All they do is bitch, bitch, bitch, about how hard their lives are, what a struggle it is to be them. Please. I wish my life was such a struggle! Let's see...what would my life be like if I lived in the Grey's Anatomy world?

Well, first of all, I'd be brilliant at what I do. (Oh wait, I already am! Skip that one) Then, I'd have a great job at a well-funded, private college where, conveniently enough, all of my students just happen to write the most interesting papers I have ever read (well, maybe not all of them, but at least one a week). Ian works there, too. He teaches in the Math department. We both makes tons of money, but we don't really care about that because we own our home outright (an old beauty with tons of space and character), we don't have a lot of expenses (let's throw in some on-site daycare for Matilda), and we already have tons in savings thanks to that 9 mil that Ian inherited from a terminally-ill heiress he used to tutor. Work really is my social life because everyone I work with is super-cool (and super-hot), not to mention all the people in Ian's department who are also fun and hip. We all like to eat together in the quad and make jokes about the dorks from the Science building. Let's see, what else? Oh yeah, there's that hot guy from the Veterinary Medicine department who found me irresistible, but Ian took care of him. It's so fun when guys fight over me. Yes, my job is stressful--and sometimes my students fail, but it's what I've always wanted to do, and I'm just so damned good at it! Besides, if this gig doesn't work out I can always fall back on my career as a lingerie model or just retire and live off the interest on our savings.

Wow, that would suck. I can see where I'd have so much to complain about. I, too, might have to drown myself in the bathtub or eat everything in the fridge (not that it would matter, since I never gain weight no matter how much I eat).

Give me a break.

I realize that this is a TV show and therefore the characters have to live completely unrealistic lives in order to remain interesting, but I really think the writers are pushing it. Can't we have just one episode where all of the characters are just like "Wow, I am so damned lucky! Today I think I will revel in being me!" No, they just deal with a massive tragedy where their response is to argue about who gets to scrub in on whose emergency surgery. This was interesting for two seasons, but, as I said earlier, the thrill is wearing off.

Oh well. At least Survivor started this week.

Let's Just Hope Matilda Doesn't Choose to Get Around Like This...

Tracy, 1973, 7 months old
(If you're not sure what's going on here--I'm crawling)

Increasingly-Mobile Matilda

So I am sitting here, drinking my coffee and catching up on the ridiculous amount of blogs I subscribe to (more on that later) while M. plays with Elephant and Donkey. I've gotten pretty good at translating her screeches, which usually fall into two categories when she is playing E&D: "Mama, I need you!" or "Dammit, Elephant! When I say rattle, you rattle, bitch!" Well, just a moment ago, I heard a different kind of screech--kind of a "grunt, grunt, screech, ungh, screech, grunt." So I investigated and found that this new screech is translated as, "Holy crap! I'm on my stomach! How did that happen?" Yes, it's official. M. has rolled from her stomach to her back (Christmas Eve) and now from her back to her stomach. This scares me. When my sister was a baby, her first efforts at mobility involved rolling around the house--stomach, back, stomach, back--until she got where she wanted to go (which was usually my room to get into my stuff). I am suddenly struck with visions of M. rolling about the house, invading areas that were previously unattainable (and now it's all my room and all my stuff). Now I actually have to worry about her! She could roll right out of her gym and out the door and down the street and next thing I know I'm getting a call from the Quickie Mart asking me please to come pick up my baby they found her trying to reach the tequila.

Okay, maybe that won't happen. But mobility is a scary thing. Kids are a lot easier to manage when they stay where you put them. No more laying M. on the couch to nap or lying her on the booth seat at restaurants. I'll actually have to treat her like a child instead of a sack of potatoes (albeit very fragile, precious potatoes). You may think that all of this is a bit premature--after all, she only just rolled over for the first time 10 minutes ago--but if there's one thing I know about M. it's that she is a quick study. When she does something once, she's pretty much nailed it and immediately files it into her repertoire of "Things I Can Do." I expect there will be much rolling very soon. I need a playpen, and an exersaucer, and a leash...

A Zit Story

So this morning I woke up immediately knowing that I had a gigantic zit on my chin. Horrible. That's just a sucky way to start the day...stretch, yawn, feel the zit growing on your chin. I sensed it was not going to be a great day.













It was at this point that I heard M. babbling at me from her crib. I went in to get her up and what did I see but a great big zit in exactly the same place on her chin! So. weird. She smiled at me as if to say: See, Mama? We all get zits.

I love her.

Zit Twins

This IS the Next Big Idea!

Okay, I've finally come up with it...the idea that is going to make me millions! So there I was, chugging away at my own, personal torture device elliptical trainer, when it came to me: the ultimate motivation to torture oneself exercise! I (and by "I" I mean Ian) will design a box that will hook up to one's TV and also to one's chosen torture device exercise machine. The TV will only work so long as the torture device exercise machine is in use! I know! Brilliant, right? Want that Lost fix? You have to exercise! Survivor premier coming up? Exercise! Sesame Street on? Well, that kid better figure out how to EXERCISE! The benefits of this invention are two-fold--you get more exercise while simultaneously cutting back on your television viewing.

You better not steal this idea from me before I can get it to Oprah.

Edited to include:

The train of thought which led to this "Big Idea":

If only I could make it through The Daily Show! I'll do it! I will keep going through The Daily Show! Oh! A commercial! (fast forward, fast forward) Okay, let's keep going! You know, this segment is kind of boring. (fast forward, fast forward) Alright, almost there! Huh, I'm really not enjoying this guest too much (fast forward, fast forward) Hey! Look at that! The show is over! I made it! Yeah, uh, I worked out for a whole half-hour! (Or, you know, 7 minutes.)

More Useless Crap for Moms

Looks like I'm not the only blogger out there ready to mock the ridiculous inventions meant to ease the suffering of mothers everywhere...check out this blog. (I noted, though, that she failed to mention the Baby Shaker!)

A Not-So-Big Idea

So I was watching Oprah yesterday (because the draw of Oprah is just too powerful at 4:00 when Daddy is almost home and I'm tired and frustrated and have begun to question this whole Mommy business and Oprah just might have the answers for me), and she was talking with Moms who turned their small ideas into multi-million dollar empires, making all of the Moms at home feel stupid and inadequate for not coming up with ridiculously simple ideas of their own to make millions because hey, who knew it was just that easy, when I thought of this ridiculous thing that I had seen in the classifieds of one of the parenting magazines that I got a free subscription to just by having a baby (because that is the real reason to have children...free subscriptions!), and I thought that I'd share it with my readers because it's way more fun to mock people with really stupid ideas then to envy the ones with the good ideas! (Wow! That was all one sentence!)

So here it is, the thing you just cannot live without...the Baby Shaker!


Now how did I get through nine months of pregnancy without a cheap piece of plastic with bells attached so that I could know when my baby was moving?! Because Lord knows I couldn't, you know, feel her moving or anything! Or that anybody couldn't just look at my belly and see the Alien-esque undulations as M. did her best to escape through my navel! And I could have had this treasure for only $21.95! What a bargain! I guess I'll have to go on-line right now and buy this essential item for anybody I know who is pregnant so that they won't suffer this loss as I have. Oh wait! I'm not going to do that because this is the most ridiculous and useless thing I have ever seen! I think even Lillian Vernon would pass on this contraption! I mean seriously, people....seriously.

(If you want a really good laugh, though, go to the web-site and watch the "action video.")

So here's some of my big ideas, Oprah...maybe I will win your contest and become the next multi-millionaire and then I can be on your show and we could maybe even do lunch:

1) Robot nanny. Who can afford full time help anymore except rich Republicans who hire their child care illegally from third world countries? Weren't we promised robots by now? I've tried the whole dog-nanny thing from Peter Pan, but Grendel didn't want to wear the ruffled hat. I need me a robot! I'll get Ian working on the prototype right away.

2) Self-cleaning bottles. The minute you replace the cap on a used bottle, a poof! and a whoosh! and the bottle is clean and sterile and ready to go. I'm sure the science for this exists somewhere.

3) No-mess baby food. I imagine this would work something like those magnet-dust kid's games, but the food is attracted to saliva and just sucks right into the baby's mouth as soon as it dribbles down her chin. Or maybe some sort of surgically implanted tiny vacuum just under the tongue. I hate to put the bib people out of business, but this is a competitive world.

I think I'll go apply for patents on all these ideas right away. Maybe I'll call whatever attorney got the Baby Shaker people their patent because he must be very, very good.

This is SO Sexy...

I take the fact that this turns me on so much as a sure sign that I am getting much, much older and that my life priorities have veered in a totally new direction. But look at it..."Project Engineer/Estimator"...I think my toes just curled.