Hey! Wanna know some random stuff about Dash's birthday? OK!
Go to Wikipedia and type in your birthday month and day only.
January 18
List 3 events that occurred that day.
1919 - Bentley Motors Limited is founded.
1939 - Louis Armstrong records "Jeepers Creepers."
1975 - The Jeffersons debuts on CBS.
List 2 important birthdays
1892 - Oliver Hardy, American comedian and actor
1961 - Mark Messier, Canadian hockey player
List 1 death.
1936 - Rudyard Kipling, British writer, Nobel Prize laureate
List a holiday or observance
Winnie The Pooh Day (in observance of the birthday of Alan Alexander Milne, 1882.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
14 1/4 (updated)
Hi Smalls,
As of today, you know 14 words. These are them:
No: I don't think this means what you think it means. I mean, sometimes (when I'm trying to get you to eat something that is not a raisin, for example) I get the head shake accompanied by a long "noooooo," so I can assume you understand that "no" means, "thanks, Mom, but I'm cool." But what about the rest of the time? When you're sitting in the car seat and spontaneously give me the finger wag and "no" combo? What are you refusing at that moment? Or are you commenting on my driving? How about the random point-at-object-and-say-"no"-but-expect-parent-to-
fetch-it-for-you-anyway? What the hell is that?
Mama & Dada: Relatively interchangeable, but we'll take what we can get.
Baba: Your grandma, my mother.
Big Boy: "Bih Ba" is how you say it, and you could be talking about either cat (Hey, did you know that there are two cats? There are, but the smaller one is terrified of you.)
Pusa: The other cat. I heard you say "Putta" once, but you may have been parroting me since you probably don't know who she is (see above).
(note: the cats' proper names are Jake and Esmerelda. No one ever calls them that)
Dash: Every single time we carry you down the hall we have to stop to allow you to admire yourself in the collected photos hanging there. You call yourself "Da" and you point at your frozen glory and grin and grin.
Moo: This one kills me. You hold stuffed animals up to your mouth and say "moooooo." I don't know why! It's hilarious!
Nana: Does this count as a word? It's what you call your blanket.
Bye Bye: You say this while waving and it is so cute it makes my eyes water. Although sometimes you say it when nobody's going anywhere, and that feels a little like a dismissal. But whatever. It's adorable.
Dai: This was my first word, and it means "give me" in Russian. My mother swears she didn't teach it to you, so it must be genetic.
Hi!: You say it like you're from New York and in a hurry (but friendly).
Wow: Always, always in a stage whisper. Courtesy of your Aunty J.
Uh-Oh: It's like a paper towel commercial up in here.
Bonus: It's not a word, but you blow kisses like the guy on "The Dating Game," and it functions like a tranquilizer dart because everyone you aim it at immediately passes out from the adorableness.
As of today, you know 14 words. These are them:
No: I don't think this means what you think it means. I mean, sometimes (when I'm trying to get you to eat something that is not a raisin, for example) I get the head shake accompanied by a long "noooooo," so I can assume you understand that "no" means, "thanks, Mom, but I'm cool." But what about the rest of the time? When you're sitting in the car seat and spontaneously give me the finger wag and "no" combo? What are you refusing at that moment? Or are you commenting on my driving? How about the random point-at-object-and-say-"no"-but-expect-parent-to-
fetch-it-for-you-anyway? What the hell is that?
Mama & Dada: Relatively interchangeable, but we'll take what we can get.
Baba: Your grandma, my mother.
Big Boy: "Bih Ba" is how you say it, and you could be talking about either cat (Hey, did you know that there are two cats? There are, but the smaller one is terrified of you.)
Pusa: The other cat. I heard you say "Putta" once, but you may have been parroting me since you probably don't know who she is (see above).
(note: the cats' proper names are Jake and Esmerelda. No one ever calls them that)
Dash: Every single time we carry you down the hall we have to stop to allow you to admire yourself in the collected photos hanging there. You call yourself "Da" and you point at your frozen glory and grin and grin.
Moo: This one kills me. You hold stuffed animals up to your mouth and say "moooooo." I don't know why! It's hilarious!
Nana: Does this count as a word? It's what you call your blanket.
Bye Bye: You say this while waving and it is so cute it makes my eyes water. Although sometimes you say it when nobody's going anywhere, and that feels a little like a dismissal. But whatever. It's adorable.
Dai: This was my first word, and it means "give me" in Russian. My mother swears she didn't teach it to you, so it must be genetic.
Hi!: You say it like you're from New York and in a hurry (but friendly).
Wow: Always, always in a stage whisper. Courtesy of your Aunty J.
Uh-Oh: It's like a paper towel commercial up in here.
Bonus: It's not a word, but you blow kisses like the guy on "The Dating Game," and it functions like a tranquilizer dart because everyone you aim it at immediately passes out from the adorableness.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Duo
I have been trying to watch PBS's American Masters episode on Annie Leibovitz for probably a month now. I snatch a few minutes while Josh bathes Dash or does the dishes after dinner. Today I got home from work early enough that I could lie on the floor with the baby while he called every number in my cell phone and watched maybe ten minutes.
We were on to her work in Sarajevo and they began to show photos that I had forgotten about. The ones that Susan Sontag encouraged her to take. No celebrities or saturated colors. Nothing but black and white, with the black usually representing blood.
Giving birth removed most of my skin. I cry every single day, usually twice a day (on my way to work then back home again), listening to NPR. Every single story of a lost soldier or corrupt government makes me weep for parents of children everywhere. And today I cried a little extra. Leibovitz's photograph of a downed bicycle and swath of blood brought me immediately to my knees.
But as I cried I was also thoughtlessly running my fingers up and down Dash's spine and he started laughing in that insane, stomach-cramping way that babies laugh when they really mean it. So the house contained, simultaneously, a mother weeping for someone's lost child in Sarajevo 15 years ago, and a baby laughing raucously at having his back tickled.
I wish I had the skill and the words to speak more eloquently about the duality of motherhood. About the terror that tempers every moment of joy. About the fact that laughing and crying, in some sense, must always happen simultaneously now. About the knowledge that we have to teach our children to endure and grow through pain in order to ensure that they will fully enjoy their lives.
But in any case, that is what happened, in the most cartoonish, literal sense, in my living room this evening before dinner.
We were on to her work in Sarajevo and they began to show photos that I had forgotten about. The ones that Susan Sontag encouraged her to take. No celebrities or saturated colors. Nothing but black and white, with the black usually representing blood.
Giving birth removed most of my skin. I cry every single day, usually twice a day (on my way to work then back home again), listening to NPR. Every single story of a lost soldier or corrupt government makes me weep for parents of children everywhere. And today I cried a little extra. Leibovitz's photograph of a downed bicycle and swath of blood brought me immediately to my knees.
But as I cried I was also thoughtlessly running my fingers up and down Dash's spine and he started laughing in that insane, stomach-cramping way that babies laugh when they really mean it. So the house contained, simultaneously, a mother weeping for someone's lost child in Sarajevo 15 years ago, and a baby laughing raucously at having his back tickled.
I wish I had the skill and the words to speak more eloquently about the duality of motherhood. About the terror that tempers every moment of joy. About the fact that laughing and crying, in some sense, must always happen simultaneously now. About the knowledge that we have to teach our children to endure and grow through pain in order to ensure that they will fully enjoy their lives.
But in any case, that is what happened, in the most cartoonish, literal sense, in my living room this evening before dinner.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Sprung
So, they moved daylight saving up by three weeks! Meaning that tomorrow night is the first day of Spring! In my mind! I know you think it's not until the 21st but lalala I can't hear you it's Spring!
I used to not really care so much for the daylight savings because it meant hauling my ass out of bed an hour early (and no, it's not just for one day, jerk. it's for the entire duration of daylight savings time. going to bed an hour earlier doesn't make waking up at 4:30am any easier.) but now I get it! It's for the kids! (Ok, it's for the farmers and the BBQ and golf industries, but whatevsky.) (As an aside, did you know that the candy lobby has been campaigning for daylight savings to extend to Halloween night for, like, ever? So the littles will have an extra hour of candy beggary? They have. And this year they got their wish.)
Starting Monday we'll get home from work with enough daylight left to grill dinner and maybe run through the sprinklers and roll around on the grass. We'll be able to go for walks and plant some veggies. It's going to be AWESOME.
Also, Spring means Spring Cleaning. When I saw the reminder in my Real Simple weekly newsletter I actually sent Josh an i.m. that read, "Spring Cleaning! Woo Hoo!." Because I am mentally defective.
It is 10:20 am on Saturday March 10 and my house is clean enough to eat off of. Yes, the actual house. And all of its contents. I emptied, washed and reorganized the fridge; vacuumed the top and underside of the living room rug; cleaned and rehung all of the curtains; flipped the mattress, washed the cover and redressed the bed for Spring (whites and blues vs. the Winter reds and creams); cleaned the floors; dusted; scoured the bathrooms; vacuumed the furniture; washed, folded and put away six loads of laundry and cleaned out all the drawers that Dash can reach.
Today Josh will clean the windows, change the batteries in the smoke detectors and organize the tool boxes. We'll also buy the meepers a new cat box.
Welcome, Spring! Three weeks early!
p.s. - I saw a car yesterday with a bumper sticker on it that read, "Somewhere in Texas a village is missing it's idiot." I love that bumper sticker. But the apostrophe kind of dulls the sword, no?
I used to not really care so much for the daylight savings because it meant hauling my ass out of bed an hour early (and no, it's not just for one day, jerk. it's for the entire duration of daylight savings time. going to bed an hour earlier doesn't make waking up at 4:30am any easier.) but now I get it! It's for the kids! (Ok, it's for the farmers and the BBQ and golf industries, but whatevsky.) (As an aside, did you know that the candy lobby has been campaigning for daylight savings to extend to Halloween night for, like, ever? So the littles will have an extra hour of candy beggary? They have. And this year they got their wish.)
Starting Monday we'll get home from work with enough daylight left to grill dinner and maybe run through the sprinklers and roll around on the grass. We'll be able to go for walks and plant some veggies. It's going to be AWESOME.
Also, Spring means Spring Cleaning. When I saw the reminder in my Real Simple weekly newsletter I actually sent Josh an i.m. that read, "Spring Cleaning! Woo Hoo!." Because I am mentally defective.
It is 10:20 am on Saturday March 10 and my house is clean enough to eat off of. Yes, the actual house. And all of its contents. I emptied, washed and reorganized the fridge; vacuumed the top and underside of the living room rug; cleaned and rehung all of the curtains; flipped the mattress, washed the cover and redressed the bed for Spring (whites and blues vs. the Winter reds and creams); cleaned the floors; dusted; scoured the bathrooms; vacuumed the furniture; washed, folded and put away six loads of laundry and cleaned out all the drawers that Dash can reach.
Today Josh will clean the windows, change the batteries in the smoke detectors and organize the tool boxes. We'll also buy the meepers a new cat box.
Welcome, Spring! Three weeks early!
p.s. - I saw a car yesterday with a bumper sticker on it that read, "Somewhere in Texas a village is missing it's idiot." I love that bumper sticker. But the apostrophe kind of dulls the sword, no?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
For the Record
Yesterday, March 6, 2007 at 6:30pm, Dash ate two (2) pieces of broccoli, one (1) piece of baby corn and a scrambled egg. It is the first non-macaroni-and-cheese food he has eaten in, like, a month.
Now that I have written it down I fully expect he will never eat another vegetable for as long as he lives.
Which is why I'm not talking about the sleeping through the night thing.
(Hey, is baby corn just regular corn to a baby?)
UPDATE 3/8/07:
Last night at 1:45 am Dash decided to punish us for telling the Internet that he's been sleeping through the night. Statement retracted.
Now that I have written it down I fully expect he will never eat another vegetable for as long as he lives.
Which is why I'm not talking about the sleeping through the night thing.
(Hey, is baby corn just regular corn to a baby?)
UPDATE 3/8/07:
Last night at 1:45 am Dash decided to punish us for telling the Internet that he's been sleeping through the night. Statement retracted.
Friday, March 02, 2007
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