bloggin' II

So no, there has not been much by way of blog. Lately, all the interwubs have been for would be comix and buffy the vampire slayer episodes. Seriously. I'm on the last season. Next is Battlestar Gallactica. The mini series movie of that KICKED ASS.
Other than intarwub shunning, I've been doing fambly stuffs, planning my Yosemite/Fresno vacay with my SIL, which is in a week or so and looks to be a bitchin time for all. Anything to get out of this damned rain! We haven't had blue sky and warm weather here in about a week and I am goin' nutty. Some June this is so far! So escaping to kaleeefornya I will go. I am trying to figure out where to go that won't be horribly crammed with people (if you know of good secret spots, lemme know).
Other than that, my life's pretty boring.
No zygote news, I think we have some fertility issues or whatever, but then Manwife DID just quit smoking after ten years or so, maybe his soldiers have gone retarded from the tabbaccy. So to make up for lack of smelly poopy pants babies, we got a kitty. More like kitty picked us and decided he would move in, but whatever. At least he's magically housebroken.
Ummmm ok. Off to make bohemian pork chop noodley things! huzzah!

Where I yank the stick out of dark unmentionable orifices.

Ahhhh. There is nothing like waking up to....birds. The smell of coffee. And nothing else. No husband lecturing the kiddo, no kiddo falling off the potty across the hall from my bedroom, no neighbors running a table saw at some ungodly hour for the second year straight, no shitty crotchrockets revving for twenty damn minutes at 5 am across the street, no NADA ZIP ZILCH.

Why am I blessed with silence and good smells of roasty caffinated delciousity?

Because there is SWIM CLASS. *cue choir of angels descending and yodelling their little wings off*

Swim class (or tee ball, or gymnastics, or really anything that gets the kid out of the house, including grafitti on overpasses and playing craps in a dark alley) is a godsend. It is at 9 am, which means Manwife and Squidge have hopped the bus or putted down in Old Blue at about quarter til, much earlier than SSAs like myself are even expected to function properly or are *able* to wake at all. Except perhaps to wee.

So while those two creep out, I have my large bed and all the pillows and quilts TO MYSELF. I can sprawl without being kicked, I can roam about in my sleep without getting too close to the swampy sleeper (manwife!) and getting sticky and damp and basted in Manwife sweat. I can kick half the covers off. I can sleep right in the very middle of the bed, where the pillows form a sort of massive pillow-crack (cleavage?) and I can bury myself to hide from the blinding light coming in through our twin skylights over the bed. Whoever thought skylights in bedrooms was a good idea needs to be slapped repeatedly.
Another good thing, I don't have to deal with the Backyardigans, or Blue's Clues, or Spongebob, or any asinine kid's show, or whining about not being able to watch said asinine kid's shows. No. Why?

THEY ARE GONE! It is quiet. There is coffee, a deep lack of responsibility (including pants-wearing), and I am glad.

JEEBUS BLESS YOU, YMCA SWIM CLASSES. Now please be two hours long instead of a 1/2.

Bakin a pie of lost souls

So it's monday, and I have a kid update.
He's eating. He's not puking. We've had a few break days ("fuckit, let's have macaroni for dinner", etc) but other than that, he's eating much better. Dunno. Maybe the toy deprevation and a week of early bed with no dinner or desert worked for now? We're still fighting the fight.
But the puke....the puke has blessedly ended.

Here's my thank you gift to you, fellow blog friends:

Sweet For Brak



"Sweet for Brak"


That's all for now.

this is why I should not post.

Here's one for ya.

I have a four year old. Good kid, robust, healthy, chipper, etc etc. Adolph woulda loved him (horrible to say, but true) - rosy cheeks, blonder than blonde hair, blue eyes, great lungs, and very strong.
And stubborn.
Did I mention that?
Yes. Ohhh yes. here we shall see JUST how stubborn this kid is, and perhaps y'all can help me.

He only likes to eat the following:
cereal
berries
some fruits
cheese
plain noodles
pb & j
eggs with cheese and ketchup
and burritos (beans and cheese ONLY)

and that is IT.

sometimes the occasional scrap of meat - bacon, hot dogs - will pass his lips, but not fucking often. Fine. he eats alright, I guess.
And normally, this would be okay. We'd have us a little tussle over a new food or a vegetable or meat or something that's a funny color (i.e. - not white, brown, or yellow).
But now, for the past six months, it is most definitely NOT okay.
Why?
Because when faced with foreign food, young Squidge will lean over the table/plate and force the entire contents of his tiny poofy belly all over. Ohhh yes. not just a wee bit of bile, or a smidge of spew. An entire meal's worth of harf, all over his current meal, the table, and occasionally Us.
Fucking excellent.

And so, while this is an amazing talent, to whimper and cry a bit and then gag until vast torrents of ABC food and belly ick come surging forth in quantities that would leave Mr Creosote applauding, I am a bit sick of it. And disgusted. I mean...I've lost about ten pounds at this point, partly due to the nastiness and sheer dreading of mealtimes. Luckily this act was not performed at my brother's house on our recent trek south, or at gramma's house. But restaurants? yes. Home? Oh shit yes, son. This is the puke palace (let's hope my poor SIL NEVER EVER finds this blog and reads it...puking is not her pal).

Any ideas on how to make this stop???? I am beyond desperation. We've tried time outs, we've tried spankings, we've tried taking away every single toy and book he owns until he can eat properly (worked for a week), we've tried bargaining, we've tried tempting with sweets and deserts, I mean....even up to ignoring it and setting aside the same meal for later when he's (of course) hungry. My mother in law insists we just give him whatever we have at each meal, and if he eats it, fine. If he doesn't, fine. Which would be great if Squidge was one to go quietly and non-pukingly about anything that disagreed with Squidge Law. Unfortunately, that is NOT how it goes.

I am miserable here, folks. Help!

It is 1 am

And I have a mouth full of fried eggs, melty cheddar, papas, and garlic sausage from Hempler's. I also have toast with jam and butter from some Nooksack dairy. It is kind of heavenly.
Also it is a bit weird, given everyone else is asleep and I am exhausted.
Perhaps I have worms.
Hopefully not the kind that poke out your butthole while you sleep. That's just creepy.

Probably a dang good plan.

I wish there were a way to read my mother's blog with the shitty or weird or creepy-ass comments turn off (would that include mine? occasionally I bet yes). Seriously. Nothing gets my ire up like someone acting a fool...a creepy, creepy fool...or assholish...or...you get the idea...on my mom's blog comments. I think it's like when I used to chase kids down at school who said "well your mom's a ______ ". Ok, anger issues, noted. STILL. That's my fuckin' mum. You don't say SHIT to my mom, or I will do the equivalent or chasing you down the school hallway/playground and knock you out.

Don't mind me, just guardin' the ol' homestead. Or somethin'.

And then that makes me think, well, a lot of ladies are someone's mom. Or spouse. Or kid. And I bet if their family is the slightest bit loving and functional, they'd feel the same if someone came off like that to their family member. So I get that. Kinda makes me want to be nicer, but then I don't run around acting like an asshole on OTHER people's blogs, just my own. Also, I omit names on my own blog, so no one can prove nada, I s'pose.

I guess my point...for the millionth fucking time....is Don't Act Like A Dick. It's just really not necessary. I do not give two flying fucks and a shit that this is the internets and is make believe. Not everyone has their daughter patrolling their blog to jump on the backs of weirdo commentors to yank their virtual hair out and hold them down to hock virtual loogies in their virtual faces. But they fuckin' should. So treat everyone like they've got a mildly antisocial family member just lurking....waiting for a chance to attack....

Bloggin'

Bloggin - don't wanna.
Rain's stopped, there's baby stuff to be crafted up, and two more seasons of Law and Order, SVU to watch.
Add to that, a kid that needs to learn to draw his shapes and write letters, a husband who is going back to school again, and a brain that needs constant stimuli...

Well, I just don't have the patience or will, yo.

Will post pix of goings on in craftyland later.

xoxoxoxo

Oh Precious Few Months of Sanity...

Yesterday: slept in til 10 am, got dressed and picked up my bus pass and caught a ride downtown 20 minutes later, leaving Manwife and Squidge to head to the local pool for a Dad-Son day. I can't wear my bikini top without getting cited for indecent exposure, so I take a sanity day to myself.
Went from the downtown depot to the Newstand, and bought three by three's compilation book of award winning illustration from '07.
Went to the Old Town Cafe and had a farmer's skillet with Breadfarm toast (dense homemade hippy bread mmmm) and a pancake on the side, with lots of jasmine green tea.
Bummed around downtown, got snotty looks from scrawny hipster college girls at the Buffalo Exchange consignment shop, and grumpily stomped out. More hipsters made scoffing noises at me, so I made my way to the hippy-friendly Cornwall St area.
Went to my favorite import shop, found a nepalese embroidered hoodie I liked, but refused to pay $60 for it. Found nice buffalo bone earrings, the swirly fish hook sort with pretty carvings, but didn't want to pay $20 for them. Maybe next week.
Went to the local handspun yarn store and bought two skeins of grey and chocolatey merino, and a too-large set of circular needles. BS'd with the nice lady who runs the shop about spinning and dyeing classes and knitting circle, and petted the store kitty. I might go to knitting circle, I don't know, I am shy about that sort of thing kind of. I hope I decide to.
Wandered innocently towards the general vicinity of the art supply store, then stealthily ducked in and bought the largest jug of matte Mod Podge available, and also a brown pigment pen (i like to sketch with these a lot, they never bleed or smear and roll nicely along the papers I use).
Laden down with gifts to myself, I stumble tiredly back on to the bus and listen to my music while trying to ignore the drunk bum talking to me. Disgruntled, I get off the bus at the Falls/park about two miles from my house and take the trail around the pond and falls home. It's great! And really cold.
Fall in the door as manwife and squidge are leaving, and read James Kochalka's American Elf strip until they return. We go out to our favorite mexican restaurant and stuff ourselves silly, then go home and watch Stardust.

Today: I sent Jett dog back home to Ma and Pa, and Ayd went too! HUZZAH! Manwife returned from work around lunch, bearing gifts of peppermint mochas and eggs florentine sammiches!!! We knit and drink coffee and nosh in bed, watching Transformers and Bourne Supremacy, then we tried for the fourth day in a row to say good riddance to prophylactics while I am dropping eggs like a hen and make a bebe. It's very hard work. Please pity me. Heheheheheh! No don't! It's great! I will cuss it in about 7 months though. Oh well.
We drink more coffee, then decide to FINALLY use our Xmas gift cards and grab dinner.
First on the list is the bookstore, and Manwife takes FOREVER to find two books. I wandered around the bargain areas, then head back to the knitting and sewing section. I pick out a kid stuff knit book, and a weird Japanese felt craft book with a How-To for a stuffed felt Robot Panda (how could I resist that?!?!) Then I read some graphic novels I had no intention of buying and waited for manwife to look at every book in the store.
Then, we head up to the icky mall. But it was ok, because we get to wander slowly around the mall! Slowly! No whining! No potty breaks! No bitching! YAY!
We started at target, marveling at the bathing suits *already* on display. We look at baby bouncy chairs and exer-saucers and I am disgusted at the overwhelming amount of STUFF on them. It'd overwhelm ME, so how is a baby supposed to be into all the whoozits and whatzits they put on stuff? Good gravy marie. Manwife gets disgusted with me when I get girly and mushy and gross over tiny baby girl shoes, so we look at dishes and board games instead.
Then we wander to all of the girly shops with bath and shower goodies and smelly soaps and lotions. I buy a gel eyemask and nothing else (too stinky!).
Then it's off to Daiso Japan, where I got a lovely hankie and a couple of gifts for certain people. Just. You know. Certain people. WINK WINK MOM. This store is so bizarre, but only because they have EVERYTHING there, and it's cheap, and much of the packaging has strange cartoon characters on it. Even on dowel pins. There are cartoon guys on the package, being really excited about carpentry or something. The kids area smells like pee...all over...so we leave.
I go back to target and buy nick and nora monkey house slippers that are too big so I can slide around in them properly. They are hell of excellent.
After a few more stores, we decide Manwife is ridiculously hungry and I am kind of dizzy, so we run down to the Southside of town and go to our favorite Thai restaurant to stuff ourselves silly. I chow down on crab and cream cheese filled won ton things with spicy plum sauce, potstickers and garlic chicken and peanut chicken satay, and am bummed they made my pork KeeMao too spicy. I get drunk off of one glass of wine and then we go home in the cold frosty fog. I put my eyemask on my head, and my monkey slippers on my hands and sing songs about babies and baby making while eating m&m's (see, I have talents! they are many!)
Now we are going to go knit and read books in bed more, all without any whiny kiddos who just want to eat cereal and ice cream and watch spongebob (which is actually not so bad to do, it's just the whining that sucks).
THANK YOU MOM AND DAD YOU ARE SUPER HELLA AWESOME GRANDPARENTS THANK YOU OH DEAR CHRIST THANK YOU