1. Every Thursday, Newsweek arrives in our mailbox and J and I have an undignified fight over who gets to read it first. (I should say, who gets to read it. Because generally the loser in the Newsweek tussle will forget about wanting to read it--unless the cover is particularly interesting or the winner points out something that cannot be missed). When I win the magazine toss, I read the thing backwards. I am much happier starting out with the Entertainment news, and if I don't feel like reading the hard news, I feel a great deal less guilty about skipping those articles if I've already read every single one I've encountered prior to it. Never mind the fact that I'm still skipping all the hard news. Whatever rationalization gets you through the day. Last week's cover story was by Michelle Rhee, the former chancellor of the DC public school system. I was VERY pleased to see that she admitted her communication was poor in terms of how she spoke to teachers. She realized that educators got the impression she was attacking *all* of them, when she really wanted to make it clear that she just wanted to clear house of the ineffective teachers. I'm ready for the us vs. them dynamic of education to be over and done with.
2. I will often lay out my clothes the night before so I don't have to think about it in the morning. I didn't do that last night, but I did plan on wearing my (single) pair of jeans again today, so I folded them neatly and placed them on my dresser before getting in bed last night. When LO was in need of a diaper change at 5 this morning, I rolled over and asked J to take one for the team. (I have to admit, I've pretty much stopped doing midnight diaper changes. I used to try to take them during the week and only ask J to do them on the weekend. But then I realized that I had to be up several times in the night for feedings, so I might as well spread the sleepless misery a little. J, many thanks for cheerfully taking over the dirty duty. I am in bewildered awe at your ability to do so without ever really waking up.) To make a long story short, when I got up at 6:30 this morning, I noticed a wet patch on my jeans.
"J? Do you have any idea why my pants are wet?"
"Um, does it smell like piss?" (This is not a question that can ever have a good answer.)
"Uh...No plans on smelling it."
"Yeah, well, LO might have peed during the diaper change."
"How did it get all the way over here?" (We're talking about a distance of possibly 4-5 feet).
(With a note of pride in his voice) "The kid's got good distance!"
3. I am currently wearing my pre-preggo jeans. I broke three nails this morning. I will allow you to draw your own conclusions.
4. We have discovered that our little man is a jazz lover. During his recent allergy problems (and here I'm talking about his apparent aversion to sleep, not the one to dairy), screaming has become a regular hobby. Desperate people will try anything. When the child's eyes are red/pink with fatigue all the way up to his eyebrows, and screeches that are disturbing people who aren't due to be born for another 25 years or so are rending the air, it's time to do anything that will help. Last week, I had an itunes playlist up that included Sarah Vaughn, Dorothy Ashby, Ella Fitzgerald, Harry Connick, Jr and Louis Armstrong. During one of the marathon scream-fests, I finally put LO in his swing, walked away, and turned up the music so as to (pretend to) maintain some semblance of serenity. Amazingly, LO stopped screaming and tipped his head toward the speaker. With a faraway look in his tired eyes, LO ruminated on the joys of America's only native art form. We couldn't be more proud.
5. I have diagnosed myself as a stressaholic. (Which, of course, means I'm addicted to stressahol.) I'm staying at home this year. What is required of me is to feed my child and keep him warm and safe and loved and dry, and to keep the house from imploding from the weight of its own clutter. Really and truly, it's not that much. Anything else that I feel needs to be done is something that I place on my proverbial plate. One would think that I could remember that, but no. It'll get to be about this time in the day, and I will decide that I have not completed enough of my arbitrary to do list, and will have a not-so-arbitrary meltdown. What is it that I'm racing toward? Can someone with more authority than myself tell me to chill the hell out? (And would I listen to that person? Unlikely).
6. After over a week without dairy (or sweets!), I figured out how to make chocolate cupcakes with almond milk. Once I had gorged myself, all those to do lists mentioned in item 5 seemed to fade to their proper proportions. The clouds parted, the sun shone down on me, I could hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and my clothing was properly smudged with chocolate once again. Apparently cold turkey is not how EGB should go about quitting the sweet stuff.
7. It snowed here last night, and I find myself looking forward to when LO is old enough to play in the snow with me and J. Snow goes through a strange transformation in your life. In the beginning, it's exciting and fun and makes the whole world a playground. Then, you get a little older, and it also becomes a day off school, in addition to all the fun opportunities. Then, you're even older, and snow has become nothing but an annoyance. It's hard to drive in and it adds time to your commute, and you're pissed off that it snowed unless it snowed enough to let you stay home. And even when you get to stay home because of it, you're thinking about having to shovel it. Now that I have a little one at home, I can see the fun possibilities again, instead of the headache and the cold. I guess this is why people so enjoy children.