High time for a bulleted list

A little of that mundanity the kids are so hot for.

Owen taught himself to wave this week, too. He waves like the Queen of England: slowly, and a trifle confusedly, but with a smile.

He may not be “mobile,” per se, as in he can’t crawl around or toddle yet, but he’s damn exhausting nonetheless. He only wants what he can’t have: my beer, my keys, my book, my fork, my camera … and he’ll throw himself at whatever it is with all his might. And if I’m not there, he does a header onto the floor. So I have to be there everysingleminute to catch his big ol’ noggin before it slams into something.

Related point: He is still all about the standing. Being on his belly makes him cry. Being on his back makes him cry. But standing? He’ll stand and jiggle and bounce all the livelong day, if he can. It’s cute but exhausting since his sense of balance is zero, and anything he might hold onto could bring on tears if his little face collided with it. A long-ago victim of head trauma myself, I have frighteningly bloody visions of him losing the only two teeth he has in an awful coffee table accident. So he’s allowed to stand, but only if I’m holding his hands, and he doesn’t find that nearly as fun. Go figure.

Labor Day weekend is coming up. We’ll be going home to Ohio for Doctor D’s memorial service. I’ve never been to a funeral in my whole life, having been too poor for airfare and too first-trimester pregnant and too in denial to attend my grandfather’s last year. [There are two things I regret in my life; one is not trying harder to breastfeed Owen, and the other is missing my grandfather’s funeral.] This weekend we’re busting ass to make sure we’re there, though it’s probably the third-worst weekend for travel round these parts and both of us have to work that Friday. I’m not looking forward to the trip for obvious reasons, but it will be good to see my family and D’s again, and to pay my respects to a brilliant, loving and humble man.

We went to the Book Thing today and only got 13 books.

I went to Rock’n’Romp yesterday and only took 7 pictures [Mark your calendars: Sept. 24 is the next R’n’R].

Owen ate potatoes today and only gagged once. I was beginning to fear my baby had been switched at birth … what kind of good Scotch-Irish child doesn’t like potatoes? Come on.

I’m reading yet another Tom Wolfe novel and hating it, because he uses ellipses … and em dashes! — almost as much as I do. And also the phrase “loamy loins,” which I find repugnant.

More blasts from the past this weekend. I’m sending a special shout-out to my pals from junior high and high school who’ve gotten back in touch. Hello! Thanks for reading! You’re lookin’ good!

It’s almost time for Family Guy, so I guess I’ll just cut it off here. Nothing of import happening … everything revolves around the little prince these days, and keeping my head out of my ass. Wish me luck.

August 28, 2005 | Filed Under daily grind