Monthly Archives: December 2005

Well, this is a little awkward

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I seem to have misplaced my nipple cream.

I had idly tried out the ol’ Lansinoh from my breastfeeding days on my dry, chapped winter hands and found it worked rather nicely. So I brought it with me on our Thanksgiving tour of the Midwest. And now I can’t find it.

This means that one or more of my relatives has since stumbled across said tube of nipple cream. Nice.

Here’s the other awkward part: I’ve been using butt-paste — better known as A+D Diaper Rash Ointment — instead.

What? It works. We’ve got a spare tube. Don’t judge.

Nicknames du jour

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For Owen:

  • Weetzie Boy
  • Sugar Pie
  • Puddin’ Pop
  • Buddy
  • Little Man
  • Guy
  • Punkin Bottom
  • Little Boo
  • Buddha Butt

I never know what’s going to come out of my mouth when I talk to him.

Randomizer

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Well, shit. I don’t care if they do have belt loops. Knit trousers will never look like anything but yoga pants.

I’m wearing them anyway.

TV: So Family Guy last night. Funny, huh? I especially liked the Sesame Street “12” flashback. Was singing it all night long.

NODDING: Dang! Owen keeps, like, learning stuff! Now he nods ‘yes,’ just kind of randomly, as though he were affirming … I don’t know. That Elmo is still a freak miracle of coolness. It’s cute.

STRIKE: Oh, and he’s on yet another food strike of sorts. Now he’ll only eat scrambled eggs, cheese and cheerios. I spent all day yesterday baking banana bread and cooking up stuff for him to take to daycare to lunch, and he don’t like it. DOESN’T LIKE BANANA BREAD. A.) Can he even be my child? And B.) Crap.

T MINUS 5 DAYS: … Until we leave for points westward for CHRISTMAS, y’all, I’m so excited. Presents! Gluttonous food! Presents! Owen in his wee red-and-white striped pajamas! Presents!

Kidding, about the presents. Except I’m really excited to give Owen his, and watch him bound around in the wrapping paper.

STEPPIN’: Also, I think he’s really close to walking. He’ll waddle along if we give him our fingers to hold, and he’s been cruising around the coffee table in circles, which makes me shiver, because I’m afear’d he’s going to slip and chip those precious chompers.

Oh-be-kay-be. Must tidy kitchen and scramble over to work. In my not-yoga pants. But I’ll be thinking of you.

“Muh.”

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So Owen has been doing the signs I taught him like all the fucking time lately. The one for “more,” you bring your fingertips to your thumb like a crab with its pincers closed and then you bring the fingertips of each hand together. And repeat. And he does this like fifty times all the while going “MUH MUH MUH” and turning red and getting pissed off.

And I’m like, “What, buddy? You want more? More what? More Cheerios? No? Okay, how about more … um, cheese? No? Uh, more … what? Ceiling? More anger? More what, child? What do you WANT?!” And he keeps going MUH MUH MUH and slamming his hands together and blowing steam out his ears and I’m utterly confounded, clueless, and all I can think is, “I have created a monster.”

No wait. A muhnster.

Wish I had taken notes, too

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Y’all are paying strict attention to my Flickr photostream, right? Which is updated even more frequently than this ‘ere bloggo?

Because if you are then I don’t need to tell you that I went to a Baltimore Bloggers’ Night of Trivia and Cheese, which I did. Last night. At Snay’s house. After a long hard day of drinkin’ wine.

Right. So the sleepy tumblehead in the corner, laughing tearfully at the word “colon” and knocking back several cans of Natty Boh? Yep. Me.

You may remember me as I’m the one who smells like cigarette smoke and baby vomit and I wear the same tired ‘TAKE A PHOTO IT’LL LAST LONGER’ t-shirt at every meetup, except for the ones I don’t attend, which is apparently all of them, because I’ve been so caught up in my mommybloggers that I have let the Baltos fall by the wayside.

I suck.

But in the event that you forgive me — or fuck, even still read this — I provide for your viewing pleasure [or pain] the blurry, out-of-focus Flickr Set containing a half-dozen drunkenly-photographed shots from the first round of Trivial Pursuit.

reading a card, I think

Just remember: embarrassment is Nature’s maquillage. Which is how come I always have those beautiful rosy cheeks.

60 Bugs Open House!

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Onesies for sale, onesies for sale!

More cowbell!

Debbie launched 60 Bugs, the label of her clever and beautiful embroidery biz, yesterday at an Open House in Silver Spring. [Flickr set here].

If you’ve got tots, or know someone who does, you’ve got to get one of these shirts. If you ask kindly I believe she does custom work as well.

Get in touch with her here or here, or contact me for her e-mail address. Seriously, y’all, I wish you could see her work in person. It’s terrific.

Rock’n’Shop

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Attention, procrastinating Balto/D.C. shoppers: Rock’n’Shop this Sunday, 12/18, at the Black Cat, D.C. Just think of all the cool stuff you could be giving for Christmas!

Like all this cool shit by Debbie, for example.

Just sayin’.

You should go.

edit: Sorry, Internet, for the wonkiness this morning. All fixed.

Snay saves the day

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Bookshelves which were taking up space at his place enables us to save our precious DVD collection from Owen’s path of destruction [which covers everything to a height of about 30 inches].

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