Saturday, June 18, 2005

Happy Father's Day to the father of my son


For sneaking me an ounce of beer or wine once a week while I was pregnant...
For bringing me dinner at the library on the late study nights...
For cleaning the house when I just couldn't take it...
For carrying me upstairs when I had no energy at the end of the day...
For letting me sleep in on Saturdays and Sundays...
For holding my hair back as I threw up...
For cleaning the floor after the aforementioned incident...
For watching all six hours of Pride and Prejudice...
For buying all those pregnancy and parenting books from Amazon the second you found out I was pregnant...
For giving up the name Cassius in favor of the name Ethan...
For wanting to call him E. Lewis after Meriweather Lewis...
For buying the safest car on the market on a whim so we could be safe...
For sticking up for me when I could not stick up for myself...
For rubbing my back when I thought it was going to break...
For watching the heart monitor all night long without closing your eyes once...
For demanding that Ethan come out "RIGHT NOW BECAUSE MOM WANTS YOU TO..."
For accepting my death grip during the unmedicated 22 stitches...
For changing 90% of the diapers...
For bringing me breakfast in bed for the first 8 weeks of E's life...
For waking up in the middle of the night and changing the baby...
For obsessing about crawling and walking...
For making us laugh so hard we cried...
For promising to love us and protect us always...

Thank you.

My apologies to all the single/married people without children

I have become one of THEM. You know those assholes who mows his lawn before noon on the weekend.

I remember when I was single and in my first year of law school. I would work all day, go to school all night. I lived for Saturdays when I wouldn't get out of bed until 5:00 p.m. It was me and 80's movies on TBS all day. If I heard any manner of lawn equipment prior to noon, I would lie in bed with a pillow over my head, convincing myself that random gunshots out my window would NOT be productive.

Well, ever since "The Incident," I'm stuck doing all the heavy lifting and I might be stuck mowing my yard for the rest of my miserable life. So since the AC is out and we are living "efficiency style" in the living room, we were all up bright and early this morning. OK, not so bright. So I decided to mow the lawn/savannah that I have neglected for the past week. And I sure as hell wasn't waiting til it got nice and HOT to do it.

KH: Is 8:42 a.m. a decent hour to start mowing the lawn?
DT: The neighbors will probably just be glad it's mowed.
KH: The neighbors who care have been up since 5 a.m. anyway.

For personal safety reasons, I mowed the backyard first. It cuts down on the list of possible suspects should someone decide to shoot me. By the time I got to the front yard, it was like 9:30. Hello, who's not up at 9:30?????

I've become one of Those People. The people with kids who don't give a rat's ass about the Other People Without Kids. I can't believe I have sunk this low.

Friday, June 17, 2005

The gift that keeps on giving

I had a conversation today with an unnamed person who told me that purchasing a Playboy isn't like purchasing a regular magazine that you are finished with once you read the articles....

The magazine was actually referred to as an investment.

Obviously solely a benefit for the owner and no one else....

So disturbing on so many levels.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Flying squirrels

Robin wrote a post today about trying to not run over a squirrel. And while I found her benevolence touching, it reminded me of how much I really hate squirrels.

Last year we had a garden full of tomato plants. For those of you that know me, I am obsessed with tomato sauce and all manner of pasta. Derek, not so much. But ever since we started making fresh pasta he has come over to the dark side. Well, we started to have a little problem with half-eaten tomato plants on the vine. There was a big hole in our miniscule raised beds and we were sure that a mole or some other evil rodent was waiting until the tomatoes were ripe and then having at it. Until the day I got the phone call.

I was in the library, sick as a dog, studying for the bar. All the sudden my phone vibrates. The caller ID flashes that it is Derek from home. I'm thinking WTH? I'm studying and I want to be left alone. I jogged out into the stairwell and answered the phone.

DT: You are not going to believe what just happened.
KH: What just happened?
DT: I was getting out of the shower, and you know how I like to look out the window and survey all my land?
KH: (thinking--"All 1/5 of an acre in the dead center of suburbia????????) Yeah?
DT: Guess what I saw?
KH: (thinking--"How the hell does this man think I am ever going to get anything done if we continue to play 20 questions?????") What?
DT: I saw a squirrel sitting on YOUR chair in the back yard, eating a ripe red tomato he was holding in his little hands.
KH: SOB!!!!!!! What did you do?
DT: I got out the BB gun and shot him off the chair.
KH: Shut UP!!!!!!!
DT: I did.
KH: From where?
DT: The upstairs window.
KH: (suddenly suspicious) What were you wearing?
DT: (silence)
KH: Did you kill him?
DT: Nah.
KH: YOU ROCK BABE! I love you! But what if the neighbors saw a gun coming out the second story window? I'm pretty sure you can't shoot at squirrels in broad daylight. Or ever, for that matter.
DT: I thought you were worried about your tomatoes.
KH: (silence and pregnant pause). You're right. Good job.

It was a pretty eventful summer. I was never as good a shot (my old range instructor would be mortified, but I maintain it's harder to shoot a bb gun than a sig). We only shook up a couple of squirrels. Derek said it was worth it to knock them off their feet so they would go home and tell their family members to avoid that Colonial halfway down the block.

I don't think so.

We'll have to see what happens this year.

Why must all parenting nightmares occur in public?

We took the Injured One to the orthopedist yesterday afternoon after Boo Boo Kitty and I spent a LOVELY day in AC with our friends Renee and Alex (who also fed us and entertained us!).

We found out that the Injured One has a crushed big toe. He is very put out by this because no one can actually do anything for him and why did we spend 4 hours at the ER the day before and an hour at the dr. office for someone to just clean out the nastiness and send him on his way? I tried to tell him it was for the drugs but he is still bitter that I won't let him wash his vicodin down with beer or a gin and tonic. In fact, he has refused all further offers for vicodin in general. I'm sure that in the future I'll be asked to conduct all manner of minor surgery in the kitchen rather that going to silly hospitals.

So there we are in the waiting room, WAITING to make our co-pay and get the heck out of there. I put the baby in his car seat and placed him on the floor next to the Injured One. And then I did the unthinkable. I TURNED MY BACK. That's right, folks. I thought that I could leave the two of them unattended for a brief moment. You know, the medicated Injured One whose toe was crushed by a weight bar and the fruit of his loins.

Hearing a blood curdling scream that can only mean that the Boo Boo Kitty has managed to get his head caught in a major appliance, I turned around to see the car seat tipped over backwards and the baby lying upside down with his head resting on the floor. After snatching him up and realizing that he scared himself silly and is actually fine, I also realized that luck of all luck, the office is packed and all six nurses behind the counter are watching. So now I had to shlep him over to the counter so ALL the nurses can see that despite the fact that his parents openly neglect him, the BBK is alive and well.

So I guess they aren't kidding when they say that you should buckle them in at all times, huh?

Thanks to all the well wishers...

The weather broke last night and the AC guy is coming today. WooHoo!!

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

quick request

If you are a prayer, one who sends out positive thoughts or can will things to happen, please send out your requests that we can get an air conditioning person in here today. It's 8:00 am and it's already 83 downstairs. God only knows what it is upstairs.

What the hell did people do before air conditioning?

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

How Vicodin can make the world a better place

So today was one of those days...

the AC went out officially, on the hottest day of the year so's ok, though, because the not-so-nice (read cast-iron-bitch) at the heating/cooling place said she would send someone next Thursday. Like we all won't be dead by next Thursday. When she asked what was wrong, I said it sounded like Marine One was landing on the roof. She said, "So it's still working but it has a noise?" OK, dumb ass.

I cracked the screen of my laptop--again...

I missed my cooking class because of a run to the hospital emergency room. Derek's weight bar has seen more action today than it has in years...when it landed on his big toe, crushing it and making it bleed like a stuck pig. It's OK though, because the ER staff thought they were the Alexandria, VA version of Scrubs. One doctor/nurse was funnier than the next. I had to laugh when the doctor told me to screw off when I said that D's pain couldn't match childbirth.

E peeded on me in the ER--twice. When Derek asked if I wanted to take him out to the car to change him, I said, "Why? He managed to keep his diaper clean by peeing out the crack."

Four hours later...

But there is a silver lining to this cloud. The doctor took me up on my suggestion that Derek get a tetanus shot and I convinced Derek to give me half of his bottle of Vicodin for my trouble. OK, I actually held up the script in front of his face and refused to get it filled at CVS until he promised to send half the bottle over to my side of the bridge. I think it'll all be alright.

Which is worse?

The miami nursing tank tops or the robe?

I just answered the door in my LLBean floor length terry robe that is so big I could fit 3 people in it. Only my ankles were showing.

There was my Muslim neighbor Sayed with cookies they had just made. Normally I am mortally offending him with my porn star boobs but I think that my bare ankles may have done him in.

I can't win.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Cookies Best Shots

rather than clog up the blog with pictures that no one wants to see, I started a new blog over here. That way my mother can stay up on my life and not have to be offended by my foul language.

Michael Jackson--Not Guilty

I wonder if he has plans to meet O.J. for happy hour tonight.

"the poop bomb" aka "how-to-ruin-the-perfectly-delightful-lunch-in-a-single-bound"

D gave me a ring today and asked us to lunch. We had an errand to run in Alexandria, so we found ourselves at Le Gualois for lunch.

Suddenly E started to get cranky. You would too, if a POOP BOMB went off in your pants. All over his clothes, car seat, Derek's hands. It was truly an overwelmingly disgusting incident. The snooty French people at the table across from us pretended that it wasn't (and we weren't) happening. You think that incidents like this would teach me to carry a diaper bag around, right.

Yeah, not so much.

He was MUCH happier when it was all over, after I went back to the car and changed him. It's times like this that I wish I had one of those really big wrenches to crank open a fire hydrant. I'm guessing that might not have gone over very well in that section of King Street.

Below is representative of a similar explosion that happened 10 minutes before we were SUPPOSED to leave for NY last Friday.

We like to call this the "double word score."  Posted by Hello

what moms do to babies when moms get bored in the back seat of cars on LONG car rides home. I wish it had been red checkered like Arafat's. Posted by Hello

Gail and E Posted by Hello

Aunt Margie on her way to the Belmont. Posted by Hello

I didn't know how retro I was

until I got to B's house this weekend. We decided earlier last week that we would go up to Jersey for the weekend so her mom Gail could meet the baby and we could sneak across the river and get dinner at Tang while she babysat.

So we showed up late on Friday night. As is par for the course, E is a little cherub until 10 minutes before we get there. No complaints here since I wanted to cry about 3 hours earlier.

I took him into the house where B, Gail and Aunt Margie were waiting oh so patiently to snatch him from my hands.

KH: I'd better feed him first and then you guys can have him (whipping out the boo).
G: Whatcha doing?
KH: Feeding him.
G: That way?
KH: Uh, yeah.

She is staring a hole through my chest, like I am performing some alien ritual.

G: Does it hurt?
KH: NO, it doesn't hurt. Haven't you people in Jersey ever seen someone breast feed?
G: Oh, NO.
KH to B: Is she serious?
B: Yeah.

The whole weekend she was fasinated every time I fed the baby. Incredulous, even. Coming from the world of people that believe in breastfeeding until the child goes to middle school (not me, don't worry), this is very new for me and I kinda egged her on a little.

Those people from Jersey...