Friday, July 08, 2005

how I know E is not going to be the next Ford infant model superstar

This morning we attempted to get our family portrait taken. Attempt being the operative word. Might I say that E was not the least bit cooperative. Until the very end, when we put him down in the middle of the pool table and the photographer stood on it to take his picture. I think he realized that he was doing something illegal because then he was all about being cheery and smiling. Perhaps some of that had to do with me taking off his clothes so he could be back to his happy naked self.

By the way, the cleaning lady told us as we walked by that the baby is probably cold.

Everyone has to have an opinion.

You know it's true

when a straight man stops you in San Fran to tell you that your baby is SO cute.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

When will the sleep come?

So I had a pants night sleep last night, thanks to having to share a bed with the two biggest bed hogs in the world. It is apparently genetic, because the boy has it too.

Why are we even sleeping with E if we have finally managed to get him out of our room back home and into his big boy crib? Well the Mormons were kind enough to give us a crib in our room this week but it was all of 7 seconds after putting E in the crib that he managed to shove his foot through the 1 1/2 inch space between the rails and turn his leg to an angle from which he could not recover. Derek apparently anticipated this because he requested a room with a king size bed. He could have just asked for a twin because I am still sleeping on the same damn 6 inches of bed that I had a home. E continues to scooch, scooch, scooch across the bed until I am nearly falling off.

He is crying, crying, crying and the only thing that seems to help is when I rub my fingers across his gums and make that squeegee sound you hear as it goes across your windshield when you wash your windshield at the gas station.

So before I sat down to type this (since my $12.95 per day session is scheduled to end in less than 2 hours and I am already paying $45 a day to park the car), I put E into the above mentioned crib so I would not have to worry about him. I heard him whining away behind me but God forbid I turn around to see what is going on.

I should have.

There he was face down with his two chubby legs hanging out the side of the crib.

I am the world's WORST MOTHER.


To all our friends in London and the UK, we are so sorry for the evil acts which have paralyzed the world, yet again. You are in our thoughts and prayers.

The tenacity/stupidity of men

Derek's best friend/undercover lover Jorge lives out here on the West Coast and Derek has spent the last 5 days trying to make a plan to see him. They have known each other for about 30 years and have been best friends for the last 15 years. I brought it to Derek's attention on Saturday night when he was making plans for Sunday brunch that Jorge's wife was supposed to HAVE A BABY on that very day and perhaps making breakfast plans was not the most sensitive idea. We could blame this on Jorge, but he would sell his soul to the devil to see Derek so he obviously wasn't giving this too much thought.

Sure enough, Jorge calls on Sunday morning to say that his wife is having contractions so she doesn't feel like going to breakfast.


We go off to the barbeque and proceed to leave the cell in the car, unattended.

When I went out to the car at 4, I found 2 messages. The first was from Jorge at 10:47 a.m., saying that his wife's contractions had stopped and could we make a new plan? The second was a picture of his baby, sent at 2:40 p.m.

Why men continue to surprise me is beyond me.

Fog City, the Mormons are making a killing and why am I always buying a vaporizor on vacation?

Might I say I am having a rock star vacation, all except for the fact that the baby has more green snot stuck in his head than one of those funky cartoon characters that I have not yet been forced to watch. I resorted to sucking the snot out of his nose as a game in an effort to ensure sleep for all, but it didn't work. I had to get a vaporizer, which is apparently the doctor's recommended method for increasing your child's breathing capacity during a cold. This would be the third vaporizer I have purchased since his birth and all that crap about nursed babies getting less diseases is crap.

Sunday we got together with "the cousins" and had a barbeque. Uncle Mike barbequed everything under the sun and I caught Derek yelling at one of the distant relatives about corporate taxes and outsourcing. Isn't that what everyone discusses at 3rd of July barbeques? All I am going to say is that I turned my head for just a second and all hell broke loose. We like to refer to it as "The Red Wine Incident Gone Bad."

Monday morning my sister in law took me to yoga in Half Moon Bay, an experience which I found so fabulous that I could almost forgive her for giving my son a carrot, pizza crust and beer this weekend when he has not had one taste of any food yet (I said ALMOST forgive, Kristi). Pretty much the only thing she didn't give him was dog food. As far as I know. That will teach me to leave my child unattended or even turn my head for a split second in the presence of family.

Monday night we were off to watch the fireworks at the hilltop house of one of Kristi's shie-shie friends. The fog held off, the food was fab and we managed to beat the traffic back into town to check into our hotel. And might I say the Mormons are no fools. The Marriott is charging us $45 a night to park the car. WTF??? There goes the massage, dinner for 2 nights and a crepe at the pier. Bastards. I really need to get a job.

What the hell happened to the poop post?

So I got a 911 call from Marelle today, wondering where the hell I was and what the hell happened to the poop post. I have no idea what happened to the poop post so I guess I will have to start over. It is too bad, cause I don't even remember what I said.

I guess it all started last Saturday when we woke up at 3:30 a.m. to get to the airport for our 7 a.m. flight. If you are wondering what jackass planned a 7 a.m. flight on a Saturday with a 4 month old baby, you can rest assured that the jackass was not me. I wasn't too sad to leave, since the thermostat in the house registered 87 degrees.

Wonder of all wonders, we managed to get to the gate a whole 14 minutes before flight departure. As we boarded the plane the flight attendant gasped and said to me (about my nearly naked baby), "He's going to be cold."

"I sure hope so." Everyone is an expert, in case you hadn't noticed.

So there we are. The door is about to close and you know what he did. He filled his pants. The poop bomb from hell. I would like to take this opportunity to say I am so glad I was wearing my beige linen pants. WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING???

Sure enough, it took another 10 minutes to take off and then the pilot left us in our seats forever. So there I am holding him off my pants in order to minimize the damage when Derek decides that it is time to break the rules and head to the loo. Of course I can't break the rules. The sign says "Fasten Seat Belts" for heaven's sake. But I had enough and we were off to fit the Jolly Green Giant, his somewhat tall wife and a poop-filled baby into the world's smallest bathroom.

Is his timing ever going to get better than this?