Holiday in a Nut(krackee)shell

Ok, 1,2,3, Christmas came on hard and fast and caught me unawares.
The tree was up and decorated before I could even say "PLEASE CLEAN UP ALL THAT DANG POPCORN!" (in our house, a popcorn garland on the tree is as necessary as March of the Wooden Soldiers after Thanksgiving. Nutcrackers lined the mantle and had my son singing a song of six nutcrackers every day. Now, I have none of these things we call "traditions", except for trying to make sure I gorge on lobster as much as possible.

I bought all Guy's presents in like two days and we did Spencer the week before, and wrapped all the presents Christmas Eve. We had a dinner party for Guy's office the night before Christmas Eve which snuck up on me like the flu. Luckily, Guy is the party planner, decorator, chef and host for these events, so I just dress nice and act like Spencer's mom. We did Xmas eve together and Spencer got all of Christmas Day and I mean the WHOLE day. Thank god toddlers nap.

We had trickle-down extendo-Christmas with relatives - I didn't see mine until January 2 and we just drove up to and back from Long Island yesterday to see Guy's family.

As far as I can tell, we're done. We haven't had the lights lit in a few days but they're still out there and while Guy has magically gotten the tree out of the house before it blanketed the corner of our living room with a lush blanket of pine needles, the lights I fear will linger on our yard until March, at which time we'll be having our Sopranos "New Season" Party, and we'll be able to light them for effect.

Speaking of NEW: Howard Stern will re-emerge on Sirius Satellite in a few hours, and we're ready. I can technically broadcast the satellite signal in my house to radios. Bye Bye Terrestrial Radio! I am nearly weeping with glee. Which reminds me, don't watch Extreme Home Makeover. You'll cry with happiness for the family who gets all the goodies, and then you'll spit with jealousy over the AWESOME digs these people get while you're sitting in your lounge chair with springs boinging out of it.

More Spencer Vernacular to come. He's almost onto sentences and yesterday spent the entire day carrying around a little book about Santa Clause and a mini-tarot card guide. He looked like a little missionary at Guy's parent's house. He would not put them down. If you ask him his name, he says "Book". I am not kidding.

Segue #2: Bad "fortunes"... To start off the new year right, my PC crashed and from my conversation/testing with Dell (which cost about 200 for the year) today, I determined my hard drive was erased during whatever event caused the crash. I am starting over in 2006 and it appears to be the case whether I like it or not.

Spencer Lexicon, v.2

checkup=ketchup
chain=train
chee=tree
happen=what happened?
hep=help
mets or metch=mine
woowoo=train
wiggles= Eagles

There are more every day.

Spencerese on Planet Earth

Arella=Cinderella
Baws=Balls
Increnals =Incredibles
KeeKees = Candy Canes
Krackee=Nutcracker
Srek =Shrek
Tractee=Tractor
Up=Put a movie on

Ok, while I sit here typing, I am watching a DVD borrowed from a friend at work.
The subject? Duran Duran Live in Japan, either late 2004 or early 2005. There was an interview and now we're into the concert.

I'm sorry, but it appears they're just using the Japan shows as rehearsal time and it's all awkward. The energy is lacking, the backing vocals are sampled instead of live, and they all keep checking with eachother - almost like they're testing stuff. Weird. Made me wonder if other big bands do that - go to other countries to "rehearse" their live shows before they bring 'em here. Ok what the...they're singing What Happens Tomorrow and there's a WHOLE bridge/verse/segue thing I've never heard. AND they are really lacking as a live act. They should not have filmed this or let it get out to the public. I've never been so critical. I feel like a traitor. Please forgive me.

Now, on the other hand, Simon's voice is MUCH stronger and clearer than I've ever heard it(despite being pitchy). Would I still like to kiss him? The 13-year old inside me says YES!

When I go to give Spencer a kiss we go "mmmmmmm wa!"
The other day, he kept pushing Guy and I together so we would kiss. It was the best.
What is NOT the best, is when your 19 month old hurls ornaments in the Christmas store.
I have never been so embarrassed or laughed so hard.

Duran Duran, come back and play my town again and take me out dancing.
Spencer, don't grow up too fast.
Katie, go to bed, you're making NO sense.
Domo Aregato

Dental Independence

Well, it's been while. Not all that long in normal human time, but where
toddlers are concerned it's been an age.

This morning, I was summoned to the bathroom by my beaming, foaming at the
mouth husband, who pointed down and to my left as I walked in the room.
There, standing at the side of the sink on a toddler-made stepstool, was my
boy, with my toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, using his hand to make
the motions of a little boy brushing his teeth.

I am flabbergasted even writing it down.
My son was brushing his teeth with his father this morning.
I don't know whether to be proud of this development, or to mourn the loss
of his innocence.

People, my son is a boy.
He even knows the Eagles cheer, except he says "Wiggles" at the end instead
of "Eagles".

Time really does fly.
I'm afraid next he'll be asking for car keys. Oh wait he does do that, only
he hasn't the strength to turn the key in the ignition yet.
I'm sure that will be next week after he figures out how to take milk out of
the fridge and leave it on the floor with the door open...

Dear Frito Lay:

Crunchy Cheetos are potentially the world's greatest snackfood.
I have only one issue to raise: The orange residue or "cheesidue" left on my
thumb and forefinger after delighting in these crispy delectables.

Sirs, we can put a man on the moon, clone dogs and make it seem like pop
stars are singing live before thousands when they are silently miming to a
pre-recorded track. Certainly, you must be able to concoct some formula that
makes it possible for me to snack on Cheetos AND continue working at my
computer without turning the keys a brighter shade of vermillion.

I look forward to your response, and or the release of New and Improved
Non-Shmutzing Cheetos.

Gastronomically Yours,
Hysterical Female

Jaws II Oral Fixation

Say hello to Richard Kiehl. He was the giant actor who played the character "Jaws" in several Bond flicks. Those metal chompers could seriously do damage.

Now, imagine if you will, my reaction yesterday morning when the evil dentist explained to me that the temporary crown I'd be wearing for the next month was going to be made of stainless steel.

Yes, folks, I was a tad distressed. Fast forward to today (now yesterday) and I feel exactly like the picture of Jaws here, only my humour is generally much more sour. One break I suppose: I do not have a lump in the middle of my forehead as far as I know. Regardless, I have as much metal in my mouth as I do on my fingers. That is NOT acceptable.

The dentist told me I'd be experiencing some hot and cold sensitivity.
No duh.
Typically when metal gets hot or cold, things around it get the same. Like, that's why we make most cocktail shakers out of stainless steel - to spread the cold around. When steel gets hot enough, it will actually melt!

Ok and another thing, I can't really chew stuff, so there goes Halloween gorging.
F'ers. I wonder how old I'll be when dentures start to really look attractive. Oh my head.

I saw Spencer for all of 30 minutes this morning. Guy told me today that Spencer is having great bonding moments with his caregivers in daycare. I nearly burst into tears at the thought of some stranger bonding with my son more than I do. Oh, wait, I did cry. Just not out loud. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. It's too much. People who do, have eating disorders and drug problems. I wanted to work full time, so boo hoo.

I need a pedicure and I can't close my mouth. Guess what else? I want to wear my jeans tucked into boots, and all my pants are too flared and sort of too baggy. I need to get snug, tapered jeans. EEEEEEEEEEEEW. Fashion mags are showing tapered jeans slouched/pulled down over flats and heels. It's positively disgusting. Didn't anyone watch the American Bandstand rerun marathons on VH1? Some trends are NOT meant to be repeated. Seriously.

I will now attempt to finish this post before I go totally "cyclops"; meaning I get so sleepy that I can only see out of one eye because the other is closed.

Goodnight and good lunch.

Random Notes

Entertainment:
Napoleon Dynamite is hilarious. See it immediately. You will never look at steak, Kool Aid or glamour photos the same again. A word of warning: If you didn't like Raising Arizona, you definitely will not like this.

If you can't see that, see Garden State. Zach Braff (writer, director and star) has a long future ahead of him IMHO.

I just watched Dolly Parton sing "9 to 5" accompanied by her fingernails on Extra. Oy vey.

Nicole Richie is "bothered" by rumors she has an eating disorder, but, ah, for the record, on Extra there was no outright denial, nor was there an explanation, like "I've been so busy, or 'Simple Life' was all I had and now I'm depressed", or "I have hyperthyroid"...nuttin.

HBO does it again: It took a little bit to get going, but Rome is really getting good. For instance, Cleopatra is a sex-crazed opium addict. You can't miss!

Fashion:
Do not read Lucky magazine. You will start spending money for no good reason.

Why are big belts back, and why did I buy THREE?

Trend alert: Be on the lookout for vest sweaters and cardigans.
fishnet stockings should be all the rage in a month or so and then they'll go the way of the Dodo when women get tired of the pantyhose thing again.

Every accessory addict's dream: www.bagborroworsteal.com

Health and Home:
I hate going to the dentist. Hate it. I can't remember EVER walking out of a dentist's office saying "Wow I feel so much better!"
Speaking of which, when will the Tylenol 3 (with Codeine thank you very much) I took an hour ago fully kick in?

There is a show on HGTV called "How Clean is Your House?": As if most of us aren't already completely self-conscious about how we appear to our friends and neighbors.

My intestines were attacked by a McDonald's milkshake today. No joke.

Codeine update: I think it's starting to set, but I'm not sure.

Best Pizza so far in the area: Cocco's. Don't live near one? Oh well, too bad for you.
Children/FamilySpencer is my son (just in case you didn't know) and he's really cute. He can say "All Done" and "Elmo". He turned eighteen months old yesterday. He's going to a three-year old's birthday party on Saturday and we don't know who the boy is.

Take your kids to Linvilla Orchards before Halloween. They're having a whole pumpkin festival thing with hayrides and apple everything. Just go.

Bono is God (or at least I wish he was)

After much hand-wringing and waiting by the phone, my connection for U2 tickets came through and we saw them tonight. It was their second show at the Wachovia Center, and it was kickass.

Frigging Bruce Springsteen showed up for the first encore. How about them apples? They did some great old songs and of course new ones, AND treated us all to a new song they're working on called "Fast Cars". It had a tango-y Spanish thing going on about it and I'm looking forward to its eventual release.

So we had these crazy nosebleed seats all the way in the top of the joint. I mean it. The very tip top. If you are going to a show there and your tickets are on the mezzanine, you're going to be sitting almost straight up the entire show. I mean, they're playing "I Will Follow" as we're climbing upwards towards our seats, so natch, I turn to Guy and say loudly, "It's more like 'I Will FALL'."

I have to say, I was pretty much on that level of clever all night through.

Something did happen though that's really buggin' me ("I don't mean to bug ya", heh heh). Not 10 minutes into the show, it appears that some ground level section curtains have this weird formation that look like a cross with light coming through. I couldn't stop staring at it. Is this Bono character special in some way? Does U2 have a line in to the big house? Bono is the ONLY rock legend I know of who can sing his face off, keep a beat, engage as many humans in the room as possible and tell you why human rights and world peace are achievable all in the same moment.

I kid you not, the man had a whole stadium full of fans absolutely quiet while he told a story about the song "Miss Sarajevo" and then sang his heart out, including the Pavarotti part! The man can really sing. Brought tears to my oversensitive eyes.

So anyway, back to this cross thing...I've been wondering if Bono isn't the modern day messiah. Then again, I highly doubt the other side of the Wachovia center could see this curtain aberration, so it's probably just me having concert catharsis.

Lesson: When your concertgoing experience leads you to feel as if you've been enlightened, then it probably means it was a good show.

Gettin' My Job On

I am officially a full-time employee.

After a month of building my confidence, contracting at a warm and fuzzy family-like mortgage company, I am now staking my claim to a cubby on the third floor of a very cool office building in King of Prussia. The company leasing this building develops and maintains ecommerce sites for a variety of different retail entities. I'm doing some graphic design for these sites. I suppose you could say it's the icing on the career cake I've been baking for the last five years or so. I'm pretty psyched.

For one thing, I can wear flip flops and listen to music while I work. Sweet. If I am starting to sound like Eric Cartman it's because so far, things are pretty ideal. I know it won't be all roses and rainbows, but this is kind of a dream come true. Here's why:

My customer service skills are to die for, and I can be patient long after others have given up. Perhaps it's the masochist in me, I don't know, but I rock the client relations. And I don't like it one bit. I hate calling people and taking calls. I've mellowed enough in the last decade so that I don't die when I have to do it. There was a time when I swore up and down that I would not work jobs where I had to call people or answer phones and I even vaguely recall my inability to keep it to myself in interviews despite how ignorant I might have sounded.

And now I'm in the position where I don't have to answer phones or help customers directly.
Am I pinching myself? Absolutely. My own cubby for the first time in years, funky cool people with tattoos and decent taste in entertainment, great food and perks...I'm the king of the world!

No I'm not. I am amazing though...
I was thinking tonight, that my body is looking better and better. Then I realized what my body did over a year ago. Along with an eyedropper or so full of my husband's DNA, my body created another human being. A little boy who now says "Elmo", "All done", "Out", "Knock knock"(a variation really(ock ock), but it counts. A little boy who; is learning how to put on shoes, can hold a spoon pretty darn well, runs, draws, tries to read books, rides on the tractor with his dad, pretends to drive our cars, puts on my sunglasses and may actually be forming a real relationship with Mack. He'll be in school in no time and I'll be wondering where the years went.

Halloween is in 16 days, my birthday's in 13 and U2 is in 2.
Tick tick tick tick...

Back to School Smell

It's finally fall. It's cold enough at night that we can close the windows, and this morning, we actually had the heat on for the first time since we moved here. Earlier in the day, I had this overwhelming wish that I could go back in time to high school...

Canine Interruptus: JESUS, mary and joseph! Mack just came clicking in here (bedroom with hardwood floors and no area rug) and flumphed (yes I made it up) down on the floor. If that didn't wake Spencer, nothing should.

Anyhoo, as I was saying before Paws: The Return, I wish I was back in school. High school.
I wish I had books and homework and projects and reports. I can't walk into a single drug store without being attacked from all sides by notebooks of every size, shape and color, and it makes me nuts.

Ok this is lame, I am suddenly falling asleep. Blogger, why do you make me so sleepy? Stop snuggling me!

Ok, now I forget what I was going to write. I actually just tried to write with one eye open. I can no longer think or write.

Long and short of it all: I want school supplies.

GRAVITY SUCKS: A Lecture

I saw it coming but didn't pay attention to my own instinct - trying not to be such a worryer.
I was in Spencer's room, changing the sheets and he was all cute in just his diapers, toddling between his room and the guest room. I checked to see what he was up to and stepped out into the hallway to see him standing at the top of the stairs looking down. I said to him, "You sit down if you're going down. You know how." He seems to always listen when I say that, or turn around and just start getting into position to go down the stairs. This time he turned around all smiley face and went back into the guest room...

I turned to the crib and just got started pulling up the bedskirt when I heard the worst noise I have ever heard in my life: The thundering thuds of my son falling down the stairs. I was out the door and down the stairs as he began to stand up at the bottom, screaming. My brains scrambled in panic as I watched my little boy go through pain, shock and fear all at once.

Immediately I began to check him out and screamed to Guy to come. He came in and picked Spencer up and held him gently. He'd bitten his tongue or lip so there was a little blood on his tongue and was moving his right arm gingerly, but other than that, he seemed ok.

My next instinct was to run to the kitchen to get ice. Why is that? What good is that going to do for a little guy who would just as soon throw it at the dog? Guy took him out to the tractor and sat with him on it. Then he took him inside after some calm settled, and sat with him in front of a picture and part of the alphabet painting I did. I got water and ice cream and we coaxed him back to normal, with some residual sniffles and whines over his sore mouth. He was pretty much back to normal after a little while and went to bed like a little angel.

All fun and jokes aside:

PLEASE put the safety gates up if you haven't already. Even if they're getting really good at the stairs, it doesn't matter. You NEVER EVER EVER want to hear what I heard or see your child freaked out like that. It is the worst. I couldn't even look at the stairs right for an hour. I hated them and myself for not being on top of him to keep him safe.

And that's the deal, folks. You can't always keep them safe, but you can do as much as you can and make sure they know you love them too.

Damn, I love that little boy.

New Kids on the Block Party

Well, we're suburbanites for real now. We experienced our first block party.
There were blockades, but why?
Not ONE car came speeding down adjacent streets looking for a way thru to another road.
We had our grills in the street for chrissakes.

Guy whipped up some ribs, tout suite, and I bought freezer pops and made Bay Breezes. The new kids on the block were a big hit. And of course, Spencer had the run of the land. He was this way and that. I think I got about 15 minutes total for sitting and eating. He likes to go down slides face first, likes to climb under tables and play peekaboo, and is learning how to fake me out when I stand in front of him to block him. If he doesn't become some kind of amazing athlete, I'll be SHOCKED.

I think we're being watched too. One of our neighbors was buddy buddy with the previous owner and she's reporting our activities. Kind of weird meeting a new neighbor who casually tells you she's got her eye on you. It's a little freakish. Like we're under surveillance.
Everyone here is involved in education on some level too. There's like at least 3 teachers, one retired bus driver and a counselor. I have half a charter school in my backyard!

So I imagine there will be much recipe swapping and front lawn chatter in the coming months. At the VERY least, there will be many a neighbor coming by to marvel at Guy's landscaping creations - they're already envying his skill. God help us if the less technically inclined fellas get wind of the craftsman's garage we have going. He'll never get the sawdust out of his ears.

I, on the other hand, am perfectly content looking cute, chasing the boy around and making drinks like a good wife should. If they need a Web site worked on or can't figure out why their computers won't work, they know where to find me ;)

UGH, I caved.

Oy, I'm already making puns...

Ok let me explain:

See, I bought The Happiest Toddler on the Block, by Harvey Karp, M.D.
The gist of this tome is that you need to talk to your toddler like he/she is a Neanderthal.
Basically you go grunting and sort-of mirroring their panic, anger, frustration and pained expressions in order to communicate your understanding of their needs and to help calm them enough to be receptive to whatever input comes next.

Apparently it can look really silly to behave and speak to your child like a child but the good doctor swears your little one will show improvement once he/she feels you are paying attention and know what he/she wants.

So apparently my son is a savage little creature and I'm like the "monster whisperer". It's a job only a mother could love. HA!

He was put to bed an hour early tonight due to technical malfunction - internal systems meltdown, or the dreaded "temper tantrum". He had one yesterday too, so I'm not all that surprised that another one reared it's head today. I wonder if his brain is beta tesing emotional response. He's been acting like me when I'm PMSing. Weird.

Ok here we go again. It's late and I can't even keep my eyes open anymore. This bites it. What happened to all my energy? hmmmm

Feelings...Whoa Whoa Whoa

I'm just testing really. I found out I can basically "phone it in" - I can email my own blog and tell it things. Or rather, tell you, my adoring friends and family things. All day long, from wherever. You'll never miss a minute of my thoughts, ever again.

Whoopdedoo.

Did you know that the powers that be can put a perfect 8-10oz serving of ground coffee in a little space age pack (no bigger than an index card) for you to shove in a machine that makes you coffee at the push of one button? No water is ever seen. You don't even see the grounds. It's like an MRE (Meals Ready to Eat - look for the history of this in the next NYTimes Magazine-thank you disaster buzzwords)- but it's CRD -Coffee Ready to Drink.

There is a mystery though. I can 't figure out what the Espresso button is for. There is no "Espresso" style coffee pack. Could this be the key to another dimension? Stay tuned.

Oh and another thing. They're trying to kill us with powdered coffee creamer. Doesn't anyone know that stuff is more toxic than a McGriddles?

Babyhugs, Birds, Showers and Idiot Box Rants

Saturday, September 10, 2005, was the first day I received a true hug from my son.

It was around 730-8pm and I'd just come home from refilling our "Growlers" - beer jugs we got at John Harvard's Brewery (try the Pale Ale and get yourself a Stoudt Mud Pie - to die for).

The house was fairly quiet and I figured my boys were upstairs in Spencer's room, getting him ready for bed. I found them in his room, Guy changing Spencer's diaper on our old full size futon mattress, now taking up the dormer area perfectly - a fun cushioned play space. A little goofy smile crept on to Spencer's face as he saw me enter the room. Once the diapering was done, he stood up and snorted and pointed at something.

Guy immediately showed me a new Spencer trick.
"I think he learned this in school, watch this," he boasted while Spencer stood next to him reaching for his glasses.
"Ok Spencer, lie down now."
Spencer giggled and sat, and put his head down on the mattress.
We made the silent movie laugh face (laughing without making noise and grinning like idiots) at eachother and got him to do it a few more times. Amazing how little things entertain a person.

I then asked for a hug and Spencer shook his head no.

"He's gotten really good at saying 'No' , " said Guy as we watched Spence shake his head repeatedly until he almost fell down. I pretended to cry and be sad to see if it'd make him pity me. Instead he smirked and giggled at me. The kid has no sympathy, I tell you.

Guy tickled him, I teased him and helped him finish more milk before bed.
When he was done, he got up from the futon mattress and shuffled over to Guy to give him a hug, which he's done numerous times now to the point of me being jealous. Then suddenly, he wheeled around out of Guy's arms and was shuffling again, but this time towards me.

As I sat cross-legged on the floor with my back leaning on the futon mattress, he shuffled over to me, opened up his arms and threw them around me. My SON HUGGED ME.

I could have held him all night and into next week. I've been waiting for him to learn how to give a hug just for this reason and he finally did it. My son hugged me. He cooed and babbled and rested his adorable head on my shoulder, then chest. He smiled and giggled, pulled back and cupped his hands to clap lightly at my hair and over my ears (he likes to play with the curls), then he collected himself and scooted across the floor to his dad with arms stretched out: Daddy also doubles as taxi, elevator and human transport system.

Spencer hugged his daddy and turned around and then came back over to me again for another go round. I was ecstatic. "My son loves me!" was the only thing I could think of. It was undeniable proof that my son had a connection to me - that he indeed loved me.

Strange how a woman can carry a child in her body for 9-10 months, fall in love with a face she hasn't seen yet, give birth to her child with and fall in love with the being she's created, and have this unexplainable connection, but she isn't always confident that this child will even recognize her upon entry into the world. Or maybe that's just my own insecurity.

Regardless, unconditional love is the best. It's bliss and it's supreme. If there is a God, he's inside your little one when he or she hugs you. That's what a god's love should feel like.

For the record, it has taken me three days to get this out - I CANNOT write late night anymore. I fall asleep mid sentence. Makes a hell of a read the next morning, I'll tell you that. As I write now, the Eagles are getting a whooping by the Falcons. No thanks to some pre-game fisticuffs between Trotter and some shmuck from the Falcons. And by the way, Trotter DID NOT punch the dude. Facemask? Yes, absolutely. Roundhouse? Uh-uh.

Hey I bought like 5 tops and a jacket at Macy's over the weekend: $40.
I LOVE sales. Now if only I could find a cool bag to haul around all my stuff. I'm afraid to buy a big slouchy bag because I lose my keys in those things in like two seconds. Oh whoa is me.

Social Event Hint: Don't take your 1-1/2 year-old to a baby shower. You won't get to talk to anyone, sit down or eat. You will get lots of exercise, so maybe it's ok if you're trying to get in shape again or something. I don't know.

Media Warning: Ok, does anyone give a pig's fart if a soap star and b-rated voiceover actor have a live "dance-off"? Apparently they do 'cause ABC is giving them a show. I wonder how much the winner will donate to help Hurricane Survivors. Heh.

Political Rambling: Yo, America, your government is playing you. Hows about paying attention instead of drowning your sorrows in 'reality' tv? I speak from experience: The "Real World" won't make the real world go away.

Oh and one more thing: My Super Sickeningly Sweet Sixteen on MTV has GOT to be stopped. What could be worse programming for America's youth than 30-60 minutes of spoiled teenagers whining about their lack of boundaries, sky's-the-limit budgets and semi-present parental units, all the while touting their popularity, closet size and duty to throw the world's greatest parties that noone can attend but their own sycophant. I can't believe my eyes anymore and it's not just because my prescription glasses are old.

Monday Night Football calls. GO EAGLES!

JAWS

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into daycare...

My son bit two children last week and you never saw two parents more freaked out.
No, not their parents. Me and Guy.

He called me at work to tell me, which sent me spinning into a mental spiral of worry.
By the time I'd gotten into my car to fly home to get our little "savage", Guy had already researched everything there was to know about toddlers and biting. I imagine he Googled with the passion of someone looking for naked pics of a pregnant Britney Spears (none exist that I'm aware of, and how disgusting of you to wonder).

He explained how he wanted to handle things with the daycare: Coordinate our efforts via a face to face meeting where we'd discuss how they handled him and discuss how we could mirror their efforts at home in order to maintain consistency. He was focused and concerned about proper child rearing practices. I was afraid I'd see a parent of one of the afflicted and get the talking to of my life and that they'd kick my son out of daycare and we'd get sued by the other child's parents. My husband was strategizing and I was catastrophizing.

Nervous as a Korean engineering student making his debut on American Idol, I pulled into the parking lot. Nary a car. I prayed silently that we'd slide on outa there. When I entered Spencer's play room, there he sat in a table-highchair hybrid: Approximately two feet around him, separating him from every other child in the room. All I could hear in the back of my head was: "I ate his liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti".

And there was my angel baby.

Spencer was looking up at me, sweet as could be. I felt horrible. I picked him up, apologizing to the director profusely. I waited for her to chew me out (oh BAD. no pun intended. honest.), expecting dirty looks and tongue clicking. Instead it was business as usual.

They pointed out his victims and showed me that although they'd thought he'd broken the skin on one girls finger, it seemed to not be so bad. One victim, a little girl, came right over to hug Spencer. She was forgiving her attacker! It was amazing to learn she'd been accosted by my sons chompers and wasn't trying to pull his hair out.

The other little boy was about his age and tends to be his riding partner when they're all taken outside in strollers. Apparently they were having a WWF Smackdown right in the stroller. Spencer won without having to go to a closed cage match. Noone was worse for the wear really except me.

I skulked out of there with Spencer on my arm, smiling awkwardly and making small talk as we left. The only thing he's bitten since are my finger (cause I was trying to clean orange crayon from the inside of his mouth) and his three regular meals accompanied by ice cream.

If I see his teeth bared I just have to keep repeating the following mantra: "Redirect...Redirect...Redirect". Or buy a muzzle.

Mecca or Hell?

I have found it. Both in one place. Moorestown , New Jersey.
The five mile radius around my office is spilling over with every type of store, strip mall and mega mall. I dare say I was overwhelmed by this new reality.

Do you realize that in one day I could probably design, build, furnish a house, buy enough clothing, accessories and shoes to last a lifetime, eat and eat and eat, work out, eat some more, buy bigger clothing, go to the doctor with my higher cholesterol (from all the eating), get physical therapy, drink cappucino and all kinds of revved up coffee drinks until I am spinning like a top, buy a good book, get someone a greeting card and stock up on enough tchotkes until I can barely fit all the purchases in my car, go outside with the intent to write or read or clean something and end up in my car magnetically pulled in the direction of clothing on sale.

Narcolepsy is taking over. Eyes feel like little elephants are sitting on them.

Goodnight good people of LA and MISS. Try try try not to go crazy and kill eachother.
I am going to bed.

-K

Welcome to the Jungle

Ok, I admit it, it was a madhouse.

As we entered Subjective Family Fun Center today, my friend Barb asked me if I felt a little unsettled by the chaos all around us. I'd never been to a "family fun center" or "soft amusement park" or "indoor amusement center" with Spencer before, and I didn't want to feel intimidated right out of the gate, so I said no, that yeah it was wild, but it didn't have any effect on me really.

As it became more and more necessary to yell to one another as if we were in a bar, I started to wonder a little. As we were nearly run over by frantic parents chasing their candy-and-pizza-wired kids, I wondered a little more. As it became more and more apparent that parents go to these places to let their kids run wild like beasts; all over my son and my friends' toddlers, I was getting downright flabbergasted.

I spent half my time there parenting OPP (other people's progeny), trying to keep them from jumping on top of Spencer, who was happily flumfing around in what amounted to a box full of balls. The other half I spent trying to find my friends who were busy chasing their little ones around, or reassuring them after they'd been attacked by "wildekids". At one point I became indignant enough to approach the front desk and inquire assertively about the policy for monitoring the "Toddlers Only" area, since over half the jumping monkeys in there were at least 5. A disgruntled looking adolescent wearing her requisite staff t-shirt would patrol the area, a bit like the way the late night security shift does at your local 24 hour supermarket.

It appears today has taken its toll on me starting 5 minutes ago. I am falling asleep as I type this. More elaboration on the decline of civiliation when I return.

Cliff Notes for August

We bought & sold, we moved, we're diggin' in.

I was starting to get used to a weekly schedule of taking care of Spence MWF and having him in "school" twice a week, which allowed me to run errands and shop for stuff like paint, spackle, outlet covers, and the like. Then it happened: I got a JOB.

That's right, the thing I've been chasing since January: Working Mom status. It all happened in two days and now I'm driving two hours a day to get to work. I'm getting up WAY early. Good moolah and the gig is cool so far - it's amazing how when you've been sort-of doing the same stuff for awhile and you get an opportunity to flex your skills on a larger scale - it's like getting out of a small car after a long drive. It takes awhile to get where you're going and you had a really good ride, and now it's great to get out and open up into a larger space that can hold you.
Not sure if this analogy is working because I'm tired. In any case, compliments all around.

Got a chance to go out and tie one on at a local pub/karaoke bar. If secondhand smoke and 2$ pints (DOMESTIC, duh) are your bag, then go visit the Riddle Ale House on Baltimore Pike/Route 1 near the Granite Run Mall and Riddle Memorial Hospital. This is, of course, in Delaware County near where we're living now. All the trappings of suburbia with a tinge of city and low key everywhere. It's really a great mix we have around here. Now, if I could just get some shopping done in Moorestown.

I'm working almost right next to the Moorestown Mall. It's temptation hell. More stores than the eye can take in, more deals and sales and that's just the one flanking the mall on all sides. It's like a fortress of shopping. I mean it.

Spence started in a new daycare. It's near us so it's convenient that way, and Guy has really taken on the mornings with our man Spencer. He's in "school" more than I'd like, but as they say, hundreds of thousands of moms and families do it every day, so it's a matter of adjustment, right? Adjust THIS. It's weird.

Here's a Spencer primer for ya:

bwa bwa = Mommy's keys or anything I can see that looks fun to play with
ca = the dog, a door, outside, a bird
uh oh = "Pick that up, won't you?"
pu pu (or bu bu) = hubba bubba (I taught him that tonight)

We're learning sign language rapidly and he's more and more into everything, ESPECIALLY chalk, pencils and paper. He and his daddy have drawing/art time at least 3 times a week.

Note: Can someone explain to me the significance or appeal of Goodnight Moon? He is nearly as obsessed with this book as with my keys. Is there something I don't get?
I would appreciate a little analysis.

Speaking of keys, he now wants them when they're in the ignition keeping the car on. I think subterfuge may be necessary. A new keychain may be in order.

Ok, my laptop is running out of juice.

Technical Note: Get a camera phone.

Strange Noises, Stranger Names

Last night we slept in our bed in our room for the first time since we moved here.
It was shaping up to be great until we turned on Spencer's monitor and heard something that sounded like whales on land calling out to a large moose. Guy and I both bolted out of bed in confusion. When we opened the door to our room we could hear it coming from outside. NO idea what it was, but it suddenly felt all too much like a scene from the M. Night Shamalyan film Signs. We were freaking to say the least. Somehow I got to sleep, assuring us both that I'd call the township to find out what kind of an alarm they have going off in the middle of the night.

When I called the township this morning, the representative did not know what I was talking about. I even demonstrated for her over the phone (would have sounded REALLY weird if she'd had me on speaker). Guy told me later that it wasn't a fire alarm cause he'd heard one earlier that day. I suppose I'll need to listen for it again.

In an unrelated subject, I leave you with this question: What is "wishniak"?