Went to our old market and bought a pound of their ready-made meatloaf for dinner, then the next day thought, why didn't I buy a few pounds? That shit freezes easy. Next time, I will. The last time I made chili, I froze a bunch of it, and it's ready for a quick lunch or breakfast whenever I want it.
Then, there's The Bug, who is growing and changing so quickly I can't begin to keep up. He pulls himself to standing in his crib, after much angry bitching, then shrieks with delight at himself. He creeps along the perimeter, and sometimes stumbles and falls, smashing his head. So far, he's been fine. I can't help but see all the ways he could really hurt himself play through my head. It's going to get harder and harder from here, at least through his toddler years. I was reading "To Hell With All That" by this rich bitch who thinks she can write about being a housewife even though she's always had a maid to change her sheets, and she writes about being at Gymboree with her kids, packing up to go, and sneezing, and a small voice came from the floor, "Bless you." And then, she realized she was in business. She could handle it from there.
It's been on my mind, lately, how important verbal communication is. Words are why "cleaning house" sounds boring, dreaded, and oppressive, but "blessing your home" sounds so nice. God, I love Flylady.net. Anyway, I can't wait until The Bug can talk. Something besides the annoyed "Mama, Mom, Mama, Mom" I get when he wants something.
I have stopped telling people what he is really like. Today at Gymboree, I had to say something he can recently do, and I just mentioned that he's pulling himself to standing, which is true, but I picked that because other moms in the group were using that one, too. I would have gotten sideways looks if I mentioned that he can touch my nose, eyes, cheeks, lips, and ears on command; that given a book of animal pictures and asked to find the kitty, he will point out the lion, tiger, or kitten (he also points at the kitten when asked which is his favorite - after much hilarious deliberation); that he has been startling me by repeating things I say ("Don't lick that," I said at the park, regarding a swingset pole. "Lick," he responded). I'm sure the teacher lady at Gymboree would have told me in kind, low tones that I'm just hearing things, because I've been told this before.
Other things are on my mind, too, like that Celeste is better now, but she's gone to Northern California until Monday, and I'm going through withdrawals, plus I'd like to tell you the stuff I've learned from her and Jason lately, which they would be surprised to hear. Also in the news: I drunk dialed for the first time the other night. I'd like to review Shopgirl, the movie, but I need to think it out first. I alternately agree with that rich bitch mentioned way up there, and then think she just needs to get with the times, and then I think she's just an out-of-touch ho, and then I think she's marvellously insightful, and then I think she should just get busy with Martha Stewart and get it over with. Also, there's this Day Without A Mexican or whatever, this Monday, which I fear is a bad idea, and tomorrow there's a baby shower I'm scared of, and The Bug looks really good in his new Angels hat (Michelle, I'm going to take pictures and send them to you; it's fantastic).
I know this has been a stupid post. I didn't have time to make it pretty. This is what my head is like, now. There's no way to unscramble it all. I'm lucky if I get a few words out on paper to my brother every other day.
Ech, fuck it. I'm going to bed.
posted by Samus @ 11:54 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home