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February 26, 2009

I'm updating this from the comfort of my bed. Many special thanks to Dave's laptop and our AirPort for making this possible. I'm probably going to doze off halfway through this post, lulled into unconsciousness by the low hum of the computer and my snoring kid in the next room. There are worse soundtracks to fall asleep to.

Dave and I went and checked out the house today. I went in expecting to love it and instead walked away not thrilled, whereas Dave went in with no expectations and liked it well enough. The problem we're running into is there aren't a lot of options in the price range we're looking at, which is ironic because we're looking within a range I really never thought I'd be in a situation to realistically afford. Sometimes even when you find yourself firmly established and living within some sort of definition of "adulthood" you still can't get past some of the ideas that formed apropos of nothing when you were fresh out of college. Anyway, when we got home from the showing I went onto realtor.com to see if maybe through some miracle ten or twenty absolutely adorable houses went on the market while we were asleep last night but, alas, I was greeted by the same gallery of rogues that has been showing up for the last three or four months. So no Raul. Not yet anyway.

February 25, 2009

Recent conversation at a kid's birthday party

me: So Dave and I drove by this house today. I think we're going to make an appointment to go look at it. It's cute. It has three bedrooms like we want. It's got more than one bathroom which is always good. The only thing is it has a swimming pool. I'm not sure I want to deal with the hassle of maintaining one.
Megan: You can always hire a maintenance company to look after it for you.
me: That's true.
Megan: Orrrrrrr...you could hire a pool boy.
me: OH MY GOSH!!! A pool boy! Even better!
Megan: Yeah, you could get a high school kid to come in and clean it and everything.
me: Or I could hire a college kid, just to make sure everything stays nice and legal.
Megan: EVEN BETTER!!!
Megan's mom: I had a pool boy once.
Megan: Really? Did he walk around in a tiny swimsuit?
Megan's mom: No, but sometimes he took his shirt off...
me: Wow...
Megan: Wow...
Megan's stepdad: (to Megan's mom) What do you mean "had"?

February 23, 2009

Family, friends, and the US Postal Service save the day

A couple of weeks ago we went to playgroup. At this playgroup, there were lots of balloons to kick around. Henry was very happy. When it was time to leave, he asked if he could take one of them with him, and I told him they weren't our balloons to take, but that, thanks to his Great-Grandma Ethel, we had some at home that we could blow up and play with. When we got back home, Henry selected a yellow one, and he was very happy. The next morning the first thing he did when he came downstairs was locate his balloon so he could run around with it, bounce it, and, finally, sit on it. It popped. Henry was a little confused about what had happened and after I explained that he was a little too heavy to sit on a balloon without it popping, he asked for another yellow balloon. I brought out the baggie, but there were no more yellow balloons to be had. I suggested green. Nope. How about blue, your favorite color? Nope. It had to be yellow. While I was telling him that other colors were just as much fun as the yellow ones, I went out the front door to check the mail. Sitting in the mailbox was a Valentine's Day package from his Great-Grandma Ethel. And what's the first thing he pulled out of his box of presents? A baggie full of balloons, at the center of which was a yellow one. Henry was very happy.

Last Friday evening the three of us were hanging out in the back room. Dave was on the computer and Henry and I were messing around on the bed, playing musical instruments, having tickle fights, and generally raising a ruckus. For whatever reason, I started singing "I'm gettin' nuthin', for Christmas/Mommy and Daddy are mad/I'm gettin' nuthin' for Christmas/'Cuz I ain't been nuthin' but bad". Henry turned away from me and was very quiet. I leaned around to see if he was all right and his lower lip was stuck out, his chin was quivering, and tears were welling up. I asked what was wrong and he said "Nothing" but still there was the quivering and the welling and the lip-sticking-out-ing. I asked if he was upset about my song and he turned to me with tears running down his cheeks and literally roared at me. There was just no other way to express his feelings I guess. So I dissected the bits of the song: "Are you sad because you think mommy and daddy are mad?" *sniff* "Are you sad because of the part that says 'I ain't been nuthin' but bad'"? *sniff* "Are you sad because you think you aren't getting anything for Christmas?" *WAIL*, *TEARS*, and of course *horrible parental guilt*. I assured him that it was just a song and that it didn't mean anything, that of course he'd be getting Christmas presents, etc, etc, and also GOOD GRIEF. The next morning we got up, I went out to check the mail, and Henry had a package waiting for him from his friend Clementine. And in this package were awesome blue (his favorite color!) pajamas that were housed in a lovely Christmas gift bag. I was all "SEE? I told you you'd get Christmas presents! It was just a silly song!" And so if there were any lingering doubts left over from the previous night's musical debacle, they were successfully put to rest by a very sweet little girl and her family. Henry was very happy.

February 18, 2009

Moons

One of the first words Henry learned how to say was "moon". In fact, I don't think we even really knew that he knew how to say it until one day while we were toweling him off after a bath he spotted a mole on his upper thigh, pointed to it, and with great conviction declared "Moon."

Tonight while getting him dressed for bed I pointed to his thigh and, per custom, said "Nice moon", to which he replied "Yeah. It's a brown moon." long pause "How come it's a brown moon?" I told him I didn't know, and then I pulled up my sleeve and pointed out a brown moon on my arm. Henry said "Look! You have a brown moon too! And another one! You have lots of brown moons!" Then he looked up, waved his hands in front of my face, and excitedly declared "You have lots of pink ones too! There are lots of different colored moons!"

Is that a hint I need to call my dermatologist?

February 15, 2009

What we're made up of

A while ago my mom read an article about how Americans are comprised of mostly corn* because of our diets and because of the diets of the animals we eat. Pretty scary thought. After conducting my own research, I've figure out what Henry and I are made of (after sugar, spice, snips, snails, and puppy dog tails):

60% cheese
15% pancake
8% maple syrup
5% milk/coffee
5% cornbread
2.5% cookie
2.25% cupcake
2% meatball
.25% cold germs

Dave is:
50% mashed potato
25% coffee
25% steak

*This is not the article my mom read, but it's a good explanation and it gets its Chemistry on a teensy-weensy bit so I had to link to it for Dave.

February 11, 2009

59

59 is what the temperature was today. That combined with the purchase of three very important female undergarments (we'll call them bras) has vastly improved my outlook on life. Right after I picked Henry up from pre-school we headed to the park "with the drums". It was a mob scene. We were there for 30 minutes before I was ready to go home, and as we were walking back to the car I overheard a woman saying to her kids "...but we have to go now, we've been here for two and a half hours already." I don't think I've ever hung in there that long at the park. After we got home I got us something to eat and we retired to the front stoop to munch and play with Henry's new bubble machine. It really was a much-needed, sunshiny (for the most part), and glorious day.

Here are a few links dedicated to my parents. The first is for my dad if he can stand 4+ minutes of the Beastie Boys (be forewarned, there is some profanity). The second is for my mom, from the brief heyday of V66.

February 04, 2009

After dropping Henry off at preschool on Monday I was blazing through the radio stations hoping to get lucky when I came across one that was playing "Parents Just Don't Understand" by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. I don't think I've heard that song since the late 80's, and definitely I haven't heard it on the radio since then. A couple of weeks ago my mom and I were talking about it and how I used to know all of the words. She asked if I still did and after hearing it on Monday I can now say with utter confidence that I do not. That knowledge was given the boot during the summer of 1992 when I listened to Check Your Head by the Beastie Boys approximately 5,472,637 times. There's an album I still know most of the words to. When Dave first started his job at Bucknell I used to ask him "Professor, what's another word for pirate treasure? Well, I think it's booty, booty, booty, that's what it is." I don't think he thought it was very funny. I, however, know that it was hilarious.

Now I have to go listen to it.

February 03, 2009

A couple of my friends have updated their blogs after having taken a brief absence and I guess I should probably do the same. Lately I've been wandering around in a bit of a daze. This has been a particularly hard winter. I've been trying hard not to indulge in my desire to sit on the couch in a stupor because that tends to make a person feel worse. Sometimes I do it anyway. Last week Henry and I hosted playgroup. This forced me to have to clean the house which felt pretty good. After our long bout with colds last December, it had been a while since I made much of an effort to make the place look presentable, something you can get away with in the winter when no one is really venturing out of their own house to visit. It was nice to have a bunch of kids running around and raising a ruckus. It helps make the house feel warm and cozy and loud instead of its usual quiet.

Dave's parents are coming for a visit later this week. It'll be nice to have a shakeup in the routine, plus it'll be nice for Henry to have a couple of non-duds to play with for a change. I've told him a few times that they're coming but he just says "No they're not." I don't think he believes anything we say anymore, despite the fact that we've never led him astray. He'll be very excited when he sees them in person standing in his living room.

Today I have a doctor's appointment. I asked Henry if he'd like to go with me and he said "NO!" When I clarified that it was a mommy doctor and not a Henry doctor, he looked at me warily for a few seconds then told me that yes, in fact, he would very much like to go. Nothing gets my kid more excited than watching other people suffer at the hands of a doctor.