You know it's hard out here

Mike and I watched Hustle and Flow last night, which is about a pimp who tries to become a rapper. Good movie. Terrence Howard was awesome.

Just a moment ago, as I was perusing Florida real estate listings on Realtor.com, I hear, "You know it's hard out here for a pimp, when he tryin' to get this money for the rent! You know it's hard out here for a pimp..."

I turn to see Mike singing in the kitchen, wearing a baseball cap, a God Bless America t-shirt and holding a can of Endust. I stare at him. He stares back, daring me to laugh.

"...when he tryin' to dust his breakfast nook!" he finishes.

It's a very gangster-looking breakfast nook.

Songs for Fathers

Music is really important to Mike, and it's been a big part of his life since childhood. So when I was pregnant, it seemed right to make him a CD of songs about fatherhood (wow- I almost typed "mix tape" instead of "CD"). Trouble was, I could find plenty of nice songs about fathers and daughters, but most of the father-son songs I came across had themes of anger and bitterness. For example, Cat's in the Cradle came up every time I tried a new Google search for fatherhood-related songs. Not exactly what I had in mind, you know?

So here's what I ended up with. Not all of them are about fatherhood, exactly, but they all fit. Mike loved it, and he still plays it while he and Lion are hanging out together.

Beautiful Boy - John Lennon
So Damn Lucky - Dave Matthews Band
Gassenhauer - Carl Orff
Little Potato - Metamora (this song is ADORABLE- we called Lion Little Potato for months)
Blackbird - the Beatles (we used to sing this to my belly)
The Things We've Handed Down - Marc Cohn
Kooks - David Bowie
In My Life - the Beatles
My First Child - Nil Lara
Still Fighting It - Ben Folds
Just the Two of Us - Will Smith
You Belong to Me - Jason Wade
Slumber My Darling - Allison Krauss
You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You - Dean Martin (Mike sings this to Lion a lot)
Lullabye for Wyatt - Sheryl Crow
Two of Us - the Beatles
Danny's Song - Loggins & Messina
Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel) - Billy Joel

Which songs would you add to this list?

Making up for lost time. Bear with me.

Stressful, stressful situation in the worky world, which of course I will not discuss here, but suffice it to say that I was up until 1:30 a.m. watching Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and not because I particularly enjoyed it. For once I can't blame my lack of sleep on a teething baby (now that tooth #6 and tooth #7 have broken through, he's been sleeping fabulously); no, it was simply a tornado of thoughts that wouldn't go away. That hasn't happened in at least 18 months, mostly because I've been so consistently tired that only a pregnant belly or a crying baby could keep me awake. Other than that, I'm so exhausted that I can-- for the first time in MY LIFE-- sleep soundly through just about any noise you could think of, including the Earth-shaking rumble of my neighbor's obnoxiously huge pick-up truck as he starts it up at 4:30 each morning, mere steps away from my bedroom window.

For the love of God! I used to want to shout at him. Don't you want to BUY A NICE, QUIET PRIUS OR MINI COOPER LIKE EVERYONE ELSE AROUND HERE?

I will say this: stressful worky issue doesn't have anything to do with my job share, which was finally approved for the coming fiscal year. That was a big relief. Daycare is great for Lion- many times he laughs and pumps his tiny fists in the air when he realizes where we're going, and he loves being around the other babies- but still, I'm glad he's there part-time.

I'm still amazed at the expense of daycare, even part-time daycare. We'd love to have another baby, we're sure of it, but in these parts, two kids in part-time daycare would practically cancel out my financial contribution to the household. Which doesn't mean another baby is out of the question, not at all, but I'm not sure I buy into the whole "There's never a right time, you just have to go for it and you'll find a way to manage!" thing. I'm the kind of person who likes to have "a way to manage" mapped out ahead of time. Also, things still seem shaky to me. Thoughts on the economy's recovery, real or imagined? Anyone? Bueller? Should I just consult my old Magic 8 ball?

I love my career and I want to work (also, I need to work, for sanity's sake), so it's not just about the money. But money's important, especially if you want to save for retirement and college and not stress when you have to visit the pediatrician five times in one month and if you'd like take the occasional road trip to Florida.

Which, yes, we're going to Florida again! In July. And we'll be meeting with the same real estate agent we saw last time (which, huh! in reading those old posts I see that I forgot to mention the real estate thing. Guess I was too distracted by a certain embryo). We're going to spend a couple of days exploring different neighborhoods and touring some houses, and just... see. I really doubt we'll move anytime soon, because while I'm pretty sure we could sell our house fairly quickly and I'm absolutely sure we could find a new one in Florida, the pesky job thing stands in the way. It's a good thing we didn't move the last time we got serious about this, because the school system with which Mike had a promising phone interview has since laid off hundreds of people, and we'd probably be living with my parents right now.

The problem is that I already found the perfect house for us, a house that has enough storage space and lots of windows and isn't RIGHTNEXT to the neighbors' houses and backs up to a state park and has a yard big enough for the garden of my dreams and is in a good school district and is painted the most becoming shade of green and topped with a charming metal roof. We'll go see it in a couple of weeks.

Internet, Magic 8 ball- I know what you're going to say! We should just get pregnant again, sell our house, buy The Perfect House, and move to Florida without any job prospects, right? We'll find a way to manage.

Confessions

Confession #1:

I've had my cell phone for two years, and I have yet to memorize the number. Whenever someone asks for it, I have to check the phone. Of course, this is problematic when I'm already engaged in a cell phone conversation with that person, because I haven't found any way to get my number to display while I'm talking.


Me: Uh, don't you have Caller ID?

Them: No. Why don't you just tell me the number?

Me: Ha ha ha! Who doesn't have Caller ID?

Them: What?

Me: Seriously, who doesn't have Caller ID in this day and age? Ha ha ha ha!

Them: You don't know your number, do you?

Me: I wouldn't say that.

Them: Just tell me the first six numbers.

Me:

Them: You don't know your own number. ADMIT IT.

Me: Oh, fine.


Confession #2:

I don't eat them very often, but I harbor a secret love of Hostess cupcakes. The orange ones. The chocolate ones are disgusting, but the ones with the R40, Y5, and Y6 food dyes and fake orange flavoring? Delicious.

Updates aplenty

Am I really dying?
No.

You exaggerate a lot, don't you?
Yes.

Is Lion walking yet?
No, but a couple of days after the crawling began I walked into his nursery one morning to find him standing there in his crib with a huge grin on his face. Why sit when you can crawl? Why crawl when you can grab onto that teeny tiny edge of the oven, pull yourself up with shaky arms and sway like a happy, drunken little man while a pot of water boils one foot above your head? Babies! It's like they'd never survive without us.

Insect bites or chicken pox?
Neither. The pediatrician thought the spots were a side effect of the antibiotic Lion was on for his ear infection, though when they disappeared completely after 24 hours (while he was still on the meds), I wondered if it could have been a food allergy. I'd made Lion a dish with shredded zucchini, quinoa, olive oil and cumin, and the cumin was the only new ingredient. I'll wait a while, then try cumin again and see what happens.

Temites?
No, thank god. Flying ants, which, gross, but at least they're not eating my house. I could have sworn they were termites. I caught a few in a jar and studied them, comparing them to flying ants v. termites pictures I found on Google Images, but hey. The professional exterminator who could have charged us a zillion dollars for an unnecessary termite treatment said they were ants, so I'll believe him. Of course, before he came I'd already conjured up a worst case scenario in which the termite-riddled joists under the second floor of the house crumbled in the middle of the night, killing all of us. The termites decided that although they prefer wood, they could not pass up the six wet, delicious eyeballs of the former homeowners.

Did you go naked to the wedding?
No, although I probably could have. My brother and his wife have a bunch of very nice friends who look much more artsy and trendy than I could ever hope to be, what with their horn-rimmed glasses and vegan shoes and Canon 5Ds hanging from their necks. They probably would have taken my nudity as a sign of my commitment to the environment.

I returned the Anthropologie dress and found another one three days before we had to leave for New York. Ha ha! I bet you're thinking that I was the type of college student who needed the pressure of an 8 a.m. deadline to type a 10-page term paper the night before. And you would be right.

I planned to post a picture of myself in the dress, but 1) Mike was in the wedding and I was wrangling the baby, so I don't have many pictures of the wedding, period, and 2) I'm holding Lion in every picture taken with my camera, and you know I don't post pictures of him here. But I guess I could, just this once.

I found the dress for a great price in Off 5th. It's a nice soft jersey, and the first time I tried it on at home, Lion grabbed the stretchy neckline and pulled it clear down to my waist. So! I paired it with a black camisole, and a cute pair of black peeptoe canvas wedges.

And now that you know what I wore, you'll be wondering what Lion wore. Tie & vest onesie from a shop on Etsy**, black pants, and skull & crossbones shoes. He was obviously the hit of the party.

He was such a good baby the entire time, from the car trip to the late-night rehearsal party through the wedding and reception the next evening. He pooped out before the bonfire, but everyone was amazed by his good nature. He was the only child allowed at the wedding, and I'm sure the bride and groom didn't regret sending him an invitation. No crying or fussing, even when he was clearly exhausted. He just took it all in with those big, blue eyes. The people, the noise, the lake and the sun and the trees.

I had the best date there, I'm sure of it.

**edited to add a link to the Etsy shop where I got the onesie, for those who emailed or commented.

Excuses

Hello there! It's me. I meant to call or stop by, but obviously, I didn't.

First, I seem to have been sick for a solid month. I thought I was finally feeling better last Friday, except for this nagging, dry cough, and then I completely lost my voice the next morning. After not being able to speak for three days, I developed a hacking cough, the kind that keeps you up all night, makes your eyes water, and forces your lungs up into the space where your brain once resided. Of course, I had dinner with Bdogg last Friday night and told her that I was simply tired (which wasn't a lie; see below), so if you haven't heard from her in a while it may be because I infected her with the plague. So sorry, Bdogg.

My body might have a chance of healing itself if I could get more than two hours of sleep at a time. Poor Lion had an ear infection, then his top two teeth broke through, followed by a third on the bottom, and it looks like there are more on the way. Like, SOON. I guess he takes after me in that he'd rather get something difficult over with in one fell swoop? Send bibs; we are drowning in drool over here.

In other Lion news, he started crawling last week and is getting faster and more self-destructive by the hour. Forget the nice, safe toys Mama scattered around the room- I'm heading straight for that power cord! And the stairs! And then I'll repeatedly aim my eyeball at that sharp, sharp cabinet corner. My god, our house is full of sharp corners I never noticed before. It's a miracle we've all survived this long.

Lion woke up this morning with what appeared to be insect bites. Lots of them. They're either insect bites or... chicken pox? Either way, the daycare won't take him unless we have a note from the doctor saying he doesn't have chicken pox.

So I'm waiting for the pediatrician's office to open. And also for the exterminator, because we might have termites. Do termites also eat baby flesh?

In case you were wondering, I will definitely be going naked to the wedding. Unless I die first.

Let's go off on a tangent

Questions:

1. Am I going to be working part-time for the next year?

2. What the hell will I wear to the wedding?


So, question number one. I submitted the paperwork to have my job share renewed for the coming fiscal year (which is coming very soon), but it's been over a month and no reply. This is making me anxious. If it's renewed, great. If not, what will I do? I guess this is a two-part question. Sigh. And sigh.

Question number two: will I go naked to the wedding? I mean, it's outdoors and all, so nudity might fly. Ha ha! Just kidding, but I have a little story about nudity coming up.

I bought this Anthropologie dress in purple after it was recommended by someone else. It's jersey material, so baby-friendly and not too formal. But after I wore it for a few minutes, I decided I didn't like the ruching around the waist. It kept riding up every time I bent or turned and was making a pest of itself. And I can't do my patented Brick House dance moves if my dress is riding up, now can I?

Anyhow, there is an Anthropologie store here but I decided to save time by ordering online, which never saves time. Right? I keep forgetting that last part. I've had great success with virtual shoe shopping, but clothing rarely works out unless it's something that I know will fit well based on previous experience.

(that reminds me of this time I bought an Ann Taylor sweater on eBay. I felt supremely confident that it would fit, as Ann Taylor is the one brand that always works for me, and the seller said it was NWT (New With Tags). What I actually got looked like a child's sweater, it was so badly shrunken, and the "tag" attached to it was just the plastic fastener SANS tag, and it was ORANGE. Which, if you've ever shopped at Ann Taylor, you know they don't use orange tag fasteners. So I email the lady and politely tell her she's full of shit, there's no way that sweater is new. And she gives me some story about how she gets her clothing at this big warehouse and sometimes the clothes are in piles on this dirty floor, so she always does her buyers the service of washing the garments before shipping and she hopes I appreciate her going the extra mile. I was like, FURTHER BULLSHIT, and I am never buying anything from you AGAIN, and then I flounced out of the virtual room.)

What was I talking about? The dress, right.

So the dress doesn't work, and now I have to either pay to ship it back or I have to go to the Anthropologie store anyway. Someday I will learn.

The morning the dress arrived, Lion was napping and I was getting ready for work. I'd just gotten out of the shower when I heard a truck pull up outside. Alex started barking. Why do dogs hate UPS trucks? Even if we're out on a walk miles from our house, if Alex spots one coming up the street he'll puff up his practically nonexistant tail and growl menacingly, like HOW DARE YOU, SIR. And he's so wee and so puppy-looking that the drivers usually smile and wave patronizingly as they pass. "Hewo, wittle puppy! Oh my, wook at your big teef!" No wonder he has a complex.

So Alex starts barking at the truck and I run downstairs (naked) to quiet him before he wakes the baby. I look out the peephole see the truck driving away, and realize that my dress must be on the front step. Squee! I am understandably anxious to try it on but loath to make a trip upstairs just to grab my bathrobe (as I am very into saving time, remember?), so I hide behind the door and open it a crack to see where the package is.

It's right there, but just far enough to the right that I can't simply reach my arm around and grab it. It is obviously impossible, but that doesn't stop me from making several attempts and even using an umbrella to try to drag it closer, but I only succeed in knocking it off the step.

So I shut the door and sit there on the floor thinking about how I will get the package. By this time I could have driven to Maryland and purchased a brand new bathrobe, but I want to save time by being ridiculous. In the nude.

I wonder if I am brave enough to simply fling open the door and hope that my neighbors won't be looking in my direction at that particular moment. No, I decide, I really should cover up. So I look around and notice the basket of laundry sitting by the couch. Too bad it's Lion's itty bitty clothing. But there's a hand towel in there, so I grab that and return to the front door.

I figure that if I squat on the floor and drape the hand towel over my front, that will cover everything long enough for me to open the door and grab the package. So I get into position, hold the small towel across my chest with my elbows, and open the door.

Towering over me is a pizza guy distributing fliers.

His mouth falls open.

I yelp and slam the door in his face.

You know, this sort of reminds me of the time my sister accidentally locked herself out of her house while naked. She had to wrap herself in the grill cover and climb in through an open window in the front.

I'm not sure where I was going with this, but you get the picture. We're all idiots.