You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb
Jai ho! Last week was some sort of bizarre blur of sleepless misery, as my child’s first tooth decided to make an appearance, and MY GOD, I felt so sorry for her, but you know what else? I also felt very sorry for myself, because there was much wee-hour stumbling back and forth from one room to the next, and not a lot of sleeping and MAH GOD, what, are those little teeth made of RAZORBLADES or what? And why, suddenly, although the tooth is a mere MILLIMETER further along than it was those fretful, tired days, does she seem much more accustomed to it?
Speaking of kid, she’s a spectacular eater, to no one’s surprise, and I only wish I could get as excited as she does about a plate of green beans. GREEN BEANS. Pureed, no less, and resembling the color of puked-up camo pants. The kid flaps her arms and yells and GRUNTS, like someone’s handing her a giant piece of caramel-soaked CAKE, for chrissake. This, oddly, brings my to my first parenting-related FOOD BEEF, which is that companies like Gerber are marketing pureed desserts to babies. COME ON. Babies — if they’re still eating purees — don’t give a shit about dessert. The don’t even know what dessert IS. So really, do we have to have DESSERT? For BABIES? Babies who think that green beans are the SHIZNIT? She likes carrots and delicious Greek yogurt with pears equally, so for God’s sake, can we LAY OFF THE DESSERT TALK FOR INFANTS?
**WARNING TO PEOPLE OF THE MALE PERSUASION: MENSTRUAL TALK AHEAD**
In other thrilling news, my period has arrived once again. This is remarkable because I have not experienced my monthly womanly duties since May. Of 2008. MAY OF 2008. That’s a year and a half, folks, thanks to pregnancy and nursing (which I’m still doing), and let me tell you, I think the only person in history who was more surprised by the arrival of their period was Stephen King’s Carrie. You guys, I was MYSTIFIED by the entire phenomenon, and was so shocked that for a few horrific moments, I was certain that my birth-related stitches, which are long healed, had somehow RUPTURED and I was coming apart at the ladybits. A flip through the mental rolodex of PMS symptoms and earlier feeling that the return was nigh saved me from pulling a Fried Green Tomatoes and lying on the floor with a mirror between my legs to check for damage.
To add insult to injury, I do believe my Moon Cup was lost in our last move, and let’s pause for a moment to consider the horrific moment when someone makes THAT discovery, wherever she landed. Also, an unsolicited tip: I’m ordering The Keeper, and if you’re on the market for such things, I suggest you do the same. Yes, it’s brown, and resembles the color of poop, but you know what? It doesn’t stain. Well, visibly, anyway.
SORRY SORRY SORRY
To abruptly switch gears, my mother and step-dad went to Virginia over Halloween to visit a few of my brothers and go trick-or-treating with my (many) nephews. This is mostly irrelevant, except that the trip reminded me of a fight she got into with one of my brother’s wives, and while it was quite ugly and ridiculous at the time (all is now well, of course), I will never forget the moment she called me on my mobile as I placed an order at Five Guys’ Burgers and Fries and wailed, “WE HAD A HORRIBLE ROW!”
A ROW. A row. Honestly, who says that? My mother, that’s who. Oh, Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry, it’s not that I think the situation was funny, it’s that … well, come on now. ROW. Pronounced “RAO” not like rowing a boat. And I can’t stop laughing about it. Although in retrospect, it WAS a horrible row, although again, really, EVERYTHING IS FINE.
And finally, NaNiceMo is going reasonably well, I reckon, although today I copped out like a little pansy and made my contribution to society at large the simple act of picking up one of those holiday food donation boxes at the grocery store and paying $10 to donate it to the local food bank. Shrug. I prefer more personal acts of niceness, because anyone can plunk down ten bucks, you know? Meh.
With that, I’m off to bed at the ungodly hour of EIGHT FORTY FIVE, and will very likely finish Sookie #9 (thank you, Jesus, we are almost done here), effectively ending my time with this series until book 10 comes out in May. I have, for reasons unclear to me, chosen Charlaine Harris’s Harper Connelly series next, although mercifully there are only four so far.
And after THAT, my reading list consists of The Historian, The Hour I First Believed and Her Fearful Symmetry. Aaaand, only one of those does not really deal with the supernatural, and I think it’s safe to say that a) I have a problem with the paranormal; and b) I am going to be busy for a little while.
Happy Monday!
*Spoon. (SORRY SORRY SORRY. AM GROSSER THAN GROSS I KNOW.)
36 comments November 8th, 2009