February 20, 2006
Life As I Know It
So with work being all aaaackkk and bleeaagghh and life with Simon being all schmooooo and my preciousssss, I'm finding it harder and harder to write anything here that I think anyone wants to read. As I've mentioned a couple of times now, it's like this has turned into a mommyblog dedicated to Baby Simon, and 98 percent of the output is how, aw, he looks SO CUTE in his hoody sweatshirt and knit cap and, gah, today he said two new words--potassium! and lordosis!--and, coo, he reached that most speciallest of baby milestones last week when he made mama a quesedilla and then washed all the dishes. Let's see your baby do that!
But whatever. He IS my baby. All that crap about loving someone like you never thought possible and feeling like he's a physical and emotional extension of your very self and if anyone or anything threatens him you will sprout claws like scythes and I'll show YOU Mama Bear, well, it's like that. Only he totally drives a car and wipes his own butt, so again, my baby is way better than yours.
But this weekend Baby's been sick, so it's been my onus to wash the dishes and prepare breakfast in bed and pay the Costco bill. My onus and my pleasure. When I left work early on Friday because Baby needed some orange juice and a burrito, my coworker marvelled at what a sweet life Simon has, to be so fawned over when it's just a sore throat and the sniffles and he's a grown man, for crying out loud. But getting him orange juice and lunch when he's stuck in bed? No problemo. I'm hardly spoiling him when you consider that the moment I even suggest that I'm even a tad uncomfortable in any way, he's all up in my face with sushi and microwave socks and Let's spend the evening snuggling and watching The Bachelor and eating Tofutti Cuties, honeysugarbear. Me? I'm spoiled like month-old milk.
While it think of something worthwhile to say, let's look at some pictures of the baby, shall we?
Awwwwww.
*sigh*
Gaaaahwiththecuteness.
While watching the Olympics last night (when is it over?! I want my life back!), we started talking smack about the ice dancers and stupid Dick Button and the spate of Olympic-specific commercials we've now seen approximately eight hundred times each--so much that we can practically recite them backward, and you yes, there are subliminal satanic messages in that maxi-pad-as-pinball-machine ad. Anyway, whatever we were saying was not only completely forgettable, but also completely lame, and yet we were laying (lying?) there laughing and laughing and laughing because--to ourselves--we're just so goddamn clever it's sometimes hard to get up in the morning, le sigh.
"It's a good thing we find each other so funny," he said, "or we'd be awfully annoyed with each other a lot of the time." I half agreed with him on that (the part about me being NOT AT ALL FUNNY is undeniably true), but from there the conversation just degenerated into "No, you're funny," "No, you're funny," "No, you're funny," and aren't you glad I'm sparing you the gushy goo because, good god people, there's a serious lack of dignity here and I think you know who's to blame.
As evidence that he is funny and I am not, may I present Exhibit A:
Bwahahahahahaha! It kills me every time!
And Exhibits B through E:
Not. At. All. Funny.
I guess there was really no point in all that except to get those pictures out into the world and off my desktop before I die of the hilarity. Ouch. Stop. The funny, it hurts.
And speaking of how awful and hard my life is, have I mentioned before that Simon's apartment as leaky windows and no insulation and we don't have to keep the milk in the refrigerator anymore because the rule is if you can see your breath in the air during lunch, the milk can sit on the counter all day long and be just fine? Yeah, it's cold here. And in honor of President's Day, Simon just presented me with the gift of being able to feel my own fingers and face. Ziploc baggies + hot tea-kettle water = glorious glorious warmth.
Nosewarmer!
There. Are you happy? I posted something. Now I can finally get back to living.
Fiona! I love Fiona! See? Keep referencing Fiona and you can me moogly googly smooshy all you want. Because she provides a nice balance. :)
Posted by: Cora at February 20, 2006 07:04 PMWhat's wrong with Mommy Blogs, bitches? And also I would like a bite of that grilled cheese samich.
Posted by: Kristin at February 20, 2006 08:37 PMI'm surprised at the lack of missives advising against giggling at the word "onus" like a like a twelve-year-old.
Posted by: Tim at February 20, 2006 09:04 PMI'm also surprised at my lack of proofreading abilities.
Like-a like-a, very much.
Posted by: Tim at February 20, 2006 09:05 PMYou 'n' me both, baby bro.
Posted by: Leah at February 20, 2006 09:36 PMi like your mommy blog. i think that it is worthwhile and gives me new demands for my baby to fulfill. although, the olympics with t are hard to watch. he goes all nationalistic with his "germans rule" and "germans do it better."
and btw, you were lying there. unless you were "laying" and then that would be oversharing...
Posted by: jeorg at February 21, 2006 08:47 AMSorry, but I had to laugh at exhibit E. It was indeed funny, though A still is the best.
Posted by: Marisa at February 21, 2006 12:29 PMI like hearing about the ga-ga-ness. You still make it interesting to read, so keep the gooey romance coming our way.
Posted by: Amanda at February 21, 2006 01:06 PMLOL! Leah those CD-cover pictures are hilarious!!!!! Here I am laughing and laughing at work.... =)
Posted by: beck at February 21, 2006 03:25 PMum, what are "microwave socks"?. . .
Posted by: bloopy at February 21, 2006 04:16 PMWell, your website is called A GIRL and a BOY, is it not? I think that gives you liscence to mush about your boy as much as you want. Otherwise, it'd be false advertising or something.
Posted by: Ky at February 22, 2006 02:52 PM
