not so cranky

Taking a break from blah blah me me blah to post a picture of my kid wrestling with his daddy (since wrestling is what babies do best). Aren’t they the cutest? They are totally the cutest.

wrestling with daddy

My favorite part is how they have matching expressions. Oh, and how Not So is modeling his “not so cranky” tee. (I have one that says “cranky” and apparently gets me hit on by lesbians in coffee shops. Bonus!)

Tags: , , ,

today’s post is brought to you by fluffy kittens

Oh, the internet has been so heavy the last few days, hasn’t it? It’s seemed that way to me, and since my opinion is the only one that matters I will simply assume you’re nodding your head (and possibly composing rhyming odes to my perspicacity). I’ve been feeling all riled-up and opinion-having, but that takes a lot of energy. Energy I do not have. Enough, I say! Let the fluffy kittens come out to play!

Today’s fluffy kitten love-fest (or, things that are happy-making and not in the least bit controversial):

My initials on a tee shirt. I am the JNB-est. (Heeeeeeeee.)

Veer has a link to The Art of The Can, an interesting way to get rid of all those Red Bull cans you’ve got laying around. (And by ‘you’ I mean, actually, you. I get wired just thinking about Red Bull.)

Kipiis: a bib clip and alien toy all in one!

halloweeney goodness

Happy Halloween! We’re not dressing up this year, unless you count the fact that Happy Fun Baby is wearing pumpkin-colored sweatpants. Oh, and I’m going as a frumpy housewife. It’s a costume. No really.

The blogosphere is, as expected, abuzz with seasonal goodness. In addition to seriously cute pictures of wee children in costume, I am currently entertained by The Zero Boss, who is featuring a post from Girl’s Gone Child with an updated, politically-correct version of the trick-or-treat rhyme we all knew and loved as kids. (Man, we were smart-asses as children! You’d think we’d have grown out of it by now, wouldn’t you? At least I don’t threaten to de-pant random passers-by. Usually.) As someone who owns Politically Correct Bedtime Stories (and, er, its sequel), I can appreciate such things. Political correctness is totally a punchline. Didn’t you know?

I almost wish we’d decided to dress up the short person, but at almost 11 months old he’s a bit too young to appreciate the finer points of Halloween: namely, candy. I appreciate candy. I appreciate small, individually-wrapped confections of delicious, chocolate-covered…wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Trick-or-treating, and why it’s sort of silly to bring the little one out into the cold and dark to knock on strangers’ doors and beg for treats he can’t have. Which…seems pretty self-explanatory, now that I think about it. Still, he makes a damn cute pirate, even if we haven’t taught him how to say “Arr.”

technorati tags:, , , , ,

Blogged with Flock

lack of creativity = weekend round-up

My creative muscle (which I think is located just below the base of my skull, if the headache is any indicator) has been stretched to the limit this weekend. Not only did I have the beginnings of a final project that kicked my ass all up and down the block, but we’re getting ready to launch both the official couldbe studios site and my pet project (one of them, anyway) copywriting service. And I’m almostalmost done with the site we’re designing for my first client. So: busy! But not too busy to update in list form. I’m never too busy to make lists. Other things I never am include well-rested, conservative, and frugal.

* I finally managed to take my kid to storytime at the library. The verdict? The kid had a grand time, and I really need to work on my social skills. Show of hands: who is surprised by this? Also, there are more hip parents in St. Johns than I would have thought. This is a good thing.

Note: my Cranky Mama flickr account is out of space for this month, so all these pics are from our other account. In case you were confused. Which, I would be.

* I take lots of pictures of my kid. It’s only because he’s so much cuter than anyone else in the world. Except maybe his dad. The two of them together? Cute overload.

* We figured out how to set the shutter speed on the camera. Yes, I know, but who has time to read the manual? I still need to figure out the whole f-stop thing. My photo-geek high-school self is mocking me right now.

* My head has hurt for almost two weeks now. Stupid sinuses.

* Happy Fun Baby figured out how to clap and wave this weekend. His favorite part is getting us to mimic him. Who can resist a baby clapping his chubby little hands together and then looking expectantly at you? The grin he gets when we do his bidding? Totally worth it.

* I have no other bullet points.

Right now the kid and the cat are snuggled up together on the couch, napping. I could take a picture, but I’m not going to. This one I want to keep for myself.

technorati tags:, , , , , , , , ,

Blogged with Flock

you take the good, you take the bad…

Last night was a non-sleeping extravaganza. A festival of insomnia. A treasure-trove of wakefulness. Happy Fun Baby apparently has a stuffy nose. I say apparently  because he doesn’t actually seem to have a stuffy nose, but since the only way he would sleep last night was propped up to a practically seated position, I’m forced to assume. The kid’s a restless sleeper, so the relief of being comfortable only lasted as long as it took him to drift off and roll over, at which point the cycle began again. Fun for me! Also fun for Not So, since the baby, apparently declaring me a lost cause, flung himself at Not So and demanded comfort in the middle of the night. Is it wrong that I found this amusing?

I did pass out for long enough to have a strange, vivid dream that there was a war and Not So was a soldier, and he was trying to explain that he’d called for someone to come and extricate me and the baby from the battle (which was going on right outside our house). I was trying to explain to him that I wasn’t leaving and that if we went down, we were going down together. Metaphor, or too much Battlestar Galactica? You be the judge.

Either way, when morning rolled around, the kid had had enough of the bed and decided that we needed to greet the day head-on. Happy Fun Baby got to wave goodbye to daddy (first time – the kid’s usually sawing logs at 7:30am) and then settled in on the couch, where he promptly fell fast asleep. Hrmph.

I tried napping with him, but the futon? Not cosy under the best of circumstances, and even less so when it’s being taken over by a sleeping toddler. I amused myself by checking my e-mail and RSS feeds in relative peace, which was somewhat satisfying despite that fact that I could barely keep my eyes open.

A little after 9am FedEx came with my jogging stroller. Happy Fun Baby woke up while I was putting it together and promptly decided it was a present for him, which in a way it is so hey, kid, go nuts. Check him out:

We’re going for a walk in a bit. Just as soon as mama gets her nap…

technorati tags:, , , , , ,

Blogged with Flock

the teething chronicles

Happy Fun Baby’s mouth continues to be invaded by what can only be described as teeth. Don’t get me wrong: they’re cute. There’s something inherently endearing about a big, wide-mouthed, three-toothed grin.

But the teething process is obviously painful, and my usually cheerful and pleasant baby has been replaced by a cranky, temperamental, wailing creature who doesn’t want to be put down, ever. I can only assume this is a temporary change.

Today is incrementally better. Ellison is playing “catch that tail” with the cat, who apparently was not consulted beforehand and has serious reservations about the suitability of this game.

We actually got somee sleep last night, which was a novel change. I don’t do well with fractured sleep. Pre-baby, I used to require 8-10 hours a night in order to feel rested; now I’m lucky if I get 6 or 7, and those are broken into bite-sized sections. It’s bad enough when everything is going well and he only wakes up once to nurse. When he’s sick or teething or having a growth spurt or conspiring against me or whatever, it’s hell. But a nice sort of hell! Not the sort that means I need to get a job! ::paranoid::

Blogged with Flock

heat wave

It’s beastly hot here today. The high is 99, and already it’s dangerously warm in our little condo. Our house is reasonably well insulated so it’s never unbearable like it was at the old place, but it’s still quite toasty on days when the temperature approaches 100.

My sister (who doesn’t have a fun nickname – perhaps Auntie Pep? She was a cheerleader in high school, after all) is flying in for the weekend. She is a pale, blonde health nut; I suspect the sheer amount of solar energy in the air will cause her to burst into flames the minute she steps outside. And stepping outside is inevitable – we will go on walks, and play at the park, and generally do things that healthy people do. Also, she eats things like flax. I am mildly terrified.

The combination of beastly heat, cranky baby and brain-scrambling math homework made it all but impossible for me to get much housework done yesterday. You try scrubbing countertops while trying to wrangle a grabby baby. Forget about putting him down: if I’m not in the same room he is, Happy Fun Baby assumes I’ve left him for the gypsies and reacts accordingly. I’ve tried explaining that the kitchen is right there and he can see me if he looks, but he’s not buying it. Yesterday I had to put him in the sling just so I could finish making my lunch. It’s a good thing he’s so cute:

Anyway, I am cleanliness-challenged at the moment. The timing couldn’t be worse, since I have what practically amounts to a phobia about a messy house and guests. I want to foster the illusion that I am a competent housekeeper. Is that so wrong?

Not So said he’d take care of cleaning up downstairs last night, but apparently we have different definitions of “downstairs.” When I think of the downstairs area, it includes areas like the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. Considering that’s pretty much all that comprises our first floor, I feel pretty justified. Not So swept the hallway and started the dishwasher, and this morning he took out the trash, which just leaves me with…the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. Oh and the downstairs bathroom. In addition to the upstairs, which isn’t too bad but still involves bathroom-scrubbing, carpet-vacuuming and laundry-doing. In the sweltering heat, with a cranky baby. But at least today I don’t have math homework! (Not much, anyway.)

I’m very excited about seeing my sister, though. Happy Fun Baby is going to be in baby heaven. Auntie Pep is a party, even if she does have funny ideas about what food is made of.

Blogged with Flock