neither s nor sw

Not So is at SXSWi. I? Am not. He promises to get swag for me, though. Swag makes everything okay, even seven straight days of solo parenting.

Which is not as bad as all that, actually – Not So has been gone since Thursday morning, and today was kind of okay, as far as days go. (Note that I am skipping merrily over Thursday and Friday. This is not unintentional.) The kid and I went for a walk, did a little shopping…and before you get all eye-roll, keep in mind that my kid? LOVES to shop. Seriously. If we walk by the mall and don’t go in, he will throw himself toward the door with all his strength, wailing like we’re killing him. He is a weird kid. But yes, so, we shopped, and then we came home and he actually ate food, and then he took a marathon nap. Good day!

I had this ridiculous idea that I’d be able to get some writing done while Not So was away, but either all my writing talent has dried up or I just don’t have the wherewithal to concentrate when I am On Call. Which is…lame, right? How many single moms can produce an amazing array of matching words while toddler-wrangling? Anne Lamott comes to mind, but that’s just because of Operating Instructions; other moms do it all the time. Other moms, but not me. I feel so scattered and kind of brain-dead, and everything I’ve written in the past couple of days has been flat as week-old soda. (I do not say “pop.” This is because my parents raised me right.)(Shush, you can recognize hyperbole when you see it.)

The house, though, is quite clean, and I’ve taken two (two!) baths today, so all is not doom and gloom at chez Cranky. I miss Not So, and Ellison’s having a hard time sleeping, but we’re good. It’s taking a lot of energy for me to make progress on the projects we’ve got deadlining for work, but part of that is just that we got a new desk at the house – and, while I love it unreasonably and it totally serves its purpose (namely, to make the damned computer less of a focal point so I don’t spend my every waking moment on it), it’s not exactly conducive to marathon work sessions. Then again, neither is the toddler. Good thing we have an office!

Next year, I am totally going to SXSW, though. Even if the kid has to come with us.


Tried to go out tonight. Seemed like such a good idea. Not So texted me (because we are like that, with the texting) to say that the friends we have in town wanted to go for dinner at 7:30. He went out and caroused with them last night, so it was totally my turn, but I’ve been working all day and feeling sort of less than gregarious, so I said he should just go. But Not So was all, “It’s just dinner. Let’s bring the kid! After dinner I’ll take him home and you can go out and have some fun.” I was all, “Um, our kid? The one who has been throwing fits over food in our own home?” And he was all “Oh, he’s been great today, it won’t be a problem.”


Let me say again: HA.

So I came home, put on some makeup (!!!), and we all traipsed off to the Rogue Brewery. I should have known it was doomed when Not So was all oh hey, it’s [guy] and [his girlfriend], since I thought it was just going to be Friend A and Friend B…but then it turned out that I actually know [guy], so that wasn’t so bad. So we sat down, and ordered some food for the kid, and Not So ordered a burger, and everything seemed like it was going to be fine. But then this enormous group of people came in, and [guy] and [his girlfriend] were all “Over here!” and Not So grabbed Ellison out of his chair so we could squish together to make room. And I totally didn’t know anyone in the enormous group of people, and do you know how I get when I’m around big groups of people I don’t know? Picture this:


Multiplied by about a thousand. With a kicking kid on my lap, who had absolutely ZERO interest in his food.

And then our friends got there. They sat way over there <— while I was sort of sandwiched in the middle, which meant my options for conversation were limited to a series of expressive blinks and hand gestures. Which, not so easy while the toddler was a wriggling mass of not wanting to be there. At some point, Not So leaned over to me and said “I didn’t think it was going to be all these people!” I said, as Ellison shoved his knee down the front of my shirt, “I think I need to take him home.”

Not So tried to argue, but his dinner was literally being put on the table, so it didn’t make sense for him to go home. (I hadn’t ordered anything, because I figured I’d just eat what the kid left – which turned out to be everything, and which I did not eat. Yes yes, poor me.)

Anyway, so we left. And now Not So gets to go out for the second night in a row, while (for the second night in a row) I sit at home, watching Jack’s freaking Big Music Show. And oh, I’m feeling mighty sorry for myself, let me tell you. I’m even having a beer, and I don’t even LIKE beer.


30 tiny moments: day 1

So I’m doing this thing, this “30 Tiny Moments” thing, which in theory will result in a post every day, assuming I am that organized. Which, I have been weirdly organized lately. Don’t tell anyone.

Jessica at Kerflop summarized the project thusly:

“I imagine casting my eyes over the usual chaos I’m constantly surrounded by and instead of throwing my hands up in despair, finding something comforting, something real, something I’d like to remember and capturing it with my camera.”

water bottle

This is the one actual spontaneous, unposed photo from today’s batch…Not So thought I was focusing on the baby. Who was totally vogueing, by the way. He will get in front of the camera and stay stock-still until the flash goes off. It’s freaking hilarious. But, so, Not So, and his water bottle. It is a pretty cool water bottle.

running (out of steam)

runsAs you can see (from a screenshot! Of the sidebar! Of this very blog! Oh, I am so meta it hurts), I’ve completely and utterly failed in my goal to run 10 times in 4 weeks. According to my widget, I have 7 days to finish 8 runs. Which, sure. I could. But, let’s be serious people, I won’t. Some people say “Don’t start something unless you can finish it.” I say “Don’t fail quietly when you could fail spectacularly.” (Actually I don’t say that at all. Except that I just did.)

Seriously, though? I’ve been too busy to jog (even the sad, short little jogs of yestermonth). Projects deadlining, photo shoots, print work, proposals (to clients; I’m not looking to expand my marital options), school, sick babies, PMS, toymaking, med-juggling…it’s been a three-ring circus around here, and not the nice Ringling Bros. kind. (What am I even talking about? Am I about to embark on a metaphor about evil clowns? Everyone knows I love evil clowns.)

School in particular is pissing me off. First, there was the schedule. Two classes this session instead of my usual one. Each session is 5.5 weeks long, so two classes are going to make my head spin, but whatever. Then there was the bill, which I thought surely, surely was a mistake. I even called, laughing: “Someone misplaced a decimal point! Can you send me a new bill, with my real balance?” But no. There was no misplaced decimal point. Since I am taking two classes instead of my usual one, my financial aid won’t cover the difference in tuition. I can’t not take the extra class, since – and this was news to me – my graduation date has been moved from next spring to the middle of December. So, uh, yay? Except not, since apparently I have to pull $2500 out of the air and bestow it upon my learning institution. Yes please, allow me to pay you for the privilege of putting me $30,000 in debt! Please, sir, may I have another?

But, whatever. (Is this becoming my mantra?) I’ll be done with school in December (apparently), so at least I can take a break before deciding whether I want to go back to get my Bachelor’s. (Yes. This is only an Associate’s degree. I suck.) Part of me still wishes I was working toward somehow attending the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, but since a) I have a web design company now and b) I do not live in or near Iowa, I guess it’s time to let that one go. Despite my regular check-ins, my husband is still unwilling to uproot us and live in Iowa for a year while I get my geek on. (The Iowa question is second only to “Don’t you want another one,” to which the answer, also, continues to be “No.”) Instead, I will have a useless degree to assist me in starting a career I already have. Go me!

Oh, doom! Oh, gloom! Would you believe that I’m actually feeling better?

arr, says pirate henry

pirate henryThe newest addition to the Cranky family is, as usual, a Henry. This one is pink, and also a pirate. Arr.

I keep fussing around with the Cranky Pals website and I’ve added topside navigation, so now it is ABUNDANTLY CLEAR how people can click buttons to buy things from me. This is kind of me, I think. I mean, there could be any number of people out there, desperate to give me their money, but unable to do so because of my shoddy navigation.

yodel shirtIn other news, I also added the Yodel shirt to the lineup. The Yodel shirt entertains me, because every time Not So wears it, everyone asks him about it. It’s the tongue, I’m convinced. (Yodel’s tongue; not my husband’s.) I made one for one of Happy Fun Baby’s toddler friends, too, but I didn’t take a picture. Too bad, because I bet it’s really freaking cute.

Yes, it’s a Saturday. Time to spiff up the websites. You know how it is.

Oh! And on Monday, check out couldbe studios. We’re going Pink for October. All the cool kids are doing it. I might even do it on this blog, if I can get it together to change the CSS in time. (We’re all a little under the weather here, so don’t count on it.)

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morning people may have other annoying tendencies

Remember how I used to be all “Yeah, my kid might not go to bed until 11pm, but at least he sleeps until 9:30 or 10!” Remember that? Because wow, was I wrong. I mean, not then. Then I was right. But now? Now we are up, awake, bright-eyed, etc. at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning.

8, people. It’s just not right.

Still, I’ve started to actually get things done in the morning, which is novel. I went for another jog yesterday, and still managed to get emergency file changes to my client by 10am. And we finally, finally made it to the library in time for Storytime, although – ha! – the librarian didn’t, so Storytime was cancelled. Figures. (Maybe we’ll try again next week.)

It’s not as satisfying as sleep, mind you. But it’s not that bad.

My sleep’s gone to hell anyway. I blame the meds. SSRIs have a rep for causing very vivid dreams, and that’s definitely true in my case. Not that I didn’t have vivid dreams already. So there’s that, and there’s the middle-of-the-night anxiety, and there’s the kid, who hogs the bed like no one’s business. Yes, we’re still cosleeping, and no, we don’t have any concrete plans to move him into his own room…but the idea is starting to sound better to me, mostly because of the early-morning wakiness. I mean, if he gets up at 8 every morning and then wants to lay around and snuggle for a half hour…that’s a whole different kettle of fish.

I already know what bed I want to get for him (it’s from Ikea, natch) and we got the bedlinens already, since Not So had this great idea about the kid having his own pillow, so that when we move him to his own bed it’ll already be familiar. Great, right? Except: where do we keep an extra pillow on our bed? We have a full-sized bed. A “double,” as it used to be called. “Double,” because only two people fit on it. (Don’t get me started on the whole “Why didn’t we get a Queen?” thing. Because I SO WANTED ONE, but SOMEBODY thought it would be too big and “not as friendly.” Somebody who now has his kidneys kicked regularly by our lovely child, who apparently dreams of soccer.) There is no room for an extra pillow. There is barely room for our heads. So the kid’s bedding is hanging out on his crib mattress in his room. The cats think it’s great. They will have no problem transitioning to a new bed.

I do miss sleeping in, but somehow it’s hard to feel like a slug when you’re up and about at a decent hour. Maybe that’s the meds talking, who knows. But it’s not all bad.