Boobies

"Mama bra."

"One, two boobs."

Kirk can count to two. And he’s obsessed with my boobs. He grabs hold and gives me a titty twister when I hold him. For a short time he tried biting but thankfully that never caught on. He thinks he’s being hilarious though. I try to divert him from actually grabbing on and then he’ll lift up my shirt and try to tickle my belly to distract me. Cheeky monkey.

Sing, Sing a Song

Kirk has always been a very aural baby, really into music and sounds. Lately he's begun singing actual lyrics to the songs he knows. But he doesn't get in all the words, he'll only hit the high points. The cute thing about that is that he pauses, exactly long enough for the missing words to be sung, before he moves on to the next one.

T'inkle ... ... star
... wonder ... are
Up a' ... ...high
... di'mon' ... sky

It's frickin' adorable. His other favorite songs are Sing, Baa Baa Black Sheep, On Top of Spaghetti, and the Alphabet song.

And Yellow Submarine. He's obsessed with Yellow Submarine. He got a Beatles t-shirt from Angelmamma & Fam for his birthday so, since I was home with him the rest of the week, I decided to show him the movie Yellow Submarine. I hadn't actually watched it in years. Wow. Crazy madness. Such a drug trip. Which was the point, of course, but holy cow. I didn't think he'd really pay that much attention since it's so bloody long with lots of bizarre filler between actual plot elements and songs. But he loved it. Loved. He asks to watch it all the time. He knows the names of all the Beatles now (Ringo is his favorite) and has noticed the Beatles poster we have hanging in the garage porch and the "Hard Day's Night" record cover jigsaw puzzle we have framed and hanging in the stairway. It's awesome. We're both so proud.

Of course once his Papa finds out, he'll have to start brainwashing him over to the Rolling Stones. Heh. My dad's always been a Stones guy over the Fab Four. I suppose we can always show Kirk The Rock and Roll Circus DVD we gave him next time we're up at Nana & Papa's house. Lord knows that's plenty psychadelic, too.

Poor Kitty

Sally’s not getting better. It’s been over a year since we got Chloe and she’s still completely bonkers and hiding and not using the box and barely eating. She was semi-fine in the basement living room if we kept the door latched. Yet even then she rarely came out from under the bed. And the door didn’t stay closed all the time because it’s not her room, it’s our room dammit! We’ve evicted her a few times over the past year but she always seems to end up back in there. I feel sorry for her crazy ass and let her go back in. But it was starting to reek of catshit from her crapping under the bed whenever she was too chicken to go the three feet to her catbox. So we evicted her when we were staying down there while my in-laws were visiting. It seemed like she was better for a little while. She even came part of the way up the stairs! And then she started hiding. I would find her behind a box or under a desk or on top of my sewing basket or under a table and sure enough, there would be a pile of turds right next to her. She even pissed all over the old iMac! I’d clean it all up, put her back into her box in the laundry room, stop up the access to the space, rinse and repeat. Right now she’s been sitting in the laundry room sink. I don’t know if she’s moved out of there for a couple of days. She’s not the kitty that I used to know and love. She’s an empty shell.

I can’t blame Chloe though. It’s not her fault. Sally was like this before but hid it better. When you live in a one bedroom apartment it’s easier to overlook the fact that she’s never in the same room as Smoe; she’s just sleeping in the bedroom! But the truth is, she can’t live with other cats. And we would’ve gotten another cat eventually. I’m sure the only reason she was fine with Tron is that she could sense he was dying.

Sally has really brought this upon herself. We did everything right to introduce those two cats to each other. But she chose to let her hate consume her. I don’t know why I should’ve expected any other fate for a Sith lord. So now I have to call a vet and find out if they think she can be rehabilitated. I have to keep hope that she’ll be fine in a house without any other cats. With a patient human that will care for her and not have the distractions of a two year old son. She’s only ten; she’s got a lot of years ahead of her. But I’m terrified that the answer will be that Xenoba cannot be turned from the dark side. I’ve never had to bring a pet in for *that* reason before.

Video Rage

Mercurial Rage has a video for one of the songs off their new CD, The Funeral Sessions! Check out Mr. b's mutton chops.



I'm wearing a fur coat.

TWO!

Kirk's golden birthday was today and we had his party yesterday.


Mmmm, frosting.


Yay frosting!


Ooh hey, more cake!


Cousins are fun.


Kirk had both sets of grandparents at his birthday party.


Aunties are good for winding down after a full day of craziness. I'm pretty sure he had a massive sugar hangover today.

Fact and Habits

Tagged by lis

The rules: Each player lists 8 facts or habits about themselves; the rules of the game are to be posted first; at the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people.

1) I like making overly elaborate costumes of characters from shows and movies and video games – but I think that Cosplay is kinda weird.

2) I have used the public transportation system almost exclusively since I was 14 years old and have never owned a car exclusively in my name.

3) I garden because I like dirt.

4) I often seem to watch TV more so that I can talk about it online than because I’m truly addicted to the show.

5) I organize my closet by length of skirt or sleeve, type of fabric, and color.

6) I check TWoP and my email obsessively both from home and work.

7) I walk from one end of the corporate campus to the other and back again, twice, at about 2:30pm every day, because it’s usually the only exercise I can manage to fit into my day.

8) I set my alarm early enough to be able to hit the snooze button at least three times before actually getting up in the morning.

Tagged (I'm listing folks because the "rules" say I have to. Obviously, no obligation is implied):
Anabanana
Diablo
Jon - though I just found out he had to shut down his sites so that’s probably out
Christie
LA
Hmmm, I don’t think I know anyone else that both reads this and has their own blog. So…add your own lists to the comments here my dear 2 or 3 readers! You know you want to!

The Mommy Blues

I am just on a roller coaster of emotions dealing with Kirk of late. He’s so manic! Last weekend, for no reason, he turned to me and said, "Mama? Love." Oh! Joy! I’ve prompted him before but this was out of nothing. And yet last night he was so mean and nasty to me, taking out his anger at his dad and uncle for deserting him to go have a drinking and gambling trip with their cousins. He fought over every little thing, from dinner to diaper to bath. He didn’t even want to sit on my lap for bedtime stories! But when I dropped him off at K’s this morning he wanted up and then proceeded to give me the sweetest prolonged hug. I got a little choked up.

It is neat how he’s holding on now when he gives hugs. He used to just lean in and touch you with the top of his head. He still does that when he’s apologizing for being naughty. "Sorry. Hug." He’s starting to do that without any prompting, too. Manners with a nearly two-year-old are an ongoing process to say the least.

Another new development? His hands down his pants. All. The. Time. Seriously. And he fights so much harder getting his diaper changed because while it’s off he has unrestricted access to his wiener and balls. He finds it "funny".

I'm so Proud!

Check out these awesome articles written about Mercurial Rage!

MN Daily

City Pages (Awww, my poor honey had the flu for that photo shoot.)

Toxic Fans

When I was in high school I let my annoyance of certain fans influence my own appreciation of what they were fanatical about. It happened because of the extremely overzealous followers of Twin Peaks. (I still haven’t watched that show – though I like Lynch’s films). It happened because of the constantly moping Goth kids playing the most depressing Cure songs off "Pornography" nearly constantly. (I now have an appreciation of their poppier oeuvre, such as "Head on the Door".) And it happened because of the hateful drama kids that held Bash Sunny parties and their incessant singing of Steve Miller Band songs. (Love them! Love!)

Being older and attempting to be wiser, I’m trying to not let it happen again for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But the fans at TWoP’s Buffy forum are not making it any easier for me.

I spend a lot of quality internet time at Television Without Pity and I’ve met all sorts of wonderful, weird, and wacky folks there. I’ve discussed everything from American Idol conspiracies to the differences in Captain Jack Harkness on Doctor Who vs. Torchwood. Everyone is welcoming and smart and respects unpopular opinions.

So when I’m watching an old show for the first time, I like to post my thoughts on each episode in the relevant thread. It’s fun for most fandoms to relive a series through the eyes of newbies, especially if it’s arc-heavy. I’ve certainly enjoyed it for shows that are old hat to me. And I made no exception to that habit for BtVS. Mr. b bought me the first season for Christmas two years ago because I’m such a Browncoat. I really enjoyed what I saw but for some reason stopped watching for a year and a half and only got back to it this week.

The welcome I received from the Buffy fans this time around was far from warm. They seem to have forgotten the "without pity" aspect. My one criticism of the episode was the only thing discussed, despite my many good things listed. My frustration with this was treated with disdain; it’s merely "debate" and "opinions". How can I possibly participate in a debate when I’m told that I’m wrong and the evidence used to support that argument is from future seasons?

I’m trying to remind myself that maybe I’m overreacting. I certainly know folks that are lovely in real life and complete assholes via email. And perhaps the Buffy forum has been taken over by similar jerks. I know I spend less and less time in the Trek forum because of the constant presence of one particularly argumentative, unpleasant poster. Maybe something similar has happened there and caused a mass exodus of the kind and friendly fans that greeted me a year and a half ago.

I’m certainly not going to run off and start my own anti-TWoP movement such as the one mentioned in the article Cecile discusses. But it is definitely affecting my desire to continue watching this series.

Litany Against Fear

On Wednesday I had a circuit training class at the gym. I spent all the next day being sore. Today the aches subsided everywhere but for one new location - my extreme lower abs. I haven't been so aware of that region since I was pregnant.

It's really odd because I can feel the muscles slightly contracting and flexing and it feels just like fetal movements felt. It's the same kind of fluttering. I stood in the breakroom today, nuking my lunch, and contemplated just where my uterus lies within me. It's hard to believe how much abdominal space was taken up by carrying a baby. I tried to mentally picture how big my belly had gotten by the end. And then it hit me: that anonymous fetus I was envisioning is Kirk.

It's strange how easy it is to separate pregnancy from the actual child. But I wonder if it's another maternal coping mechanism to get us to do it again? As we get closer and closer to September and the much joked about going-off-the-Pill-while-in-France trip, doing it again becomes a much bigger possibility. Am I ready for that? Even having been through it, pregnancy still freaks me out. Just because I can remember what it was like doesn't make it any less odd. Sure, there's no fear of the unknown like when facing down childbirth for the first time. But now there's something worse: fear of the known. I'm going to have to focus on my Bene Gesserit training to get through it.

Before and After

Kirk's hair was out of control. It is still very fine and thin but it frizzes and tangles and was just a mess when he'd get up in the morning or after a nap. Mr. b said that it was long enough that he was asked several times if Kirk was a boy or a girl - when he was wearing jammies or some other gender neutral outfit. So on Friday we bought a set of clippers. Mr. b put it on the second highest setting, Kirk sat on my lap, and a haircut occured. He was such a good boy during the whole thing! And I think he looks really cute now, though I can't decide if it makes him look older or not.

Bite Me

Kirk’s been a bit bitey of late. He thinks it’s hilarious. We’ll tell him that it’s actually naughty but he’ll exclaim, "Funny!", laugh and run away. So we’ve been trying to point out that he doesn’t like it when the kitty bites him and we don’t like it when he bites us. All bites are naughty. Apparently at least some of it is sinking in. This afternoon I received the following email from K, subject line "Did Kirk get into a tussle with the cat?"

Kirk just woke up from nap a little while ago, and when he had finished his juice and found the popper and generally woken up all the way, he started on his story. It seems to go "morning, kitty, bite... naughty." : ) So I don't know who the kitty bit (or if it was even today!), but apparently he's feeling pretty strongly about the kitty getting in trouble right now.

BWAH!

June is Merc Rage Month!

Is it against the Mommy Rules to get a babysitter in secret, that arrives after your kid has already gone to bed? I just feel like it would be too much to go out on Friday to the Mercurial Rage CD listening party, even though I really want to. Tonight my entire family met for Chinese buffet and Kirk got all hopped up on sugar and cousins. Tomorrow we're getting a sitter so Mr. b and I can go out for steak dinner and a movie to celebrate my birthday. Then Saturday the girls are sleeping over. The poor boy needs a break! But still, I want to go out on Friday night, too.

You Could be a Beau Brummell, Baby

Last week I found myself dressed rather like my college self. Mod plaid hat, head band, Farscape sweatshirt (OK, that would have been an anachronism), punk rawk belt, plaid pants, red sneakers. Me of 10+ years ago would have loved to have that outfit! But it's mildly out of character for the me of today. Now I tend to wear things like wide-legged, cuffed, grey linen trousers/black, satin, capped-sleeve, ruffle-front shirt/grey silk headband or black tulip shirt/three-quarters sleeve light blue button-down shirt/pearl necklace. But since I was at a programming class, I dressed down instead of how I normally look at work. Not that I couldn't wear that to work. Hell, most of the people there dress extremely casually. However, I've been consciously wearing more career appropriate (What Would Jan Wear) and age appropriate clothing since I came back from maternity leave.

But that phrase "age appropriate" sure is loaded! I don't know when it became an insult. Hipsters love to snark on the old guy in the club but they still all wear the current uniform of skinny jeans, wrinkled T, and artfully touseled hair. Khakis are for The Man, man! Don't interfere with my creativity! But just how creative is it to find a funny t-shirt online, buy it, and add it to your collection?

I think my problem is that I am just finally getting to the age I wanted to dress as all along. Even as a kid wearing hand-me-downs from my older cousins I wanted to be sophisticated. I can remember specific purchases from The Limited and Express that I bought in junior high and wore despite their being completely wrong for me. I wanted to wear luxe fabrics with intricate detailing - basically the ideal presented in my brain from too many viewings of The Gay Divorcee. Once I realized that was quite simply unattainable (and yes, my innate laziness was/is most definitely a factor), I kind of over corrected and, as Mr. b so lovingly put it, started dressing like a clown. I wore the most garish colors and prints I could find. I layered anything together with anything else. Pucci prints and Lady Miss Kier catsuits and 60s mod mini-dresses and enormous flower earrings and plastic children's barrettes and tiered peasant skirts and patchwork hats and garlands of plastic beads. I was every fad from every time period, chewed up and puked out. My love of fashion and history combined to overtake my common sense. Sudden weight gain after college did nothing to break me of years of bad dressing habits. I could no longer pull off the 20s Flapper drop-waisted dresses, 90s Raver tiny tops and big pants, or the 60s minis that my old curveless body fit so well. So instead I just hid under piles of boy clothes. Styles and trends don't matter when you're doing fieldwork anyway. I had always sewn for myself (probably another reason for my chaotic satorial choices) but I suddenly stopped because I was no longer my own perfectly sized model.

Since joining the ranks of corporate American, I've come to remember my inital, tailored desires. Part of me wonders if it's because I now have the curves required to fill out the skirt suits of the 30s and 40s. I love the look of what Katherine Gerdes termed the "Target Girls" and totally hope to attain that level of chicness myself. The catch is that if I begin wearing slacks and jackets, the assumption is that I am giving up my "creativity", either due to corporate zombie-ism or because I'm a mom and moms always stop dressing cool. Or else they shop in the Junior's department with their daughter and that's just sad.

But I don't think that being a mom has anything to do with my love of being on trend. I don't think that following the adage of "dressing for the job that you want" proves you can't think for yourself. And I don't think that being stylish means giving up your individuality. I think dressing my age is empowering. As much as Stacy and Clinton have hammered into the heads of legions of women that you need to dress for your size, regardless of what that size is, I find their secondary message of mature style much more gratifying. I was browsing through a thrift shop a few weeks ago and realized that I'm just not interested in those over-the-top vintage items anymore. Give me classic clean lines anyday. Betsey Johnson is fun in theory but I'd rather wear Chanel.

The problem with voicing this opinion is that you come off as bitter. Bitter that you're old and used up. That you're tied down domestically and can't run amok. Bitter that you can't fit into slutty hootchie clothes. And I think that's extremely unfair. I remember an episode of Sex in the City where some woman at a bar was saying that she doesn't need to go out and canoodle with any random guys that cross her path and that she's happy to be settled down into a predictable pattern. The words were nice but her bitchface and her harsh voice implied that it was all a lie.

I had a lovely conversation with a friend several months ago, reminiscing about all the fun times, fun shows, fun parties. We agreed that while it was nice to remember, it's so much better to be in the now.

So the trick is to not get distracted by naysayers and doubters and try to put all this sartorial philosophy into action. Shopping is hard. Off the rack never really fits well and while I hate doing my own tailoring, I'm also too lazy to bring pieces to a proper tailor shop. And I'm cheap. And I've got the cliche mom mindset that I should spend money on everything and everyone but myself. So the first step is to purge my wardrobe of those plaid pants. The legs are too short, the waist is too wide, they're totally 90s (check out early season Rachel on Friends, no butt pockets look good on no one), and completely unflattering.

The Most Important Meal of the Day

Kirk doesn’t eat breakfast. He’s just not hungry when he gets up. This is totally foreign to me as I need to eat something within 30 minutes of getting out of bed. On weekdays I have to make myself get dressed and mostly ready for work before having a bowl of cereal. And I still need second breakfast a couple hours later! Mr. b, in contrast, is sickened by the very idea of eating sooner than several hours after getting up. I guess I know where Kirk gets it from. He’ll have a glass of milk but that’s it. I’m not going to even try to force it anymore. Yesterday I made "candy" muffins (apple-oatmeal with mini-chocolate chips) and Kirk wolfed down one in no time. I presented a muffin to him this morning and he had maybe four or five teensy weensy little bites off the top before he was done. So I’m not going to fight this battle; it’s not worth it.

Martian and Floridian True Love

The first John Carter of Mars book that I read was actually the 11th one in the series. Mr. b had bought me a used copy and I greatly enjoyed it. I could tell that despite the self-contained nature of the story, I was definitely missing background info. So I started looking for the rest of the series whenever I was in a used bookstore myself. Gods of Mars is the second book in the series. It totally ended on a major cliffhanger! I don't remember the first one, Princess of Mars, doing that. Carter saved his love, Dejah Thoris, by sacrificing himself. End. Did it come out before Tarzan? Maybe Edgar Rice Burroughs wasn't famous enough yet to leave a new series hanging like that? Regardless, it was perfectly in keeping with the feel of the book. Each chapter really was a Saturday afternoon serial installment. I can totally understand why this type of storytelling had such a following. Even the obvious things that are telegraphed to the reader only serve to ramp up the tension while you're waiting for John Carter to figure it out already! And there were plenty of taboos mentioned (overtly: cannibalism, covertly: sex, rape) though never, ever shown. But the action! It was plentiful and bloody. Hand-to-hand combat! Sword fighting! Aerial battles! Prison breaks! Slave revolts! Awesome. Very exciting and completely compelling. And it makes me want to find out where Harry Knowles' pet production of Princess has gotten. I hope that movie gets it right.

In contrast to that pulp fun was last month's book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was slower and much more deliberate but no less amazing. I love well written dialect and she nailed it. The speech patterns really brought the characters and the time and the place and the economic condition alive for me. I had been slightly concerned by one of the blurbs on the back that declared the book the first honest tale of "Black Love." Huh? Isn't love color blind? Hasn't that been a major point in literature since at least Shakespeare? But after reading it I have to wonder if the reviewer simply meant that here, finally, was an honest portrayal of true love between two black protagonists. Whatever the intention, it didn't affect my enjoyment of the moving tale of Janie's life and love and loss. I was in tears by the end. Eve though I think she's too young for the part, I'm really curious to see the recent Halle Berry made-for-TV adaptation of this book. It truly was marvelous and I'm glad that it's getting the post-humous recognition that Hurston didn't receive in her own time.

The Cow Says, "Mooo!"

On Sunday we went to the historic Kelly Farm. Moms with their kids got in free and they had baby animals out for interaction. Kirk had been looking forward to it for days. He would excitedly ask, "An'mals?" I explained exactly how many nigh-nighs, mornings, and naps he had left before baby animal farm. When he got up from his nap on Sunday he was spazzed out with anticipation. He ran about the house grabbing our shoes for us and getting annoyed when we weren't moving fast enough for him!

We picked up my mom at my brother's house on our way there and had a lovely time petting horses, cows, chicks, oxen, and pigs. But there was a pall cast upon the proceedings because Kirk's cousins weren't there! He kept asking after A1 and A2 and we kept explaining that they weren't going to come to the baby animal farm. I find it interesting just how attached he is to his cousins. Is it just because of spending nearly his first year with my sister every day? We do all see each other frequently but I don't know if it's that simple. Then again, he talks about Nana and Papa quite regularly, even if we haven't seen them in a few weeks.

Regardless, it's clear that Kirk's memory forming abilities are quickly solidifying. Even today we could ask him, "Where did we go?" "An'mals." "What did you see there?" "Pigs. Horses." "Who came with us?" "Nana." That's real, live sentience. Both Mr. b and I have extensive and extremely early childhood memories. Will this be one for Kirk? Even if it's not this event specifically, we're getting close to his brain making lifelong memory connections. I think it's also evident in his story telling. Sure, he may not know very many verbs, and even fewer adjectives, but he still tells you about his day. He totally recaps his events using noun repetition, but it's very deliberate. Language is cool.

Thank You

I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to every one of my kindhearted friends that donated to the MS Walk. I appreciate your generosity more than words can express. My mom was also touched that you were willing to give for someone that many of you have never even met in person! The walk was a lot of fun and I look forward to doing it again next year.

Yay me!

I had my official 6-week measurements today. I’ve lost 3 pounds, 1 ½ inches, and 3.4% body fat. And I’m only halfway through the program! I’ll have the rest of this baby weight licked by the time I’m lounging on a beach in the Riviera. And it’s about time, too. Sheesh. I had always heard that the average time it takes a woman to loose the pregnancy weight is 18 months. I had thought that was ridiculous. And now here I am, well above that average, and still trying. Though now I’m actually working at it.

Morbid Thoughts

Mr. b recently booked our tickets to France for our 10th Anniversary in September. And then I said that we needed a will. I wasn't trying to bring doom upon our trip, because honestly I can't wait and it's going to be loads of fun. But it just strikes me as the responsible thing to do now that we're parents. I remember that when my parents and I went to the USSR in '87 but my sister and brother stayed behind, they set up a will. And with one of the Merc Rage members about to graduate law school, it was pretty easy to find out what we need. Apparently there's a simple form that we can fill out and get notarized; we figure Kirk will go to my sister and my dad will take care of the "estate".

But I've been extra aware of my own mortality these last few weeks anyways. My dad found out that a classmate of mine from my dance studio passed away. And it's not like we were particularly close, but we were in the same competitive troupe for years and traveled together and had sleep overs and practiced together and so I certainly knew her well. And 31 is just too young.

What I found interesting is that my dad thought that the fact that she didn't have kids was a blessing. There were no youngsters left without a mother. Whereas I thought it was tragic that she died before she had a chance to experience the utter joy that is being a mother.

For me it's less about the "immortality" of having a part of you continue after you're gone. Though I definitely grieve for her parents loss and for the grandchildren they'll never have. And as much as I'm fascinated by my own and Mr. b's genealogies, continuing the line is not of the utmost priority. (Thought I confess to loving the "heir and a spare" expectations for the royal family.) Yet if something were to, goddess forbid, happen to Mr. b, I would be comforted by the idea that I have a part of him still with me in Kirk.