As soon as he remembered what day it was, Harry threw on some clothes and set off toward the smell of pork as fast as he could. I told him to bring me one, too. Hold the onions.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Take Your Brat to Work Day
Seriously, that's the local holiday today. It's to kick off Bratfest, see. Everyone's supposed to stop by a parking lot staffed by local news personalities and pick up a friggin' sausage for breakfast. This is no small thing, people. It's THE WORLD'S LARGEST BRATFEST. This is, after all, the brat capitol of the world.
As soon as he remembered what day it was, Harry threw on some clothes and set off toward the smell of pork as fast as he could. I told him to bring me one, too. Hold the onions.
As soon as he remembered what day it was, Harry threw on some clothes and set off toward the smell of pork as fast as he could. I told him to bring me one, too. Hold the onions.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Busy
What do you think? Even though he lacks chest hair or cleavage, can Harry pull off the deep V?
He's really concentrating and totally has an agenda.
If he only had a ball. I swear I just saw one of those things...
The adorable I-played-outside-too-long-and-I'm-ready-for-bed-at-4:30 eye rub.
Harry's snacktime view of Lake Wingra
Harry's snack
Just kidding. He also had this. And some of my milk shake.*
* Milk shake not pictured.
Oh my god-- look at the size of those FEET!
One more gratuitous toe munching (contemplating?) shot
Oh yeah! And he totally ate a leaf.
It was windy
It takes more than a lousy infant swing to impress this worldly baby
Always helpful unloading the dishwasher
and checking out my new pjs
Enjoying a quick cuddle
And posing before bed
Oh. And our shower wall caved in.
Monday, May 21, 2007
X Marks the Spot
Friday, in my mailbox at my office, I got a document addressed just to me. Those of you with real jobs (aka jobs that pay you with lots of money, not just book learnin' and spare change) are probably thinking, "So? How is this bloogworthy? Oh, wait, you're the queen of the mundane. Totally forgot." But I share a mailbox (and an office and a phone and an ancient Dell and about a thousand grimy old books on grimy metal book shelves) with five people, see, so mail addressed JUST TO ME is really cool, espeically when it's from someone other than the TA union asking for more money to higher slightly less ineffective bargainers or telling me to go on strike (which totally happened way back in '04) and when it's not a rejection letter from a journal. This document even included a Post-It note with an extra special just-to-me tidbit-- and this is where the title of my post comes in (clever me)-- because the Post-It asked for my signature and said "Thanx." What's the point of thanks with an x?
I ask this as a former thanks with an x writer. (In high school forensics, if you were double-entered in a round, the cool thing to do was to go into the classroom before the round began and scrawl "D. E. Be Back ASAP. Thanx!!!") Is the "k" too time consuming? Can she not make her "s"es? What is the writer doing with her extra 3 seconds? I'd have a toaster struedel, but that's because I really like breakfast.. That's what I've been thinking about-- see how brilliant I am-- just give me that PhD this minute, I say.
Here's what Harry's been thinking about:
How do I get out of here?
Is this thing safe?
Who took the dangerous chemicals out of this cupboard?
Can I make more of a mess while my very busy and important mother is on her conference call****?
****Hey all you Bradley speech lurkers-- get excited about the Norton tournament and our ginormous Alumni reunion this November-- first weekend in November-- see you in Peoria?
I ask this as a former thanks with an x writer. (In high school forensics, if you were double-entered in a round, the cool thing to do was to go into the classroom before the round began and scrawl "D. E. Be Back ASAP. Thanx!!!") Is the "k" too time consuming? Can she not make her "s"es? What is the writer doing with her extra 3 seconds? I'd have a toaster struedel, but that's because I really like breakfast.. That's what I've been thinking about-- see how brilliant I am-- just give me that PhD this minute, I say.
Here's what Harry's been thinking about:
How do I get out of here?
Is this thing safe?
Who took the dangerous chemicals out of this cupboard?
Can I make more of a mess while my very busy and important mother is on her conference call****?
****Hey all you Bradley speech lurkers-- get excited about the Norton tournament and our ginormous Alumni reunion this November-- first weekend in November-- see you in Peoria?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
This Time Last Year
At a baby shower our friends threw for us. I tried to wear this dress right after I had Harry, when I was too fat for pants, but I couldn't nurse in it. Believe me, I tried, and it was awkward.
Taking advantage of the last weekend our HMO said we could travel more than 30 miles out of town, we went to Lake Geneva and waddled around. The funny thing is, even though I had a heat rash on my thighs like you wouldn't believe and had to rest for a half an hour at an ice cream shop because I was so winded from a walk around the mall, I thought I was only pregnant-looking in the belly. Ha ha ha ha ha. And? We were all pissy that we couldn't leave town for the thirty days leading up to my due date (July 2nd), but in retrospect? Dodged that bullet, huh. Harry could have been a Dells baby.
I guess I'm nostalgic tonight because I just loooked at the picutres I posted a few minutes ago, and Harry is getting so big. He can walk holding onto anything-- even with one hand-- and he stands up without holding anything for longer and longer periods of time everyday. He says new words (today's was "gentle" which he repeated as I pleaded with him to take care when bashing me on the head with my own cell phone), and does cool new stuff (today, he initiated peekaboo, instead of just playing along with us, and he can seek us when we hide) everyday. The things is, I remember when he was just an idea, a person who was all wedged up under my left ribs (always was a cuddler), a beep on a monitor. Now he has ideas ("Get that!"), preferences (cole slaw rocks; orgnaic mac and cheese? not so much), and mad game (can you resist that wrinkley nose smile? I didn't think so).
Remember how tiny he was?
What was not so tiny? My face. And my upper arms.
This comparison kills me.
Last July
Today
Did I mention we made him an appointment for his 1 year pictures and bought him an outfit for his birthday party? Well, we did, and those things may have made me weepy, too. Not weepy, I guess because I didn't cry (until I relaized that I ate a whole bag of chocolate chips this week), but maudlin for sure. That's why I keep dredging up picutres like these
to compare to this
Hey! Check me out-- I am so hormonal I don't even have to do this weirdo comparison with my own kid to get semi choked up:
Ahhhh, Harry and Max
Max and Harry
I'm gonna go eat more chocolate. And possibly drink some wine. Ben's at a ball game, and normally I'd take this time to watch a really girly movie, but I think Shag, or 13 Going on Thirty, or even Crossroads would put me over the edge. Oh god, Thelma and Louise.
Taking advantage of the last weekend our HMO said we could travel more than 30 miles out of town, we went to Lake Geneva and waddled around. The funny thing is, even though I had a heat rash on my thighs like you wouldn't believe and had to rest for a half an hour at an ice cream shop because I was so winded from a walk around the mall, I thought I was only pregnant-looking in the belly. Ha ha ha ha ha. And? We were all pissy that we couldn't leave town for the thirty days leading up to my due date (July 2nd), but in retrospect? Dodged that bullet, huh. Harry could have been a Dells baby.
I guess I'm nostalgic tonight because I just loooked at the picutres I posted a few minutes ago, and Harry is getting so big. He can walk holding onto anything-- even with one hand-- and he stands up without holding anything for longer and longer periods of time everyday. He says new words (today's was "gentle" which he repeated as I pleaded with him to take care when bashing me on the head with my own cell phone), and does cool new stuff (today, he initiated peekaboo, instead of just playing along with us, and he can seek us when we hide) everyday. The things is, I remember when he was just an idea, a person who was all wedged up under my left ribs (always was a cuddler), a beep on a monitor. Now he has ideas ("Get that!"), preferences (cole slaw rocks; orgnaic mac and cheese? not so much), and mad game (can you resist that wrinkley nose smile? I didn't think so).
Remember how tiny he was?
What was not so tiny? My face. And my upper arms.
This comparison kills me.
Last July
Today
Did I mention we made him an appointment for his 1 year pictures and bought him an outfit for his birthday party? Well, we did, and those things may have made me weepy, too. Not weepy, I guess because I didn't cry (until I relaized that I ate a whole bag of chocolate chips this week), but maudlin for sure. That's why I keep dredging up picutres like these
to compare to this
Hey! Check me out-- I am so hormonal I don't even have to do this weirdo comparison with my own kid to get semi choked up:
Ahhhh, Harry and Max
Max and Harry
I'm gonna go eat more chocolate. And possibly drink some wine. Ben's at a ball game, and normally I'd take this time to watch a really girly movie, but I think Shag, or 13 Going on Thirty, or even Crossroads would put me over the edge. Oh god, Thelma and Louise.
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