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April 2009
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June 2009

The report arrived on Thursday, all 20 pages of it. Twenty single-spaced pages to describe something I summed up in about eight paragraphs. I've never looked so concise! Or so predictably clueless, as I was so smug in my confidence that this evaluation held no surprises or new information, that there was nothing anybody could rattle me with anymore. Am like stone! Or steel! With a soft, delicate side, and damn, I can't seem to come up with the perfect oxymoron here to describe my tough-yet-fragile nature. Steel Cadbury Creme Egg? Close enough. So the "developmental evaluation report" arrived and I read it and I read it again and I pulled out some books and I looked up some terms I didn't understand ("tactile hypersensitivity" and "poor bilateral integration and coordination" and "disorganized motor planning") and nodded and put the report away for awhile. And then a few hours later I stomped around the house and was all, "What do they MEAN Noah's play skills are 'simplistic and immature' for his age? What the fuck is a 'play scheme'? And why are they grading his 'play skills' anyway? I did not take him in there for concerns over his 'play... Read more →

Look, I totally won a major award: The rest of y'all can suck it, frankly. Or else face the VEINY HANDS OF COMPETITIVE FURY. RAWR. This award came as a complete surprise, as I was the only mom at the preschool Mother's Day party to forget a camera, thus missing the class performance of "Mommy Is My Sunshine." My friend* offered to make me a copy of the video she shot, so I'll at least get a copy, albeit a copy probably focused on the wrong kid. But whatever. You can't be the center of attention ALL the time, Noah. Especially not in mementos of your own childhood. You might grow up to be a blogger, or something equally hideous. *Also known as the 4:20 Playdate Mom, who I think I can safely call my actual friend now, as we are set to have playdate number THREE today, oh my God. Will I have to put out? Does my hair look okay? Should I wear my Phish t-shirt?** My #1 Mom Award? Because I won't lie, I still haven't taken it off, nor do I really want to. **I would wear my Battlestar Galactica t-shirt, but I wore it last... Read more →

The past 24 hours or so have not been my finest, parenting-wise. I know being sick and barraged by the unbelievable, unrelenting NEEDS and WANTS and WANTS-MISTAKEN-FOR-NEEDS of children* (who now outnumber you, huzzah!) can eventually make the most patient soul alive possibly crack into a million grumpy shrill pieces, or at least that's what I NEED** to believe so I don't feel so lousy about my two-millimeter-length fuse. Last night while waiting for Jason to come home I got so increasingly short with my children that I: 1) Glared at a six-month-old baby with the glare of "You Better Knock That Shit Off Or I Will Turn This Car Around/Send You To Your Room/Give You Something To Cry About." It was surprisingly ineffective! 2) Caused Noah to tentatively and sweetly ask, "Are you happy, Mommy?", which made me feel so guilty and mean and GAH, but then he kept asking it over and over again and by the 25th time the guilt had worn off and I yelled that "NO, I'M NOT HAPPY." Then he said, "Don't worry, Mommy. It's okay, Mommy," and I wondered if he found ME that annoying when I used those same canned phrases to... Read more →

Funny. There's nothing like a sore throat to suddenly change you from one of those "swine flu = overblown media creation = everybody should just shut the fuck up about the swine flu" people into one of those "desperately Googling swine flu symptoms = oh my god I'm totally dying of swine flu" people. In other news, I'm sick! Again. It's delightful. Just when I thought I was fresh out of moans. I felt all fine and dandy all week and came in contact with all sorts of wonderful people (sorry for possibly giving you swine flu, wonderful people.), and even went out on Monday night with the DC Metro Moms to have dinner at Spike From Top Chef's Restaurant, which is actually called Good Stuff Eatery, but I can't stop calling it Spike From Top Chef's Restaurant. It was a lot of fun and I don't think I harassed a single reality show star AND I even remembered my camera. Though once I came home I realized I'd taken exactly two pictures: one really blurry picture of my french fries and one picture of a bobby pin on the ground at the Metro station (because I'd been texting Jodi... Read more →

"What are you DOING to him?" Jason asked. "What?" I asked innocently, while adjusting the zoom on the camera. "I just wanted some pictures of those faces he makes when he does that thing -- when he cries the minute I walk away and stops once I walk back and..." "And..." "Okay. Yeah. Maybe this isn't the type of parenting moment I really want documented." "Eh, look, now he's fine! Hi, happy baby!" "That was still kind of mean." "I think that's the kind of call only the Internet can objectively make." Read more →

Noah hands me his sippy cup. Strawberry seeds have stopped up the straw. "It's clobbed," he says. *** Ezra sits on our bed, propped up by a pillow. He falls backwards and fights his way back up, officially sitting unassisted for the first time. He looks at me and beams widely, clearly impressed with himself, before flopping over sideways. *** Noah throws his arms around me and squeezes hard. "I wuv you," he sighs. *** Ezra sits on my lap while I amuse him with funny faces. He lets out a tremendous burp. After a second or two of surprise, he cracks up laughing. *** Noah and I march around the house, room by room. We tiptoe through the living room, dance through the dining room, skip through the kitchen and creep up to the coat closet in the foyer. I open the door. "IT'S A BEAR!" he screams. We run through the kitchen and dining room and living room and jump onto the couch and under a blanket. "And the bear. Goes back. To his cave." Noah says. "The end." "One more time, Mommy." he begs, for the seventh time in a row. When I don't answer, he does.... Read more →