I'm not really sleeping much, all of a sudden. Or when I do, I'm not sleeping particularly well. I wake up a lot, usually in some super-cool spastic style at the end of a mildly unsettling dream.* Then my brain gets up and going on its little hamster wheel and I can't get back to sleep because I'm too busy thinking of various phone calls I have to make, and oh do I ever hate making phone calls.
So last night I finally started mayyyyyybe connecting the dots and coming to the conclusion that I am mayyyyyyyyybe drinking a little too much of a shitload of coffee. Thus, today was to be the day when I Gave Up Coffee. Or at least Cut Back. A Little. Some.
Punchline: Am currently on cup number, like, five or something. But I'm super productive and type-y and hey look SQUIRREL.
*Oh my God, let me tell you about my dream! Because that's always so interesting and not annoying right? Last night I dreamt I won exactly $45 million dollars in the lottery. I proceeded to write $1 million bonus checks for our cleaning lady and babysitter, and Jason announced that he'd just spent $200,000 on a very fancy block of cheese. And this point I realized I hadn't actually redeemed my winning ticket and couldn't find it. I ransacked a bunch of drawers around the house and thought I found it, but it was a receipt for a sandwich. At this point I woke up, absolutely furious with our dreamselves' lack of financial and organizational sense, so I went downstairs and cleaned out our kitchen junk drawer, while trying to talk my way through the dream because obviously, I HAD already cashed the ticket because how could Jason pay for a $200,000 hunk of cheese? His card would have TOTALLY gotten rejected, right? I mean, COME ON.
Okay, now here's why I hate Twitter. Besides the obvious, in that Twitter is stupid and annoying and I feel like quite a few people should look into this fancy new device called EMAIL, as in TAKE THIS CONVERSATION THERE PLEASE, but mostly I hate it because I mentioned the coffee thing and the dream thing there already, thus scooping myself and my own blog. Why would I do that? I get three or four somewhat interesting thoughts a day -- TOPS -- and I go and waste them on Twitter.
I mean, the thing about Noah explaining potty functions to his little (girl) playmate in graphic yet thoroughly-innocent detail? I should have put that story where it belongs, here, for maximum future-prom-date humiliation factor.
(The best part was after I suggested Noah maybe keep that information a little more shrouded in mystery or something, the little girl kind of waved her hand and was like, "oh, we do LOTS of potty talk at my school." So...no big thang, then, Noah's Mom. S'cool.)
(By the way, that's the weirdest part about this whole having-other-people's-children-over thing. Hearing little cries of "Hey, Noah's Mo-o-om? Can I have a snack, Noah's Mom?" And I'm not sure what alternative I'm supposed to offer them. Amy? Ms. Amy? Ms. Storch? For some reason I am deeply concerned that other four-year-olds find me cool, but I don't think they do, probably because of our snacks. I OFFER DORKY SNACKS. OH MY GOD. WE'RE THAT HOUSEHOLD WITH THE DORKY HEALTHY SNACKS AND WEIRD HIGH-FIBER CEREAL OPTIONS.)
(No, actually. I don't know where I'm going with this entry at all! How could you tell?)
Let's see. What else. I just drank another cup of coffee. Ezra is picking up more and more words -- he now says "cheese" but it really just sounds like "chuh." Not to be confused with "shoes," which sounds like "shuh." And "car" sounds like "cuh," only you have have to add a little gargle-sound to it.
The best word, though, is "hot." He includes a little palms-out hand motion with it, gesturing over and over again at the stove or my coffee (SHUT UP. IT'S HELPING.) or other things that aren't really "hot" so much as "off-limits," like the cat food. It's hard to describe exactly how he pronounces it. Phonetically, it comes closer to "at" than anything else, causing me to imagine he's walking up to the stove and saying "@. @. @@@@@."
He's talking in Twitter! Or...okay, so there are two things I need to lay off of for a little bit. I can see that now.
In summary, here's a picture of Ezra chewing on a table.
Oh! Wait! I'm also supposed to tell you that I have new Isn't That Special column up at The Stir, and that my Project Runway recap (written this morning, on only SLIGHTLY less caffeine) will be up at Mamapop at 2 pm. I know it's not 2 pm yet. Or maybe it is! For you! In the future! But if it isn't (like now), you can go read The Stir column and maybe the Advice Smackdown and then just promise me to go read Mamapop at 2 pm. If you remember. I know! Come back here and read this again so I can remind you. Yes, that makes perfect sense.