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July 2011
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September 2011

Noah spent four weeks at a OT/social skills camp this summer, and then we set him loose for two weeks at the YMCA's swim camp. It was our first crack at mainstream program in over three years. It ended on Friday. He received a certificate for "Honesty." Which as far as I can gather he earned mostly because 1) everybody got one, and 2) whenever he got in trouble, it never occurred to him to lie about it. But he did it. He made it through all 10 days of camp. We signed one incident report for hitting and one for towel-whacking, and by the time the kicking happened...well, his counselor went easy on him and skipped the written report, which spared him from getting kicked out on the third-to-last day. We explained and reminded and begged him each morning to keep his hands to himself, to use words instead, come on, dude, you know this. We had to remind him to respond when other campers said hello, we had to provide the teenaged CITs with strategies to help him transition without tantrums or play competitive games without rigid frustration, and we had to face the hard fact that none... Read more →


AKA Deep Intellectual Conversations With Things That Jingle and Make Crinkly Noises Hey man. What's up? Heh. I know. Right? Hehhhhhhhh. Heh. You're crazy, man. I love you, but you're crazy. But seriously. You raise an interesting point. Whoa, really? This is exciting! This requires hand gestures! I just...admire the way you think. And I mean that. Honestly. Wait. What? DUDE. Why would you say something like that? I think you've gone too far this time, man. Nah, I'm just messing with ya. We're cool. I had you going there, didn't I though? Anyway, good talk. I gotta go see a girl about some dry pants now, 'kay? Catch ya later. (Let me tell you, if there is a baby out there who does NOT lose his ever-loving soup-brain over the Lamaze Freddie the Firefly toy, I...uh, did not personally give birth to him. We are three for three over here.) (We are also on our third freaking Freddie. After the initial smiles and coos comes the gumming. And the drooling. And then the gumming and the drooling and the puking and the hurling from the stroller and the running over with the stroller and alas! Poor Freddie. You burn... Read more →


All Is Love (And Really Freaking Attractive Conference Attendees)

Okay, this is my last post about BlogHer*, I promise. After this, it's back to baby pictures and...um...kid pictures and...I don't know. Deodorants or whatever the hell. Plus, I'll make this short, because this video pretty much says it all, and says it better: Thanks so much to Ryan of Pacing the Panic Room for -- once again! -- putting together the perfect video of Sparklecorn (AKA The Party That Led Me Briefly Into a Life of Crime & Grand Theft Luggage Cart). And for making the part where I climbed on the table to take bites directly out of the butts of the unicorn cake seem a little less trashy than I think it actually probably was. And thanks to everyone who came to the party and danced and laughed and smiled and wore your sparkliest. I hope you had fun. Me? I danced my ass off and my hair flat. I can't wait for next year. WATCH YOUR BACK, LUGGAGE CARTS OF NEW YORK CITY. THE SPARKLECORN COMETH AND IT KNOWS TO DOUBLE-CHECK THAT IT'S NOT IN NEW JERSEY THIS TIME. *Unless y'all are interested in hearing about my misadventures of traveling across the country as a nursing... Read more →


My best story from the conference, other than hanging out with old friends and meeting new ones and also MOJITOS, occurred about three hours prior to Sparklecorn. And like ALL of my best stories, this one predictably involves me going to pieces over something trivial. Basically, CAPS LOCKing all over the place, but live and in real time. I was trying to figure out how to get five rather large boxes from the package room at the hotel over to the party location next door. These five boxes contained about 4,000 multi-colored glow necklaces and bracelets, which are a Sparklecorn tradition, as everybody uses them for everything from jewelry to belts to tiaras to elaborate full-on glow-in-the-dark costumes. I'd shipped them to myself at the hotel, not realizing that BlogHer had outgrown its quaint days of underground hotel conference rooms and was now taking over gigantic convention centers, because blogging, apparently, is quite a thing with the kids these days. And it turned out that the hundred yards or so of sidewalk between the two locations were guarded by an old gray wizard screaming YOU SHALL NOT PASS to anyone working at the hotel, because of unions and balrogs and... Read more →


God, isn't BlogHer just the worst? First, we all bore our readers with ZOMG I'M GOING TO BLOGHER posts. Then we go to BlogHer and don't post anything because we're so busy and crazy or can't get on the hotel wifi or are basically, just drunk as shit the whole time. Then we come home and don't post anything because we're so tired out from BlogHer. Or if we do post anything, it's all, "ZOMG I'M SO TIRED FROM BLOGHER." And then followed by some random crappy photos we took with our phone that don't make any sense because you totally had to be there and stuff. Ugh. I hate when bloggers do that. *** This is a photo I took of my roommate taking a photo of the leftover room service cart full of half-eaten breakfast items that we pushed in of Jason Mayo and TwoBusy's room across the hall from ours. Because. I don't know. WE HAD TO. The morning after Sparklecorn. Still covered in eye makeup, glitter, unicorn tattoos and a vague sense that I embarassed myself and future generations in a wide variety of ways, the least of which was climbing on a table and taking... Read more →


OH RIGHT THAT. I leave tomorrow. I am not packed. I am not caught up with any of my deadlines for later in the week. I am undeniably sick with a cold and woke up this morning to an Attack Of The Eyebrow Zits, Like WTF I Never Get Eyebrow Zits But IT SURE DOES FIGURE. I am currently calling my hair salon every hour on the hour to inquire about cancellations because my roots are visible from space and my color has faded to a drab strawberry blonde that does not look particularly good on me, although it sure does coordinate with the zits around my eyebrow. (!!!!ZITSWTFBBQ!!!!) Yesterday I spent -- no exaggeration -- five solid hours on the phone attempting to rectify an emergency posters situation for Friday night's legendary BlogHer/MamaPop Sparklecorn shindig, as in we had no posters because of a communication kerfluffle, and I needed to order so many posters that my online shopping cart was crashing AllPosters.com. That's a crapton of posters, you guys. So five hours, it took to manually order each and every poster over the phone. Five hours of qualifying to a sales rep named Allison that yeah, okay, yes, I... Read more →


Okay, so we're back from the beach. It was fun. And sandy. And tiring. But before I bore you to death with those photos, I must continue a silly little tradition from around these parts. Ike had his two-month check-up today. So.... Noah, at birth: 9 pounds, 15 ounces and 21 inches long. Noah, at two months: 12 pounds even and 24.5 inches long. Ezra, at birth: 7 pounds, 7 ounces and 21-1/4 inches long. Ezra, at two months: 12 pounds, 12 ounces, 24 inches long. Ike, at birth: 7 pounds, 9 ounces and 21-1/4 inches long. Ike, at two months: 10 pounds, 15 ounces and 24 inches long. So if you've ever wondered what happens when you take the exact same set of dominant genes and some Y chromosomes, then toss 'em in a cocktail shaker three separate times, well. There you go. You get the same basic baby, more or less, just with varying amounts of chub and skepticism. (And differing levels of pissiness re: the two-month vaccinations. The photo might not reflect it, but IKE IS VERY, VERY PISSY RE: THE TWO-MONTH VACCINATIONS, LET ME TELL YOU.) Read more →