I. The Genetics of Crud-Covered Scrunchface
Me, circa the days when metal cabinets with sharp rusty edges ruled the earth.
Ike, circa last week.
It's awesome how they only look like me when they're acting like goofball weirdos. Awesome and telling.
II. No, But Seriously, He's Huge Now
And all day long he's like "Shhzz? Go? Shhzz? Go?" which roughly translates to "Put my shoes on, woman, and let's bust this joint."
One of these doors has to take me outside. Or at least protect somethng dangerous and perfectly sized for my mouth.
III. Call Me Maybe
OMG YOU GOT TICKETS TO THE WIGGLES NO FREAKING WAY.
I'll be right there. Just gotta find my shhzz.
I posted that last photo to Instagram, and the comments immediately all focused on Ike's spiffy little underroos, which is actually a gDiaper, which I actually bartered in exchange for writing a post for the gDiapers blog. (Which I still have to, you know, actually do. Coming soon! Hold please!)
Yes, I requested and received payment for writing in the form of cloth diapers and was thrilled out of my goddamned mind over the arrangement. Mommyblogging! What a country! Get a real job, and etc.
Anyway, several commenters requested a cloth diapering update, so I suppose I need to write THAT now too. I'm sure I can manage to devote another 2,000 words or so to the subject, if I try. And by "try" I mean "open my mouth and let the stream-of-consciousness fall out because blah blah diapers diapers blah."
IV. More Gratuitous Beefcake
Ike learned the sign for "baby." Which he now uses as a descriptor for children OTHER THAN HIMSELF, BECAUSE I'M NOT ONE ANYMORE, MOM.
Or possibly this is more of an arm-folded stance of disapproval at the toy-pile disaster going on behind him, because MY GOD.
V. And On That Note, SEGUE!
Do you guys know AB Chao? Do you guys know that, way back in a previous life, I didn't have a blog but she had an "online journal" and I read it religiously, because she was just so smart and funny and hey, I wonder how hard it would be to acquire a personal web publishing property of my very own? Hmm!
She's pretty much the reason I was inspired to start blogging, and the reason you are reading this. But please don't hold that against her. She didn't know. How COULD she know?
Anyway, she's also a kick-ass interior decorator/designer, and is coming to DC next month for one of her famous Dewit Design Camps. And I will be there, and you guys, I've never actually met her in person and I am going to hyperventilate and probably cry and be all, "did you ever know that you're my herrrrrro" COMPLETELY NON-IRONICALLY. Then I will ask her what in sam hill I should do about that mess behind the couch.
You should totally come. Bring a camera. Instagram the fangirl meltdown. Feel the (creepy, Internet-based) love.