Sick Day

I appear to have, as Sundry put it, a touch of the Hamthrax. Or some kind of flu. I went to bed with the beginnings of what I assumed was a cold and woke up in the grips of some horrible, lung-hacking, breath-sucking, stomach-purging, body-aching, I'm-hot-no-I'm-cold-so-cold-oh-my-God-get-these-covers-OFF-ME type of illness. It's awesome, let me tell you. I managed to drag my diseased ass out of bed and onto the landing where I begged Jason not to go to work and leeeeeeeave me with The Children, Oh God, Not The Children. Then I went back to bed and moaned piteously for awhile. I'm still doing that, actually. Here: meeeeehhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh I know! I write just like I whine. It's a gift! ANYWAY, so I had Other Plans for today's post -- another chapter of the When You Marry book, some discussion on what educational toys can be manipulated into saying profanity, maybe microwaving... Read more →


Wow. Okay. So. The When You Marry book thing (album? commentary? no, I think "thing" was just about right.) took quite a tour around Teh Interweb last week -- first on Sociological Images, which Kelly tells me means that I am Officially Important to Sociology and Stuff, then to Jezebel (thanks for the link back to the original site OH WAIT NEVER MIND), and then a bunch of other blogs, culminating over the weekend with a front-page mention on Fark, the web's premiere depository of stupid, pointless, too-much-time-on-our-hands bullshit. This mostly means that I am 1) kicking myself for the massive monetizing FAIL of dumping the scans into Typepad's ad-free photo album format, and 2) absolutely drowning in emails from people who want to tell me their theories about Brenda's boyfriend's name. As was established pretty quickly in the comments on the first batch of scans, his name is likely... Read more →


DAY THREE, SATURDAY Part One: They Vacuum Carpets, Don't They? The baby's breakfast consisted of a couple handfuls of swag bag fruit puffs tossed on the floor of the hotel room. Part Two: It Takes A Village I once again attempted to attend an actual panel at the actual conference that I had paid actual money for -- this time with the Vaginally Challenged Men of Blogher. When I walked in, Ezra was asleep, but oh, no, that did not last very long at all. Luckily, there were plenty of women around us willing to offer us various forms of baby-amusement: toys from their swag bags, handfuls of Quaker cereal, their noses. The first time he squawked an emphatic "EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHAAAAA," it was funny, and all the faces that spun around to stare at us were sympathetic and amused. By the third or fourth time, not so much, and when I... Read more →


DAY TWO, FRIDAY Part One: I've Made A Huge Mistake Of Bluthian Proportions The next morning Jodi texted me and offered to sneak the baby and I into the Club Level for the free breakfast. I wrote back that I wasn't showered yet, but then decided that I didn't really care, and went up anyway, only to immediately bump into a crew of immaculately coiffed and professionally dressed women from MomCentral. Stacy DeBroff fed Ezra a banana while I blearily caffeinated myself and by my third sip my brain suddenly turned on and I realized that I was out in public -- at a professional blogging conference, where people take pictures and blog and stuff -- in pajama bottoms and no makeup and gross oily hair. And my nipples were showing through my nursing tank. I ate a croissant and fled. Part Two: All Better Down at the actual conference,... Read more →


(Wow. So I originally planned to write about the entire conference in one post. HOURS AGO, I planned that. HOURS, I have been writing this and it really gets away from me at the end and I think I use the word "community" in a totally unironic sense and basically I'm going to publish this and write more tomorrow, because now I have to go punch myself in the neck.) DAY ONE, THURSDAY Part One: Not Off To A Real Brain-Trust-Like Start I woke up at...oh, 4 A.M. in a dread pirate panic over things I had forgotten to pack. I should point out that I was still at home. And had many, many hours left before my flight to pack these things. No matter, I clearly needed to get out of bed and pack them RIGHT THAT SECOND, or ALL WOULD BE LOST. If a blogger goes to Blogher... Read more →


How is it July? Like, the end-ish of July? What happened to June? And May? And that little squishy baby I had? Did this giant one here eat him, just like he ate the dog kibble last night? Repeatedly? Because my babyproofing knowledge is limited to saying "NO!" and then moving him across the room? Which is surprisingly ineffective? Anyway, I'm bringing this baby to Blogher. No need to vacuum, Sheraton, he'll take care of it. Yes, you can hold him. My arms and neck and back would very much like you to hold him. I will NOT, however, be bringing that drum. Fuck that drum. Vamanos, bebe! Cállate, tambor! Or that refrigerator, even though...oh, I love our new refrigerator. I do not love that we had to buy it, but now that it is here and I open the door and I can like, find stuff I need RIGHT... Read more →


(This fucking economy, man. Hollywood is HUNGRY.) So last night I had the distinct privilege of being Linda's plus-one for the big! red blue carpet! premiere! of Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. (The PR team in charge of the outing: "You have a blog too? That's adorable!") This is how we do big fancy movie premieres in DC, you guys: Port-o-potties as far as the eye could see. As we pulled up in our glamorous stretch limo short bus in front of the Air & Space Museum and a huge crowd of people who had apparently not figured out that the celebrities were already inside, I could barely contain my excitement and sudden terror about tripping on the bus steps and falling flat on my face. I did not fall down, which meant it was now time for the descent into increasingly embarrassing fameball douche behavior. "Smile,... Read more →


So Many Entries to Write, and Yet I Give You This

I am losing mah mind over here, people. You know it's bad when I start breaking out the phonetic Southern accent that I don't actually talk with. 1) My baby is SIX MONTHS OLD today. Six! Such a random number to get worked up about, I know, but six! Half a year! Totally in need of a long detailed entry about the state of every tiny little thing he does! But who is going to write that, I ask you. WHO? All my ghostwriters called in drunk. 2) Noah's evaluation with the school district is TOMORROW. At the crack of 9 o'clock. And I've got a whole entry about THAT percolating in my brain, in which I confess that the last couple weeks have actually been w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l and we've made a lot of great p-r-o-g-r-e-s-s and now I have NO idea what to expect from him tomorrow, like I think... Read more →


So I went to New York City on Thursday. You know, just the random sort of glamorous day trip that is so typical of me and my fabulous jet set lifestyle. Or train set lifestyle, I guess, since I took NJ Transit, and probably had a Thomas and Percy floating around in the bottom of my bag. And I made the train on time and did not get off at Newark by accident and it was all fabulously boring, though I like to think that the baby strapped to my chest in an Ergo carrier paired with high-heeled boots and a ridiculously overstuffed diaper bag added a little bit of intrigue. Will she fall down? Get stuck in a sidewalk grate? Leave behind a trail of wadded-up bumGenius diapers* all over the East Side? DUN DUN DUUUUN. The Whole Point of the trip was an extension of the Hewlett Packard... Read more →


Because the world should stop, just for a moment or two

I've been working on a post all day. A sentence here, a sentence there, half a sentence interrupted by someone who needs something and the perfect punchline ruined by an inexplicably truncated nap and whoo boy, I would probably make one hell of a prolific mommyblogger if it weren't for all these damn meddling KIDS. But. Then. I cannot stop thinking about baby Maddie and now, oh no, not more, not again, baby Thalon and my hands pull away from the keyboard and wrap themselves around my baby's fat little body instead, my strong, solid, healthy little boy who is drooling all over my arm -- he of course prefers my arm over the dozens of toys and rattles and lovies I've tried to tempt with today -- and I try not to imagine all the ways things can all fall apart, all the unhappy endings and missed miracles and... Read more →