Noah is officially six months old now. I planned to finally give in to the letters-to-baby thing and write a moving and bittersweet letter that I could press into his baby book -- a letter that would encapsulate every emotion and experience and life lesson I want him to learn and oh, how brilliant it would be. I got this far: Dear Noah, Hi. How are you? I am fine. Okay, bye! Love, Mama So then I planned to write the letter after he went to bed -- a letter that would certainly include his cozy little bedtime routine, which involves him rubbing his eyes and sighing at precisely 8:15 pm which we take as a signal to read Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? Or even just recite it, because he no longer cares about the pictures but just waits with bated breath for us to announce the next animal (I see a...wait for it...RED BIRD looking at me!) before dissolving into giggles. Then we kiss him and say nite-nite and put him in his crib awake by 8:30. And then he...falls asleep, just like a completely rational human being. I definitely wanted to write about that.... Read more →

Internet Lesson #47934780843: Do not ask the Internet for medical advice or opinions of any kind. Seriously. You may think it's kind of cute or that you'll get some reassurance that you are indeed freaking out about nothing, but no. You will be told that you are going to die. Internet Lesson #99384672368: Do not talk about vaccines. AT ALL. You will be told that you are stupid, wrong, misinformed and also, totally going to die. Parenthood Lesson #17: HEAT RASH, DUMBASS. You know, considering that I STILL get emails from people suggesting diaper rash remedies, you'd think I would learn that me + rashes + the Internet = neverending insanity. I also had a whole long thing typed up about the chickenpox vaccine thing -- exactly why I plan to pass on it at Noah's 12-month visit, why I want to delay it, why "delay" does not mean "never ever," why I do not need to be told how terrible chickenpox is for older children and adults, because this has pretty much been one of my biggest fears since adolescence besides having to outrun an erupting volcano someday, why I would never let Noah grow up with that same... Read more →

Dear Smart People of the Internet: Please tell the dumb girl this is not what she thinks it is. ACK. I know I'm totally the Girl Who Cried Pox, since I freak out over every single rash he gets. One time I called my mom to report that Noah most definitely had chickenpox this time I really mean it, only to realize that I had red ink all over my hands and was simply smearing it on Noah every time I touched him, which was why the "rash" was spreading at an alarming rate RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES OMG. My freak-out is completely selfish, as I'm all for Noah getting the pox over with before he's old enough to discover his fingernails and the Glory That Is A Good Scratch, but I NEVER HAD CHICKEN POX. THIS IS ALL ABOUT ME. I planned to sweet-talk Noah's pediatrician into vaccinating me at his next visit, which is next week, like, OF COURSE. (The Sidenote of Controversy! I am not going to vaccinate Noah against chickenpox, because as an adult who has never gotten the disease, and who has known for the better part of a decade that she needs the damn... Read more →

amalah: my readers wanted me to pass this article on to you. jason: heh. funny. jason: wait, why did people want me to read that? amalah: *realizes he doesn't know she posted the story about leaving noah in the car that time* amalah: um. no reason. crazy internet people, is all. Also does not read this site. Will one day send me a cease & desist order regarding the Non-Stop Discussion of His Bodily Functions. Is anyone out there brave enough to use the iPod shuffle mode in their car when they have passengers? Because I am not. When I'm alone, the playlist is bound to be some kind of awesome Davie Bowie/Modest Mouse/Ben Folds combination, but I'm positive that if a friend or coworker is in the car it'll be all William Shatner/Iron Maiden/Chumbawamba* and there's just NO EXPLAINING THAT. It's like having Tivo -- you can no longer claim to have just STUMBLED on Flavor of Love or Jerry Springer because there was nothing else on. Bad music does not just leap onto your iPod, even when you're drunk on iTunes. You still make the choice that you would like to pay 99 cents for some Britney Spears,... Read more →

A coworker just found this photo recently, taken way back on the day of this post, right at the conclusion of a Crate Race. Which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Office packing crates + wheeled dollies + a bunch of bored and overcaffeinated people + long hallway = Crate Race, and also HUMILIATION Please note my boss, who is strutting around like, "PWNED, bitches! Who's your daddy NOW, huh? HUH?" And then there is the crate rider of the other team, who may be sobbing quietly while we taunt her. And then there is me: defiant finger-pointing at the losers; white-knuckled grip on my crate; my hair thankfully blocking what was probably the hideous expression of Someone Who Is Taking This A Bit Too Seriously And Taking The Trash Talk Beyond Ha Ha Ha and Into Dude, AWKWARD. Have I ever told you how ultra-competitive I am? Because, yes. I'm not competitive about intangible things -- like I Am Skinnier Than My Ex-Boyfriend's New Girlfriend, or I Don't Care If She's Skinnier Anyway, I Have Inner Peace And Also Nutter Butters -- but I get twitchy and heart-poundy over anything with a clear winner/loser distinction. To wit:... Read more →

I woke up at 5 am this morning in a dead panic about everything I had to accomplish at work today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the rest of the week stretched out ominously ahead of me with the ohgodohgod I'm so behind and so tired and I think that one guy has it in for me and is going to get me fired and I just want to go back to sleeeeeeep. Jason got up at six to retrieve Noah and brought him back to our bed in a diaper and announced that he had to change all the crib bedding because Noah had pooped at some point in the night and the poop did not stay in the diaper and well, you know. "Clean crib sheets in the top drawer," I mumbled as I tried to find the elusive baby-sitting-upright-against-a-pillow-while-I-remain-as-asleep- as-possible-on-the-same-pillow position so I could give Noah his bottle. Jason gave me a Look. A Look beyond the obvious I know where the goddamn crib sheets are, woman, our child is almost half a year old. A look that said Crib sheets! Ha! If only it were that simple! "Oh no," I said. "Not like,... Read more →

I really believe my streak of bad luck is coming to an end. I brought in some delicious homemade minestrone for lunch, but was saddened when I realized I forgot to grate some parmesan cheese over it this morning. Yet what should I find neatly stacked up in our office kitchen today? Why, three or four little containers of grated parmesan cheese! I am not going to think about why in the name of Samuel H. Heck there was random parmesan cheese in the kitchen, nor am I going to think about what type of person helps herself to said random parmesan cheese and then immediately runs off to tell the Internet about it, because like, score, dude. *pumps fist in air, hums Rocky song, because FREE RANDOM CHEESE, WHEE!* BUT ANYWAY: Yesterday, I drove up to Baltimore to brunch and shop (I love using "brunch" as a verb, incidentally, although I generally feel like punching other people who do the same) with the delightful Sweetney. Oh no, honey, I think they sat us next to some goddamn BLOGGERS again. I would like to state for the record that Google Maps is every bit as vindictive as Mapquest, as they... Read more →

Yes. So sorry about that. Long-time readers know that whenever I say a specific topic will be covered "tomorrow," I actually mean "the day after that or quite possibly, never." You should probably yell at the long-time readers for not telling you about that endearing little quirk of mine. (IT IS ENDEARING. MY MOM SAID SO. SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU.) Eek! You will now forgive me for anything! So it's been exactly a week since the Heartbreaking Friday of Staggering Suck, and honestly, I'm still a little twitchy about it. I won't close my car doors unless I am physically holding my keys in my hand and staring right at them, and on several occasions have gone so far to talk to my keys as another way to affirm that yes, these keys in my hand are not inside the car. (Bonus to having a baby: All the running commentary that otherwise gets you looked at as the crazy person talking out loud to your keys or to the ATM [Don't you eat my card, Mr. ATM Machine, don't you fucking dare eat my goddamn card] is now perfectly appropriate because you are teaching the baby LANGUAGE SKILLS.) My... Read more →

OR, THE LONGEST POST EVER BECAUSE IT IS ACTUALLY THREE OR FOUR POSTS THAT I HAVE NOT GOTTEN AROUND TO WRITING, SO PLEASE SCHEDULE THE REST OF YOUR DAY ACCORDINGLY. A powernap might be in order about halfway through too. So I was picked for a jury on Thursday. I've never been picked before. The last time I had jury duty I spent about two hours in the Juror's Lounge watching Ken Burn's baseball documentary, then about 45 minutes in a hallway outside a courtroom being lined up randomly by juror number, then re-lined up even more randomly, and then we all filed into the courtroom where the defendant took one look at us and decided to plead guilty to whatever. I don't know why. Perhaps we all just had that pro-death-penalty look about us or something. Then I was sent home, and in a fit of goodwill towards man I donated my $4 travel fee to the city. This time, I said I would be keeping my goddamned travel fee, thank you very much, City Who Called Me For Service While I Was On Maternity Leave And So Did Not Care About My Squawling Breastfed Infant And Only Let... Read more →

I have so very many stories to tell y'all, including stories about: 1) Why Law & Order is a big lying pile of shit, 2) The bathing habits of the DC citizenry, like, DUDES, 3) Toe vs. Vacuum Cleaner (advantage: Hoover), 4) Why I am an idiot, part 3290084334686423, and 5) Why "Is there a certified locksmith on staff?" should be one of your top questions when interviewing daycare providers. (Edited later because apparently, numbering five different items properly is really, really hard. Wouldn't you want me on a jury of your peers?) But I cannot tell any of them now, as I am back to court today to mete out harsh and totally-not-swift justice. Bah. However, I do think this hat may be violating some kind of cuteness statute. Have a good day, pretty people, spay and neuter your pets, and please remember to keep your handguns licensed and registered. Read more →