When we last visited the Lynchian-like Wonderland that is the stupid wooden train set in Amy's basement that she is obsessed with beyond all that is good and decent, things were bleak. Track shortages had left gaping holes in the railway line. A labor dispute over the protected marshlands had shut all development down on the northeast side of the island, Sir Topham Hatt was blitzed out of his gourd, and Thomas had met his evil twin, Samohto Monteban, who repeatedly foiled his plans to be a Really Useful Engine. Usually by Not Working Together and Getting the Job Done Fast Instead of Right. Tsk tsk, Samohto! Since then, massive infrastructure investments have been made, as well as a move towards renewable energy in the form of a windmill. Al Gore even visited the island for a ribbon-cutting ceremony. Things were looking up. Unfortunately, the windmill contract ended up in the hands of organized crime, who quickly began producing "flour," and yet the children of Sodor regularly went without bread or birthday cakes. The crime syndicate did manage to get the work stoppage lifted, but then quickly converted the marshlands to a scrap yard, where vehicles often ended up under... Read more →

I hate going to the dentist. Oh, how I hate going to the dentist. I went for a cleaning last week and wriggled and twitched uncomfortably through the poking and the scraping, my tongue constantly and involuntarily getting in the way, while I fixated on the bulb of the overhead light, hoping that my dry burning eyeballs would distract me from what was going on in my mouth. The hygienist pulled out the polishing toothbrush and I cringed -- this was the worst part, I always thought. The WORST. And like every cleaning before, I realized that it wasn't -- that it actually barely bothered me at all. When I was very little, that vibrating doohickey made me cry. I had to be physically held down in the dentist chair for years. It made me scream and kick and flail and gag. One time I screamed so much I threw up all over myself -- just like Noah did after the nurse restrained his hand for all that time on Monday, squeezing out drops of blood after a completely painless finger prick. Just like Noah. If I order a sandwich, it cannot contain any of the following: lettuce, pickles, raw... Read more →

Noah finally had his two-year checkup today, because of reasons that had nothing to do with me forgetting to make the appointment, oh no no noooo, and you know what I did? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? I gave him a sippy cup of milk. BEFORE his shots. BEFORE his blood test for lead. BEFORE the nurse started squeezing out drops of blood from his finger, one by one by one and then STAB STAB STAB in the THIGH THIGH THIGH* and yes, he screamed until he puked up the milk all over us both. I had two (2) baby wipes with me. The nurse handed me a bucket and the paper towel from the baby scale and left, probably wondering why the hell I even bothered to show up, why not just send the fleet of nannies in, for all the practical parenting knowledge I clearly possessed. Milk. I GAVE HIM MILK. Good God. *Noah and his thighs are, by the way, only 28 pounds. He's gained 18 pounds in his whole entire life. I gain and lose that much every other holiday. The doctor has ordered Pediasure and butter, STAT. **Hey, you know what else I did... Read more →

Despite the occasional blogging-friendly pratfall, I actually do consider myself a fairly competent adult. I can make it through most days without serious injury, I juggle and meet multiple deadlines on a regular basis and I know how to open and close my stupid asshole stroller. But there's something about New York that turns in me into a bumbling, fumbling idiot. I get on the wrong train! I trip on the sidewalk! I compulsively over-tip cab drivers! I walk around with the tags from my inside-out underwear sticking out of my pants all day! This week's trip was no exception. Noah and I left DC on Sunday, smack dab in the middle of prime napping time. Even with Union Station's priority boarding for families with young children, we barely found seats in time. I had our suitcase on my back, the diaper bag slung over my torso and I was dragging the stroller by the shoulder strap behind me while I desperately tried to hang onto Noah by his armpits while he howled and the entire world and several Amtrak employees judged but did not help. I shoved him on the train first -- by God, ONE of us would... Read more →

I just got back from New York, where I've been for several days now. Alone. With a toddler. I don't even know where to begin. The screaming? The train? The 150 pounds of luggage that contained zero pairs of socks? The screaming? The getting locked out of an apartment by two semi-naked toddlers and having to explain how THAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY? Fine. I'll start with this. More tomorrow, or...you know, ish. Rockstar Lifestyle from amalah on Vimeo. Read more →

Wow. I did...exactly not one interesting thing this week. I...unloaded the dishwasher a lot? I hid brussels sprouts in a fruit smoothie? I wore my cute new jacket from Target and bought Noah a new hat? Yes. All this, AND MORE! In the span of five whole days! Man, life is a crazy buzz sometimes. Yesterday Noah and I trekked up to Baltimore to hang out with this lunatic for a while a few hours longer than appropriate straight on 'til bedtime. Tracey and I got into a very heated discussion re: megapixels, and our differences could only be solved by blinding each other with camera flashes while shrieking our heads off. It made a lot of sense at the time. We were both admittedly pretty jealous of M's stylin' pink camera, though. The original idea was to sign some important business-y work-y type paperwork for mamapop.com (I'd rather not be sued for defamation by Britney Spears' busted-ass weave, you know? It looks litigious.) and let the kiddos work on their "sharing." Noah got his first taste of the Barbie accessories catalog and Halloween Oreos. Step One: Lick. Step Two: Dilate pupils. Step Three: RUN RUN RUN MUST CONSUME ENTIRE... Read more →

Last night Jason and I were snacking on some cheese -- the stinky, ooky, weirdo cheeses that scare everybody else but oh God, I could eat an entire wheel, hell, I could build a car out of them and then eat all four wheels -- and Noah came over and asked for some. He signed cheese, over and over, and would not accept our explanation that this was probably not the kind of cheese he'd like. He insisted, so Jason gave him a bite. He gingerly touched it to his tongue, and then promptly handed it back to Jason. "Yuck," he said, clear as day. I wonder when we'll stop celebrating every word. When we'll just nod and shrug and go on with our meal instead of pumping our fists in the air and laughing, like holy crap, did you just hear that? I wonder when I'll move him out of the "speech-delayed, present tense" and into the "speech-delayed, past tense, can you believe this kid used to ever not talk?", and when I'll stop flinching when strangers ask him questions he can't answer (What's your name? How old are you? You must be talkin' up a storm these days,... Read more →

While there are very few topics I consider off-limits for this blog, I made the random decision ages ago that I would not publicly document the potty-training process. Thus, please accept my baffled, sort-of impressed and mostly stony silence today. I don't know what I am doing, but that boy will do anything -- GODDAMN ANYTHING -- in exchange for dessert. *** I spent most of the weekend planting bulbs in the garden. Me. Planting bulbs. In the dirt, where there are worms and it was cold and I forgot to change my pants so I was the asshole planting bulbs in low-rise skinny jeans who every once in awhile would remember to yank down on her sweatshirt, but wouldn't take her gardening gloves off so her entire back and half of her ass were covered in dirt by the end, and honestly, what are the odds ANY of those bulbs are going to bloom in the spring? Bad. Slim to none. And I am quite bitter about it already, and I spent the morning sending real estate links to Jason, subtly suggesting that we move back into a condo, because eff. This. Dirt. Shit. *** Speaking of Jason, he... Read more →

"Hello?" "The polls just closed at the Weblog Awards. I won!" "Cool. What's your prize?" "Uh. A solitary fist-pump in my kitchen and the hatred of several thousand people who voted for other bloggers." "Congratulations." "And I think I get a...graphic or something." "Wow." "Yeah." "Anything else going on?" "Noah said mirror today. And made a shh sound. And when I told him to stop saying no no no so much he switched to saying on on on." "Whoa. Did he poop?" "Yes. The prune juice finally helped. And -- oh, shit, I have to put his crib sheet in the dryer." "Ew." "Are you almost home? I haven't showered yet." Voted for the other guy. Read more →

Wow. So, okay. You guys have really strong feelings about the Eyeball Lamp. You guys really hate the Eyeball Lamp. I mean, I knew it was ugly, and I will even admit that it does look more like some kind of odd ceiling protuberance* than an actual light fixture, but I guess I've just learned to ignore it. Probably because I've spent the last 11 months crawling around the baseboards with 12 million beige paint chips while cursing the previous homeowners and their crazy beige paint fetish and dear God why didn't we just fucking repaint the house when we moved in. So obviously, I have just been too busy to notice the ceilings. Or maybe I am actually a little terrified that I'll have to touch up the paint around the light fixture and discover that they also bought 17 slightly different shades of white paint too. *I don't believe I have ever used "protuberance" in a sentence before. Go me! And now I'm ASHAMED. I've had people over to my house! I've had guests spend the night on our sleeper sofa DIRECTLY BELOW the Eyeball Lamp, in all its nipple-like protuberanceness. I have been exposing my innermost thoughts... Read more →