ARGH so I have no time to actually post anything substantial because I have a second wave of family arriving today and I have to mop floors and buy more booze but that last post is bumming me out especially because Christmas was absolutely 100% non-bummer-like in the slightest EVEN THOUGH it involved one teeny tiny little harmless emergency room visit and no I'm not joking but I'll tell you about that later because TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY COUGH AHEM COUGH so here: (Pro tip: Forget holiday cards. New Year's cards are the last-minute procrastinating SHIT, y'all.) Read more →

I can't tell you how many first sentences I have written and deleted in the past couple days. "So here's the thing," I'd start, then be unable to put the thing into words. Other times I'd try skipping the pointless preamble and just say it, but then would be irritated by the unpoetic obviousness: the well-duh-ness of it. Then I'd think that I didn't really want to publish anything that might bum people out right before Christmas ANYWAY, so maybe I'll just go do something else until a different, funnier topic occurred to me. And yes, the Star Wars snowflakes were Exhibit A of "doing something else", along with baking. So much baking. I don't even particularly love baking, but I did it anyway. Batch after batch of cookies, until I finally up and ran out of sugar yesterday. So it's either finally sit down and post something or vaccuum. We're hosting Christmas this year, for the first time ever. This is not the thing, of course, because I'm happy to do it. We bought this particular house with holiday hosting in mind -- albeit that was waaaay back before we went and filled every bedroom with wall-to-wall children and... Read more →

(Sorry, Star Trek! Mama's bringing things back to her fandom this Christmas.) (Even though she's usually about as crafty as your average garden slug.) (So please don't look too closely at R2D2. He was tragically maimed in a freak gasoline fight accident.) (Though Boba Fett turned out pretty badass, I think.) (Printable DIY Star Wars snowflake diagrams are here, though I'm serious: the R2D2 one will make you want to punch kittens in the vagina.) (I still need to make Yoda and C3PO, but decided a little break was in order after I started seeing the face of Darth Vader on my parchment paper while baking Christmas cookies.) (RIGHT?) (Totally.) (Thanks to Jackie for the snowflake link! It's not I had anything productive to do during all those hours.) (PARENTHESES!) Read more →

At some point, Baby Ike moved past that phase where he would attempt to latch on to anyone who happened to be holding him right when the milk cravings hit. Oh hi, General Chestal Region Of Random Human! I am hungry. Your shirt angers me so much. Now he seems pretty clued in to the fact that I, alone, am Milk Lady, and that my General Chestal Region is special and magic and all that. And also this: WHY DOES MILK NOT FLOW OUT OF YOUR FACE ARGH NOM NOM GRRR This is Ike's special Milk Lady greeting. If I'm holding him, chances are he will be attempting to suck on my cheek, lips or nose while squeezing whatever else he can get his fists around AS HARD AS HE CAN. I believe it is technically done out of love and affection, but if you're feeling a bit left out, you can easily recreate the sensation at home by attacking your own face with a vaccuum cleaner attachment. (That also has teeth.) (I think Dyson makes one.) (Thanks to Tracey for taking the above picture on Friday, but not for laughing hysterically while my face-sucking amoeba baby yanked out handfuls... Read more →

(Photo from 2010, and all the years that done come before that.) While waiting in an absolutely-ridiculous-for-a-Wednesday-night-are-you-kidding-me-with-this-nonsense line for Mall Santa, I realized that I am officially becoming That Mom: Things that were once a magical part of parenthood that I was so excited to participate in are now mostly just a colossal pain in my butt. Like taking the kids to see Mall Santa. Can you believe we've been doing this for six straight Christmases now? That we used to do it completely voluntarily and unnecessarily when Noah was a baby and didn't give a rats' ass about seeing Mall Santa?But no matter! You are seeing Mall Santa, small turtle-like infant! MAMA WINS AT MEMORIES. Now, of course, there's no getting out of it. Traditions have been established! Myths have been perpetrated! Lists have been written! Well, okay. That right there warms my grinchy heart a little. (ALSO A LOT.) After close to four years of fine-motor occupational therapy and handwriting help, plus six months of "Noah is demonstrating some red flags for dyslexia, let's keep our eyes on that" (BECAUSE THE FUN JUST NEVER STOPS), it completely thrills me to see him pick up a crayon and just...write,... Read more →

Okay, let's go over this one last time. I am not a toy. I am not an action figure. I am a 2004 Frodo Baggins Hallmark Keepsake ornament, currently going for $6.99 on eBay, which is...definitely some fraction of my original purchase price, not that I'll ever go for $6.99 on eBay because some wretched child was all, "MY FRODO TOY!" and broke my sword out of my hand no less than 30 seconds after I was out of the box and unwrapped from last year's newspaper. My sword! The famed short sword Sting, gifted to me by Bilbo Baggins and carried throughout my quest across Middle Earth, magically warning me of nearby orcs by glowing blue! I mean, it was like, totally important! I needed it! Goddamn. Oh, cry me a fucking river, halfling. Look at me. My goddamn arm's off. Because YOU try explaining to a preschooler that a small plastic TOY-like version of a TOY cowboy from a movie called TOY Story is not actually a toy. And shut up, Buzz. For the last time, I am not the wind beneath your stupid wings, so stop singing that. We're posed awkwardly enough as it is. EEEERRRGGGH. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH.... Read more →

Weekend Thing One: Another three months, another belt test. Another hilarious ("HILARIOUS") and obligatory video of the board-breaking moment and belt ceremony, during which Noah was specifically, personally warned -- upon penalty of FAILING -- not to touch his board or bring it up to the front, which he always does, because...well, have you ever broken a damn board with your foot? Me neither. I imagine I'd probably glue that thing onto a fascinator and then never take it off, just to warn people not to mess with me, I WILL BREAK YOUR ARM OFF AND USE IT AS A CHIN STRAP FOR THIS HERE HAT, M'KAY? Anyway. Noah obediently placed his board next to him and put his hands back on his knees while other students were called up to receive their new belts. And then Jason and I watched as he sl-o-o-w-ly started losing focus and succumbing to the siren call of Shit To Fidget With and picked his board back up. "NOAH, NOAH!" you can hear Jason and I frantically hissing from behind the camera. "PUT YOUR BOARD DOWN. NOAH, NOAH! NO BOARD DUDE, NO BOARD!" Our whispers got increasingly desperate (read: loud) with each kid's name... Read more →

I had a brief flash of menstrual-cycle panic this week, while Jason was away. I found myself sitting in the nursery, happily contemplating the various ways I could organize the contents of my brand-new changing table, while eating black olives out of the can. Good news! I am not pregnant in the slightest, but do seem to have retained a few of my weirder pregnancy habits and compulsions. BEHOLD I know what you're thinking: Who in their right mind buys a new changing table when her third baby is already six months old? Well, duh. Obviously I make no claims about being in my right mind, but whatever. In addition to the ruined-by-way-of-wipes-warmer surface on the old table, the crappy particle-board back had completely fallen off, a door hinge was busted and wouldn't close and finally one of the drawer guides snapped off and broke in two, and also I kind of own too many freaking diapers at this point OH RIGHT THAT. Consider this my cautionary tale to anyone trying to justify spending a small fortune on nursery furniture because you know it will totes grow with your child and they'll use it their whole lives and take the... Read more →

I believe I mentioned that Baby Ike is six months old already, but I do not believe that I emphasized that fact enough already. SIX MONTHS OLD WHAT THE HOW IN THE HOLY SHIT I CAN'T EVEN To be fair, before I launch into the whine-fest that you know is coming, this has been the easiest first six months I've had with a baby. (Turbohork aside, but we no longer speak of such things.) His birth was criminally easy, my recovery time even more so. Breastfeeding, great. Weight gain, perfect. Developmentally, he continues to chug along like clockwork, doing everything he's supposed to be doing right in the sweet spot of "don't rush me, woman" and "surprise! look what I can do, all of a sudden." Personality-wise, he is incredibly happy, curious, cuddly and smiles with his entire head. I truly, genuinely enjoy the stuffing out of this wonderful little baby, and am stuck between wanting to hit the pause button on his adorable self right now just like this forever, and being incredibly excited about seeing what he'll do next, because I just know it's going to be awesome. So of course, he's a crap sleeper. He didn't used... Read more →

We bought our Christmas tree this weekend, which was terribly! exciting! because 1) it was the first year Noah did NOT wig completely out over the idea that we needed to transport the tree on the roof of our car, so we got to all go as a family instead of Jason picking a tree out and sneaking it in while I kept Noah distracted and/or placated with lies about how yes, Daddy TOTALLY let the tree ride inside the car, properly buckled safely in the passenger seat, and 2) Ezra got into a drunken fist fight over a blue spruce and the basket of free miniature candy canes. The fist fight was with a slippery, tree-sap-covered patch of pavement. The pavement totally got his, if you know what I'm saying. He'll think twice next time before messing with a three-year-old and his candy canes, for sure. I asked Ezra to tell me his side of the story, just so I could add another movie clip to the now epic-lengthed documentary I'm working on entitled "ZERO FEAR, LESS SENSE: THE COMPLEAT EZRA STORCH INJURY COMPENDIUM EXPERIENCE." (Look for a screening at a wedding reception in the distant future near you!)... Read more →