Thursday, April 26, 2007

I'm hopping on to report that we did, in fact, thoroughly enjoy our weather last weekend. It was everything the weatherman promised it would be & more. Beyond beautiful.

And as I write this, the dark clouds are rushing to gather overtop our little building here, threatening their inevitable downpour & depressing the hell out of me. I feel like that X-Men character Storm, so affected am I by the slightest change in weather. If I lived in California I'd be so damn bubbly I couldn't stand myself! Like, Oh my gosh!

I'll simply continue to curl up to my steaming cup of coffee, content to at least be inside & out of the trenches of our damnable Cleveland "spring." If I keep my coffee warm & focus on work, I won't even notice the depressing weather, right? At the very least, I won't notice the time dragging by until I can go get my boysies. Even with the baby at his moodiest, snuggling on the couch is infinitely preferred to plodding along here, without even the faintest hint of sunshine in my window. Spring, you tease, where have you gone?

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

I am THRILLED to report that the weather forecast is looking SUBLIME for this weekend. My patience has been truly tested with the recent unseasonal snow, and the five of us (did I mention my brothers moved out?) under each other's feet the whole damnable winter long. I think when Friday afternoon rolls around, we will spill out of the house like one of those practical joke cannisters of worms popping open. POW!

I'm convinced my girlfriend Tiff & I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, provided such a disorder does in fact exist. If so, we are definitely under its oppresive thumb. There is just such a marked change in the air when it gets above 60, something almost tangible. The scent of new blossoms in the air, warm sun on your face, animals humping each other senseless...What's not to love about spring? Bliss.

So slather on your sunscreen, break out your tank tops, & let's do the darn thing!

Friday, April 13, 2007

I just want to document something that I'm thinking I might forget in the future. I'm sure I'll look back on this time in our lives and clearly remember Julian's distinct knack for driving us all crazy, his ability to whine ceaselessly, his irritation made evident over every little obstacle, but I may not remember the sweet things. Okay, thing.

At the end of the day, when the fussing has dissipated and bedtime draws near, I perch said Crankmaster on my hip & begin our little nighttime ritual. We head to the kitchen, where I make his bottle & we discuss what sort of day we had. I use the term "discuss" loosely, seeing as how Julian has one vocabulary word, "uh-oh," which usually serves to describe his day anyway.

When the microwave dings, & the baba is ready, I hold it steady while Julian places the nipple on top. This child may be a Sir Fussalot, but he is clearly headed for some career in engineering. He loves nothing more than to screw lids on bottles, or jugs, or whatever fascinating container begs to be capped.

So he places the nipple, with ring, on the baba, and I say, "Yay! You did it! You put the lid on!" (This is my script, I dare not deviate from it.) At which point (here it is, my favorite part of the day), he grins, ear to ear, pride spelled across his little face, & then squeezes my arm sooo tightly, then releases. Just a squeeze, just a smile, but they mean the world to me. My heart melts, & whatever havoc yon bebe has wreaked during the course of the day falls to the wayside, forgotten, forgiven, as we share this moment.

I felt the need to jump on here, my little time capsule of a blog, and record the fact that Julian does have his endearing points, even if the majority of the time he's gunning for the World's Highest Maintenance Baby record. Love you, JuJuBee.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

I do believe Spencer turned 14 instead of 4 last week. He's throwing attitude around like nobody's business, defying his father & me at every turn. I don't WANT to go to bed. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! I don't WANT to go grocery shopping (although I may have said I did five minutes ago). I don't WANT pork roast for dinner. Don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna. Stomp, slam, you get the picture. Lord help him if he wakes up the baby, is all I've got to say.

I think it has a lot to do with vying for attention with Lord Of All He Surveys, King Julian. It's tough, folks! I'm trying my darndest here, but my #1 objective has got to be to stop JuJuBee's crying. I simply can't carry on another conversation while he throws himself at my feet, wailing and despondent. So I usually attend to him first, for peace & quiet's sake, then tackle whatever Spence has been dancing around talking about for the past fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, by the way, equates to about 2.5 years in Toddler Time. Oh the agony of having to wait until Mommy can watch me make a silly face. Or new dance step. Or whatever. ARGH!!

So, dear boys, please know that Mommy loves you, even if I may yell in frustration occasionally or make promises to sterilize your father the hard way. I'm only venting a little steam. I'm sure you understand.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Today is THE DAY. Spencer, my love, turns 4 today. FOUR YEARS OLD. This, of course, means that I myself am ancient. It wasn't so long ago that I felt quite the free spirit, flitting about, not a care or responsibility in the world. And look at us now! We're the best little family we can be. I'm extremely proud of my boys, and our family, and even if it means giving up my careless ways, so be it. They are worth any and every sacrifice. Be-bopping around wasn't so great anyways, as I remember it.

So we're venturing off to THE place for birthday boys' lunches, that most fantastic gem of an eatery, McDonald's. Although I allow Spence full reign today, on his special day, I do however draw the line at having Mickey D's for both lunch & dinner. Another plan, please, dear boy. Mommy's arteries can't take it.

And the grand finale, excluding his party on Saturday of course, is the kitten we're surprising him with when we get home! A brand-new best friend, I can think of no better present. Not to mention it'll help my sweet wussy boy to slowly overcome his fear of larger animals. We hope. Perhaps we'll get a dog by his 30th. Fingers crossed.

So, my love, my life, my Spencer, Happy Birthday, dear boy, and may this and each birthday hereafter find you in good health, great spirits, and exploring all the fabulous potential we see in you. We love you!