the pieces of my life

We’re having a crappy week all around. The Doodles is sick. And a sick Doodles is an unhappy mother. Especially when Monday day care is canceled because of some stupid holiday that only the auto dealers celebrate and he’s banished from Thursday day care because he hasn’t been fever free for twenty-four hours (do I need to remind you he’s only in day care on Mondays and Thursdays?). I have a ton of deadlines coming up and suddenly, no time to get the stuff done. I was supposed to go to New York for a night this weekend all by my little self, but seeing as how it’s been a work-free week, it looks like I’ll have to cancel my night away (my first night, I might add, ever away from my Doodles!). Yes, I’m being cranky. It happens. It would have helped if Doodles hadn’t screamed for an hour in the middle of the night, but the fact is, I’m tired and I’m cranky. Sorry folks, you’ll just have to deal with it.

Edited later: Ah, things are much better. I just got some naked tushie time. I don’t think there’s anything better in life than a naked Doodles tushie.

Despite the fact that I’m neither a drug addict nor an alcoholic nor insane, I’ve always felt an affinity for Hunter S. Thompson. If you recall, Doodles did, too. He once said, “Some may never live, but the crazy never die.” I guess he proved himself wrong.

“The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.” –Hunter S. Thompson, Hells Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga

We are officially in Yuppiedom. Today we called a nutrionist for our 18-month-old Doodles. Ugh.

Hannah came to visit us. Let me say, she was the perfect houseguest. We’ve had plenty of less-than-perfect houseguests (read: high-maintenance) that she was such a refreshing joy. She came bearing not just Peeps for me, but decorating Peeps! She entertained herself. She entertained Doodles even when he was acting less than friendly himself. She earned her position as president of the Doodles fan club. Future houseguests, the bar has been raised.

If it weren’t for the fact that he spends all of his time on Sons of Sam Horn, I’d think Adam was secretly behind this site.

Not all my friends lead as boring and sedate lives as I do. My friend Brian, in fact, has a pretty good gig. He wrote an aritcle about the cool work he does but be warned: this is not for the easily offended. It’s may not even be for the difficult to offend. But I think it’s pretty neat.

I had planned on writing more this week, but unfortunately someone (and I’m not naming names here) doesn’t seem to want to be helped by his lovely mother’s helper today and he is instead standing by the kitchen gate shouting, “Momma! Momma!” And to think I was at one time so happy when he called my name.

Thanks to Diane for passing this amazing translation of The Little Golden Treasures: My Little Book About God.

Don’t get me wrong. I really appreciate everything Adam does. From what I hear, he does significantly more than most Dads out there. But there are days (today among them) when I long to post a sign on my child that says, “Daddy Dressed Me!”

I’ve decided that trying to have conversations with my son is really like trying to have a conversation with a Magic 8 Ball (Oooo, find out the secrets of the Magic Eight Ball!). I always get one of six answers from him, and it seems to be 100 percent, completely random which response I’ll get. For instance, a questions as simple as, “Doodles, would you like to put on your jacket?” can elicit:

1) Yeah–Note, this has no bearing on what the question was and he shows surprise when I try to follow through with whatever action I asked about.
2) No–Usually this answer is dead on, accompanied by violent shaking of the head.
3) No Reply–This is accompanied by a willful turn of the head as my child ignores me to run across the room and become suddenly busy elsewhere.
4) Reply Hazy–This comes when I ask my child a question, he looks me straight in the eye and responds in some babble that I have yet to decode. It’s usually a very long explanation and at the end of it, he looks up at me expectantly and hopefully, waiting for my response to which I generally shrug and hand him some Goldfish.
5) Bish–No clue as to what this is. It’s said in great earnest, frequently and neither Adam nor I can interpret it.
6) Up!–Said when Doodles doesn’t give a hoot to what we asked but he wants yet another Barney book read.

Smarter than a monkey, almost. Smarter than a Magic 8 Ball? I long for the day!