Got 2 pages done today, plus a solid outline of the conclusion. Which, considering that I was dancing my butt off at the Police concert until 11:30 last night, is really about as much as I hoped to do. (I’ll try to post some more detailed thoughts on the concert later.) Plus, it’s the freaking 4th! Why are you even READING this? Get outside and grill something, dammit!
PS – Happy Birthday, Mellie! Way to rock 26 years.
A little rougher going today. But I’ve (mostly) finished analysis of the final scene of the Shaw play, which is huge. Tomorrow I’ll be working on the conclusion, which Ima predict right now will be on the skimpy side. But so it goes. Then hopefully I can do some revisions on earlier chapters on Thursday and Friday in preparation for sending it off to my long-suffering advisor next week. Oof.
Heading out to a concert later this evening. A nifty little group, perhaps you’ve heard of them: THE POLICE.
OMFG it is going to be so awesome.
Later gators.
OK, I am *trying* to get some goddamn writing done here, and there is a person at the other end of the coffee shop who for some reason feels the need to converse with another patron at a level of approximately ONE BILLION DECIBELS. You know how some people just have naturally piercing voices? Yah. This guy is one of them. Holy FUCK is his voice annoying. Plus he’s talking about, like, his startup business making day-glo orange safety vests or something, and asking this guy, who he clearly doesn’t know personally, all these stupid questions about marketing in a manner that makes it transparent that he’d really like the guy to buy a ton of his damn vests. SHUT UP ALREADY. Jesus, now they’re both amping up the volume. Christ, people, you’re only three feet apart! THEY CAN HEAR YOU IN CANADA.
Grrrrr. Maybe it’s time to take a lunch break.
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Posted in trials and tribulations, updates, writing
Eight pages. That’s how much I wrote today. I’m embarking on the final phase of Operation: Finish the Fucker, the fucker in question being my dissertation. My parents are in town for the week to watch the Hatchling so that I can go to my favorite coffee shop from 8-5 and write. I’m working on the last chapter, which deals mainly with a play by George Bernard Shaw, who is, may I just say, a TOTAL BITCH to write about. Just when you think you know what he’s doing in a particular scene, he changes it up on you and does the opposite. Anyhoo, today I finished my analysis of the penultimate scene of the play. Tomorrow I plan on writing my analysis of the final scene and possibly starting on the conclusion. I’ll post what I get done here partly to keep me honest, and partly as an incentive to, you know, Finish the Fucker.
If you felt like sending good writing vibes in my general direction, that would be OK.
Number of explosive, no really, I mean EXPLOSIVE, diapers changed today: 3.
Diapers changed, total: 6.
Close calls with toddler climbing up, behind, or around various parts of the house: 4.
Cheddar-flavored Sesame Street character-imprinted crackers strewn about the carpet: approx. twelvety billion.
Requests by two toddlers to be held/snuggled/paid attention to: constant.
At the same time: ditto.
Final Score: toddlers – 1,000,000; Squab – 0.
How one toddler indicates she is ready for her afternoon nap:
Toddler: Man, I am tired. My eyes feel kind of itchy. I better rub them. Also, I hate all these toys. I will push them away from me, they are so stupid. God, I feel like crap. Maybe if I bury my head in Mama’s lap and whimper she can fix it.
Mama: OK, someone’s ready for naps. Should we fix you a bottle? Let’s go.
Bottle is made. Nap ensues. All is well.
How two toddlers indicate that they are ready for their afternoon naps:
Toddler 1: Man, I am tired. I can’t even take these toys anymore. I’m just going to sit here and cry until I feel better.
Toddler 2: OK, I was already getting sort of sleepy, and that other kid’s racket is NOT helping. She was fine when we were playing and stuff but now she’s just getting on my last nerve. I’m going to start crying, too, and see if that helps.
Toddler 1: Dude, if YOU start crying that just makes me want to cry harder! This is not helping! I need some cuddles!
Mama: OK, honey, let’s pick you up. You’re OK, you’re just tired. You’re OK.
Toddler 2: What the hell? Now she’s crying louder! That makes ME cry louder! And Harder! MAMAAAA!
Mama: Oh, my goodness, two sad girls! Come on, one on one side and one on the other, let’s rock a little bit. You’re OK, it’s OK, calm down, calm down …
Toddler 1: All this noise is seriously freaking me out! Make it stop!
Toddler 2: OMG I cannot take this! I have snot all over my face and I think I might throw up I’m crying so hard! Make it stop!!
Mama: OK, let’s try this: here, Toddler 1, you have your nuk. (Crying of Toddler 1 instantly stops.) Toddler 2, let’s go make a bottle. Everyone is going to be OK. (Toddler 2 slowly calms down.)
Bottle is made, Toddler 2 goes down. Toddler 1 is rocked until her eyes close and then she is put down. Naps ensue. All is well.
So, you know. Just a SLIGHT difference.
(But really, we’re having a blast. This was just a minor eruption.)
For the next two weeks, starting tomorrow, the Hatchling and I will have some extra company from noon to 6 pm. Our friend Fi, who is five weeks younger than the Hatchling, will be spending afternoons with us while her mom teaches a class. Mostly, I am excited about this: the two girls love spending time together, Fi could not be a more mellow, sweet, happy baby, and it will be good for the Hatchling to spend more time with another kid. Between playing, snacks, and naps I’m guessing the afternoons will go by pretty fast. So, yeah, like, 95% excited. Of course, there is that 5% of me that’s a little nervous that the toddlers will join forces against me, holding the cats hostage until I agree to their no-nap demands, ransacking the bottom three feet of the house as I follow in their wake, fruitlessly trying to bribe them with teddy grahams and goldfish crackers.
But I’m sure that won’t happen.
But you can still send positive toddler-wrangling vibes in my direction.
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Posted in updates
This past weekend we got a last-minute invite to spend some time at a fabulous cabin on a beautiful lake with some wonderful friends and their two adorable children. Needless to say, we jumped at the chance. The weather was absolutely perfect all weekend long, and it was the most relaxing “vacation” we’ve had since the Hatchling arrived. I think it was being with another couple with small kids that made it less stressful, oddly. I love my family to death, but we’re the only ones with a baby right now, and, you know: babies can be sort of a pain in the ass. Especially if they’re not yours. They have different schedules than most adults, and they need attention all the time, and you have to make all these adjustments when you’re around them. This always makes me feel a little stressed when we travel places; I devote a lot of energy – far more than necessary, I know – to being as little trouble for the people we’re with as possible. But this weekend was different. With two other small kids in addition to the Hatchling, all the adults were used to making accommodations for the little ones. It was like we were all on the same rhythm, instead of having to adjust ourselves to the non-baby-having rhythm (or make the non-baby-havers adjust to us). Silly, I know, but I was surprised at how much of a difference it made in my enjoyment of the weekend. The excellent company, glorious weather and healthy servings of booze didn’t hurt, either.
And the Hatchling, of course, had the time of her life. There was a tea party,
beach lounging,
piano playing,
and much exploring.
It was a nice way to kick off the summer.
As in “like a Titan,” not as in “sinking ship.”
The Hatchling had her 12 month check-up today, and as usual, she’s off the charts, yo:
Noggin: 46.5 cm around (90th percentile)
Height: 31.5 inches (>97th percentile)
Weight: 26 lbs, 10 oz (>97th percentile)
So … yeah. Now I understand why my back hurts all the damn time. TWENTY SIX FREAKING POUNDS is why. The doctor pronounced her “gorgeous” “a real tow head” and “the picture of health.” Which indeed she is.
Getting your post-show cold a week early, that’s what. Normally, my body waits until the show is over to let go, but this time, it was all like, what? You have one day off this week? WELL DON’T PLAN ANYTHING THAT INVOLVES BEING HEALTHY.
Good times, Good times.
Now here’s something that’s truly awesome: The Bastard Fairies singing We’re All Going to Hell. (Note: not for the devout or easily offended. But the rest of you sickos will LOVE it.) Via Cynical Dad, who notes that you can download their whole album here.
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Posted in Pop Culture, trials and tribulations, updates
