Here am I, fully grown and undignified in the wet grass, tipping over under the weight of my giggling toddler, my bare white legs and arms blotched with pink bug bites and futile scratch marks, muddy puppy pawprints on my shorts and skin, and now wet handprints of dew-drenched boy clambering up so he can haul me down to ant-level.
YOOK!
The puppy returns from a brief trek to fetch a pink squeaky toy, chewing and growling:
PLAY! THROW!
I wrestle the pink plush toy from puppy's intimidating jaws while saying to my son,
YES, I am YOUR Mommy, not his.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
black fly season -- a morning snapshot
1:30 a.m. baby Raging Bull wakens us roaring for more milk. I check his poison ivy spots -- getting better.
2:00 a.m. puppy screeches from his crate downstairs: "I need to go outside! I will poop in my crate if you don't let me outside!" Once outside puppy wants to play fetch with tennis ball. Mosquitos whine and at least two follow me inside.
3:30 a.m. Raging Bull awake again, I nudge sleeping Spouse, moan, "Your turn, please..." Spouse says, "I wanted to sleep through the night." I don't remember which of us gets up. Bug bites itch.
5:30 a.m. Raging Bull awake for good now, wants milk, no--juice, wants his socks on--no, socks off--no, ON--roar, roar, roar. Inconsolable for reasons inscrutable. Does not want full diaper changed. Does not want poison ivy lesions nor bug bites anointed. Puppy shrieks from downstairs warning of flood gates about to open. Spouse awakes mercifully and takes over with Raging Bull. I go downstairs and let Puppy out, pour his meat cereal into his bowl, let him back in and he gallops to the bowl, tail wagging like a crazed windshield wiper. Puppy inhales breakfast, then pees in kitchen and dining room. I let him out with a scold. Puppy yelps to come back in, then promptly poops in dining room. I clean up canine bodily emissions while cursing purple and blue under my breath. Spouse guides Raging Bull as he toddles downstairs, dressed and sweet under Spouse's good influence. Baby takes a look at me and starts roaring again.
Argh. My coffee is cold. My bites itch.
2:00 a.m. puppy screeches from his crate downstairs: "I need to go outside! I will poop in my crate if you don't let me outside!" Once outside puppy wants to play fetch with tennis ball. Mosquitos whine and at least two follow me inside.
3:30 a.m. Raging Bull awake again, I nudge sleeping Spouse, moan, "Your turn, please..." Spouse says, "I wanted to sleep through the night." I don't remember which of us gets up. Bug bites itch.
5:30 a.m. Raging Bull awake for good now, wants milk, no--juice, wants his socks on--no, socks off--no, ON--roar, roar, roar. Inconsolable for reasons inscrutable. Does not want full diaper changed. Does not want poison ivy lesions nor bug bites anointed. Puppy shrieks from downstairs warning of flood gates about to open. Spouse awakes mercifully and takes over with Raging Bull. I go downstairs and let Puppy out, pour his meat cereal into his bowl, let him back in and he gallops to the bowl, tail wagging like a crazed windshield wiper. Puppy inhales breakfast, then pees in kitchen and dining room. I let him out with a scold. Puppy yelps to come back in, then promptly poops in dining room. I clean up canine bodily emissions while cursing purple and blue under my breath. Spouse guides Raging Bull as he toddles downstairs, dressed and sweet under Spouse's good influence. Baby takes a look at me and starts roaring again.
Argh. My coffee is cold. My bites itch.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
crafty
Here is a homemade notecard for a swap-bot swap. The image is of Ernie the Envelope, swap-bot's estimable logo. This makes me happy.
Friday, January 01, 2010
my hobby
Swap-bot.com unites crafty artists who make everything from ornaments to stuffed animalsThis is my number one hobby since before Yosef joined us. Check it out!
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