no news is good news

I realized I haven't written in almost 2 weeks. Nothing to whine about, apparently. The big reason is that I went and refreshed myself at the Yellow Turtle Inn in New Windsor, MD. It's not too far from here, my room was affordable, and D was so good as to take on fatherly duties while I was luxuriating. I really should have gone away much sooner, like maybe a year ago, when much poop was hitting the biggest fan around, but I was still nursing then and it would have quite ruined the whole restfulness idea.

I had a whole weekend to really think, and pray, about all these different aspects of my life that have gone neglected since my pregnancy. I decided on a lot of things to cut out of my life right now, and some things I need to add (like a membership to the Y: 2 birds with one stone--alone time with childcare, and exercise). I also took several uninterrupted showers, ate 5 hot meals without getting up once, and had one of the most healing massages of my life. I mostly stayed in my luridly pink room, because it was about six hundred degrees outside with the humidity. Cicadas were almost deafening, and I couldn't imagine what it was like last year with bloody Brood X yammering away like a War of the Worlds death-ray.

I am excited about the Fall for the first time since maybe college. When I was teaching, I used to have this hollow dread every August, and the realization that I hadn't done anything I planned to do in the beginning of Summer. It's not that I didn't like teaching, but I really dislike school. Schedules, bureaucracy, dealing with parents and kids who don't want to put effort into a "fluff" class like art. Most kids were great, but I seem to need 100 great kids to balance out one dud. Plus I was a total workaholic stress queen, and felt like I had to re-invent my whole program every year. My last year I got much more calm about the whole thing, though lazy might be a better word for it. I still had the dread, and when I am most stressed out now, I have teaching nightmares: coming late to a class I hadn't prepared for, forgetting where my classroom is, having hecklers and screaming at them, teaching a whole room full of my least favorite people.

But this August has been great compared to the last seven: I'm not pregnant, not teaching at a school, not having surgery and 8 weeks of not being able to lift my son, and I am looking forward to a lot of great things in the Autumn. Singing regularly for the first time in 6 years, teaching a knitting class, reading some really great books, and A is taking properly long naps again. Praise God, I thought I had to give up my sanity-replenishment time. Maybe next week he'll start up again. I think I can take it, this time, since I know what it's like to go without.

his word for it

We went to Target today, a favorite place to let my mind wander and distract A. He's very reluctant to take naps till much later now, but I have resigned myself to less alone-time and feel somehow better about it. What is the point in fighting it, when I can't do anything besides administer sedatives to make him sleep? Which I WON'T do, in case you were wondering. The thought has crossed my mind nearly every day now.

A's very interested in Batman at the moment (MAT-bain), so we found out just how pervasive this caped crusader is: band-aids, pillows, fleece throws, lunchboxes, backpacks--oh the smell of vinyl, how I love the smell of vinyl!--toys, of course. We found everything today. Bubble bath, coloring books, moichendizing, moichendizing. Meanwhile I bought a Swiffer, and mourned a bit for my stooping to housewifely gimmicks (THIS will make my life so much easier! and no buckets to clean out!).

A says no to most things now, a common toddler problem, along with the possessive "mine." We're trying for "no, thank you" (no, det doo), but that hasn't been internalized yet. I saw something and said, "Isn't that cute?" and he responded "No cute." He looked offended that I would suggest it was--"Have you no taste, woman?" No cute.

Yesterday we re-stocked the repaired fridge, and brought a p b and j to the grocery store for A to munch on while we tried to remember everything that went bad. A's word for sandwich is, I am ashamed to say, "dammit." So all we heard was "mo dammit. bee dammit. ah done dammit. dammit, bag! eat dammit!" No one could say no cute to that.

Leaving the store, we spotted D's skateboarding pal, Calvin. A was thrilled to see "Dimin bate-bord," and Calvin was thrilled his name was Diamond.

I have to do some mee-mail on the duter. Bye Bye.

so uncool

I won't write a long one this time, because the last time I did, the whole thing was lost forever. No idea where it went. So I don't want to commit a chunk of time to just have it flushed down the toilet of cyberspace. Punks.

We are recovering from a couple of days of no refrigerator and no air conditioning. Wednesday, both of those modern conveniences decided to break. The A.C. is back after much anxious prayer, and sweating, and the fridge guy is supposed to come tomorrow from Sears. Nearly a week without a fridge--well, we borrowed a little one from a very nice fellow, and our fridge did need a cleaning-out, but I don't like being forced to clean something. Anyway, I am just hoping that I don't miss their call tomorrow, from some freak occurrence or something, because then they won't come at all and we have to re-schedule. People always call when I am changing a diaper---ALWAYS. It's like they hear the velcro ripping, and that's the signal. I need to put a silent phone in the changing closet.

I hate the fact that they make me stay in the house all day long, because the window of time they say is like 6 hours long, and even if I do stay inside on a normal day, it still feels so claustrophobic to have to wait for the all-clear. Anyway, I am just whining as usual. Tired of it yet? Well quit reading my blog then.

I am quite used to luxury now, and am severely cranky when I don't have it. I don't understand how people can live in India, or even Georgia for goodness' sake, and enjoy the fact that you're still sweating bullets with no clothes on. There's something sick about that. I am just too much of a Northern European to be able to handle that kind of extreme heat. My skin was made for living in darkness and being covered with several layers. Otherwise I look like the rising moon on a plucked chicken. They could stick me underwater and I could be one of those light-up plankton.

Atticus is up from his nap. Better post now...