Actual Conversation - Crazy Husband Edition

Android: Blahblahblahblahblah

Me: (Looking up from the computer) Did you say something?

Android: Yeah. Do you ever listen to me?

Me: You can't just start talking and expect me to listen to you! You have to say "Webby..." then start talking!

Android: Who else would I be talking to?

Me: Are you kidding? You talk to the cats, you talk to the baby, you talk to yourself, you talk to your BEER. Now. What were you saying to me?

*blink*

Android: I was saying that this hard cider isn't bad if you add some sugar to it.

Me: Yeah, it's pretty good.





Oh, and because I am both way too cool for school AND tragically behind the times, I'm going to post here every day in the month of December. You have been warned.

Just pictures.

Too lazy to write more. Enjoy the cuteness.

Potato, potahto.

I learned something new this weekend. What Android categorizes as "screaming" (as in "The Czar was screaming for two hours before he finally went to sleep") is actually "crying/fussing".

For MONTHS I've been coming home to "Oh, man. He was screaming his head off the whole time you were gone." or some variation on a theme... and The Czar was actually just fussing like a NORMAL FREAKING BABY.

I called him on it this weekend - "That's what you call screaming? That's not screaming! Are you kidding me?"

Screaming is when his face turns beet red and looks like it may actually take flight and/or explode. Screaming is when your eardrums become punctured if you come within three feet of him. Screaming is when you question your will to live or start researching how much you can get for a baby on the black market.



Look, don't get me wrong, he is a wonderful husband and father...

But if I hear one more thing about the baby "screaming" I will smite him where he stands.

Things to look forward to

I gave my friend The Creep some Play-Doh for his third birthday. While watching him play with it I witnessed this exchange between him and his mom:

Creep: Look, Mama! I made a birthday cake!
MamaGrouch: That's great, bud! Are you going to pretend to eat it?

pause

Creep: No.

pause

Creep: It's Play-Doh, Mama.





Wow. Nothin' like bein' schooled by a pre-schooler.

Obama gonna knock you OUT!

A whole mess of people I voted for actually won! How 'bout that?

In other news, the boy is teething. Or he's thinking about it anyway - he's got the very top of a tooth popping up and I suspect my life will get a lot harder very soon. My baby's growing up!

It makes me happy and sad all at the same time.

Happy Election Day!

I trucked the babe down to our local polling place (all of four blocks away). I brought a diaper bag, a book, and an extra pacifier - Just in case. (My whole life seems to be lived in terms of "just in case". There are receiving blankets dotted around the house because they are the best multi-purpose tool in the baby world. They can be used to warm the baby, soothe the baby, wipe up the grossness that oozes from a baby...)

I heard there were super long lines leading out the door of the building. I was in and out in five minutes flat. Should have known that by 10 am the masses had thinned out.





Anyway, I voted in a Presidential election for the third time in my life. Maybe the third time will be the charm and my guy will actually win!

The Clothes Make the Baby

Since becoming a mother I've been tossed into the world of baby clothes. They are tiny and cute and, let's face it, completely absurd.

Put an animal, any animal on a piece of baby clothing and suddenly it's supposed to be cute. The weirdest example I've ever tun into has got to be Pooh vs. the Giant Crab:


What the hell? How did a crab get into the Hundred Acre Woods? (And you smarty pantses out there who are about to tell me that there are crabs that walk around on land and hang out in forests - hush. I don't need that kind of terror in my life.)

There are bears playing basketball, and talking monkeys and frogs. There are frogs everywhere. It's like the cute version of the Plagues of Egypt.

And I love the clothes that proclaim to the reader what they are supposed to say upon viewing. It's like cue cards for ugly babies! For example, we have a hat that says "Cutie" (Oh! What a.... "Cutie"! Yessir! He's mighty "cute".") There's also "I'm so sweet" (for the colic-y babes), and "100% Lovable". You dress you baby in that the morning after a particularly horrendous night.

I prefer to think of the Czar as El Baroda. So much cooler than proclaiming to the world that he is adorable.



Oh! We also have a teeny little soft grey jacket that someone slapped a squirrel on. I like squirrels, and I like babies, but generally I avoid mixing the two. You know, rabies.

The holidays are coming, so naturally I'm afraid someone will force him to wear a sweater vest or a tiny baby suit. I hate sweater vests on grown men, so there's no way I'm making my kid wear one. In fact, he doesn't need to wear a tie until he's old enough to tie it himself.

Girl clothes are less doofy - but more pink. I'm not sure it's a good trade-off.



On the other hand, I think we're in for several more years of cricket-playing giraffes.

My Giant.

The Czar's first Halloween was a rousing success. We spent it with my sister and brother-in-law and their three neighbors. We hung out in front of sis's house, drank wine around the fire pit (which was endlessly entertaining for the babe), and made kids sing for their candy. Some of them sucked it up and belted out the ABCs, some showed off by singing in harmony, and some straight up walked away. They figured Nerds weren't a good enough prize for humiliation. So be it.

Anyway, the boy was a dream - he almost always is in public. He stayed up as long as he could and crashed like a paper airplane as soon as he got strapped in to his car seat.

I have also vowed to make his Halloween costumes for as long as he'll let me.