Dan was excitedly explaining to me how a video game was progressing last night, standing in the middle of our room. Now, anyone who knows Dan knows that his exuberance is directly proportional to his volume (by a factor of 19). Since our bedroom door was open, and Jack's room is right next door, I kept trying to gently urge Dan to quiet down.
Finally, as he neared the end of his story, we heard a small, nasal voice grumpily shouting...
"STOP TAAAALKING!!"
Dan peeked into Jack's room but Jack would not turn over in bed or respond to Dan's questions. I guess he was really trying to sleep. As his mother I would advise him to talk to his landlord about those loud neighbors. Hopefully the woman moving in next door on the other side won't keep him up at night. HA.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Oblivious
This morning a very nice, Bruce Willis-looking man held the door to Jack's school open for us. I opened my mouth to say, "Thank you!" and Jack beat me to it. "HEY! THAT GUY HAS NO HAIR!!" he screamed.
Luckily the man, and the surrounding crowd, laughed. As I checked Jack in at the front desk, I leaned down and whispered to him, "You have no inner monologue, do you?"
He replied, loudly in a sing-song voice, "NOOOoooo. I don't have one of those!!!!"
Luckily the man, and the surrounding crowd, laughed. As I checked Jack in at the front desk, I leaned down and whispered to him, "You have no inner monologue, do you?"
He replied, loudly in a sing-song voice, "NOOOoooo. I don't have one of those!!!!"
Monday, August 10, 2009
LA Today
Jack just asked me, "How do I get on TV?"
I told him, after thinking about it, that his best bet will be America's Funniest Home Videos. And that he had better save up to pay a camera-man around the clock. And that I get 10% of any winnings.
I told him, after thinking about it, that his best bet will be America's Funniest Home Videos. And that he had better save up to pay a camera-man around the clock. And that I get 10% of any winnings.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Inspired
I am 33-weeks pregnant now. NOW. That means 7 more weeks to go. SEVEN MORE. The reason for my conspicuously obvious math is that I am sooooo tired of being pregnant. I have a short torso, so the only place for this baby to go, literally, is out. And apparently in order to balance my hugely protruding belly, my rear has swollen to maintain some sort of equilibrium. Neither of these annexes leaves me feeling anything but bulbous and sore. Rolling over in bed is a hilarious feat not only because of my bizarre shape, that, DESPITE ITS ROTUNDITY, does not roll. I have to oomph over to my side, and hurmph onto my hands and knees and flop down on my other side. Needless to say that this hourly activity all night long does not give me lots of time to rest comfortably, and apparently is starting to affect Dan's sleeping as well. I sincerely do not feel the teensiest bit of guilt over this, because Dan has been snoring FOR YEARS. Face rattling, wake-yourself-up-from-REM-sleep snores that are bewilderingly issued out of his tiny nose.
But...I digress ("MOM! We don't say "butt!"). I saw and read some things today that made me reconsider my whining and remember that I am very thankful to have a pregnancy that has come this far, and been this healthy. I hope that my baby girl continues to grow and eventually make a perfectly-timed, yet hasty exit from my uterus. WITH MINIMAL DAMAGE. I will throw you a sweet-sixteen party for the love of God just don't break anything on your way out. Then we can always compare sweet little you to your bull-in-a-china-shop brother who ruined things for QUITE A WHILE.
But...I digress ("MOM! We don't say "butt!"). I saw and read some things today that made me reconsider my whining and remember that I am very thankful to have a pregnancy that has come this far, and been this healthy. I hope that my baby girl continues to grow and eventually make a perfectly-timed, yet hasty exit from my uterus. WITH MINIMAL DAMAGE. I will throw you a sweet-sixteen party for the love of God just don't break anything on your way out. Then we can always compare sweet little you to your bull-in-a-china-shop brother who ruined things for QUITE A WHILE.
An Immovable Object
Jack wanted to sit next to me on the couch. I scooted over a little bit (AS MUCH AS IS PREGNANTLY POSSIBLE) and he informed me, "Mommy, you are too fat." I heard Dan gasp. I looked my beautiful child in the eyes and said, "I hope you get a mean wife."
Monday, August 3, 2009
This Old Child
Jack has reached some major milestones with his style of play. He now makes appropriate sound-effects for all of his toys, and will sit, engrossed in some state of dramatic make-believe, and play for 30-minutes at a time. THIRTY MINUTES. He is also very bossy about the imaginary situations he develops and will explain, to great length, why things are happening, and why you are doing it completely wrong.
He has also developed quite a capacity for bargaining, bartering and charming his way into and out of many situations. I try to see this as evidence of how smart he is, and how quickly he is becoming life-savvy.
He charmed us into taking him to McDonalds this weekend, and after eating, quickly ran to the play area. Unfortunately that day the play area was overrun with kids who were probably way too old and large to be playing there, and they wouldn't let Jack up to the upper-level of the hamster-maze tube farm. He was understandably upset, and we left quickly, explaining to him that some kids are just NOT nice. It was so sad to see his reaction--he could not fathom why someone would be mean to a stranger. He explained to us, through his tears, that when he meets a stranger he says, "hi!" and tries to play with them. "Why those kids not say 'hi!' to me? Why those kids not let me play?" I had no answer for him (at least not one that he would understand, or that didn't contain some choice words about those childrens' parents). I know that these are situations that are a part of growing up, a part of learning from the actions of others about what kind of person you don't want to be, but it was very bittersweet to see him losing a piece of his innocence. I am glad that I was there to provide support and guidance, and to wipe away his tears, but it saddened me nonetheless. C'est la vie: jerks included.
He has also developed quite a capacity for bargaining, bartering and charming his way into and out of many situations. I try to see this as evidence of how smart he is, and how quickly he is becoming life-savvy.
He charmed us into taking him to McDonalds this weekend, and after eating, quickly ran to the play area. Unfortunately that day the play area was overrun with kids who were probably way too old and large to be playing there, and they wouldn't let Jack up to the upper-level of the hamster-maze tube farm. He was understandably upset, and we left quickly, explaining to him that some kids are just NOT nice. It was so sad to see his reaction--he could not fathom why someone would be mean to a stranger. He explained to us, through his tears, that when he meets a stranger he says, "hi!" and tries to play with them. "Why those kids not say 'hi!' to me? Why those kids not let me play?" I had no answer for him (at least not one that he would understand, or that didn't contain some choice words about those childrens' parents). I know that these are situations that are a part of growing up, a part of learning from the actions of others about what kind of person you don't want to be, but it was very bittersweet to see him losing a piece of his innocence. I am glad that I was there to provide support and guidance, and to wipe away his tears, but it saddened me nonetheless. C'est la vie: jerks included.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
What goes around...
The back story:
I am 3 and sitting at the breakfast table while my pregnant mother hustles around getting ready to get me to the sitter's. She asks, standing at the fridge, if I would like juice or milk with my cereal.
"Um, juice!" I exclaim.
She brings the juice over to the table only to be told (by me) that I changed me mind. "Milk please!"
She goes back and gets the milk, brings it to the table, and I again pipe up, "No, juice!"
So my poor aggravated mother squats down to look me in the eye. "Lauren," she says, struggling to remain calm (and probably also struggling not to choke me), "this is your last chance...do you want juice or milk?"
I look at her, smile and say, "I'll give you a clue..."
-----------
Well, fast forward 27 years and I am standing in the kitchen, trying to get Jack to commit to a drink choice for dinner.
"Jack, do you want juice or milk?" He ignores me.
"JACK!" I yell, "Do you want JUICE or MILK or WHAT!?" (I hate it when he ignores me.)
He finally acknowledges my question and shrugs and says, "OR WHAT!"
I am 3 and sitting at the breakfast table while my pregnant mother hustles around getting ready to get me to the sitter's. She asks, standing at the fridge, if I would like juice or milk with my cereal.
"Um, juice!" I exclaim.
She brings the juice over to the table only to be told (by me) that I changed me mind. "Milk please!"
She goes back and gets the milk, brings it to the table, and I again pipe up, "No, juice!"
So my poor aggravated mother squats down to look me in the eye. "Lauren," she says, struggling to remain calm (and probably also struggling not to choke me), "this is your last chance...do you want juice or milk?"
I look at her, smile and say, "I'll give you a clue..."
-----------
Well, fast forward 27 years and I am standing in the kitchen, trying to get Jack to commit to a drink choice for dinner.
"Jack, do you want juice or milk?" He ignores me.
"JACK!" I yell, "Do you want JUICE or MILK or WHAT!?" (I hate it when he ignores me.)
He finally acknowledges my question and shrugs and says, "OR WHAT!"
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