May. 10th, 2011 02:36 pm
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I have started blogs at Nostalgia Trip (okay, yes, again), and Team Crankypants. I do plan to still make use of LJ for reading and invites and so on, but most of my writing will be at one or the other of those places.


May. 9th, 2011 08:19 am
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Does anyone have any recommendations for where, or from who, I could get a good massage?
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I haven't been writing much lately, and I feel kind of bad about that, because it's not like nothing's been happening.

The big one is that, as of this past Tuesday, I am a free woman. I have largely not wanted to talk about my job online, where no one is as anonymous as they think they are, and nothing ever dies. I still largely do not want to talk about the job online, however, I think this is a good change, and it was overdue.

So I kind of have free time, although I am looking for a new job pretty aggressively, and I have a longish list of personal projects I want to work on while I have the chance.
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The cat has learned to yowl "Moooom!"

It sounds exactly like Danger Lad!.

I need a bigger squirt gun.


Mar. 18th, 2011 10:40 am
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Danger Lad! turns four on Sunday and I need to get him a birthday present.

I am totally up the creek. I have no ideas that I have not helpfully provided to family members, who have gone ahead and bought that stuff.

Lately, DL! has been providing me with lists of things he wants, at bedtime, in the following form: "Mommy! Tomorrow, you have to get me a big Batman toy, and Superman, and Supergirl, and Robin, and Green Arrow, and Green Lantern, and WonderWoman. You do that, Mommy."

On the one hand, I am loathe to give him the notion that I shop on demand. On the other, I haven't got a better idea. And on the third, that is a long list, we are awash in Batman already, and wow, the amount of DC licensed character crap that is available on Amazon! Amazon Prime, even! That doesn't mean that this is without issue.

For example, as far as DL! is concerned, John Stewart is Green Lantern. Hal Jordan is some weird white guy in tights. John Stewart is underrepresented in action figures. DL! has not asked for the Flash, but I fangirl the Flash up, down and sideways. I would cook for that guy. So he's getting the Flash. Dammit. As soon as I can find one that doesn't break down into parts the baby will choke on.


Mar. 17th, 2011 11:39 am
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So, this moth thing.

I've taken the temporary measures I can take. I've ordered airtight underbed storage bins. They will be delivered tomorrow. My current plans are, tomorrow, to bake all the yarn at 200 for half an hour or so, put it into the airtight bins, throw in some sachets of cedar chips, vacuum like crazy, and put the bins under the bed.

I am twitching to get started on this, but I don't have the bins yet, and I'm supposed to be on a date with [personal profile] danceboy tonight. (Hi sweetie! We're going to have an *awesome* time!)
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Neither of the children will sleep, and I have moths.

In between sips of water, pats on the back, and trips to the bathroom, I've been bagging up every wool object I have in ziploc bags. I may be in need of strong liquor.
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We had an EI evaluation with Hotspur yesterday, which very nearly made me crazy. The young lady has been diagnosed - by a pediatric specialist - with a speech delay. In December, we agreed that the delay was minor and we should re-evaluate in a few months. In March, it was clear that while the young lady was making progress, she was also falling further behind. The speech therapist recommended weekly therapy.

The easiest way to get weekly speech therapy is through Early Intervention, so we called them up and scheduled an evaluation. Hotspur has been on the EI radar since birth. She was initially evaluated at two months of age. She was evaluated again at ten months (back in July), at which time she had just enough speech delay (2 months) to qualify for services. I said great, we'll take services, and then her EI therapist moved out of state, her newly assigned EI person quit in a huff (not at me, just a huff), and we fell between the cracks. So we called up EI and convinced them to start with us all over. They came out to the daycare and visited with Hotspur yesterday.

The eval took forever, and it was pretty frustrating. Hotspur was not in the best of moods. She was more interested in the contents of my bag than in the stuff that they kept trying to get her interested in, and she regarded the evaluators as though any minute they were going to stop flapping about with balls and blocks and pegboards and try to sell her mortgage-backed bonds. She spent much of the cognitive portion of the evaluation trying to show them how to play peek-a-boo with their washcloths, and some of the rest eating the cheerios she was supposed to be dropping into cups.

Since July, Hotspur's language delays have widened from two months to five months, but the requirements to qualify for services have widened from two months to six. She doesn't come close to qualifying in any other area. Much time was spent attempting to discount her abilities in order to qualify her, but in the end, they gave up. She has a speech delay, they recommend a clinical evaluation by their own specialist to see if that can qualify her (none of yesterdays evaluators were specialists of any kind), and then, I suppose, we'll see.
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I am home sick, with a fantastic case of laryngitis. I sound crazy weird.

Yesterday, Danger Lad! and I had a conversation about Normans (file under "issues of ethnic identity, found where you'd never suspect them"). DL! wanted to know if I was a Norman. "Probably a little," I said. "Do you know what a Norman is?" I then, because I can never do things an easy way, attempted to explain about William the Conqueror and the Norman Conquest. I appear to have left my son with the impression that William invaded England because he didn't have any friends. Gosh, I can't *wait* till we get to Hitler.
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Nothing much, really.

Many of my friends have stomach flu, which they confidently declare to be norovirus. You know what I know about norovirus? That you should never, ever say that word to anyone who works for or at your daycare. Ever.

I have recommended a TV show to people, who have enthusiastically watched it, and I'm still on episode 1, twitching in anticipation of episode 2, which I expect to have time to watch in 2016. I hope that Netflix is still in business then.

My fondest ambition is to clean everything in the house, including the children. As with watching television, I anticipate having time to do this in several years.

I owe a ton of people email.

I am knitting a sock, and being nervy about it because it involves far fewer stitches than I expected. But it's really pretty yarn, in very bright colors. I find the handpaint progression inherently entertaining.

We saw "The Lady's Not for Burning". I totally could have done that better.

That's it, really.


Feb. 19th, 2011 11:36 pm
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PBS has made the first season of Downton Abbey available on the web (their own site, not Hulu) until the end of the month. We watched the first ep tonight, and I am in awe on the writing.

Hypothetically historical, incredible costumes, watch with kids only if wiilling to explain Victorian era anti-sodomy law.
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"...and science on television! 'Oooh, let's run a PCR!' and then the screen goes black, and three hours later... results! It's like cooking show science - 'Now, let's take a look at these fake results that I prepared earlier...'"

"This is why we don't have our mothers review our projects. 'This is a very interesting idea, but have you considered having children?'"
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I watched DL! Going wild with markers today, and we got into a discussion about Jackson Pollack. I opened up the computer and found some pictures for him. He was impressed.

I hope he mentions it at daycare so that they know how cool my kid is.

Also, I hope he keeps calling the artist "Chicken Pollack."
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- Invert. Shake vigorously.
- Squish the spout sideways. Tip.
- While drinking, turn cup so that spout is above airhole. Allow juice to dribble down chin, onto sofa.
- Invert cup and press the top against a surface, so that the spout folds over. (Bonus: Projectile juice.)
- Wedge spout in heat register. Abandon results.
- Fill mouth with juice, don't swallow.
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And I really can't stand to eat eggs in their natural state, so I'm making brioche dough. Tomorrow morning, I will fill the brioche dough with something tasty (or maybe two tasty things), and bake it. That will leave us with a lot of pastry.

If any of y'all would like to stop by around ten or so, we could maybe solve that problem. So please do.

Other News

Feb. 3rd, 2011 01:13 pm
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Hotspur has gotten herself the nickname "Smooch" at daycare.

Danger Lad! says that Batman has two girlfriends - Catwoman and Batgirl - because he (Batman) likes them both. Supergirl isn't Superman's girlfriend, she's his sidekick. When DL! is big, he'll be good at jumping off the stairs just like Robin Hood.
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I hate this. I hate the winter. I hate the cold. And I HATE, oh god do I hate, the snow. I hate the way it falls from the sky. I hate the way it piles up - it's everywhere, there's no more places to put the damn stuff, shoveling the driveway when you can't just fling snow in the nearest convenient spot is EIGHTEEN kinds of pain in the ass. There's nowhere to park, the shortcut from the T station is blocked by a heap of plowed snow ten feet wide and eight feet high, and the streets are a morass of slush, ice, and deep water. I haven't been able to wear my pretty boots in weeks. I miss them.

I would like to go to bed and stay there until I can get up, smell the smell of new earth, see hyacinths coming up by the dryer vent, and get myself a Baileys flavored frappe.
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Over the past few months I have read and listened as my friends discussed their three year-olds, and felt strangely exempt from the struggles they reported. Their kids were entering into a phase of defiant separation, while Danger Lad! was contented with me. At about the stage when other people's children were embarking on the first rumblings of mutiny, my baby was too busy freaking the hell out to consider it. I thought we had escaped. It was the one sunny side of the whole high-risk pregnancy crap (besides Hotspur), but now it is over.

I still get hugs and kisses. I am still clearly the preferred parent (this is less of a delight than it sounds - that much love does not come cheap). But five times a day, he tells me I am no longer his friend. I am rude (any sentence with the word "no" in it impolite), I interrupt (especially when repeating ignored instructions), there are a dozen new rituals that I flub every day, I have left his friend the invisible kangaroo shut up in the pantry, or in one of the kitchen cupboards. I have allowed his sister to breathe in his direction, one of the cats is on his chair, and that is the wrong pair of underpants. I explain, continually, that I am his mother not his friend, and that invisible kangaroos are a clever bunch who can get themselves out of the cabinets.

At not quite four, my child (I know you're all shocked) is becoming sarcastic. I, in return, grow more extreme in my sarcasm, providing him with an example that will, in time, make his backtalk maximally enraging. This is probably how I got to be so damn socially awkward myself.

DL! would like me to believe that I can return to the complete enjoyment of his affections at any time - I just need to pony up some Batman-themed fruit snacks and put Robin Hood on infinite replay. This is patently ridiculous to me, but he appears to believe it.
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Memo to the marketing department at Ann Taylor:
"Shift into Neutral" may sound clever, but despite the amount of email you have sent me about it, and the giant window displays you have put up in the mall, it's sure as hell not encouraging me to buy clothes.

To Sephora:
The sign advertising your new creme body lotion looks like a bukkake shot. I don't think that's what you were going for.

To self:
No matter how cold it is, please try to go around the mall.


Jan. 26th, 2011 10:30 pm
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Tonight I have applied for one job at CHB, two at Harvard, one at the Smithsonian, and a couple others I don't remember anymore. I looked at the job listings for State Street Bank and discovered that they have some fantastic opportunities for people who can work from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m. - which is sorta cool in regards to flexibility provided I don't mind never ever seeing my husband or children again, so scratch that for now. What other companies should I be looking at? I need stuff within reasonable commuting distance of Dorchester (still not Guam).

ETA: The job application whirl is giving me a greasy, post-binge feeling. As though I went to a party, slept with everyone, and now I wonder whether I regret it. I hate job hunting.

Danger Lad! made a painting at school yesterday. He was very excited to show it to me when I got home. He held it up and gestured at it, "There are vertical lines, as you can see..."

Sometimes the parenting challenge is not cracking up when they're being unintentionally funny.
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