An old hag lovely old dear said to me in passing ‘your jaw is going to really hurt when you get home.’ I assume because I was chewing gum. What did I say back? A raised eyebrow and a confused look, followed by a belly laugh. What did I want to say back?
“Thanks for your opinion you nosy old hag lovely old lady. Would you rather I was blowing smoke into my baby’s face?”
Adam gave his first full on belly laugh. I was laughing at him because he paused in his feeding to let out a huge fart and my laughing led to him laughing.
It was one of those ‘damn, why isn’t the video camera aimed at him 24/7’ moments. And it was the most joyous sound I have ever heard.
My good, big son. The smiley laughing boy.
except I’m too tired.
So pretend I’m being witty, okay?
that the Belfast City Council Department of Tourism did not speak to the Belfast City Council Department of Works this summer.
Tourism has encouraged things like the Tall Ships and lots of tourists.
Works has decided that this summer is the perfect time to rip all the stone pavements up at City Centre and replace them with…stone pavements.
So City Centre is a maze of blocked off pavement as each section is replaced. Really fun for this mummy with a pram to make her way through as 1000 tourists are stopping, taking pictures (Look! Its M&S! Here in Belfast! (I wish I was kidding)) and walking so.very.slowly.
Can I have just 5 minutes alone with the head of each department? I actually know the Tourism person…
Facebook or MySpace or any other social networking site because they were stupid.
I was wrong.
Sure, people can take them much too seriously. Just like message boards.
But what I am finding really really neat is the way my friends are interconnecting just because they all know me.
Example:
My status said: How does a 2 month old get dirt under his fingernails? Has he been gardening when I’m not looking?
I received two responses. My friend Margo said if he was gardening send him her way to help her. Then my friend Teresa said and after he’s done at Margo’s send him to me.
Margo and Teresa have never met. Will never meeting. Are in no way connected except that they both know me. Margo lives in the UK. Teresa in the US. I know Margo through one message board, Teresa through another.
There have been other, more involved conversations amongst people on my friends list in response to my status updates. I find it fascinating.
People also ask me if all 114 people listed as my friends are actually people I know. Most of them are. Recently I have added people I don’t really know because I play a few Facebook games where you get further in the game the more people you friend who also play the game. So I have responded to some requests on some message boards to be friended for that purpose. The games are Farm Town and Farmville if anyone wants to neighbour me!!
But that’s about 10 people out of 114. Have I met them all in real life? Nope. But they are really my friends. People I speak to daily via various venues. Or they are my family! Ya know, people I’m related to via blood or marriage!
And through them I speak to people I would never have had met. And they do the same through me.
It ain’t called the World Wide Web for nothing…
Dear Adam
Today you are 2 months old. Would you believe not one trip the hospital for anything other than a check up for the whole month?
Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t been hurt. Daddy was clipping your fingernails and missed and cut a big chunk out of one of your fingers. That’s the hardest you’ve cried. And the blood! And the Daddy guilt. Which I told him to stop, as its nothing compared to Mummy dropping you on your head!
You were at the hospital for your after head dropping check up and it turns out that you did crack a rib as well. Nothing they can do except let it heal, especially since it is obviously not hurting you. You do still have a big lump on your side and the Doctor said that was why. You have been discharged though! So no more hospitals for you, please, my son. Just your regular baby clinic visits and jabs!
We’ve also had some bad days of crankiness and not sleeping. Mummy thinks its a bit of colic. Or maybe just being 2 months old. She tells herself, and you and Daddy, this too will pass. Some day you’ll be 18 and we’ll be fretting about something else. Like you wanting to take a year to travel the world with your unsuitable girlfriend. 🙂
You’ve started to smile at Mummy and Daddy. Its the best thing in the whole world. Along with your babbling to yourself as you sit in your chair. Or maybe you’re babbling to your animals that hang on it?
Things we’ve learned about you this month: –
At your last weigh in your were 12lbs and 22inches. My great big boy!
Keep growing!
Love
Mummy
There are plenty of blogs who do that.
And I never grieve when a celebrity dies. I didn’t know them, why grieve? I feel bad for their families, but you will never find me crying over a celebrity death.
But John Hughes’ death I am grieving over.
Not just because it means part of my teenagehood just died. Not really. But because of what that part of my teenagehood meant to me.
I was, to put it midly, a disturbed teenager. Angry, anxious, obnoxious. Rude, sarcastic. Mean. Horrible to my parents, my siblings. To everyone.
But sit down and watch a John Hughes flick? And it all went away. In his movies the geek was cool. The not so popular girl got the big footballer player as her boyfriend. The cool car was available for driving. Pure 100% escapism for all of us angsty teenagers.
There is a reason the Brat Pack did so well. And, in some cases, are still doing so well. They spoke to us. Through John Hughes’ words and direction they were us. Doing what we did. Or wished we could do.
Go to YouTube and you’ll see what I mean. Since his death was annouced there have been 100s of tribute videos posted. With snippets of his movies. With stills. With the music. He touched a generation.
My generation.
RIP Mr John Hughes. Your legacy will live forever.
Excuse me now. I have to go put every movie he ever made on my LoveFilm list now.
So, every Monday night Simon and I have groceries delivered for the week. This means that on Sunday we figure out what we want to eat Tuesday through Friday and order ingredients accordingly.
This morning I began pulling the items out to make tonight’s Chicken Cacciatore, so I could prep veggies while Adam was being happy in his bouncy seat. Then I would just have to bung them and some chicken into the slow cooker at lunch time and 6 hours later, dinner would be on the table.
So I am rummaging through my veg drawer and I realize Tesco had sent me 4 onions. ‘Why four onions?’ I said out loud.
Simon said ‘What are we having this week?’
‘Chicken Cacciatore, Chicken Casserole, Goulash, Veggie Lasagne and…wait, what’s the fourth thing?’ I replied. ‘Chicken Cacciatore, Chicken Casserole, Goulash, Veggie Lasagne and…’ I repeated.
‘Check the ingredients we have.’ Simon suggested, ‘and that will tell you the fourth thing.’
Can you see what we both did there? Both of us?
That’s right, for the non-baby brained out there…I was naming four things. And Simon was agreeing right along with me that I was missing one.
Once it occurred to me, just a few minutes later, how stupid we were, I then still couldn’t figure out why I had four onions.
It just occurred to me 10 minutes ago. Because all four things have an onion in them.
Simon says his excuse was that he was on night duty last night and what was mine?
Baby Brain.
And I think its catching…
One is the already listed: take a shower when the opportunity arises.
The other is to always, always, have the diaper bag packed and ready to go! And I always do.
Yesterday was a pretty good day. I got my hair cut and coloured. Simon, Adam and I did some shopping. I had a nice nap in the afternoon.
Today? Not such a good day.
Started with a Night from Hell (TM). Adam went down about 2230. And woke up at 0030. And up again at 0230. At 0500. At 0700. At that point I woke Simon up and handed him over and headed back to bed.
Then the rest of today he just would.not.sleep. Not for more than 20 minutes at a time, at least. Not in his pram when Simon took him out to the shops so I could have a break and soak in the tub. Not in my arms while swaddled in his favourite blanket (can an almost 8 week old baby have favourite blanket? Not sure, but the one Grandma and Pops with the Pool sent is definitely the best for swaddling). Not even in the Bjorn which got him to sleep for about 3.5 hours on Thursday during our Great Adventure. He finally fell asleep about an hour ago at 2030. And I hear sounds of stirring. Which could be good, as my dream night goes like this, starting at about 2200: –
Nappy Change
Into Grobag/PJs
Bottle
Sound asleep for 5+ hours.
Hey, a Mummy can dream. 🙂