What I learned this week…

1. It’d be great if my baby would stop getting into the trash. And the cat food. And possibly the refrigerator. That’s all I ask.
2. I realized recently that every single other person in my home thinks bodily functions are fascinating and farts are amusing. It’s not that I’m above it. I just really don’t think it’s funny.
3. You know what I do think is funny? This: at 12pm I go to class to learn how to teach grammar to non-native English speakers. Almost immediately after, I go to another class where we discuss how it’s unnecessary to teach grammar to non-native English speakers.  Graduate school, yay.
4. Homeschooling is going well. And by “well,” I mean “not as bad as it could be were my son a sociopath and I a crackhead.” Pretty much everything I planned is not working and the toddler is posing an unexpected difficulty considering she suddenly and randomly abandoned the morning nap she’s been taking since birth, which is, incidentally, the only time I have each day to really focus on just teaching Rocket – because I can’t do it in the afternoons because I have my own school and evidently the child’s brain loses its ability to do schoolwork after 11am. (Now, students, that’s what we call a “run-on sentence.” They’re terrible. Never use them.)
5. I’m hoping it’s a transitional thing and it’ll smooth out. You know. Someday.
6. And I’ll grow okay with the fact that my son is 6 and doesn’t want to read. End of story. (Ha. Ha. Ha.)
7. So check this out. If we put the cat food on the kitchen floor where it belongs, the baby eats it. If we put the food on the kitchen table, the cat thinks she’s allowed on the kitchen table (sound reasoning there), and consequently LIVES up there, eating the food we should put away after meals but don’t. BUT if we put the food anywhere else in the house, the cat won’t get fed because I’ll forget about it. There’s some real complicated shit in my life.
8.  My baby spent a good portion of the weekend eating dirt. At one point I actually heard myself say (to somebody expressing some rendition of concern regarding said dirt-eating): “No it’s cool. It’s clean dirt.” Yep, I’m there.
9. Sometimes I see my husband. That’s nice.
10. I read an article recently about how parents shouldn’t use sarcasm around their kids because it causes “smart-alecky” kids. I think that is great advice and I’ll be rebuilding my sense of humor as soon as I get a free moment.

Have a great week, people. And look at this. We did a science experiment together and it was freaking perfect and I felt like a good mom and homeschooler. Yeah, that happened once. Once.

I have a real toddler.

My first two kids weren’t “real” toddlers. Evidently they went through the toddler stage, but they didn’t really ACT like toddlers. They just kind of hung out. I’ve never bought those drawer or door locks or done any “toddler-proofing” (what a stupid expression).

This one, though? This Georgia character? She’s the real deal.

And holy crap my friends, this is a lot of work.

I spend most of my time averting disaster.

If she can reach it, she pulls it over. On her head. On the floor. On the cat.

If she’s in the bathroom, she’s inspecting the toilet bowl brush.

Or the trash.

She’s climbed into the dishwasher. Onto the kitchen island. Attempted entrance into the fireplace. And will leave through any opened doors.

Gets stuck under tables. Gets inside bags, baskets and boxes.

Wedges herself into all accessible small spaces. Then screams.

Topples head-first into items she’s attempting to scale, such as, the bathtub.

Climbs stairs.

In short, if there is an item in the room that is disgusting and messy or has the ability to choke her or cause some other grievous bodily harm or threaten her immediate well-being, she makes a damn beeline for it and if I’m not RIGHT THERE, there will be disaster.

Not maybe. For sure.

Everything I do I have to do it quickly, because there is a toddler on my tail. She’s gotta be RIGHT up in my business, all the time. If I’m unloading the dishwasher, she’s standing next to me grabbing shit out of it, preferably knives.

And what is she some sort of power crawler? She’s NEVER IN THE SAME PLACE for more than 3 seconds. She’s there. I look away. She’s GONE.

And then I’m bolting around “Georgia!?” (as if she’s some sort of dog that comes when called), finally finding her wrapped in the computer power cords and grinning at me like “What?”

Taking a shower. Always a treat.

Three to five minutes during which I leave the toddler unattended. I usually resort to letting her play with a roll of toilet paper or some other weirdness, because at least that way she’s not engaging in potentially life-threatening behavior and it’s a mess I know and anticipate, which somehow makes it easier.

I guess.

There is really no way to make toddlerhood easier.

This shit pretty much just bites.

Except for the fact that they’re freaking adorable and are still babies most of the time, cuddling and being fat and babbling and laughing and kissing and perfect.

Well, when they’re not eating the cat’s food.

Or pulling books off the shelves.

Or crawling into the refrigerator.

For the tenth time today.

Because your older kids just can’t seem to figure out the whole refrigerator-door shutting phenomenon.

Shiiiiiiiiit.

Let’s just look at a picture. To forget.

Or maybe, to remember.

"Who, me?"

1. I don’t know what happened with that whole naked seaweed thing. Kind of a low point really, but no worries, I’ve got something that’ll totally cheer us up: the best thing to do when somebody flips you off on the road is to smile a big smile and give them a joyful “hang loose” sign. Fucker will FLIP in anger. Sweetest retaliatory moment ever.
2. We spent the weekend in Santa Cruz, took the kids to the Boardwalk on Saturday. This trip was Ava’s birthday present. Her 9^th birthday present. Her 9^th birthday that was LAST NOVEMBER. You see? I ain’t jokin’ about that bad mothering thing. Nobody really believes me but I am not lying.
3. I don’t understand why we don’t live in one of those Northern California coastal towns. Any one will do: Santa Cruz, Capitola, Monterey, Half Moon Bay. I ain’t picky.
4. Oh right. Because we have no money.
5. Speaking of no money, Monday was my last day of employment. That’s nice. Sort of. Except I spent all week trying to make up for months and months of house-cleaning neglectfulness and failing miserably. And I spent all week being reminded of why I’m not a SAHM (for those of you who don’t go on parenting chatboards, SAHM = stay-at-home mom).  I’m afraid.
6. Tomorrow is my first day back at grad school. I’m not afraid. Mainly because the first day always consists of a lame, mindless activity I will never ever understand as long as I live: reading the syllabus with the professor. Do you a see a problem there? We’re in graduate school (ENGLISH graduate school no less) and YET we need to be READ THE SYLLABUS by the professor. Because we can’t do it ourselves? Because analyzing complex theory is within reasonable expectations but comprehending a semester-long schedule? Out of the question people! I must read it TO YOU. And I will go over it and reiterate all the subtle nuances like “plagiarism is bad” and “two tardies equal an absence.” I’m not sure, but I suspect that particular activity is a result of professors spending way too much damn time making that syllabus and, like a small child who can’t wait to show off his latest artistic creation, just can’t stop themselves from sharing the joy of their well-thought-out, carefully planned, eclectic line-up of events. Or, they don’t know what the hell else to do with us on the first day.
7. At the Boardwalk the Santa Cruz police had a display with a motorcycle kids could climb on. We saw it and excitedly asked Rocket if he wanted to get on it. He looked over, thought about it for maybe 2 seconds and said “nah.” And I realized my little guy is too big for that kinda thing now and my heart kinda fell to my gut and I’m telling you people right now this is not going to go well. My baby boy growing up, exiting his wild abandon, ceasing to run in insane freedom on the beach, caring what people think, sensing his separateness, restraining his boyish mania. I can’t take it friends. This is clearly another blog post.
8. Okay I’m not over the syllabus thing. The weirdest thing is that most of the class seems RIVETED by the whole “let’s read the syllabus together” activity, which of course places me in my usual position of “what the hell are you people thinking?” and “Am I the only one who thinks this shit is ridiculous?”
9. Come to think of it, that’s how I go through most of my life. I know now that this phenomena is a result of one of two things: either almost the entire fucking outside world is unconditionally batshit crazy, or I’ve totally missed the boat. Jury’s still out. But I prefer the former, for obvious reasons.
10. My sister-in-law recently pointed out that I haven’t posted pictures in a really long time. She’s right. And it’s because I’m lazy. So to counteract my slothful tendencies, I give you the following. Aren’t they freaking adorable? (By the way, if you click on the photo you’ll get a bigger version. You know, so you can REALLY get all up in our business. Or something.)

Oh, and PLEASE vote for me? Please please please? I doubt there’s any way in hell I’ll win (there are some pretty popular blogs nominated) but hey, perhaps the no-namer will win this one. Either way, friends, thanks being here. You are the wind beneath my wings. (That made me LOL and my husband said “are you cracking yourself up again?” and I said “yes” and he mumbled something about fools. Jackass men. They don’t get it.)

You see this running dancing jumping behavior? It needs to stay people. STAY.

looking stoic. love those cheeks.

Tattooed man with baby in baby carrier = the way things oughta be.