Wordless Wednesday | Technicolor Photo Wall Hallway

Of Toddlers and Easter Books

I recently enjoyed a rare outing alone. I went to Barnes and Noble, where I picked up Mindy Kaling's new book and another Chuck Klosterman book. As I was standing in the long checkout line that snaked around partitions and tables of seasonal books targeting impulse buyers like myself, I began examining a table of children's books about Easter. Steve and I were just talking the other day about Robinson's Easter basket, and now that I'm shopping without Rob, this is the perfect opportunity to pick up something from the Easter Bunny! My train of thought during the three minutes spent perusing the table was something like this:

Let's see..."Guess How Much I Love You"...he already has that one. Ooh, a Berenstain Bears Easter book! I loved Berenstain Bears when I was little...this could start his own collection! Oh, I read online that Jan Berenstain died last week. That's so sad. Hmm...this is actually a pop-up book, and Robinson thinks the point of pop-up books is to rip the pop-ups out of the book. I don't like him to deface books. And if I buy him an "Easter" book, I'll want to only keep it on his bookshelf during Easter time, then I'll pack it away, and what's the fun in that? I know! I will pick a book that is Easter-ish, like this book about farm animals! Rob likes farm stuff. Maybe I'll make that the theme of his third birthday party. How is a farm Easter-ish? Why is it on the Easter book table? Oh, because farms have chicks, and chicks hatch from eggs. Easter. Eggs. Gotcha. Actually, that would be good for his Easter basket. Only, it's  a small board book, and he seems to gravitate towards larger books. Ugh, I'm feeling some Protestant guilt that none of the books I'm considering say anything about Jesus. I'm sending a wrong message that Easter is only about bunnies. Oh, but he's only one. What's wrong with a book about eggs? Hmm...come to think of it, Rob wouldn't like any of these books. I'll look elsewhere. None of these are right for Rob.

Lucky for me, the line advanced forward and I was free from the shackles of agonizing over which Easter-themed children's book to not buy for my nineteen month old. That's when the realization hit me, and I felt a huge grin across my face: My son has grown up and developed his own personality to the point where I can reasonably disqualify an entire table of perfectly good children's books. It's difficult to explain, but there is something so gratifying about bringing a tiny human into this world, and then watching him slowly evolve from helpless, expressionless, sleeping, eating, swaddled newborn, to the fully-formed toddler he is today. And Steve and I are the only people who could have glanced at that table of books and formed the same conclusion. It made me oddly giddy.

"Don't Talk About Me Like I'm Not Here!"

I don't really read "parenting material", but I picked up a nugget of advice somewhere; it was something along the lines of not openly humiliating your baby or toddler by pointing out embarrassing or unflattering truths. For instance, don't crinkle up your nose and announce "You're stinky, eww!" when your kid takes a shadoobie in his diaper and is, well, stinky. Eww. Ok, makes sense. I mean, he's just a baby. It's not his fault if he's stinky. Actually, it's my fault if he's stinky. Duly noted.

In that spirit, Steve and I try not to name-call or refer to Robinson in a negative way. Especially in his presence.  I once declared that a teething Robinson was acting like a little monster, and Steve was horrified that I said it in front of infant Robinson. In my defense, he was acting like a little monster. And I mistakenly thought that Lady Gaga nicknaming her fans "Little Monsters" as a term of endearment made it ok for me to use the term to describe my baby. Big mistake. Huge.

Steve and I gradually developed a number of code names to identify Robinson's numerous and ever-changing personas. It's an easy way to de-brief with one another during the day, and if we're describing not-so-nice behavior, we can do it without tipping him off that we're talking about him.

Meet Robinson's Alter Egos:

Velcro Baby: He's attached to me at the hip. He accepts no substitutions. Closely related to Linus. I've learned that if you try really hard, there's just about nothing you can't do with a baby on your hip. Apply mascara. Tie your own shoelaces. Scoop and dispose of dog poop. I know, I know. I don't like gloating about the glamorous life I lead, but it's essential to telling the story.

 Linus: He's a mild-mannered chap. He always clutches a blanket and has his thumb in his mouth. He's very sweet and snuggly. I'm especially fond of Linus.

Squirmy McFidgets: He never sits still. Trying to keep hold of Squirmy is like trying to catch a greased pig. It's exhausting.

Pig Pen: This guy! No matter what I do, he looks like he's auditioning for the role of "Street Urchin" in a revival of Oliver! And he really, really doesn't like when I try to wipe his face and hands.

El Diablo: He's inconsolable and incorrigible. He screams. He throws things. He's red faced. He is what happens when two stubborn, feisty people procreate.

Pterodactyl Baby: We meet this creature whenever El Diablo's behavior goes unchecked, escalates, or cannot be contained. It produces an ear-piercing animalistic sound not heard outside a movie based on a Michael Crichton book. Anyone who has been on the phone with me when Pterodactyl Baby unleashes  himself can attest to this.

Mr. Magoo: He teeters. He totters. He weebles. He wobbles. He lacks coordination and focus, and seems precariously perched on the verge of an epic accident or stumble, but he manages to avoid disaster, to the astonishment of onlookers.

Back Washington: What can I say about this fellow? Well, for starters, he's thirsty. He wants to drink after you. But you don't want to drink after him.

Two Mutts and a Tot

Wow! It's been a while, right? Things are really different here. For example...

I don't live here anymore:

I live here.

 I don't take pictures of Robinson in his chair with Laney every month.

I sold the chair on Craigslist, and due to Laney's building resentment and acts of aggression towards Robinson, our vet has strongly advised that Robinson and Laney keep a safe distance from one another. Laney hides like a cat, and Robinson...well Robinson runs through the house like a streak of lightening from sunrise to sunset.

Robinson is a total handful and a pure joy. He turned 18 months last week. I was late in scheduling his official 18-month pediatrician appointment, so I'll write a post about Rob when I can publish his stats. Or when I have a free moment. Whichever comes first.

An interesting thing about moving is seeing the way your furniture and decorative items translate from your old home to your new home. In our case, the new house has a playroom and clearly defined hallways, and this has created additional wall space for decorating with art projects! All the time I used to spend blogging is now spent trolling Pinterest for ideas, shopping at the hardware and craft stores, and creating my arts and crafts to decorate our new house. It has been lots of fun, and in the coming weeks I'll post photos!

I've been at a loss for blogging inspiration, but I want to try to recommit to writing. I love having written records of our adventures and experiences. This time with Robinson is one of the happiest of our lives, but chasing a toddler is exhausting! My only hope of preserving these happy memories is through the blog. I tell you all this to explain why some of my future posts may be about events that took place in the recent past, because I want to get it in writing before I forget it entirely! Please bear with me through these first few wordy and long-winded posts--I tend to ramble when I've gotten rusty with my writing.

I have missed the interaction with all my "blog buddies", so whether you comment on my posts directly, or on the links I post to my Facebook page, I want to say a big "Howdy!" to ya, and hope that we're still friends after this huge absence!

Misty Doesn't Know

In this season of hope and charity, I hesitate to report this sad news, but I've put it off for long enough:

Misty got fired, y'all!

Let me rewind a click for those who need to be brought up to speed. The Methadone Scarecrow, a.k.a. Misty, was my brother's co-worker for two or three years. She sat at a desk near my brother, and her propensity to overshare, her habit of jabbering incessantly, her absence of a filter, complete lack of inhibition or shame, and her eagerness to share her usually misguided and uninformed opinions was the stuff of frustration for my brother. Wisely, Jarred realized a long time ago that if he couldn't find a way to laugh at Misty, he might go insane. Thus, the Misty emails began. Jarred would type up their daily dialogue and forward it to a few folks, much to my delight. I laughed. I cried. I wet my pants a little. A little.

As I began writing this blog last year, I thought that my friends reading might enjoy Misty as much as I do. Folks seemed to respond to the posts, and I since I sometimes need extra blogging material, periodically I would update readers with Misty's latest ramblings. Still need a memory refresher? Click here to meet Misty. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And here. And one of my favorites.

To those who asked: No, Misty doesn't know that I blog about her, and now that she's been canned, and I expect she'll never know. To those who wonder why Misty got fired: Come on. Haven't we been secretly wondering this whole time how she managed to keep her job this long? I know I asked myself that question. I asked Jarred. He shrugged.

Now, I am left with two options with how to distribute what remains of my as-yet-unpublished "Misty correspondence". I mean, it's not her best material, I pretty much posted all the good stuff, but I feel like I have to put it all out there. Do I roll it all out in this post, which has already gotten a little long, or do I publish part of it today, and the remainder at a to-be-determined date in the future? What? What's that you said? Save some for later? Ok! Here's a Misty Snippet for your afternoon. Savor it.

Misty:  Did you hear the government banned light bulbs?

Jarred: Get out of here!
Misty:  No really, they couldn't stop the block on the ban of the bulbs
Jarred: What?
Misty:  I mean they didn't ban the block...the banning of the bulbs
Jarred: Use your words
Misty:  Crap let me look it up, they did something