Today is Schuyler's nine-month doctor appointment (you know, a few days after she turned 10 months old). I'm pretty sure this means we're in for more shots, which never makes for a fun afternoon to start with, but to top it off, she's already been kind of fussy all morning, and she's been incredibly verbal as of late. I'm really looking to an afternoon of screaming baby gibberish in which Scout "goy"s and "baba"s to me about exactly where I rank on her crap list for subjecting her to freezing cold baby scales and painful injections. With any luck, she'll exact her revenge by pulling my hair or peeing on me while I carry her to the bath tonight. I'm going to try to make today the happiest day ever (until 2:00) in the hopes that she decides not to be mad at me after all.
I was recently discussing with a friend of mine about how Scout gets mad at me and ignores me when I do things she doesn't like or don't let her do things she wants to. We were also talking about how she has the ability to say "mama" (she's done it a few times) but won't when prompted. (Instead, she says similar sounding things like "Nonna" and "baba" with a smirk) My friend gave me this heartwarming encouragement: "She's your daughter. This is how it's going to be for the rest of your lives. I speak from experience; just get used to it."
What a joy.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I think I have a problem
Michael Phelps' finals schedule is written on Post-its and stuck to my TV.
Last night, I literally ran through Walmart and begged my husband to drive over the speed limit on the way home so that we wouldn't miss the 200m freestyle finals.
I ignored my friends at their house for a full 30 minutes while I read the cover story about Phelps in Sports Illustrated.
I have joined a Michael Phelps facebook group and have Phelps Phan flair.
I have spent too much time on the internet reading stats and bios and checking his times against people like Basson and Cseh.
In spite of his large ears and the fact that he kind of looks like a cross between the ugly New Kid on the Block and a friend of ours with cerebral palsy, I find him strangely attractive.
Brendan's been making fun of me for days because of my new "boyfriend." He asks me if he should start lifting again, learn to swim, and run around in a tiny speedo all day to keep my attention. I promise, this will all go away in ten days, when the Olympics are over, and Brendan will have my undivided attention ... for the next 206 weeks.
Last night, I literally ran through Walmart and begged my husband to drive over the speed limit on the way home so that we wouldn't miss the 200m freestyle finals.
I ignored my friends at their house for a full 30 minutes while I read the cover story about Phelps in Sports Illustrated.
I have joined a Michael Phelps facebook group and have Phelps Phan flair.
I have spent too much time on the internet reading stats and bios and checking his times against people like Basson and Cseh.
In spite of his large ears and the fact that he kind of looks like a cross between the ugly New Kid on the Block and a friend of ours with cerebral palsy, I find him strangely attractive.
Brendan's been making fun of me for days because of my new "boyfriend." He asks me if he should start lifting again, learn to swim, and run around in a tiny speedo all day to keep my attention. I promise, this will all go away in ten days, when the Olympics are over, and Brendan will have my undivided attention ... for the next 206 weeks.
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