7.26.2007

Mali's Mom Gets Bedhead, Too

Mali's Mom Gets Bedhead, Too

Mali's Mom Gets Bedhead, Too

My high school reunion is in two days, so I figured I might as well dye my hair one of the school colors. I used to do this before football games in high school--too bad the cheer coach didn't agree and banned the practice, along with black leggings and skull earrings. This may have been why colored Sebastian Fizz was discontinued, and why you don't see a whole lot of conflicted goth/ska cheerleaders.

7.24.2007

All Grumpy, All the Time

All Grumpy, All the Time

I am in a state of Perpetual Grump. Everything makes me grouchy: HP7, my house, other drivers, my kids (though I think you would be grumpy too if your 8-year-old called you during your Iron Gate work shift to say that she was in the middle of dyeing her cousins' hair magenta in your brand new bathroom with the brand new white bath mats without proper gear or knowledge and she only needed to ask where the tin foil was).

Anyhow, as I told Jo tonight, I am sporting a very short fuse. I feel particularly awful as so many of my friends (Ep, JP, etc.) have been so kind in helping out with Leelo as I finish out my last Iron Gate shifts ever.

Please don't take it personally.

Leelo Makes a Small Adjustment

Leelo Makes a Small Adjustment

For the entirety of Leelo's solid-food-eating life, he has had to have his grub cut up in bite-sized pieces or else. Seymour, Babysitter A, and I have been trying to help him increase his tolerance for taking the bites himself, but he has never greeted a non-bite-sized piece of sandwich, etc. with anything less than a screaming tantrum. (Except, for some reason, bananas.)

Until today. Today I laid out five slices of PB&J sandwich, and he ate them not only without complaint, but by taking bites! In the past his slice-eating technique was to shove each slice straight down his throat with only a couple of perfunctory chews.

This may seem like a small victory, but it really is huge. The fact that he continues to take these steps makes me think that we might be able to potty train him after all. I certainly hope so, because we're going to do potty training boot camp--all underwear, all day long--starting August 5th.

I wonder if we might as well try to indoctrinate Mali into The Society of Independent Butt Wipers along with her brother. You know, as long as we're going to have shit all over the place anyhow. She currently views going to the potty as merely another pretend play activity: she loves sitting on the potty, wiping her bottom, taking down her pants, all that. But the actual excretion, it is not happening; she prefers to talk about all the people who excrete, instead. If she has ever been introduced to you, rest assured that you have come up in one of her enthusiastic declarations listing that "...and XX goes poo-poo on the potty."

I am going to try to be optimistic about Leelo and potty training. Even if it doesn't work out, at least we'll have a nice soundtrack, as Leelo has recently taken up the kazoo again, and we get to hear him playing his favorite songs--while clapping to the beat--all day long. Clever boy.

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7.20.2007

Oh, God, No

Oh, God, No

Today I have exactly two semi-free hours, with Mali as my only sidekick, in which to find the perfect cocktail dress for my 20th high school reunion. Which is next weekend.

I hate shopping. And not just because my ass is a lot bigger than it was twenty years ago; so is everyone else's except Dee's (bitch), my date Kat's (bitch), and Gwen Stefani's (who as you may know has put a lot of effort into making sure her ass is several sizes smaller than it was when she and Dee worked at Dairy Queen). I actually think I look good and that it's all about attitude anyhow. No, I just really hate shopping. Hopefully I won't lost my temper and patience before I find that magic frock.

7.19.2007

Bedhead

Bedhead

Seymour thinks we should do a Daily Mali Bedhead project. I think the idea has artistic merit, but I can't really shoehorn in another daily anything (except, obviously, "find where the kitten shat and clean it up"). Also I don't think photos could possibly do justice to the thunderhead that is her wake up hair. Here's an approximation:

Mali Waking Up Bedhead


Note cavernously empty living room in the background. Who needs furniture when you've got a Nice Big House?

7.18.2007

Great, Full

Great, Full

I also very much need to mention how wonderful it is to have a quiver full of friends who know what Leelo can be like on a bad day, and who hang out and help out even so. And then come over in the late afternoon for drinks! I am so glad Ep is back home after her two weeks in the U.K.

Shopping Newsflash for Parents of Special Needs Kids

Shopping Newsflash for Parents of Special Needs Kids

Yesterday was toasty here in beautiful Deadwood, so I decided to sport a tank top. Which meant that after Leelo got pissed off about Mali's Iron Gate pickup time and started smacking me (again) in front of all of those tiny children and their parents, I was also sporting two or three bright red Leelo-sized handprints on my chest.

However, I have figured out a solution. I went to Old Navy and picked up a t-shirt for Leelo. It says, "Take a photo, it'll last longer." I'll have him wear it every day. Friends, they had many of these shirts available. They are in the boys' section. They are gray. Probably I should have bought several.

Oh, and also I will ask Teacher K if I can pick up Mali a few minutes later than the other children so Leelo can avoid the madd(en)ing crowd.

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To Those of You Who Have Ever Wanted to Live in a "Lovely Big Home"

To Those of You Who Have Ever Wanted to Live in a "Lovely Big Home"

Big houses are a pain in the ass. I am starting to think that anything over 2000 square feet is just plain crazy, both from a logistical and from a "where the hell did I put my keys" perspective.

7.14.2007

Like Pushing Rusty Thumbtacks Into My Delicately Quivering Eyeballs

Like Pushing Rusty Thumbtacks Into My Delicately Quivering Eyeballs

When I am already grumpy, the only book that irritates me more than a pretentious, depressing novel is a pretentious, depressing novel in which every other sentence is a metaphor or simile.