Monday, September 29, 2008


We signed the papers today, we're damn near homeowners. Friday's the big day, and you know what they say: "When god takes a kitty's eyeball, he gives you a house and a mortgage." We're in the midst of a Jewish holiday, Rosh Hashanah (the New Year), and Max and I will celebrate by furniture shopping. Which is really the only thing we've been doing for the last 2 weeks. But holy crap, have we found some amazing stuff. It's OK to furnish an English cottage in mid century modern, right?

Speaking of disgusting things you don't really need to read about, we were at IKEA over the weekend, and Samson got fussy. No, really. I'm not joking. So I did my normal thing where I give him every thing from my purse, his diaper bag, etc, to keep him occupied. And when he ran out of things to open, close and chew on, I gave him one of the paper IKEA tape measures. And the next day I found the number 28 in his diaper. Seriously. I'm sure I'll find weirder things in his diapers in the future, but that was awesome. It was all I could do to stop myself from taking a picture.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Some big things and other things bigger still

I've been on hold with the IRS for 37 minutes now. I'm holding on to the hope that the conversation will end with me getting money, not owing money. Does that ever happen?

Thankfully, Samson is napping. I couldn't do this with an unruly 10 month old tearing around the living room and squawking as he is wont to do. He's actually been napping a lot lately, and I'm guessing that's related to this new tooth that finally emerged yesterday (number three for those who are keeping track, top right). He's probably got another two or three in the works, I'll keep monitoring the situation.

Never one to be good at keeping secrets, I have some exciting news. We finally found a great house that works for us, and we done went and bought it. I didn't want to say anything until we actually had the keys, but I can't wait that long, it's all too fanciful and exciting! We close in early October, just in time for a kick ass first birthday party for Sam in our new backyard.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Samson: Month Ten

Wait, you're HOW OLD? There's no way that's possible. I knew as soon as I saw all the Halloween candy in Target a few weeks ago that your birthday was coming up, but come on, they start putting out Thanksgiving decorations in July these days, so I thought I had a little more time to prepare. To prepare for what, exactly, I'm not sure. I just know that every day, you are bigger and more capable of wreaking havoc on everything in our house, car, grocery store, veterinarian's office, etc.

Ten months old. You finally discovered the dogs this month. I guess you figured out what the rest of us have known for months: you're never going to catch the cat. You will get close, really close, but cats are mean like that. They take pleasure in your suffering, it's what cats do. Not only have you discovered that the dogs are fun and covered in various bits to grab, but they are also perfect role models for a ten month old baby. This month, you started barking at the doorbell and carrying toys on your mouth as you crawled around the living room. Your father and I nearly pee our pants every time.

Your Israel Grandma arrived last month for an extended stay in the US. Talk about a spoiled baby. Now with four grandparents around, things like bedtime have been abolished and every meal involves pancakes. There's always someone on hand to remind you that EVERYTHING you do is cute and that you should do ANYTHING you want. This is a good thing, and you are very lucky to have all of them. We all took you to your first baseball game this month. you lasted a whole three innings, which is really quite impressive.

You babble. A lot. And it's as if you're speaking full sentences to me that are completely comprehensible in some foreign language, and I am an idiot for not understanding what you say. We have these conversations in the car where you say something like "Abble dibble dibble agaur drabble drabble ahhhhhhh." And I'm all, "That's right, we're driving to the store to get avocados for dinner." And you look at me in the little mirror that we have set up so that we can see each other in the rear view mirror as if to say, "What the hell? What does that have to do my plans to destroy Aba's X-Box when we get home?" Of course, you're a huge hit wherever we go. The best was at your nine month check a few weeks ago when I got you naked, realized I had forgotten your blanket in the car (have I mentioned? I'm a horrible parent), and wrapped you in my sweater. Your sweet smile and excited babble mesmerized the doctor and she forgot all about calling child services.

Every Tuesday and Thursday during your tenth month, we spent the morning at swim lessons. You were the youngest kid in the class, and the only one who didn't cry the first day. You were far too busy drinking pool water to cry. And for the next eight classes, you spent the entire 40 minute sessions drinking pool water while I tried to teach you how float on your back and kick your feet and hold your breath. It was only on the last day of class that you realized how fun it was to splash AND drink pool water. Next time.

You've also decided that spoons are for suckers, and you're all about finger foods now. Thanks, Ima, but no thanks. I've got this one covered. On the menu at any given moment: bananas, avocado, cheese, carrots, waffles, pancakes, and Veggie Booty. 

Your father and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary this month. Nothing too fancy, we went out for churrascuria (meat. MEAT!) while some grandparents sat for you. We were really happy to come home to you, and we love the memory of having you at our wedding, kicking me HARD on the right side of my belly, and keeping me from getting drunk at the reception. Thank you.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Wind Burned and Glassy Eyed

After spending the last two days whizzing--yes, whizzing--around in Max's Miata with the top down, my lips have formed an unpleasant glaze of chappedy crackedness that necessitates the constant application of peppermint chapstick. That, and I still have convertible hair, which in my case, as my hair has gotten really long due to my laziness and lack of time to get a haircut, means lots of knots and snarls. Sigh.

Huge surprise: I'm tired. The running around, the staying still, all of it just makes me exhausted. I don't know how to approach any event in my life with anything other than 110% percent of excitement and attention and with my energy levels turned up to eleven. I need to slooooooow dooooooown.

Coming soon, Samson's tenth month. Yes, I know! Holy shit!