My ass! Dude, it's the ROCKER.
This past weekend, X and I put together a piece of furniture. A rocker. Yes, Innernets, once again, we pushed our marriage to very brink of divorce but walked away victorious. When we were done, there was a brief squabble as to who would sit in it first. I pointed out that I am 9 months pregnant thereby putting TWO lives at risk. I am delighted to report that X sat in the chair and emerged injury-free. However. My toes barely touch the ground when sitting in it. The seat does not quite fit properly. In fact, MY seat doesn't fit properly. At first, I thought it was my big, fat pregnant ass that could barely squeeze in it. Seriously - I was ashamed that I couldn't fit in this chair, so I didn't SAY ANYTHING. Because, you know, THE SHAME. Just today, I noticed the arms are on fucking backwards thus decreasing the amount of space in which one's ass, ANYONE'S ASS (e.g. not just MY ass), could squeeze on by to make it in this fucking rocking chair. Backwards, I shit you not.
Apparently, an iPod shuffle can be washed once, but woe to the poor sap who thinks it can be washed twice. Is this where I point out that I am not the poor sap? You get only one guess as to who the culprit was in this case.
A is for Amiable, Affable, Adorable, Arun and apparently, "Bap-Pull"
Arun is in Unabashed Adorable Mode these days. Full blast, no holding back. If he keeps it up, I could almost be convinced that we might need a EvenNewerKid eventually. Maybe. Probably not. Anyway, lest I neglect my duties as a mommyblogger who has nothing to talk about other than her precious progeny, let me talk about my kid for awhile............
- The words are exploding from his mouth now! Although, it's hard to get the gist of what he wants when he's doing his Toddler Babble in Pidgin. Fortunately, he's very good at leading us to what he wants and pointing. For sure, though - he's got "apple" down pat and has no issues with asking for his beloved "bap-pull" while gesturing to the refrigerator.
- We are still tantrum-free, although he is prone to lying prostrate on the floor in Silent Protest at times. Come on, admit it. You'd laugh, too. I say, give the boy some chains and point him to the nearest endangered tree. He's got a career as a Professional Protestor.
- He's in the this total "Carry me!" mode which has me worried. It's hard enough to carry a newborn in that damned Baby Bucket, but to sling along a toddler, too?
- The kid loves, LOVES his alphabet and numbers - he learned about 6-7 shapes but quickly abandoned those when we started letters and numbers. He recognizes his name when written and often will proclaim "Ahhh-ooooo" if you ask what it is. Regardless, writing his name down will get you some killer dimples. Little egoist. We have his name on his wall and a train with his name on it. We also have the I See Me! book which blows his hairy noggin to bits. His little bug eyes get even buggier when spying his very own name in a BOOK.
- Also, counting to 20 has an amazing, calming effect on him and is actually part of our night-time routine. He's got 1, 2, 6, 7 and the "teens" (dah-deen!) down pat. Forget the rest of those stupid numbers - they're useless, I tell you. Useless. The bonus is that while in a grocery store waiting in the checkout lane you feel far less stupid counting to 20 than say, breaking into a routine with the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" as your score. I think the sweetest ever was the other day when we were in the car and he started getting antsy. Literally, "counting cars" made his day and saved my sanity. And no, I don't think he's some little prodigy who really understands the concept of numbers, he's just imitating the cadence, which for some reason he likes.
- He yelled for me a few weeks ago for the very first time. I was upstairs rummaging around and I heard him yelling from the bottom of the stairs "Mama! Mama! Mama!". I melted immediately. I may play the Bitch role online, but in Real Life I'm a totally fool for Toddler Babble. And when that babble includes "Mama"? Sigh. The sweetest word in the English language. Now I understand why X is such a total fool for our kid - Arun's been saying "Daddy" forEVER. Smart boy.
Designing on MY Dime, Yo
I am not a designer or decorator or anything even resembling the two. I throw shit up on my walls that I like. I do try to keep only original art downstairs and I keep reproductions and prints upstairs. Yep, I LOVE Renoir, but I don't think hanging prints of him does much to make a statement, so Renoir hangs out in my bedroom. Anyway, my style of decorating could best be referred to as Early Attic. Whatever. Even with Arun's room, I could not get excited about it. For me, decorating a nursery was a waste of money - I'd rather save that money for when he is older and can choose what he wants in his room. The same goes for NewKid. Since they are sharing a room for awhile, the point was moot anyway. One thing I did do was paint the letters for their names for the walls. I HIGHLY recommend this - I take Arun's letters down quite frequently so that we can play with them - it provides for a nice tactile experience while he's learning his letters.
I bought the letters at Hobby Lobby for $2.49 a piece, painted them myself with acrylic craft paint I already had lying around from prior projects. I've seen letters like these selling for at least $10 per letter - that's criminal! Do it yourself! It was fun AND I saved some money. I also painted a name train for Arun - I bought the cars at Michael's for 99 cents a piece. Again, I've seen these name trains go for big bucks, yet Arun's cost less than $7.
When I told him this says "Anjali", he tried to say it but garbled out "Ahhn-jee" instead. We'll probably have to give up on "Anjali" for now and go with "Anju" in the beginning, since that will most likely be her nickname anyway.
This thing is already showing some wear and tear because he plays with it so much - which is fine with me. I'd rather he have something he loves and uses, than something meant to be an "heirloom". I can repaint it if need be.
Just a silly snap. He's gotten VERY goofy these days. It's hard to remember those days when he such a serious, crabby, bug-eyed baby.