Archive for June, 2009

Sleepless In Philadelphia

5:40 a.m.

That’s the time this morning that my darling Ginger got out of bed, went downstairs to look for me, and started crying when she realized that I wasn’t yet up and that she was all by her lonesome.

So she came back upstairs and stood outside my bedroom door crying. GrumpyDaddy was kind enough to get up and bring her into bed with us (I was just going to let her cry, but I’m cruel like that, given that I am the primary caretaker and spend more than my fair share of time with her).

This bored Ginger so she went in to see Fred, who happened to be up and shrieking happily in his crib, to play with him. This was my chance, I thought. I got up and started getting dressed, with the intention of sneaking downstairs for a cup of coffee before Ginger figured out that I was up.

Fat chance.

Before I could pull a new shirt on, she appeared in my closet, asking what I was doing. In my half-awake and very unhappy state, my first thought was to respond with, “what the hell do you think I’m doing, rocket scientist?” Thankfully my mommy instincts kicked in and I responded with something far more gentle.

I got Fred up and took the kids downstairs for breakfast, hoping that after some food, they could play together and leave me alone while I get some caffeine into my body. Instead, I spent the morning refereeing fights, putting both kids into time-outs for bad behavior, and generally hating life.

As I type this, it is 2:17 p.m. Ginger has not napped and Fred is just waking up from his. I’ve been up for eight and a half hours and am half dead to the world.

For the love of all that is holy, if you are childless, please sleep in extra-late tomorrow and keep in mind how lucky you are that you don’t have tiny people living with you who can wear you out more than basic training for the military.

And now I’m off for another can of Moutain Dew in my effort to make it through the day…


Musings Of A Computerless Blogger

Still no new computer, and in fact I just received notice that shipment has been delayed. This is like living an abacus lifestyle in a calculus world.

So in keeping with my computer-deprived crankiness, I offer a few thoughts of late.

First, the neighbors behind us hired someone to power wash their deck. This deck is the size of a postage stamp, yet this guy was out there for two whole days, running his generator that was loud enough to sound as though someone was mowing our family room carpet. I don’t know much about power-washing, but I’d be surprised if two full days were actually warranted. In the meantime, my kids didn’t nap and parents everywhere know the joy that goes along with that.

Second, Ginger has transitioned to a big girl bed. This would be cause for celebration, except the child will not stay in bed. Aside from the horror of a sleepless child, she manages to scare the crap out of me on a regular basis because she will come downstairs, quiet as a mouse, approach me from behind, and announce loudly that she is done sleeping. I’ve learned to look around me before picking up my coffee cup because I’ve collected enough coffee burns from being jolted out of my blissful silence by my darling daughter. To be perfectly honest, her sudden and unexpected appearances are just creepy.

Third, there is something strangely attractive about our powder room because every play date that Ginger has usually results in the guest(s) child(ren) pooping in our toilet. I don’t have a problem with this – that’s what the darn thing is for, right? – but given that most toddlers tend not to poop more than once a day, it strikes me as more than a bit weird that everyone wants to do it while at our house. I suppose I should take it as a weird sort of compliment, yes?

Fourth, Barney is the devil. That is all.

Ginger Rats Me Out

I am still without a computer, which has become more than a mere nuisance. Frankly, I’m borderline homicidal at this point.

The good news is that GrumpyDaddy, our resident computer expert and all-around tech-savvy guy, has found what he thinks will be an appropriate computer for my needs, which basically consist of internet silliness and shenanigans (to wit, this blog).

The first computer he tried to sell me on had all the bells and whistles and did everything but launch nuclear weapons and tie your shoes. Sounds like fun, but the pricetag sent my head spinning. We’ve now settled upon something that is half the price but will serve the same purpose and – bonus! – be faster than my old computer, which apparently got bogged down with too much crap that I downloaded from the internet. What can I say, I’m a sucker for all of those embarrassing videos of celebrities tripping as they walk down the street or getting into bar fights.

So hopefully posting will become more regular in the near future. Until then, I must report that my loving daughter has ratted me out to GrumpyDaddy twice now.

The first time was of little consquence. Fred knocked over an upright planter and sent a plant skidding across the floor. Not fun to clean up, but not a big deal and I had forgotten all about it until dinner time, when Ginger announced to the world that Fred had done this. It was the first time that she had done anything like this, and I made a mental note that I could no longer trust her toddler brain to forget everything I did only seconds after it happened.

Not that I’m keeping any big secrets, but, you know, sometimes things happen during the day that don’t necessarily need to be shared. Such as, and this is a PURE hypothetical that has ZERO relation to reality, when your child gets into decongestant medication, spills it everywhere, and just possibly licks a bit off her fingertips. Not that this ever happened in my house at all. Ever. It’s just an example. I can’t imagine the irresponsible mother that would let this happen.

Anyhoo, the second ratting out involved a true, if indirect, ratting out. We were driving home from errands yesterday, with GrumpyDaddy behind the wheel. As we crawled through our neighborhood, Ginger says, “Why are you driving so slow, Daddy?”


GrumpyDaddy turns to me and says, “And just how fast do you drive through the neighborhood?”