Through The Looking Glass

Will and I are caught up through last week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica. You may now speak freely. (Anyone divulging anything that happens after the episode “Collaborators” will be thrown out the airlock.)

As we all know, I have a slight tendency to overeat when there are samosas involved. So this could be interesting. But that isn’t what I wanted to tell you about!

Yesterday was our living room sale. HOLY CRAP we have a lot of crap. We had boxes lining the living room and den. I think we could have filled a small shop.

Somewhere over a dozen friends came by and gave us money for the privilege of taking things we no longer wish to own. It was awesome! Our stuff got good homes and we made over $100 (net)! The bad part is that there is a TON of stuff left. Is there any interest from SoCal people in a living room sale, part two? I swear, a lot of this stuff is actually quite nice. We just don’t have the room. (Some of it, I’ll be honest, isn’t so terrific. But one man’s trash and all that.) What we really should do is brave the scary old ladies and have a sale for the public, but I have no idea where we’d do that.

We divided our money into three piles: the furniture fund, annika’s allowance, and Will’s allowance. The furniture fund got set aside and will be put toward a secretary for me or a cabinet for the kitchen. I spent my allowance at the thrift shop. I bought a denim skirt and several sweaters. (Yes, it is crazy to eliminate clutter only to make more, except that I had no clothes that fit.) I was planning to buy some sweaters to felt and cut up, but wound up finding some that actually fit — and who am I to argue with looking good?

Pictures to come.

I was also going to write about how many fucking Ds they’ll put after a perfectly innocent number like 34. OHMYGOD. In other news, I am five pounds heavier but no one believes that I haven’t lost weight because my boobs are suddenly up where they’re supposed to be.

Oy.

• Tomorrow is our big yard sale. Well, living room sale. Is the living room clean? Not at all. Is our stuff ready to go to new homes? Not really. But I have chips and salsa and crackers and some very lovely cheese, so everything ought to be just fine. And it isn’t as though there will be any strangers here. Though really, why I would be OK with our friends seeing our place a total mess is beyond me.
• Gwen gave me a present last night — No One Cares What You Had For Lunch. Of course, this ruins my plan for NaBloPoMo (write about what I have for lunch every day). No, really, I love it! So thoughtful.
• It’s been three weeks since our script went to Agent. I know this isn’t a very long time and that some agents probably take longer than that to read their actual clients’ work. However, we granted him an exclusive. Yeah, exclusives suck, but he and Will have a relationship already so it was okay. BUT this career thing needs to get moving! (Not the least because we ran out of money last month.) If he isn’t interested we need to move on to other agents, NOW.
• We don’t feed Sam from a bottle. When I pump, Will feeds him from a syringe. It just works better. Oh, but everything I just said should be in the past tense, because last night when Will went to get Sam some milk, Sam demanded the bottle and drank from it. He figured it out all by himself! We’re going to get him a cup.
• Why isn’t Halloween a food holiday? I mean other than candy. Will and I think it is silly that there is no meal associated with Halloween so we are starting a family tradition. I’ll post my menu and recipes as soon as I’m done figuring it all out. In the meantime, what do you think of as fall (and especially Halloween) foods?

I had so much more that I was going to write about, but I forget.

This morning Will said, “What do you want to do today?”

I looked around at all the boxes of stuff that need to be dealt with by Saturday (for those playing along at home, that is the day after tomorrow) and said, “I want to knit.”

But do you think I’ve picked up needles once yet today? That would be a resounding “no.” Sam is having a(nother) day of needing to be with me constantly. On days like today I get lots of blog reading done (y’all, breastfeeding is boring) but not much else. A few minutes ago I managed to wind most of a skein of yarn into a ball before he started complaining about being left alone — two feet away from me — with his toys.

He’s napping now. On my lap.

I want to knit.

Well, I wasn’t expecting this so soon:

Note: Sam will not be eating rice cereal or traditional (jarred) baby food. Will and I are trying child-led food introduction.

I am speechless.

Sam plays with his toys. He reaches for them. He puts them in his mouth. He squeals and shivers with delight and excitement when one of us offers him a toy he has dropped. His favorites include Creature from the Black Lagoon, Mummy, and, um, a Star Wars blaster pistol. Yeah, yeah, we are crap parents.

He not only rolls over and creeps backward and in circles but he also tries to climb out of his bed and sits up by himself (though he requires some assistance getting into a seated position and often forgets himself and topples over head-first).

He gives kisses and hugs. When I ask for a kiss he grabs the sides of my face (or ears, or large chunks of hair), opens his mouth wide, and essentially headbutts me. LOVE. Sometimes he even initiates the kisses. LOVE LOVE LOVE.

He finally this month decided that he likes me. Oh, he always liked my milk makers. But it was Daddy who he’d grin and lunge for. Now he likes me best, or at least as much as Will, even when he is not hungry. Thank god, as I was starting to get quite a complex about the whole thing.

Of course, this mommy love means that nighttimes are still incredibly rough on me. More on that in a later, more whiney post.

He already wears 9 month clothing. He still fits into some 6 month items but he is just too tall for a lot of them.

No teeth are through yet or even close as far as I can tell, but he has all of the classic (read: annoying) teething symptoms and I feel so bad for him because it seems to be very frustrating for him. Sleep sucks. Eating is weird and nibbly. Drool is everywhere all the time. He fusses for no apparent reason. Diaper content is nasty on occasion. He chews — OH, how he chews.

He talks and babbles and blows bubbles and has invented a language of shrieks and yells that prompted us to dub him Kid Dinosaur.

He reaches for us to pick him up. This means we get very little time to do anything that isn’t holding him. That is (mostly) OK with me.

According to the pediatrician he is on par with seven-month-olds, size- and development-wise. This doesn’t really mean anything, but it pleases us nonetheless.

October, 2004:

October, 2005:

(expecting)

October, 2006:

Or afternoon, if you insist.

Sam fell asleep on my lap. I set him down in the co-sleeper so I could pee, and he stayed asleep (miracle! Second time today!) so I went back to the living room.

(This picture is from this morning’s nap, but conveys the general idea. He is now sans pjs.)

Will wandered through a few minutes later and asked how long Sam had been there. I told him. Turns out that when Will looked in, Sam had woken up, rolled onto his belly (possibly not in that order) and was playing with his toys.

My kid is THAT AWESOME.