wheze is awake.

The S-Bs have once again enjoyed a busy week, and I figured I'd catch up on bloggage whilst the wee one slumbers. In preparation, I went to pour myself a nice mug of coffee. I added my sugar and poured the milk . . . straight into my water glass. Below, Merc asks, and I quote, "what the hell is that?"Much has been afoot on the Rowan front. In top news, his daycare provider can no longer provide services due to a family matter, so we got the boot. I was pretty bummed, as it was a good situation and I feel nervous about the prospect of entrusting my baby with someone else, but we just returned from interviewing someone. It seems like her parenting/childcare philosophies are pretty similar to ours, so we'll see. Child care is rough to navigate . . . you have to decide on the type of situation you want (in-home, either yours or the provider's, day care center, etc), negotiate the money issue, and then, most difficult of all, assess the safety and quality of the situation. This particular provider is asking for a monthly amount that's about the same as our mortgage payment . . . and that seems pretty reasonable. If you're gonna pay for anything in this world, it oughta be to ensure your kid is well cared for. But still, it's a reminder that babies ain't cheap.

Ro also is battling the terrible trifecta of a cold/teething/diaper rash. Ugh. He still manages to be pretty jolly when he wakes us up at 5:30 every morning (see evidence above, below).And he's enjoying solids. Some. Usually. We had a pretty enjoyable day yesterday. After some yellin & screamin during Friday night's debtes, we headed to an Obama rally right here in Greensboro. It was a pretty rad--and well-attended (~20,000 folks) speach. And what a demographically-mixed crowd! I might even have seen Obama. I mean, I definitely heard him, but at the distance of a couple blocks, it was hard to tell anyone apart. The guy I watched gesticulating on stage could've been Obama. Could've been Biden. Could've been the Secretary of Agriculture or a security guard. Anyhow, at risk of sounding cheesy, we left feeling pretty good about this country.

But . . . then we went to WalMart. We were in that part of town and needed some groceries. The parking lot was a nightmare. We decided to just park whereever and turned up a lane. And here's what went down:
Humongoid white SUV in front of us sees some activity eminating from a car three spaces in. The SUV's driver decides to park there, turns on blinker to signify this. There are plenty of available spaces about 30 feet further up, but that's okay, we'll wait--the SUV is totally blocking the lane. About two minutes pass. The driver of the parked car has now opened every door of her car and is taking out several small bags. The white SUV ain't going nowhere. Mercer, getting slightly frustrated, taps the horn. A few more minutes pass. The driver of the parked car is standing there applying lip gloss. The white SUV still refuses to budge. After a couple more minutes, I can see smoke eminating from Mercer's ears and Ro has started to fuss. Mercer finally manages to squeeeeze by the SUV on the left and shoots the driver a dirty look. We park a few spaces up. I mean, how can anyone be that lazy? HOW? And then somehow WalMart is set up to make me frantically purchase as much zero-nutritional-value crap as possible. When I lived in Farmville, we relied on WalMart to get basics you couldn't buy anyplace else in town. Now that big city living has transformed me into a liberal elitist, I say never again. Plus, who wants to be surrounded by McCain supporters? I need to stick to my liberal roots and support urban farmer's markets and overpriced, quasi-hip food chains like Panera and Starbucks and read the New York Times.

Anyways, enough being a huge, fussy jerk for one day. Let's!!!!!!!!!!

shroom zoom

I'm very tired, so this may be a sho'ty. Or better yet, a photo essay. Yesssssiree, a photo essay.

As per usual, we have been doing a lot of running around lately. We have also had some guest appearances by some pretty rad individuals. Last last weekend, Jane and her friend Erin stopped by on their way back from gallivanting in Georgia. Below, she and Ro-baby, clearly zombies, conspire to feast on the flesh of their victims. J/k. Zombies are dumb! They can't conspire to do anything. Speaking of fake stuff, I'm kinda surprised at how many people genuinely believe Obama is the Antichrist. Oh crap, now if some whackjob googles "obama antichrist," will they stumble across this blog? If so, um, welcome. Thanks for reading, whackjob! You're nuts! After Jane's too-short visit, I didn't do the best job of documenting the past week. In fact, this is the first time I have seen all the pictures below, so I'm probably not the best interpreter of what's going down.Below, Ro perfects his nineteenth century newspaper-hawking waif-shipped off to the coal mines look. Know why he was shipped off? Because the authorities saw this picture and figured the foppish lout holding him must be drunk. J/k, Merc! He only looks foppish because we're all functioning on very little sleep here.
Friday night, I was out at the gay bar til 2 or so (I was working. For real!). Merc was sweet enough to let me sleep in on Saturday morning. When I awoke, I heard tell of some fungus amongus photo shoot that the boys had cooked up during my slumbers. Alls I know is now there are about 54 pictures of backyard mushrooms on the camera now. I think Mercer may discuss this in more detail, but some are pretty grotesque. Though the ones below are appealing! This past weekend, we enjoyed seeing Grandma and Grandpa B. They weren't able to stay long, but it was great seeing them and of course Ro relished the attention. Below, they eat pancakes (I was off at yet another work event--sniff, sniff). Besides bringing copious amounts of meat, they also brought a beautiful sewing table that was used by the T.A. Edison (probably maybe)! I bought some fabric today for a project. I eat your brains!

pueri puellaeque clamant

as you can see, the pillow fort is getting mighty dorked out. i've been stuffing my brains with rhet/comp theory, metaphysical poetry and latin flashcards.

we were in babies r us tonight and noticed the halloween costumes are starting to appear. baby skeletons, pumpkins, peas in pods, etc. are all over america's superstores. so, we hope everyone will let us know how NOT to dress rowan on this, his first, halloween.

ok...more postage later...

weekendin'

Ugh, I'm getting that can't-believe-it's-Sunday-night feeling in the pit of my stomach again. The weekend has felt like one big stroll, punctuated by guests and yard sales and dead snakes and playgrounds. It was really good being able to spend some time with Ro--last week was a little rough and I eneded up working really late Friday and only getting my baby-time in in the dying gasps of the day, so I really needed some good, concentrated quality time.

We had guests galore this past weekend. Tia Margarita--my friend since we were two--reentered the pillow fort scene. She was between class sessions and Greensboro is closer to Elon than her home in Winston-Salem. It's always fun to, um, rehash those treasured middle school memories. She somehow always places the potholes and brambles in my memory lane.

Ro and I took a long, long stroll Saturday morning so Merc could read some seventeenth century verse, or, as I like to say, git 'er Donne. We walked all over town. I ate a sub and we played a little at a playground, inasmuch as a 6 month old can play on playground equipment meant for 5 year olds, and we went to a kids' art event that was really meant for older kids but nonetheless held some appeal for a baby. We also hit up some yard sales. I walked all the way home balancing a framed print on the top of the stroller. I bought some other fun crap too. The house is getting fuller and fuller!

THEN Jane rocked the house and it ruled! She and her friend Erin stopped by en route for Georgia to NYC. It was really cool of them to incorporate Greensboro into their travel plans. We went out to eat. Ro enjoyed both the attention of the ladies and the dill pickle that accompanied Mercer's burger.

THEN there was today. After another walk, we enjoyed the company of one Grandma S and one Aunt Hannah. Sadly, they drove all the way down just to ride over to Babies R Us and eat copious amounts of Vietnamese food, but heck, we had fun. They brought us even more stuff for the house--a desk chair, a chair for Big Ro, some art (I have yet to hang most of our prints and such--the only free time I get is when Ro goes to sleep, not the best time to stat driving nails into the wall!), and the coolest lamp ever. My mama and brother T made it out of half of an old oil drum they found. I'll post pix when I'm not feeling so technologically lazy. Yeah.

man on the run

I am finding myself wracked with indecision about what brand of highchair to purchase. Parents these days are beset with myriad options. See, when I embarked on this highchair-finding quest I thought all I wanted was a chair, maybe one with a place to set food, and some sort of restraint device so the baby wouldn't squirm his way out. But then everyone out in web-land seems so adamant in their product reviews: "This highchair saved my life!" "This highchair is the cause of my high blood pressure!" that soon you begin to internalize the notion that there really is a right or wrong to infant product-buying. Plus, a lot of parents out there seem to buy to fit their decor: "This ultramodern and sleek highchair fits perfectly in our brownstone's chrome and bamboo-accented breakfast nook." Anyhow, I'm fixing to just take a deep breath and order, knowing that no matter what my selection it will probably mean an easier feeding process, less sweet potatoes smeared on my work clothes, less rice cereal coating my arms.

I'm starting a new work schedule next week. In exchange for starting work at 7 and working late some evenings, I'll have Fridays off! I think--I hope--it'll be a good change. Maybe it's because I have been listening to a lot of NPR coverage of the Palin-inspired redrudging of the late 90s mommy wars, or maybe it's just that I have realized that every single social outlet for moms and/or babies (storytime, yoga, neighborhood get-togethers) takes place on times like Tuesday at 10am, when it is virtually impossible for a working mom to participate, but I have been thinking a lot as of late about women, work, and family. Much as I bitch about my long work hours, I gotta give props to the stay-at-home moms out there. I am way more exhausted after spending a day caring for a squirming, active six-month-old than I am planning public health programming and trolling the mean streets for people to test for syphilis . . .

Ro has gotten noticebly harder to photograph as of late. Kid won't sit still (see evidence below--he wants to pull a zombie baby instead of sitting pretty for the camera). Even his last waking moments of each day are a tempest. He screams and thrashes in my arms, and finally, when his screams die down to low babbles and his thrashes to twitches I know he's almost there. Not to jinx it or anything, but he has been sleeping much, much better, these past couple nights.

FYI (real post forthcoming...)

Has this happened to you? You're not alone.

forced to blog (aka, oh! the injustice!)

Our house (part one of a heretofore failed effort to blog about our new house. I can't quite ever seem to get it to the state it ought to be in to take pictures of it, and now we are experiencing additional not-quite-so-cosmetic issues, like some porch leaking, which sounds like a euphemism but isn't.):
Soooo I had a really long, hard day at work. Okay, maybe not so hard. It was one of those days I found myself slumping over my keyboard practically drooling on myself out of exhaustion 'round about 3:30. I think part of it was that my friend Tamika and I went to my local favorite fast food spot, Cook Out, for shakes. We split a watermelon, just because we're crazy like that, and a caramel fudge. The watermelon was a pleasant surprise, subtle, with real chunks o melon and no pinky-red food coloring! So yes. Long day, extended by the dramatic comedown of a double shake sugar rush. Come home, do the home thing, after Ro utters his last subdued protests of the day (he has a truly awesome falling asleep ritual going), all I want to do is watch some trash TV. But we don't have a TV. So I ask Merc if we can trade computers so I can watch a DVD on his and he can work on mine (the DVD function on mine has been busted for years). And he says NO. That's right, NO! So. Forced to blog instead.

But that's okay. Blogging probably uses a few more of my tired brain cells anyhow, and plus I have much to report!

This past weekend was a long one, though not long enough, and we were graced by a visit from . . . live, from NYC, Auntie Alyssa! It was fun. In fact, I daresay it was wicked fun. And once again, Ro was entranced. They got along swimmingly, as evidenced by the above! He seems a little confused about her whereabouts now. As we all are. She was here for three days, but it felt like such a short time! In short, we talked politics and food and life states and work and twittering and much more, discovered the waterpark (okay, "discovered," along with a third of the population of this fine city), got in a couple slides before it started to rain in earnest and the park shut down, took a few walks, hiked in the mountains, ate a lot, chilled on the porch (oops, I mean veranda) . . . Somehow I was not the documentarian of the festivities as I would have hoped. But that's 'cause I was too busy having a superamazing time! And Alyssa was much better about it that I was. Ro also enjoyed attempting to document his surroundings, and by document his surroundings I mean drool on Alyssa's really nice camera. BTW, yes, those are pants on Ro's head. Being a bad (unprepared) mom, I forgot to bring a hat, or a burp cloth, or any kind of covering device, on a particularly sunny walk. And so . . . the pants were removed from the bottom and became a do rag. We got a chuckle out of the idea of pants on the head. I may send these pix in to Bravo to try to land a spot on Project Runway.