incomprehensible.

So I was surfing the web, readin up on some a them messageboards where I lurk, checkin out the threads I'm followin. I post some blogs and click some links, upload some pics and download some viruses. Then I refresh my browser, eat some cookies -- I mean, enable some cookies (to be eaten), download some applets (baby apples), wish I had java, hunt for easter eggs, and clear some folders off my desktop, cause it's lookin pretty junky. Then I go to my toolbar (aren't they all, really?), create a table, and look at the menu. But my server crashes (into the busboy), so I have to go look out some real windows.

C'mon, internet, make up your own words and stop stealin my grandma's.

we still live in the city, i think

Sit back in your easy chairs and let me tell you a little story. Okay, it's not really that great of a story, but it has a super conclusion! So hang around!

I wanted my life to be good and rotten. That is, I wanted to start composting. And then start a garden and feed it deliciously rich homemade soil. So I put some veggie skins and bones in a bucket outside the back door, intending to find a good spot in the yard to start 'er up. But then I forgot. Because I have a baby (the patented go-to excuse for all my failings). And in the morning the bucket was tipped over and vegetable remains were strewn across the porch. Not a big surprise. It's a critter! I was a little more alarmed, however, when the next night I put a lid on the bucket...with a BRICK on top of it...and the critter still had his way with the fruity corpses. I thought it was a possum.

Until a few days later, a giant hole was dug under our concrete porch. This is where I should have a picture to show you, but I don't. Anyway, fast forward to today, when I casually glance out the window to see this, IN OUR OWN BACKYARD!

Scary! Anderson, who only saw the pictures, deemed it "cute." But it's an R.O.U.S., I tell you! According to the online business of looking things up online, though, it is only a groundhog. I thought they were just in the movies.

Anybody want a new, exotic pet? Wow your friends! Predict the coming of spring! Come get this out of my yard!

rubber duckie needed

So I needed to give Abe a bath and I thought, hey! Now that he's sitting up on his own pretty well, I can let him sit up in his little tub, so that he can splash and have fun!

I'll let that sink in for a moment. Perhaps some of you more experienced moms are already chuckling.

Gotta say, folks. I did not think that one through. Man, did that kid splash. I got a bath too, and I wasn't even in the tub. The him enjoying it goal was achieve, though.

toothy

I just read this article entitled "When Kids Attack!" and I have to say, although the article focuses primarily on the toddler age, Abe is in attack mode already. His nails are like talons that he digs into my tender flesh, attempting to tear it from the bone. Often when I hold him or get my face anywhere near his face, he grabs both sides of my head however he can - a wad of hair or a fist-full of cheek - and pulls me in toward his gaping, toothy maw. Then he latches on, sinking in teeth, and coating my face in drool. Oh, the hazards of the job!

He vicious!

spring may have sprung, or at least is in the process of springing

Oh my gosh, you guys. Spring may be here! The signs are good! First of all, THE WEATHER, SHE IS NICE. Oh so nice. We went to the park yesterday, which was teeming with babies all colors, shapes, and sizes, and Abe got to swing for the first time in his life! And he loooooved it! There was much grinning and shrieking to be had. And today, walking around in the backyard, I see green shoots and red buds all up on some trees. And wildflowers on the ground. And birds singing. It's pretty glorious. My ancestors clearly did not come from cold climates, nor have I evolved to enjoy them.

I think today requires another trip to the park.

night

When he stirs in his sleep, Abe reaches for me with both hands, as if to say, “I need you so much closer.” Whether I am a foot away or lying nose to nose, he reaches. In the middle of the night, he buries his face in my arm, curls into my chest. I nudge him away to make sure he can breathe, but he scoots his way back. And why shouldn’t he? For most of his life, we were so much closer. He didn’t have to turn to reach me. How unfair of me to change the rules and demand less than full body contact. At night is when he misses it most. So we sleep, his head on my chest, my knees curled under him, his leg on my leg. And because I miss it too, I press my face against his. Hold his hand in mine. As we breathe each other's breaths.

baby daze

Oh, what a perfect baby I have! He really is wonderful and only gets more so by the day. His one downfall is that he loves his mama. Downfall, you ask? How can this be? Well let me recount all his perfections and how is love for me mars each one.

He will sleep – soundly and gloriously, through most of the night, through 2-hour naps. As long as I am right there, sleeping with him (or alternately, have him wrapped to my chest). If I get up so much as to go to the bathroom, he is up too.

He will play happily and contentedly in his jumperoo or playmat* as long as I am in the same room, preferably seated right there in front of him oooing and aaahing at his every move.

He rarely fusses during diaper changing, as long as I am the one changing him.

He will kindly allow me to fix dinner or do dishes, as long as he’s up on the counter watching, right next to me.

He will then allow me to eat said dinner in peace, as long as I have him in one arm.

He even occasionally lets me check email, if he can bang on the keys too.

Basically, he is most contented when I am RIGHT IN HIS FACE. Anything less is unacceptable.

*All these made-up words, my God!