The basement is painted. The tiny bathroom is painted. I am still fighting my sinus infection and feel like crap. I should call the doctor, but I haven’t.
Jen’s uncle died last night. We were going to go up to Michigan to visit him on Monday, but that visit’s turned into a funeral, and she doesn’t want to go. So, we’re cancelling the tickets, the hotel and rental car and staying home with our grief.
I’m a freakin’ social butterfly! I took the Autism-Spectrum Quotient Test over at Wired and got a 13. I’m slightly more social than average. I don’t believe it…
I love looking at pictures of Max. Those were taken this summer, just a few months ago, and it’s amazing to realize the changes Max has gone through since then. He’s taller and faster, which is expected. He’s talking now, in complete sentances sometimes. He has shorter hair, and yes, it’s still crazy. He’s a joy to be around (which isn’t really change). He’s a lot more fun now that we can have little conversations and our little drawing sessions where he tells me what to draw, and then I tell him what to draw. I love having a son. I love him. I honestly wouldn’t exchange it for anything.
We made cookies last night. Yes, I know! It was so completely fun and domestic that I almost crapped myself in the total Normal Rockwellian joy it produced. I didn’t even get mad when, mid-cookie mixing, our mixer decided that randomly ejected the blades was a good idea. I wasn’t annowed that I had to make a 7pm run to Bed, Bath & Beyond to get a new mixer (I was going to go to Target, but BB&B is closer, and I remembered as I saw the sign that mixers are included in the “Beyond”). We made orange juice/coconut/hershey kiss cookies, thanks to a recipe from Penny. We completed a first pass at my aunt’s famous pecan “little white balls” which turned into pecan sandies thanks to my lax rolling o’ the dough (They’re still good, just not “ballsy”). Jen made fudge, and cut and bake chocolate chip. Then, at 10:45 last night, after I went over to my fam’s to get cinnamon and play pool on dad’s Christmas present, we made Pineapple Walnut Drops that turned into Pineapple Walnut Pancakes (but again, still yummy).
We listened to Ska, danced, let Max play in the pan cupboard, and had a great time. I think we’ll have cookie night every week.
Some new pics of musical maestro Max are up. (and in the pics of him and our tiny Christmas tree, he’d just gotten out of the tub – he’s not dirty)
I was going to write a dissertation on thinking “out of the box”, but t’ain’t the season for work griping.
In the spirit of not griping, I give you this morning. When I got up, I was sure it had snowed. I looked out over the top of our bathroom curtains and saw the clouds laying low in a grey cottony carpet over the cemetary across the street. Then, as I walked farther into the bathroom, I saw that the cemetary hill was still green, and it had in fact just rained.
I’ve been praying for snow lately. I know as soon as it shows up, I’ll pray for it to leave. I want to take Max out in the snow. Last year, he was a little young to play in it, but this year, I think he’ll be snow-crazy, and so will I. There’s something magical about a kid’s first real snow day, making his first snowball, first snow angel and catching his first snowflake on his nose.
Come on, snow, come on!!
Max’s Wall Monkey, because monkey = funny. I finally got a good capture of the monkey my sister and I painted on Max’s wall for his birthday (thank you, iMovie!).
This Modern World could not be more brilliant this fine Monday morning.
And completely unrelated to that other than the fact that’s it’s not a phantom of lost anything, Max is too great. His little self slept in this morning and didn’t make a peep until I was getting ready to leave. He usually wakes up and plays in his room for a while (somewhere between 20 – 45 minutes depending on whimsy, I think). So, I walked out the door and looked up. What did I see, but my little boy looking out the window. I waved. He waved. I smiled. He smiled around his pacifier with his curly hair sticking out at all angles. He pointed at the clouds and then waved again.
They’re a myth, I swear. Whenever people ask me how old Max is, I always tell them the truth and with pride say, “He’s TWO.” Every single time, they say, “Oh yeah, the terrible twos.” I have to correct them every time. Max isn’t terrible at two. He’s great. He had two rough weeks right after his birthday, but Jen worked some magic and he’s back to adorable.
He’s well behaved. He’s talking now and telling us what he wants in almost discernable words. He’s funny and loves to play. He’s not terrible, not even at bed time. He has his little routine for bedtime. One of us stands up (usually Jen) and says, “Ok, bed time!” We change a diaper, find a pacifier, Max grabs his lamb, and we head upstairs. He goes down without a fuss, and we get to listen to him talk to himself for a little while before he goes to sleep.
I know every kid is different. If we have another one, I’m sure they’ll be different in many ways, and maybe not so easy. Maybe they will, just because Jen’s such a great parent (she won’t admit it, but she’s a natural).
Last night, we made a gingerbread house. It turned out spiffy.
Things are really good…
I went out with some folks from work last night. We went to this little neighborhood bar full of corporate lesbians, yuppy freaks, a Fraggle, a Tae Kwon Do guy, two 5 year-olds, some guy who yelled at the top of his lungs at the silent sports program on one of the bar tv’s, one horrific toupee and us. We refrained from talking about work for the most part, which is a first for us.\
It was fun. I don’t go out with them as often as I’d like, but they’re a fun group. There were dirty jokes, good-natured mocking, stupid puns, and much laughter.\
I’ve been thinking recently about my glaring lack of friends that I hang out with. My works friends are cool, but I don’t hang out with them much outside of work. There’s the occasional party, but I’m the married guy with the kid. I’m younger than most of them, but I’m not the party-bar-hopping type. So, I don’t join them on their crazy escapades.\
I’m not really sad about all of it. I’m OK with it. Jen and I have a lot of fun together. Max is a ball. We hang out with my family a lot, which isn’t bad. Oh, it used to be. I wouldn’t be caught dead “hanging out” with the fam. Now, it’s just part of life, and we have fun.\
I have no idea why I’m writing this. But there you go.
