Halloweenie

Ugh. It's been hard to get a post up. I've started a couple, don't finish them and then they're outdated just like that. I've been too tired, too. And it seems like, somehow, daylight savings has taken an hour or more out of my day. Maybe it seems that way because it gets dark so dang early. There's not enough time to get everything done and like I said, I've been tired. Pooped. Worn out when I finally leave the salt mine. By 10 p.m. I'm sawing logs. Maybe I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I'm not budgeting my time well. Maybe getting up at 5:39 a.m. just isn’t early enough (this is what time W decided to get his Halloween day started…yeay for me!).

I have committed to exercising at least three times a week and this morning I walked good and hard for thirty minutes around the 'hood. I got a stitch in my side 20 minutes in but I pressed to finish the walk at a steady pace. Yeah, so I was only walking but it's been over a year and a half (or more) since I got my heart rate up over 30 bpm. I'm starting out slow so I don’t scare myself away. It felt good though…walking in the sunshine, taking in the window of time to myself. What sucked about it was the catcalling from construction workers (who must all be seriously lonely because I was wearing a t-shirt with my kid’s face plastered as big as a billboard on it), the cars trying to run me over, the bus exhaust, the demons in my head that won’t shut up for one damn minute and let me just mentally coast. Exercising is hard.

And no, I didn’t get W a Halloween costume this year. How could I top this? This was last year.























Instead I dressed him in his short black pants (girls section at Old Navy) and a black t-shirt that says, “I do my own stunts” with a stick figure falling over so if anyone one asks, he’s a stunt man for Halloween. Yeah.

W is FINALLY getting over the daycare disease he absorbed over 3 weeks ago. It raced through the family (and then some) like wild fire but we are all on the mend (knocking on wood). He’s still ingesting that sugary, thick pink liquid amoxicillin so I’m guaranteed a few more days of a healthy child ‘till it runs out. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep this kid healthy. Anything. Seriously.

This is W texting some hot baby he met on the internet..."Yeah, baby, yeah!"
















Grabbing the remote because Elmo's World is about to come on...
















"What? You're interested in some other baby? Aww, baby!"
















Our Halloween porch. Real World plastic chairs gone good.
















Baby in lights.

Buffet Baby

For a tiny guy (all 19 pounds of him), Willem can put away some vittles. This is what he consumed yesterday…
- Cheerios he found in his dwarf-sized couch cushions
- Three bites of a bagel
- A box of juice
- Half of a slice of quiche
- An entire veggie corn dog
- 8 grapes
- A quarter of a giant Belgian waffle at Hyde Park Grill
- A dried apricot
- 2 animal crackers
- A bite of my peanut butter sandwich
- One veggie chicken nugget
- A handful of corn
- Apple yogurt with cereal
- Container of applesauce
- Gallons of water

Oh yeah, he nursed twice.

W knows where the nibbles are and lets it be known with an outside voice that rattles glass window panes that he’s feeling peckish. As a result, he walks around led by a round ball of a belly, back arched and shoulders back for support of said belly. Seriously cute.

Today was the first day of full-time daycare and again W could’ve given a rat’s ass that I was there or leaving. Malcontent Mama made a good point stating that at his age, babies want to be social and as a mama wearing W’s velvet handcuffs for the past year, it’s nice to break free of the chains and get into my own groove. That groove would consist of getting my southbound buns into the nearby gym but, ugh, I don’t look forward to that at all. I’m the kind of person that works out for a while and then pays the monthly dues out of guilt because I can’t stand to go in there and engage in a monotonous workout any longer. And then there’s the gym/sweat/disinfectant odor that attacks my nostrils like allergy season. Perhaps I’ll consider yoga, a perfect opportunity to bend myself into a public pooting machine. Seriously, I’m terrified of breaking wind while relaxing my inner sphincter. Besides, I get too giggly when I try to relax and stretch and be quiet all at once. I’ve never done well in-group exercise settings because my own buffooness makes me laugh like a banshee. Once I took a step class and nearly killed myself and the girl next to me. I flapped my arms and legs like a wounded seagull because the steppers expect you to just know the moves and they just keep on moving. For me, it was a bad idea all the way around.

Oh, remember when I wrote a few days ago about the onset of autumn? Well, the chilly days I so eagerly embraced are gone, gone like a jilted lover. Back to tank tops and shorts. I’m so over this.