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Not So is at SXSWi. I? Am not. He promises to get swag for me, though. Swag makes everything okay, even seven straight days of solo parenting.
Which is not as bad as all that, actually – Not So has been gone since Thursday morning, and today was kind of okay, as far as days go. (Note that I am skipping merrily over Thursday and Friday. This is not unintentional.) The kid and I went for a walk, did a little shopping…and before you get all eye-roll, keep in mind that my kid? LOVES to shop. Seriously. If we walk by the mall and don’t go in, he will throw himself toward the door with all his strength, wailing like we’re killing him. He is a weird kid. But yes, so, we shopped, and then we came home and he actually ate food, and then he took a marathon nap. Good day!
I had this ridiculous idea that I’d be able to get some writing done while Not So was away, but either all my writing talent has dried up or I just don’t have the wherewithal to concentrate when I am On Call. Which is…lame, right? How many single moms can produce an amazing array of matching words while toddler-wrangling? Anne Lamott comes to mind, but that’s just because of Operating Instructions; other moms do it all the time. Other moms, but not me. I feel so scattered and kind of brain-dead, and everything I’ve written in the past couple of days has been flat as week-old soda. (I do not say “pop.” This is because my parents raised me right.)(Shush, you can recognize hyperbole when you see it.)
The house, though, is quite clean, and I’ve taken two (two!) baths today, so all is not doom and gloom at chez Cranky. I miss Not So, and Ellison’s having a hard time sleeping, but we’re good. It’s taking a lot of energy for me to make progress on the projects we’ve got deadlining for work, but part of that is just that we got a new desk at the house – and, while I love it unreasonably and it totally serves its purpose (namely, to make the damned computer less of a focal point so I don’t spend my every waking moment on it), it’s not exactly conducive to marathon work sessions. Then again, neither is the toddler. Good thing we have an office!
Next year, I am totally going to SXSW, though. Even if the kid has to come with us.
Okay, the hell? I was in the bathroom washing my hands when I glanced in the mirror and saw a huge swollen lump on the bridge of my nose. Bug bite? Wasn’t there when I woke up, and I think I’d have noticed a bug on the bridge of my nose, even if I hadn’t had my coffee yet. Zit? Did not respond to squeezing (and yes, I tried).
Decided the wisest course of action would be to ignore it so it would go away.
Two hours later it’s still there…except now it’s spreading. The corner of my eye is all puffy and swollen. WTF?
Butterflies remember caterpillar experiences. Am I the only one who finds this ridiculously evocative? Imagine what it would be like to have memories of being an entirely different creature. I wonder if they’re dim or vivid. Are butterflies self-aware? I sort of hope not, since the tests that brought this discovery to light are somewhat unpleasant.
Tobacco hornworm moths (Manduca sexta) revealed that they could remember pain stimuli they had experienced as a caterpillar
Butterflies remember caterpillar experiences – life – 05 March 2008 – New Scientist
So I guess the question is, what sort of memories does the butterfly have? An instinct-like aversion? A Pavlovian response to the negative stimuli? Or does the butterfly remember how, as a caterpillar, it learned a trick, and if it tries really hard, it can still do it?
I had heard about the Terrible Twos. They’re old wives’ tale quaint and antiquated, like when people would tell me not to reach above my head when I was pregnant. Hee, I thought. Surely my kid will sail on through his second year with his sunny disposition intact, and then we can be those annoying parents who are all “Oh, terrible twos? No, we didn’t have any of that.”
Then we spent the whole day with a toddler who looked like this (in varying stages of breakdown):
Tantrum that lasted a whole day? Check! Falling apart when I asked him if he wanted a sandwich? Check! Screaming and flailing when we told him that no, we would not be going to daddy’s office because we were, in fact, with daddy at the time (and the office was closed)? OMG WHY DO YOU HATE BABIES??
He finally took a nap, after literally screaming himself into exhaustion. Have I mentioned that we live in an apartment? I can only imagine the degree to which our neighbors loathe us right now.
So, yes. Terrible Twos? Not so much an old wives’ tale. Or maybe it was because I lifted my arms above my head before he was born…