Monday, July 30, 2007

Birthday madness!

We just took the grandparents to the airport (sadly, it was great fun to have them here) after Mister A's Big One.

It was madcap. Friday we decided to go to Comic-Con. If you don't know what Comic-Con is, you probably won't enjoy it. I realized that I was not the big geeky loser girl I thought I was after going to Comic-Con. It makes the SCA people at Ren Fairs look positively well-adjusted.

But then we ran around here cooking and cleaning before we had to pick up the grandparents. Then we woke up and cooked and cleaned until everyone ate, really. We had a good time; I hope everyone else did. A took a nap halfway through his party so the party ended up lasting an hour longer than I thought. Mister L was a trooper and was pretty happy throughout. We had enough food to feed three times the people; I don't know why I'm always convinced everyone will starve.

A liked the frosting but didn't like the cake. He chewed on the cardboard cake round instead. He now has more toys than I know what to do with, but they're all really cool ones. We're parceling them out. He still hasn't opened all the ones from Grandma and Grandpa and us and the out-of-town folks. It's a little overwhelming for a little guy.

Yesterday we took him for a birthday ride on the carousel and train in Balboa Park, which he enjoyed. We went out for BBQ and he took great pleasure in chewing on rib bones. It looked like he was a serious BBQ aficionado from way back. He dropped his bone, then turned and pointed to Grandpa's plate, like, "Hey there, Grandpa, better get me another one." We had a small incident when he got a little bit of the spicy sauce but Dad put a pat of butter in his mouth and everything was better.

Today A and I will try to put the house back together and get back onto a more normal schedule. Boy, birthdays are exciting.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Dog! Dog! Doggie!

This morning, A was between C and me in our bed while we (the grownups) tried to sleep. He stood up and looked out the window over our bed and started yelling what sounded like the same word over and over again.

I resigned myself to being awake, found my glasses and peered out. There were two coyotes playing right outside our window. A waved the white curtain around, pointed with his other hand, and said, "Dog! Dog! Doggie!" (At least, that's what it sounded like to us once we realized what he was pointing out.)

"Yes! I mean--no! That's a coyote, not a doggie, not that you'd know that, A," I said to him. He was thrilled. The coyotes saw the white curtain waving around and ran away. But yes, A has doggie. We'll work on coyote. I was amazed that he had "doggie," just because we don't have a dog. I guess I do point out the dogs that we see and he's pet some (the poodle being carried by the two gay men the other day comes to mind), but it still surprised me that he could make the leap. At least he didn't say "kitty."

It's hard to confirm that yes, doggie is probably the logical word but no, that's not a doggie. Maybe we'll have to spend some time in the zoo, although I don't think there's coyotes in the zoo.

Also in A news: he's been helping me with housework by handing me papers and envelopes to shred. (No, I don't let him touch the shredder. Jeez!) He thinks this is a fabulous thing. I must say, for the first time since we've lived here, all the shredding is done.

Ladies first

My read-and-critique update comes first so the boy update will be at the top of the page.

I had critique group last night. We had a new member, someone whose baby is one day older than Young Master L, which means he's right around A's ago. She was pleasant enough if only looking not at all like she'd had a baby.

I am back to calling the prat the prat. He's a horrible writer but doesn't know it, which is the worst kind of horrible writer. His women are stereotypically "dark" in an Orientalist way that skeeves my little historian's heart and "hot" in a fifteen-year-old writing fan fiction based on Buffy or Babylon 5 way. He's having something published online this month, and that apparently gave him the confidence to nitpick everyone else's work.

One of the writers brought the same piece she'd written before because there's an anthology at the end of the month she's submitting it to and she wanted a last look-over from the group. He looked at it briefly, made the same complaints he made before, then lectured her on letting go over pieces and getting on to the next thing. "I have started something else; I'm just submitting this at the end of the month so I wanted a last opinion," she said. Never mind; he's still going to lecture her on the importance of not working a piece to death. Then he got up and left the table and paced around the restaurant, thank God.

He wanted to have an argument about whether or not "that" was needed in a sentence. Just for those of you playing along at home, current writing trends are to cut words, not add them, and most of the "that"s in the universe can be excised. The prat likes to add "that"s. He wanted to add one where it wasn't needed. I said, no, that's not needed. He ignored me and told the writer to go check with a picky grammar person. She said, "I am a picky grammar person." I said, "So am I, and you don't need it." So he was a little put out. I think he's working in Best Writer In The Room mode, and I don't have the heart to tell him that I've spent the last ten years writing and the last two years copyediting. That'll be my secret.

He had an POV (that's point of view) argument with me about whether or not the POV in my story switches. The story is first-person (just like this here blog), and his argument that it was a POV switch was because of a sentence like this: Now Jake has a toy mouse. See? Did that throw you? I, Miss Kim, writer of the blog, am making a statement about something my cat possesses even though I am not my cat. Did you suddenly feel like I went all omniscient and God-like there? Did it throw you that I didn't say, "I see that now Jake has a toy mouse"? No? Then you're three steps ahead of the prat.

The rest of the group is lovely. I was happy because I got to hear some interesting ideas from other people and spend some hedonistic little time talking about how to make my writing better. It's nice to be with people who are struggling along in their own causes. I have been consuming Miss Snark's blog, but I think it would be better if I didn't read her vorpal wit before read-and-critique group. I felt like my already pretty sharp knives were honed and poker-hot.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Teething teething teething

Molars suck.

They really do.

A has at least four molars trying to come in and oh my Lord the boy is cranky and in pain.

I don't like to give him Tylenol but if they had an over-the-counter drip I'd be on my way to Target right now to buy one. It's the only way he's sleeping right now.

A saw a picture of himself and C on my screen saver, pointed, and said, "Da!" so we're upping the word count. I'm also suspicious that he's trying to say "Jake" and "Niles" but that's still not clear.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Harry Potter Harry Potter Harry Potter

We're done with Harry in this household. The period of time where I am finished and C is not is somewhat tension filled around here since we hold firmly to the concept of not blabbing the bits of books or movies until everyone is done.

So no Harry discussions here. If you finished it and want to chat about it, email me.

But this is all irrelevant to the real attraction which is the boy.

It was birthday party weekend (and it should be a measure of how much we like people that we ventured forth into the world with HP unfinished). Saturday was Little Miss S's birthday, also known on this blog as the Biter. A didn't get bit. It was in a park; all the other birth class babies were there and there were tunnels and toys to play with galore.

There was a huge spread of corn-based food, none of which I could eat. I happened to be standing where the front of the line was when the announcement came to eat, so I gamely walked through the line and took a little of everything, while realizing that I could eat nothing. So then I found my husband (this is why married couples should circulate at parties) and said, "Look, honey, I got you a plate of food." At least everything that I could touch (no utensils for grabbing corn-husk-wrapped tamales, so no tamales on my plate).

This makes me feel slightly better about not killing myself to make sure I have wheat-free, gluten-free everything for our shindig this week.

Sunday we went to Terry's birthday dinner and that was fun, even if there was just too much going on for A. He was mostly fine, a little fussy but it was a long time. I'm feeling increasingly apologetic to my child-free friends because I just can't have a normal conversation any more. I'm trying but my brain's completely taxed. I'm trying to keep my baby occupied and happy first of all, and then second, I can talk to you. You're already coming in second. But then, I have to really concentrate to try and think of something small-talk-y or conversational and that's probably too much work. I don't want to talk about the baby, but I have very few other things that I'm spending my brain power on. Plus I'm consumed by envy of child-free people in restaurants because they don't have someone who is desperately interested you and only wants to be in your lap with a hand down your shirt. Well, you might have someone who wants a hand down your shirt, but you won't be changing his diapers in the next half hour.

The other things that I'm spending my brain power on are things I don't want to talk about, like the fact that I need to figure out whether the protagonist in my novel-in-progress is more of a girl who likes sour candy or sweet, exactly how much already-written back story needs to go and how sad that will make me because I really like the bit about Estefan quitting cigarettes, and whether I should submit my story about the safe for critique this week or the part of the novel where my protagonist meets up with her ex.

See, your eyes are glazing over already.

The tiny bit of my brain that's left is spent on the fact that the hornworms have spread to the basil which pisses me off and that I need to clean the house this week for the impending in-laws and birthday party. You know, remembering milk at the store.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Wednesday is stinky

A didn't sleep well and woke up yelling and crying and thrashing and complaining. He's been cranky all day. We had a lovely day yesterday at Balboa Park, went to the free museums, saw Miss Julie for lunch and viewed baby peacocks.

But today has stunk. Usually in stores I get the "oh, he's adorable," comments. Today at Whole Foods, I was the woman with the cranky baby. I was also right behind the immaculate, yoga attired mom with her baby in his perfectly coordinated outfit that matched his grocery cart liner with the little ruffles. He was quiet and lovely. Mine was thrashing and dressed by his father, which means creatively. A grabbed everything in sight, then discovered he could hold on to the counter and rock the cart back and forth (while yelling MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!). The Whole Foods clerks couldn't get rid of me fast enough.

A decided that he doesn't like mozzarella any more and threw it all on the floor. Argh. I've stubbed my toe at least twice now, and while that seems minor, I had a biopsy on that toe this morning and it hurts like hell. So. I'm joining the circus as soon as my toe heals well enough for me to walk the high wire.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Lazy Sunday

The boychik is sleeping in C's lap while he re-reads HP 6, so I am trying to cobble together some quilt patterns and blogging.

Let's see: we went to see Miss Julie's short piece in the Actors Alliance Festival, C on Wednesday and me on Friday. That was fun. It's interesting to see what people come up with. I realized that I think about theater from the writing and Julie thinks about it from the performance aspect, which is fascinating, really. But it was fun to see. I sat next to one of the judges and had to cover my eyes every time he got a scorecard out because I knew if I saw what he wrote I would have to tell Miss J. So I didn't look. And I got to meet some of her acting friends that I hear so much about, which was great. And Julie was good, which is always gratifying when you don't have to lie or fudge about how someone did.

Yesterday we hung out here, C cleaning and me watching the boychik and writing. We went to see HP 5 at the drive-in, which was not quite the great success the last trip was. A had slept in the car a lot already, so he was raring to go. He wanted to look out the window, wave to the girls sitting in front of the car next to us, press all the buttons in the car... Oh my. He fell asleep maybe halfway through. I have serious reservations about the things they chose to cut from the movie. It was fine and the actors do well, but they need more money for their special effects (or to reallocate the budget). It reminded me of a ten-year-old's book report on the book, except I think a ten-year-old would have spent the money on (spoiler) Fred and George's swamp.

There are nasty green worms on my tomato plants. I've been picking them off and throwing them over the side for the birds to eat, but I'm going to have to get a little more chemical on them soon.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Biting fallout

So I called the Biter's mom today and told her about A's little visit to the doctor and the blood tests. She couldn't be more apologetic or embarrassed. She offered to pay for the medical bills (which I refused graciously since it's a $10 co-pay and the price of having kids, YKWIM?) and apologized over and over. Anyway, she's going to have her kid tested and then have the results forwarded so I think everything's fine on that front. She told me not to worry about it and to never hesitate to call. I think she's just horribly embarrassed.

A is super happy today. He crawled around taunting Niles with a mouse. Also, his third word, which I didn't mention before, is "Meow." We were sitting at dinner one night over the weekend and Niles began howling upstairs. A looked at us and pointed upstairs and said, "Meow?" Yes, meow. Kitties say meow. Momma, more, meow.

He's had two all-regular-food meals now: turkey, cheese, applesauce, and rice crackers. Someday soon he'll be eating regular food in restaurants. Whoa.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Doctor day

It's been a doozy of a day here. Swim class was fine. We miss Miss M. But we still love swimming. A fourteen month old girl came with her grandmother and cried and shrieked for the five minutes she was in class.

We got in to see the doctor today, the last one in the office we haven't met. (For you baby weight watchers, he's 21 pounds, 9 ounces today.) She was of grandmotherly age and was probably about as peeved as I imagine A's grandmother would be that someone bit him. A's now on antibiotics for ten days since the cut's infected. Plus we had to go for blood tests: HIV and HepA acute. It would be great if the biter could get the same blood tests done and send the results to our pediatrician's office. The doctor even went and found my doctor for a consult before recommending all the blood tests.

I was gobsmacked. Then she asked, "How well do you know this kid?" Well, since before she was born so somewhat well. But her mother's not doing all the vaccines, or not on schedule, and oh my God fine, let's get the blood tests done just to be safe. And somehow I will have what will be a very uncomfortable conversation where I ask someone to get her kid blood tests because it would make my health care professionals (and me) feel better about my kid's health because her kid bit my kid.

And the blood tests all need to be done again in six months.

So I asked this grandmotherly type doctor what I should do about a biter. "Nothing you can do," she said. "Her mother needs to do it. Her mother needs to put her in time-out. And if she keeps biting, she shouldn't be in a playgroup until her mother learns to control her." She said kids of this age bite because they're frustrated in trying to communicate or they're being territorial.

Mistah A was a trooper for his blood tests. This is an amazing kid. He sat patiently through the first vial and started to yell and cry on the second, probably because he was pinned against my chest in a massive medical bear hug. She took the needle out and he stopped crying. Then he downright enjoyed a trip to the grocery store to get his scrip filled. He was in and out of the car a lot today with relatively few complaints.

C is feeding him now and I'm so very, very tired. I am almost first-trimester tired, that's how tired I am. My (other) credit card was stolen (but thankfully, all the charges were denied since my account's on alert) so now I'm going through the credit card gobbedlygook again. This is getting old hat here. I know it sounds like I'm posting my credit card numbers on the 'net but I'm really not.

The Biter

We've got swim class today, but I have to call the doctor. A got bit (again) last week at playdate - twice. I didn't think she had broken the skin, but on Friday he most definitely had a scab. It's looked irritated all weekend. Today it's still raised, red and puffy, so I'm calling the doctor to make sure we don't have to bring him in. He doesn't have a fever, but he's been having Tylenol for teething pain (the sixth tooth broke through yesterday, finally, but there are signs of number seven and eight making their way through now).

I'm annoyed, to say the least.

I don't know if a one-year-old is old enough to be biting for attention or not. I don't know why a one-year-old bites. There are some people who claim it's teething and some who claim it's attention-getting. I've done enough reading to know that I'm not supposed to say, "You horrible, horrible monster, you bit my angel," and I give all of my attention to A anyway. After a cuddle, he bounces back quickly. He's a trooper.

The first time she bit him, I really wasn't too rattled. The second time, I was unhappy. The third time, I thought, what is wrong with your kid? That's about as judgmental as you can get with someone's else's kid. The mother is embarrassed about it but I'm getting to the point where I want her to have her hands on her kid at all times, which is difficult, but I'm not the one with the biter. I'm going to have to lay my hands on A at all times during playdate, which will annoy both me and him. Part of playdate for me is teaching him to feel comfortable being not-in-my-lap in a non-home space.

And now I'm wondering how in the world I teach A to defend himself. Do I want him to run away or punch her or push her away?

Friday, July 06, 2007

Drive-in movies

C and I (and A, asleep in the back) went to the movies. This is huge, people.

A friend of ours from birth class mentioned that she had gone to the drive-in with her baby. I thought, "Oh my God, we have wasted so much freaking time not seeing movies."

The last movie I think C and I saw was the second Pirates movie, although that sounds wrong to me. We kept trying to see Cars but the world conspired against us seeing it.

We went to the drive-in, parked in the wrong lot and had to get a new (less than optimal) position for the movie, but A slept through most of Ratatouille and all of Pirates. And we stayed awake until 1:30AM watching these stupid films, which was even more amazing. We were so tired on the 4th, but boy, it was fun to see a movie. We should have discovered the drive-in earlier. Maybe we'll actually get to see the latest Harry Potter. Ratatouille is super, btw. Very sweet.

Oh, speaking of Harry, I know you're all re-reading, so I wanted to postulate. Does anyone else think Harry's scar might be the last horcrux? Is this just patently obvious to everyone?

Drywall dreck

Yesterday the drywall guy was a no-show. He was even a no-call.

Today he called at 7:30 to say he'd pick up the other guy (who is the guy he blamed the crappy drywall job on last week) at 10-ish and be by at 10:30 or 11.

At 11:43, the other guy calls and says he's leaving the beach right now and will be over soon.

He got here around 12:45.

He painted the bathroom (no, you can't dismantle my broom to use the pole for your roller, thanks for asking) then asked, "Is there anything else we can do or is this good?" Translation: are you going to keep asking me to fix this crap or are we done?

I said, "We'll take pictures once it's dry and email them to the landlord, and then he'll say."

The kicker? This guy blames the other guy for the crappy drywall job. Personally, I think you both suck because you both walked away from it looking like crap. And I'm thinking about posting the pictures somewhere to prove it, if they'll let me. So there.

On his way out, he asked if there was any other work we needed done. No! No! This crap has been going on since freaking May and I wouldn't ask you guys to do it if you were the only people on earth. I could have started my own drywall business by now.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Classes and drywall and more

I know we're on the verge of a holiday (how can it be July?).

Saturday I went to part 2 of a "how to get published" class so now I'm raring to go. Need to write, need to get things done, yup. I've got one story to polish and send out as soon as the latest Writer's Market gets here and two more stories to finish and send out. And then there's that damned novel that probably needs the first six chapters chopped off, but I have to gear myself up for that.

Sigh.

While I was at class, A and C went to swim class. C learned to submerge A, which is great, and A had a good time but looked for his mom, which warmed my little mommy heart.

I realize I haven't given a food update in a while. This is what he eats now: apples, apricots, bananas, carrots, sweet potatoes, peas, peaches, winter squash, plums, chicken, turkey (although the turkey veggie dinner is not his favorite), avocado, rice noodles, rice, lentils, O cereal, oatmeal, barley, raisins, yogurt, pears, and the latest, mozzarella cheese. He now claps after we introduce a food that he likes.

We think he can say "Mom" and "more" and I'm pretty sure he's added "banana" to his signing vocabulary. He just refuses to do any of it on cue so we could jump up and down and say, "Yay, he's doing it."

Drywall: the drywall is a mess. You can see the seams and the space behind the wall through the tape in one place. The drywall guy is supposedly coming to fix it today between 9:30 and 10AM...yes, it's about twenty minutes after that. At least it's not our house or our money that's paying for this crap.