Yeah, I got a cute kid and a hot husband. Deal with it.
At the end of the day, when we've been running around and swimming and walking and jumping and eating and hugging and kissing and swimming and eating and loving, we are so hazy and tired.
So, this one little boy has a giant head and he kind of creeps me out and he follows me everywhere, so he is obviously either going to be some starlet's stalker, or a roadie for a second-rate metal band. There is a little girl who has crazy hair and always looks dirty and none of her clothes fit right and she wants to touch everybody all the time, so I expect that she will be close personal friends with Charlie Sheen someday. One boy is always building things, so he's going to be an engineer or an architect, and his sister is always reading and singing, and I just know she's going to be an elementary school teacher.
And my kid? She's going to end up an extra in a live-action "Calvin and Hobbes" cartoon. Flic your Bic ... er, click the pic for a close-up view:
I was torn about which version of this picture to post -- should I put up the original, in which I do NOT look completely hideous but then again I don't look totally fantastic either, but that is because my scratch-and-win plan continues to fail to come to fruition and so I can't hire a professional stand-in body double, but I am digressing here and did you know it was possible to hijack your own blog post?
ANYWAY. Ahem. I know that this is the "money shot" anyway -- nobody looks at MY blog to see pictures of ME. My cousin Kate took this picture, and it's really quite awesome, so: Go Kate!
(If you click on the pic it will take you to my photostream. I did upload the original there.)
Hi, Aunt Shelley! * frantic waving* Do you have cookies? Call me, K?
ZOMG, guys ... so much kyoot in the latest batch of pics! You have NO FRAKKING IDEA. My eyeballs about exploded, I swear.
She eats everything, really, but I am so glad Cupcake likes soft, sticky foods like mashed potatoes. And also that clothes from Baby Gap are machine washable.
Give me five more minutes, and this is me, without the sun and the grass and the cute little sunhat and the adorable little bathing suit bottoms. I'll be passed out asleep with chubby thighs of my own, is what I am saying. Sheesh, you people.
The bizarre and highly unusual creature seen here is a "Shmortle" (Cheloniidae cupcakeandmamasita). Shmortles are so highly endangered that there is only one known specimen. Photographers were very fortunate to catch this rare glimpse of the Shmortle in its natural habitat -- the freshwater pools of the Lehigh Valley area of Pennsylvania.
According to unconfirmed reports, Blizzard Entertainment is considering creating a character in the latest expansion of its wildly popular "World of Warcraft" video game that is based on the look and characteristics of the Shmortle. Rumor has it that the "Battle Turtle" will be snarky, fiesty, periodically giggly, and will not attack gnomes unless extremely provoked.
We had a bit of a rough afternoon, so I am posting this picture as a reminder to myself that Cupcake does in fact have a halo. Sometimes it's tarnished and crooked and thrown across the living room frisbee-style, but it's there. Just have to look for it sometimes, is all.
Some other shit that is disrespectful?
- Taking some little girl's sippy cup and brand new fuzzy nap blanket from the day care, just because her name wasn't on them, because you thought you could get away with it. That shit is wrong. Listen up, jerkass: we are all paying the same amount of money to send our kids to this school. There are cheaper ones around. Perhaps you should start investigating other options if tuition is too much and you just can't afford to buy a new cup and blanket for your own child? And also: if I find out who you are, there will be words, oh yes there will. And perhaps a couple of swift kicks to the shins and/or gonads. Plus: what the hell are you teaching your kids if you steal from the day care? Cheap-ass bastard.
- People who show up for office birthday parties, baby showers, bridal showers, etc., when they didn't contribute to the group gift. Oh my God, that shit is so fucking ghetto. Seriously, asshat, throw in two bucks or a bottle of soda, and then you can have your cake guilt-free. If you "care enough" about your co-worker to come celebrate with them, then the least you can do is chip for your share of the goodies. Memo: a tree grows in Brooklyn, but there is no goddamned cake tree growing the the courtyard. Shit ain't free. You are a cheap prick, and if you show up today I am likely to "accidentally" spit on your food.
- Being a grown-ass person with multiple cars who is completely and utterly incapable of understanding the rules of common courtesy with regards to on-street parking. Bitch is going to get her car keyed, is all I have to say about that fucked-up mess.
OK, I am done now. Thanks for listening. And if you don't like it? I don't care. I mean, seriously, who tells a blogger they don't like their stuff? That shit is disrespectful.
Cupcake got a fake tattoo at school the other day. I don't know what's funnier -- the idea of a toddler with ink, or the fact that my kids first foray into body modification was a pink seahorse with a tutu.
When we were kids, my sisters and cousins and I spent a lot of time on and around this bench in my grandparents' backyard. We'd chase rabbits and wiffle balls into the cornfield. We'd sit up there and practice our heckling. Sometimes we'd just hang out there, watching the alfalfa and the grass grow, eating tomatoes fresh off the vine, listening to the gladiolas and the dahlias getting taller every day.
A lot of my grandparents' garden is gone now, because it's too much to take care of, and sooner than later the cornfield is going to be plowed under and paved over and turned into a "light industrial warehouse complex," and many of my childhood memories are going to be turned into wistful teary treatises on open space and green areas and get the hell off my lawn you damn kids!
But for now, I have this picture of my daughter, and that is enough.
Sometimes, when you accidentally have the camera set incorrectly -- like, for example, when you have it in "Night" mode when you meant to have it in "Action" -- sometimes, you get the picture that you really wanted, even though you didn't know it.
This is pretty much exactly what Cupcake looks like to me when I get home from work at night: gogogogogo, a blur of grins and giggles and chatter that I can't follow or understand, until all of the sudden she wears herself out, finishes her bottle, and kisses me goodnight. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sigh.
Some days? I really love my life.
Just to prove that Cupcake is an actual kid and not some kind of animatronic robot like one of those creepy dolls from the "It's A Small World" ride at Disney World*, here is a picture of her in a Very Bad Mood. Took this picture in the parking lot at Coca-Cola Park, the home of the (positively putrid) Lehigh Valley IronPigs, over Memorial Day weekend.
Gotta admit, though -- even when she's pitching a fit, my kid is pretty damned cute.
* I double-dog-dare you to get that song** out of your head now. Bwahahaha.
** It's a small world after all, it's a small world after all, it's a small world after all, it's a small small world.***
*** BOOM. This is where my head explodes.
Three months ago today, you came to live with us, and all of our lives were changed forever. And we are talking earth-shattering, mind-altering, eye-opening, "it's the end of the world as we know it" changes here, the kind that bands write songs about. (Some of those songs are really crappy, like "Watching Scotty Grow," but we're not talking about those songs -- just the good ones, like the ones U2 and R.E.M. write.)
Since you moved in here, you started walking, started seriously talking, started preschool, starting trying to feed yourself, started swimming lessons, and mostly, started showing your personality -- started showing us that you have a mind of your own, started showing us that you can make decisions for yourself, started showing us what kind of person you are going to be when you're finally a grown-up and not our little girl any more.
Let me tell you: Daddy and I are impressed.
Because we were afraid for a while. You're our first baby -- we've never done this before. And while Daddy and I like to think of ourselves as educated adult professionals who generally have a good handle on what is going on in the world, when it comes to kids, we're more clueless than not. Sometimes when you cry, we have no idea what it means. Sometimes when you pitch a fit, we have no idea how to handle it. And then you smile at us, and snuggle, and we know we're doing alright.
We love you so much, Cupcake, and we're so proud of you. Thanks for being patient with us. You're teaching us more than we're teaching you, so we're all in this together.
Love XOXOXO, Mommy & Daddy.
This is Cupcake with her "baby." My grandparents have these two inflatable dolphins that they float in the pool, I think to "scare" the starlings into not pooping on the concrete -- one is about 36" tall, the "big one," and the other is about 20" tall, the "baby." Cupcake LOVES that thing. She chases it all over everywhere when it makes it way around the pool, she wants to hold it and kiss it and carry it around with her -- she even pushes it in her little doll stroller and tries to give it drinks from her sippy cup.
Meanwhile, Mommy? Has to pin her down to get a kiss goodbye in the morning. I hate being the bad cop.
... Yeah, whatever. I'm not in the best shape of my life; so sue me. And you can't see the best feature of my bathing suit, which is the keyhole cutout that pretty much puts my entire rack on display (and also sometimes makes for a sunscreen-application-situation, because: not so much cleavage as cleveLAND, you dig?).
But look at the KID, dammit! She is in the pool! And the water is only like 75°! And SHE DOESN'T CARE! Seriously, we had a hard time getting her out of the water. She just wanted to splash around in there. And chase her "baby" (more on that one later). And wave to everybody. And just generally be awesome, which she is.
I apologize about my hideous bathing suit, though. But let's just face it -- I have a kid a now, and I can't just run around spending money frivolously on new swimsuits or personal trainers or liposuction or body doubles. Although I will see what adjustments to my budget I can manage if Scarlett Johansson becomes available for stand-in work.
PS - Another photo by my sister. Hi, sis!
This picture was taken by my sister -- my pregnant sister who came home last weekend so she could visit the family and also spend time with (and money on) her niece. God bless her. She put up with a lot of crap this weekend, some of which is too upsetting even 48 hours removed to go into, but for all of that, she did get some excellent pictures.
In this one, I prove myself wrong (not that it's HARD, or anything). Apparently the Cupcake does wear hats, even this dorky one ... although, judging by the look on her face (which you can see if you click into my photostream, and then view the large size of the picture), she is trying to figure out a way to get it the hell off.
Mornings are sometimes tough at the Casa. Depending on how late the dungeon run ran the night before, we might be a little cranky. Or maybe we have a meeting or conference call that we can't figure out how to blow off. Or we had heartburn, or nightmares, or a stiff neck or something.
Never the baby, though. She's always happy to get up, and happy to head out the door, because "bye-bye car" means school and Miss Amber, or a visit to Nana and Pop-Pop, or swimming, or shopping, or anything that isn't sitting around torturing the cats, or watching Mommy level her mage, or spending time with her parents who are complete geeks.
Getting from "happy to be awake" to "happy to be on our way?" Not always easy, especially on those two-poop mornings. But when she picks up her lunchbox and stands expectantly at the door, eager and willing to take on the world? Worth every hissyfit.
Cupcake's favorite parent is Daddy. I have resigned myself to this. For the next 18-to-life, I will be this random person off to the side of everything, taking pictures, my voice occasionally popping up in the home movies.
Which is fine, because if my chiropractor saw me doing what my husband is doing here? He'd have a duck.