Our Little Baby's All Growns Up

My work-life balance is for shit right now. I'm at work all the time, I'm not getting enough sleep, and I'm not seeing enough of Lumpyhead or Lula.

Maybe once a week, I get lucky and Lumpyhead wakes up before I leave. My departure is traumatic for me, but insignificant to him. I linger at the door while he waves enthusiastically, happily yelling "baa buy!" at the top of his lungs.

So I'm grumpy. But here's a picture of Lumpyhead with a moustache.

I Hope This Doesn’t Count Toward My Fifteen Minutes

Hey You.

Yeah, you. The huge dork who not only knows there are three CSPANs, but knows how to find CSPAN3 (aka CSPAN Deportes) on your TV. The huge dork who may actually be watching CSPAN3 tomorrow between noon and 1:00pm.

I’m talking to you.

Yeah, that’s me.

I’d tell you to Tivo this so you could fast-forward through the boring parts, but then you would miss me. Because my part, by definition, is the boring part.

When there are like, three Members on the dais, and half of them are asleep (yes, one is half-asleep, shut up), and some woman is yammering on about functions and billions . . . I’m the one doing the yammering.

Unless, of course, the good people at CSPAN decide to cover something else. They usually broadcast our markup, but maybe they won’t, particularly if something more exciting comes up. If the T&I Committee is watching paint dry, we could get pre-empted.

For instance, Al Gore is coming to the Hill in the morning, and he’s WAY sexier than us.

Wager? I Don’t Even Know Her.

The first thing Bump said to me this morning was, “Unfortunately, for purposes of tequila, you are kicking Sarah and Devra’s ass.”

Heh.

I am in the best NCAA pool ever. To make it even better/more interesting/able to hold my interest into the second weekend after it’s mathematically impossible for me to win the wine, I’ve got a side bet going with Sarah and Devra. Whoever finishes highest in the rankings wins. Terms were either a six-pack of beer or a bottle of tequila, and we decided on tequila. Losers will buy the winner a bottle of tequila, and drink at least some of the spoils with the winner.

As I told them both when we set the terms: in the event that I win, Bump is already shaking his fist in fury at the both of them.

When I reported the bet the Bump, he proclaimed that he was now actively rooting against me. He doesn’t care where I finish, so long as it’s below either Sarah or Devra.

Heh.


The other bet I’ve got going: when I see my brother in August, whoever catches fewer fish has to buy the beer for that night.

We’re planning to go to Minnesota in August for a friend’s wedding. After the wedding weekend, we’re getting a cabin with my parents and brother. I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it. At least I talked him out of “largest fish” and “most keeper fish.” Right now it’s just sheer numbers. I can pull up as many 6 oz bluegills as I like and still win. Maybe I’ll never take the first fish I catch off the hook; I’ll just keep pulling the same one into the boat over and over again until my brother notices.

Nuthin, Nuthin, More Nuthin, and Nuthin With Cheese

The posts have been few and far between, and goddamn boring when they do show up, and for that, I am sorry. I didn’t have to work on Saturday or Sunday last weekend (two days off! in a row! oh, the decadent lifestyle I enjoy), yet I’ve got nothing to show for all this leisure time on the blog.

Lessee, what's been happening? Lula got into preschool, but Lumpyhead was waitlisted. Not sure what that means for September, or if this foreshadows their college hopes, or if I'm building resentment in my eldest child by lording it over him that his sister got into school so what the hell is his problem already.

--
We went out for an early dinner on Sunday where I had a 22 oz Heineken and got a little drunk. After dinner we went to see Aunt Bob and found her unloading a new video game which required singing. I was drunk enough that not only did I sing, I enjoyed it, and that's just bad news for everyone.

When you earn a high enough score in the game, you unlock additional songs. Later Bump and I decided we should send in Sarah to unlock all available songs, which she could probably do in about fifteen minutes, but I guess that would be cheating (plus, I obviously need to be hammered before I subject anyone to my off-pitch vocal stylings ever again).

So let our evening be a lesson to you: a big heinie can be dangerous.

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Aunt Bob was in Atlantic City last weekend, and Bump and I took every opportunity we had to remind her to beware the seagulls before she left. We also giggle uncontrollably whenever we think about it.

--
Say cheese.

Lumpyhead: CHEEEEESE!

Mother’s Little Helper

(and I don’t even mean Xanax)

I made brownies this weekend (relax, they were from a box), and asked Lumpyhead to help. By “help,” I mean he stood on a step-stool and watched from close range. I put his hands on the egg while I cracked it into a bowl, which fascinated him.

Then he reached into the bowl and tried to pick up the yolk.

Nothing is funnier than watching your toddler try to pick up an egg yolk. I laughed (at him) for at least five minutes. He eventually gave up after the egg no longer looked like a small ball. It was his first go at baking, and I think he did pretty well. At least he entertained me.

A Morning of Misadventure

I took the early morning shift with Lula. She was fussy and didn't really sleep between 2:30 and 6:30, dozing lightly but never settling. Bump said she had pooped immediately after getting a new diaper, so I sat with a stinky baby in the dead of night. Around 6:00 she seemed wide awake, so I went to change her, only to find her sound asleep on my shoulder by the time I got to the changing table. Nothing says Paragon of Motherhood like hissing "you have got to be kidding me" at your sleeping, smelly newborn.

Of course she woke up again the minute I sat back down with her.

The weird morning shift meant my pumping schedule was disrupted, so rather than pump immediately upon arriving at work, I decided to pump before I left home. At this point both our tormenters were asleep, so Bump took the opportunity to shower. Predictably, in mid-pump and mid-shower, Lula woke up. Then so did Lumpyhead. Both the shower and the pumping session were cut short.

Lula pooped again. Lumpyhead demanded candy.

Both did so loudly.

By the time I left, the Tormenters were quiet and Bump was brewing coffee. As if I wasn't late enough already, I needed to get a new parking pass this morning. Then I left my ID at the parking office, and couldn't re-enter the restricted area. I got to my desk around 9:45.

I could really use a drink.

Aarrrrrrgg

I left work early Monday night so Bump could attend the condo association annual meeting. At the last meeting he was elected to the Board (which I’m still snickering about, by the way, a year later) so it was important that he be there. I think I forgot to tell you that he subsequently got himself elected Secretary (you can be damn sure I'm also snickering about that). Board members serve two-year terms, so he was not up for re-election this time. But as Secretary, Bump may have inadvertently orchestrated the ouster of a sitting board member. Cool, huh?

Meanwhile, I was holding down the fort at home. Right when Lumpyhead needed to go to bed, Lula decided she was hungry, and I realized I should have pumped an hour before. I delayed Lumpyhead’s bedtime and decided to feed Lula straight from the tap, which I hardly ever do.

She was hungry and complaining, and thrashed around instead of latching. With my left boob, I shot her right in the eye.

I thought this was really funny and started to laugh, hence much jiggling, which apparently made it even harder for Lula to latch. Plus, with breastmilk in her eye, she kept making a pirate face, which made me laugh even harder.

I don't have a picture of it, but here's Lumpyhead's Pirate Face (from one year ago, 3-4-06)

I Bet You're Sorry You Asked

How’s my first week back at the office going? Well, it’s not over yet, if that gives you any idea. I was in all day yesterday, and I’m at work again today.

My schedule goes something like this:
Work
Work
Pump
Work
Lunch?
Work
Pump
Work
Lumpyhead (if I’m lucky)
Pump
Dinner
Nap
Lula
Pump
Nap
Work

[Repeat]

Bump gets even less sleep than I do, even though he doesn’t have to wedge his slumber in around pumping sessions. There’s nothing quite so bracing as strapping a vacuum to your chest; it usually takes an hour or so for me to get drowsy again afterward. I’m trying to stretch more than three hours between pumpings, but that’s not going very well.

Oh, and now I’ve got something to add to the list: Itch.

The fucking rash is back. Dammit.

I hear Lumpyhead and Lula are doing well, not that I've seen much of them. Bump brought them both into the office on Friday afternoon, and that coupled with the promise of more maternity leave are the only things that have made this week bearable.

So, yes! More maternity leave! I'll be taking another seven weeks or so once things calm down, which is fabulous. It has made coming back to this horrendous schedule seem less loathsome.