Everybody Sing Like You’ve Just Been Indicted

Lumpyhead loves singing.

He particularly likes it when a bunch of people sing. He was so psyched when everyone sang Happy Birthday to Aunt Bob’s Little Guy that I had to work that song into the bedtime rotation for the next week and a half.

When Bump listens to CDs in the car, Lumpyhead demands more (“Moh!”) in the pause between song tracks. Lumpyhead expects us to sing along with his favorite numbers on TV, looking at us eagerly when the songs begin and rewarding us with wide grins when we comply. He's crazy about big show tunes but is indifferent to soulful ballads.

He loves singing so much he’ll even abide my horrible crooning.

Since Lumpyhead has shown an interest in everything musical, I’ve been looking for a music class for him. Nothing fancy, just live music for the under-5 set. Bump tried the “Song and Story Hour” or some such at the local Borders, but the performer freaked him out (Bump, not Lumpyhead), and the whole thing was discontinued the subsequent week. Blinding success, that one.

I discovered that Arlington County has several music classes as part of its recreation program, and last week I registered Lumpyhead for a music class. I’m not sure if it will be some hippie kumbaya thing, a mind-numbing session of “I’m a Little Teapot” on continuous repeat, a peppy schoolteacher-type with a canned soundtrack, or something else altogether.

I’m pretty sure Lumpyhead will love it, no matter what it is, but I’m kinda glad I don’t have to take him.

Pumping Room, Schmumping Room

Remember how I was raving about my pumping room?

I’m so over it now.

I resent being interrupted three times a day. I have a million things to do, and the room doesn’t have a computer, and I have to trudge all the way to the end of the hall and up 33 stairs and waaaah.


Then I think of the women who have to pump in a closet or a bathroom or the nurse’s office, and I realize how lucky I am. I’m the only person who uses that room. If I’m feeling lazy, I can leave the pumping equipment in the sink to wash later. I could leave milk in the refrigerator or freezer for weeks. There’s a TV and several comfortable chairs. I could even take the damn elevator.

It’s the whole pumping thing I’m tired of, I guess. I’m thoroughly sick of it, and the end is nowhere in sight. It’s not the room’s fault.

Okay, okay, the forced break is good. It gets me away from my desk and helps clear my head. I’m able to prioritize my to do lists, re-think current challenges, and imagine what nature of aggravation the Tormentors are afflicting on Bump. Sometimes I call them just to hear Lumpyhead holler "Hiya Mama!" in the general direction of the phone.

And sometimes, I turn the TV away from CSPAN or CNN. If I had a computer up there, pumping time would be used to catch up on blogs, but honestly, who wants to read you stupid people when Judge Alex is on?

Okay, it's not so bad. And is it just me, or does "schmumping" sound like something dirty?

Jasper's Three Questions

Daddy L over at the Jasper Chronicles started a parenting meme. Here are the questions and my answers:

1) What was your biggest surprise when you became a parent?

The extent to which Lumpyhead looked like me, and how strange it was to bear such a strong physical resemblance to someone. Because I'm adopted and grew up in the land of blue-eyed blondes, this was new to me, and is at the same time unnerving and self-affirming. Lumpyhead looks a lot more like his dad now, and Lula looks exactly like her brother, but there's no denying they both look a lot like me, too. It's a nice way to claim them as mine without saying a word.

2) Name some things you vowed you'd never do, but find yourself doing now.

Asking Bump "Was that you or him/her?" when someone farts, and then actually believing my husband when he claims he didn't do it.

Drinking in moderation.

Talking about my children constantly, even when I'm away from them.

3) What's the one thing you thought you would do, but actually don't.

Sleep.

Also, blame farts on my kids.


I'm tagging Aunt Bob, Sarah, and Em.

A Bulleted List

Things that happened last week:

• I made a huge mistake at work, and spent from 8:00pm to midnight on Monday night fixing it.

There were no lasting effects, and it's a good thing I caught the mistake in time, but it was still miserable. I blame it on sleep deprivation.

• Along with a roomful of Members and staff, I sang “Happy Birthday” to the Speaker of the House.

While some people were brave enough to sing happy birthday to "dear Nancy," I sang to "Madam Speaker." When we finished, she told us we sucked.

She said it nicely, though. Something along the lines of, “You all are not in your finest voice this afternoon.” We did, in fact, suck. Our rendition sounded much more like a dirge than it should have. Afterwards the Speaker rewarded our horrible singing with fancy chocolates.

• I spent over two hours trying to persuade a new Member to vote yes.

I walked out the meeting ranting, “She was a ‘Leaning Yes.’ If we have to spend two hours with every ‘Leaning Yes,’ what the hell are we going to have to do for the ‘Undecideds’?!?” At least the Congresswoman voted the right way.

(Oh, and apparently new Members are no longer called “Freshmen.” They’re called the “Majority Makers.” That’s incredibly hokey, but makes me happy just the same.)

• I ate dinners prepared by my mother-in-law, after which the kitchen miraculously cleaned itself.

Okay, my mother-in-law cleaned it. God, it was nice to have a servant visiting grandmother, and I'm sad to see her leave.

• Lula has begun to smile.

Real smiles, not just gas.

Okay, sometimes it's gas.

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.

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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.