This morning, I caught First Son pick off Twin Son’s grip on a chair, one finger at a time. This is a little mean, since Twin Son is learning to stand. I realized hours later I used to do the same exact thing to my cousin Ed when he was first standing up — pick off each finger and then push him back. Boy, I got in big trouble.
Archive for February, 2013
I would guess that Husband would say one of the major drawbacks of being married to me is that I constantly sing the theme to Sanford and Son, like to the kids, when I’m doing housework, when we’re just sitting back and there’s a lull in the conversation. God knows why, but it’s in my head all the time.
The plus is there are no words. I cannot remember any words to anything. Anyway, here it is if you want to remind yourself what it sounds like — but be careful. Once you play it, I don’t know, you’re destined to sing it. I heard it like once in junior high school and it has stuck with me.
I saw the first hour of “Smash,” a show I got into while I was awake at 3 a.m. during maternity leave. I didn’t think it was that bad before, though kind of amateurish feeling at times. This new season — I have no idea what they did — but the whole thing is so much tighter and more interesting. The lead girl is still somewhat bland, which I think is caused by the fact that she doesn’t know how to act (to act really is a thing, you know, that you practice and study, even if its results are intangible. It may seem natural or real, but it’s all crafty Mc Crafty.) But they got better music, tighter editing and a new dude whose voice makes me wish I were born a singer.
My mom expresses love through worrying and passed on a long list of Forbidden Foods as a guideline. Apples, she cautioned, are the worst for pesticides so don’t feed the kids apples! Etc. Etc. Etc. She means well, and I agree with this sort of advice — but dude, I don’t have time to read it or take it in right now. Doesn’t matter. Because Boy Twin ate the WHOLE LIST this week — an entire 8.5″ x 11″ page…is paper a forbidden food? I’ll never know. Then tonight, he threw up on me and then rubbed my shoulder, massaging the vomit into my skin.