Two things what are funny (at least to me)

on this bummer day:

1. The worst moment of W’s presidency (for W) was apparently that one time Kanye hurt his feelings.


2. Mr. A. is the secret Seattle correspondent of this piece.

Fine fine fine

Overall, everything is going better than I could have expected.  Soren seems to be doing fine at daycare, I seem to be doing fine at work, everybody's fine fine fine.

But oh my lords.  If I don't get a half night's sleep* sometime soon, I am going to go buh-nay-nays.


*A full night's sleep, you say?  Let's not talk crazy.

Baby holder

Today is Day Three of daycare--last day for the week--and it seems to be going okay. I thought I would be tearful, dropping him off that first day, but he didn't really mind so I didn't mind. He's still a little young to be afraid of strangers, and I'm hoping that with daycare (and constantly passing him around amongst friends and family), we can sidestep that phase a little bit.

Speaking of passing the baby around, do you know what is a semi-weird phenomenon I had never thought about, pre-baby? The Holding of the Baby. I am 100% fine with everyone I know holding him for as long as they want; I get plenty of baby-holding time. But I think some people are maybe afraid to ask, in case I do mind, and I kind of feel weird offering. Because if someone happens to be a non-baby-holder (which is a perfectly fine way to be), then that person has to say, "No thank you," and feel all bad, as if they have personally rejected my baby (which maybe they have because he is kind of a drooler, but that's okay too). (Also, when the baby starts to fuss, I usually take him, because who wants to hold a screaming baby?) Anyway.  Is there a graceful solution to this problem?

Long, long ago, some of you asked if Soren has Scandanavian heritage, and the answer is ja. Mr. A.'s mom moved here from Norway when she was a little girl, and we pulled Soren's name off of her family tree. However, that Soren was quite a few "greats" ago, and I think from a Danish branch of the family. So there you have it. Hopefully the original Soren wasn't a total butt, but if we was at least we'll never know it.

In thrilling financial news: We bought the $500 part for our crappy old furnace and are crossing our fingers. It looked for a while there like I might lose my job, or at least get demoted (because of budget cuts; please believe that I am a killer librarian). It seems that won't happen, which is wonderful, but other killer librarians--who are also good friends of mine--are probably going to get the boot. It's kind of a giant suckfest at the library right now.

So few electrical storms

It got cold, so we tried to turn on the heat. But guess what? No heat. The furnace is broken. Here are our options:

1. Spend $500 on a part for the ancient furnace, and hope that nothing else falls off of it very soon.

2. Spend $1000 on more parts for the ancient furnace to make it a little more efficient. Similar to option 1 but, I think, dumber.

3. Spend one million dollars (approx.) on a new oil furnace. There would be no gain in equity because who thinks, wow! brand new oil furnace! when they are hunting for a house? Nobody, that's who.

4. Spend 1.5 million dollars (approx.) on a new natural gas furnace. The city would have to extend the gas line to our house, which is where the extra .5 million comes in. There would theoretically be some payoff in equity if anyone were to ever want to buy our house, which no one will. Ever. Also, there is no way in hell we could afford this option without borrowing from my parents or something. And I'm not sure it's worth it for this house.

None of these are good options, and yet we can't let the baby freeze to death. What to do.

I feel completely defeated by our house. I know I'm lucky that Mr. A and I both have jobs, and we are more than likely going to keep them a while longer. But I would give just about anything if we hadn't bought this house. Oh, to be a compartively wealthy renter, who can sort of afford daycare! I fantasize about just walking away from the house, or about an errant bolt of lightning that burns it to the ground when we're away on vacation. Too bad there are so few electrical storms in Seattle.

Also, today is my first day back to work. I'm mostly enjoying mingling with the grown-ups, but man--the things that sucked about my job before I left have really spiralled out of control. I work in Crazy Town.

Soren - 4 months

The other day, we had a conversation with S & D about whether or not we'd know if Soren wasn't cute. At first I said I was sure I'd know if my kid wasn't really cute. Later, though, I realized how dumb that was. Of course I wouldn't know.







But come ON.

Tricks and stuff

Holy crap, I can't believe I have to go back to work in eight short days. Last night I had a work anxiety dream that began with a boring departmental meeting and ended with me screaming "HELP" at the top of my lungs, waking myself and Mr. A right up (but luckily, not the baby).

We moved Soren out of our room and into his nursery last week, and he's in there now chatting with himself while I listen in using our auditory baby spying device.  He's got a whole new repertoire of sounds he's been trying out.  A current favorite is the creaking door sound favored by haunted houses everywhere:  "Ehhhhh . . ."  Also a pterodactyl screech that can indicate joy, rage, boredom, a fart--pretty much the entire range of baby emotions.

(While I was typing this, he really started to complain about his crib imprisonment, so I went in to free him.  When he saw me it was like I was Elvis.  Appearing live, right there in his very own nursery!  I know this won't last, but it's great for the ego.  Not many people react this way to the sight of me first thing in the morning, lovely though I look.)

Part of the bummer of working for a living again is that I feel like I am just starting to get the hang of this parenting thing.  Actually, "hang of it" is overstating, but I do feel like I occasionally have some dim clue as to what the hell is going on.  Plus he's so much more interesting these days.  Newborns are cute but it's pretty much just them, them, them, all the time.  Now he likes us and does tricks and stuff.

For instance, he rolled over for the first time a couple of weeks ago, on the day before his four month birthday.  But he hasn't done it again since.  His attitude seems to be, "Look, I did it once.  I have nothing further to prove to you people."

Contemporary cinema

Me:  You know the other problem with that Nanny McPhee sequel.

Mr. A.:  I don't even know the first problem with it.

Me:  The first problem is obviously that it exists.  But the second problem is, what can possibly be the plot?  I mean, you know how in the first movie, Emma Thompson gets progressively less ugly as the kids stop being jerks?  Well, now what?  Does she have to start all over again as ugly, but with a new family?  Or do the same kids backslide into jerkiness so that she gradually re-uglifies?  It just doesn't make sense.

Pause.

Mr. A. I'm so glad we could have this talk.