>Hyphen-a-palooza

>Remember that scene in Sex and the City where Miranda reaches deep into her closet and pulls out a pair of Jordache (or some other must-have 80s brand) jeans that she has had since high school (when she had mono), ones that haven’t fit in years, and then pulls them on and they fit?

That totally happened to me today with a pair of brown corduroy cargo pants that I bought in 2004. The are one size smaller than all my other pants. They are one size larger than I wore when I started college and was on the swimming club-team and got up at 5:30 every morning to swim a mile or so before breakfast.

I really don’t recommend the Husband-might-have-a-degenerative-neuromuscular-condition-broken-washing-machine-trying-to-get-house-on-the-market-two-dissertations-leprosy-like-diaper-rash-dead-thing-smell-coming-from-the-dishwasher Diet though (You may have heard it referred to as the It’s-three-oclock-and-all-I’ve-eaten-today-is-a-piece-of-apple-pie Plan).

But now Ryan is on the mend and the washing machine is fixed so it’s goodbye cargo pants.

They’re reading about “The New Mommy Track” as part of Charlie’s homework assignment for the “Women in the Workplace, 1960 to the Present” class he’s taking at the university.

Hyphen-a-palooza

Remember that scene in Sex and the City where Miranda reaches deep into her closet and pulls out a pair of Jordache (or some other must-have 80s brand) jeans that she has had since high school (when she had mono), ones that haven’t fit in years, and then pulls them on and they fit?

That totally happened to me today with a pair of brown corduroy cargo pants that I bought in 2004. The are one size smaller than all my other pants. They are one size larger than I wore when I started college and was on the swimming club-team and got up at 5:30 every morning to swim a mile or so before breakfast.

I really don’t recommend the Husband-might-have-a-degenerative-neuromuscular-condition-broken-washing-machine-trying-to-get-house-on-the-market-two-dissertations-leprosy-like-diaper-rash-dead-thing-smell-coming-from-the-dishwasher Diet though (You may have heard it referred to as the It’s-three-oclock-and-all-I’ve-eaten-today-is-a-piece-of-apple-pie Plan).

But now Ryan is on the mend and the washing machine is fixed so it’s goodbye cargo pants.

They’re reading about “The New Mommy Track” as part of Charlie’s homework assignment for the “Women in the Workplace, 1960 to the Present” class he’s taking at the university.

>Waterfoul Gone Wild

>My Mom and I took Charlie to feed the ducks again today and Charlie loved it despite the potentially disasterous consequences of assuming that because he loves the adorable rubber ducks with whom he shares a bathtub each night he will also love twenty pound birds who honk and hiss and are tall enough to stare him in the eye as he sits in his stroller (Like the time we thought he would enjoy seeing a firetruck because he looks so cozy in his firetruck jammies).

That one took a piece of bread out of my mom’s hand. He was close enough for me to notice the two rows of jagged teeth on the top half of his beak. It made me regret not putting shoes on Charlie. His little toes look so vulnerable and tasty. So, I’m sure, did his outstretched hand when he tried to touch one of the ducks on the back. The more experienced mother of the group pushed his hand back into the stroller with a slightly panicked “NO!” before I even knew what was happening.

The more patient ducks stood around in the parking lot behind us waiting for bread. They didn’t get as much bread because we were too busy throwing bread to Jaws and his friends to keep them away from Charlie’s toes.

Aren’t they pretty? It’s too bad that on one of our first dates Ryan had to defend me from a charging duck by gently kicking it to create a diversion so I had time to run up a flight of stairs to safety. He’s my hero. He can also catch roaches.

Charlie says “My future therapist thanks you for putting her kid through Exeter.”

Waterfoul Gone Wild

My Mom and I took Charlie to feed the ducks again today and Charlie loved it despite the potentially disasterous consequences of assuming that because he loves the adorable rubber ducks with whom he shares a bathtub each night he will also love twenty pound birds who honk and hiss and are tall enough to stare him in the eye as he sits in his stroller (Like the time we thought he would enjoy seeing a firetruck because he looks so cozy in his firetruck jammies).

That one took a piece of bread out of my mom’s hand. He was close enough for me to notice the two rows of jagged teeth on the top half of his beak. It made me regret not putting shoes on Charlie. His little toes look so vulnerable and tasty. So, I’m sure, did his outstretched hand when he tried to touch one of the ducks on the back. The more experienced mother of the group pushed his hand back into the stroller with a slightly panicked “NO!” before I even knew what was happening.

The more patient ducks stood around in the parking lot behind us waiting for bread. They didn’t get as much bread because we were too busy throwing bread to Jaws and his friends to keep them away from Charlie’s toes.

Aren’t they pretty? It’s too bad that on one of our first dates Ryan had to defend me from a charging duck by gently kicking it to create a diversion so I had time to run up a flight of stairs to safety. He’s my hero. He can also catch roaches.

Charlie says “My future therapist thanks you for putting her kid through Exeter.”

>Overheard

>Ryan was reading The Very Busy Spider by Eric Carle (Philomel Books, 1984) to Charlie this morning. I was checking my email in the next room and heard this:

“…’Oink! Oink!’ grunted the pig. ‘Want to roll in the mud?’ The spider didn’t answer. She was very busy spinning her web…

“…’Woof! Woof!’ barked the dog. ‘Want to chase a cat? What about throw up in the kitchen or poop in the living room?’ The spider didn’t answer. She was very busy spinning her web…”

B-a-d puppy.

Overheard

Ryan was reading The Very Busy Spider by Eric Carle (Philomel Books, 1984) to Charlie this morning. I was checking my email in the next room and heard this:

“…’Oink! Oink!’ grunted the pig. ‘Want to roll in the mud?’ The spider didn’t answer. She was very busy spinning her web…

“…’Woof! Woof!’ barked the dog. ‘Want to chase a cat? What about throw up in the kitchen or poop in the living room?’ The spider didn’t answer. She was very busy spinning her web…”

B-a-d puppy.

>Glory Hallelujah Good God Almighty I never wanted nothing more

>So Ryan? The best husband in the world?

Who got up early with Charlie this morning and then ran to the store for diaper rash cream (we are going to find dozens of half used tubes of Balmex when we move) while I stayed with a very sad and diaper rashed baby (a naked sad baby at that!)?

And who brought back my usual order from the coffee shop along with the diaper rash cream, just because he is a nice guy and knew I would like it?

Who did all those things even though he stepped in dog vomit not once but twice (once in socks, once barefoot) in our kitchen (thanks for that, Rossby) while trying to make Charlie’s breakfast while I slept in?

He is going to be fine. He has a disorder in which his immune system attacks the protective covering of his peripheral nerves. It was likely brought on by a run of the mill virus which gave him no other problems. But it is not something that will come back and it would eventually go away on it’s own. But Ryan’s doctor is going to treat it with steroids and IV immunoglobulin to make it go away faster. He said that in his experience, the therapy he recommends makes a difference of years in the amount of recovery time.

The doctor said the steroids would give him lots of energy, but will make him hungry and irritable. I was about to ask if Ryan would grow man boobs because it sure would be nice if we could take turns feeding Charlie in the morning, but he’s not the kind of doctor who likes to joke around. Ryan asked the doctor if the steroids affected fertility and his eyes got really big and he said “YOU SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON YOUR HEALTH RIGHT NOW NOT TRYING TO HAVE A BABY!” We both just kind of stared at him for a second before I managed “We just mean, um, like, in the future?” And he looked at me like “Do you get all of your health information off of MySpace or what?”

Of course that could be because when he came into the room I was laying on the queen-sized sleigh bed in the exam room (it’s also a sleep clinic) with Ryan watching “Love Actually” on TV and then got so flustered I had to try three times to turn off the TV and then accidentally slammed my back into the door of the TV cabinet as I sat down in the chair, making a loud jarring noise that startled the doctor.

After the doctor visit we picked Charlie up and had a celebratory lunch at a local Italian place and then took Charlie to feed the ducks. Suddenly the broken washing machine, the teeming piles of laundry, the vomiting dog, the half assembled toilet in our bathroom, the diaper rash, and the dissertations seem a lot more manageable.

Glory Hallelujah Good God Almighty I never wanted nothing more

So Ryan? The best husband in the world?

Who got up early with Charlie this morning and then ran to the store for diaper rash cream (we are going to find dozens of half used tubes of Balmex when we move) while I stayed with a very sad and diaper rashed baby (a naked sad baby at that!)?

And who brought back my usual order from the coffee shop along with the diaper rash cream, just because he is a nice guy and knew I would like it?

Who did all those things even though he stepped in dog vomit not once but twice (once in socks, once barefoot) in our kitchen (thanks for that, Rossby) while trying to make Charlie’s breakfast while I slept in?

He is going to be fine. He has a disorder in which his immune system attacks the protective covering of his peripheral nerves. It was likely brought on by a run of the mill virus which gave him no other problems. But it is not something that will come back and it would eventually go away on it’s own. But Ryan’s doctor is going to treat it with steroids and IV immunoglobulin to make it go away faster. He said that in his experience, the therapy he recommends makes a difference of years in the amount of recovery time.

The doctor said the steroids would give him lots of energy, but will make him hungry and irritable. I was about to ask if Ryan would grow man boobs because it sure would be nice if we could take turns feeding Charlie in the morning, but he’s not the kind of doctor who likes to joke around. Ryan asked the doctor if the steroids affected fertility and his eyes got really big and he said “YOU SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON YOUR HEALTH RIGHT NOW NOT TRYING TO HAVE A BABY!” We both just kind of stared at him for a second before I managed “We just mean, um, like, in the future?” And he looked at me like “Do you get all of your health information off of MySpace or what?”

Of course that could be because when he came into the room I was laying on the queen-sized sleigh bed in the exam room (it’s also a sleep clinic) with Ryan watching “Love Actually” on TV and then got so flustered I had to try three times to turn off the TV and then accidentally slammed my back into the door of the TV cabinet as I sat down in the chair, making a loud jarring noise that startled the doctor.

After the doctor visit we picked Charlie up and had a celebratory lunch at a local Italian place and then took Charlie to feed the ducks. Suddenly the broken washing machine, the teeming piles of laundry, the vomiting dog, the half assembled toilet in our bathroom, the diaper rash, and the dissertations seem a lot more manageable.

>This One’s for You, Amalah

>Here at Academomia, we aim to please.

It’s out in the garage now, you know, just in case you’re doing a load of whites and don’t want to leave in case it’s time add the fabric softener or something (clearly I have no idea what I’m talking about).

Thanks for all the nice comments you left me after the last post. Ryan’s legs were feeling much better this morning. They’re not all better but compared to yesterday he’s Fred Astaire. And Mr. Scream-Until-I-Make-A-Scary-Choking-Noise is resting peacefully in his crib; seemingly he is over whatever was bothering him yesterday. Even after I dragged him all over town looking for this:

And after half an hour with the Methodist Hymnal and the Book of Common Prayer and then another half hour with “Pledged: The Secret Lives of Sororities” I was able to have a great night’s sleep. I’m feeling much less like retreating to adolescence, willing to face high school again in exchange for having no responsibilities or hard decisions to make.

And? I heard on the radio that a cold front is coming and we have a sixty percent chance of rain and the overnight low is going to be 59. It’s FALL. YAY! And the best part about this fall is that we will be leaving before the really stupid part when it snows. It’s a good year.

I’m going to go stack extra quilts by my bed.

This One’s for You, Amalah

Here at Academomia, we aim to please.

It’s out in the garage now, you know, just in case you’re doing a load of whites and don’t want to leave in case it’s time add the fabric softener or something (clearly I have no idea what I’m talking about).

Thanks for all the nice comments you left me after the last post. Ryan’s legs were feeling much better this morning. They’re not all better but compared to yesterday he’s Fred Astaire. And Mr. Scream-Until-I-Make-A-Scary-Choking-Noise is resting peacefully in his crib; seemingly he is over whatever was bothering him yesterday. Even after I dragged him all over town looking for this:

And after half an hour with the Methodist Hymnal and the Book of Common Prayer and then another half hour with “Pledged: The Secret Lives of Sororities” I was able to have a great night’s sleep. I’m feeling much less like retreating to adolescence, willing to face high school again in exchange for having no responsibilities or hard decisions to make.

And? I heard on the radio that a cold front is coming and we have a sixty percent chance of rain and the overnight low is going to be 59. It’s FALL. YAY! And the best part about this fall is that we will be leaving before the really stupid part when it snows. It’s a good year.

I’m going to go stack extra quilts by my bed.