Books Unread, Jokes Untold-the pursuit of life

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Forcing Myself to Write June 27, 2011

Filed under: Daily Grind,Getting my Martha On,Schmooper — booksunread @ 12:29 pm

Boy, that sounds fun. Force yourself to read along with me, won’t you?

I don’t really have anything witty, intelligent or even interesting to share today.  I just want to kind of shake the dust off and get back in to the habit of writing again.

Work has calmed down to some extent, but I still should be working that rather than doing this.

Outside work, I’m busily planning a 3rd birthday party. THIRD. Am enjoying the fun of getting my Martha on. For now. Ask me again when I have 4 dozen cupcakes and cookies to bake, eight wooden model trains to assemble, a pile of treat bags to collate, balloon garland to string and two days to do it in.

I think my little guy needs a new name, “Squidgey” doesn’t seem to fit any more.  But I can’t think of anything better right this second. Whatever you call him, I lurve him a bit more every single day, which I didn’t think was possible.  He is at such a great age-a real little person with thoughts and some grasp of logic and critical thinking.  Mostly, he’s well behaved, and when he’s not, it is written all over his face that he is just testing you.  He looks at you as he’s doing something naughty, and you can just tell he is thinking, “What will you do if I do this?”

Back in March we moved him from his home sitter to a daycare center. And the things he learns, being in a curriculum-based environment with all kids right about his own age, are just amazing. Not all of it’s good-the other day he told me peas would hurt his tummy if he ate them. He had to have picked that up from a classmate with older siblings. And that fake little “hmph” he does when he doesn’t get his way now-clearly that seems to be working for one of his little friends so he thought he’d see how it goes over at home (answer: mommy is not moved at all, now do what I asked you to do).

But mostly he is sunny and loving and just a touch mischievous. Every night before bed now, instead of reading books, he wants to “talk about [his] day.”  I don’t want him to ever grow out of asking me to snuggle him up when I tuck him in at night, offering me one last kiss through the bars of his crib. (Yes, He is still in the crib, we have a tall piece of furniture that needs to be wall anchored before we turn him loose, plus, not going to lie, there is a measure of peace in knowing that even if he is not napping, he’s at least confined to bed, where he has a much better chance of falling asleep.)

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