Pen’sieve

So here I sit again, at the coffee shop. It’s really a nice place, although it’s a little awkward sitting at a table with a laptop rather than at my desk. I’m not so much worried about the guy behind me watching me as I am spilling my latte on J’s computer. Course he sneered at me when I sat down with my drink, his coffee is black. Mine is made with steamed half and half and flavoring. It even looks like milk, only it’s just a  shade darker than white. Oh well. It’s still good. Besides, I’d like to see him clean up the diaper that my son produced this morning. Damn raisins.

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood here, but it’s cold again. Well, colder than it has been for a few days. I think it’s 30 right now. I have to admit, though, it hasn’t been that bad a winter. Of course now that I’ve said that we’ll probably get a foot of snow in the next few days. Maybe not. It’s bright and sunny today and I’m on the hunt for a jogging stroller. I have some requirements, too, although I’m willing to buy one that’s in stock and try it out to decide how important some of the features are. I want to get back into running. Oh all right, I want to start running. I guess it’s safe to say I was never really “into” it. I did buy the bra, though. Two in fact. And I have cool shoes. Now I just need the stroller to take the offspring along. I don’t think J understands, but with the few sunny days we’ve had here lately, I just have this huge need to get outside and be in the sun. It is really so different living here than in Alabama. Even sunny days aren’t nearly as bright. And we can actually go for weeks at the time with no sun at all. That’s just so awful. People might think that the “Seasonal Affective Disorder” (or whatever they call it when you get depressed from lack of sunlight) is a crock, but I’m here to tell you there is much more than just a grain of truth to it. Before I got pregnant, I went to the tanning bed, and that helped a bit, but I just can’t quite see doing that for any real length of time, although I did get a nice tan. Oh all right, I was about the shade of my latte, I don’t tan. But I wasn’t quite as transparent as I normally am. But I like my skin and would rather not zap it like that. If I’m going to age and get wrinkles I’m going to get them from the sun, darn it.

So anyway, that’s my mission this weekend. To buy a jogging stroller. Completely different subject, now. I’m using J’s work laptop and I was wondering if he had any music to listen to while I’m here. The grunge/screeching/Christian/rock stuff they’re playing in here just isn’t cutting it for me. (Have they never heard of the Gaithers?) So anyway, I pull up his music file, or the only one I could find anyway, and I’ve got several choices from Mozart, each with a minute or two of explanation of the piece before the music starts. Except that it’s in German. So it doesn’t help me a whole heck of a lot. Then there are a few ragtime things, old jazzy stuff, then here’s where my husband and I differ. He tends to forget that he’s a very, very white man. I’m listening right now to something I can’t even really describe. Rap, hip hip, Hindu, the Beatles, all mixed into one song. If you could call it that. To be completely honest, it’s actually pretty catchy, but I can’t listen to it and sit still. It probably wouldn’t be too appreciated if I break out into a belly dance here in the Christian coffee shop, huh? Oh well, back to Mozart. I’ll have to get him to put this on my little player to take to the gym.

So the kids are doing well, I have to say, though, poor little J has had a rough week. He and I have both been sick, I saw the doctor Monday with strep and he saw his doctor Monday also for the same thing. We’ve both been on medicine and he’s taking it very well. But yesterday, he fell, or he might have had help, onto a toy and scraped his side. Then a little later he fell against the toy box and knocked his head. Then after that he fell against the entertainment center and knocked the other side of his head. Then this morning he fell against the end table and wound up with a bloody nose. He’s still not quite walking but he’s so close. He took a small step last night, but immediately tumbled. Soon, though. He’ll be a year old week after next. I can’t believe it. He’s growing so fast. And S will be 3 in June, where does the time go?

Well, my coffee buzz is going strong and it’s getting harder to sit till, I’d better go. More later….

Ok, so how horrible is it to Lysol the kids and Febreeze the dog? As I’m watching my two angels sitting at the table covered in skapetti sauce and the dog under the table covered in sauce and happily eating anything that even comes close to hitting the floor, ahhh, there’s my answer. Sit the kids on the floor and let the dog clean them. Problem solved.

So it’s Wednesday again, and here I sit, at the desk that is only clean because I put the pile of bills in a box on the floor. I have to get to that one day, soon. So here’s my rant for the day. I think my yoga instructor is actually a minion of Satan. Or rather, the devil in the flesh. If you ever wondered, he looks like a pretty, skinny, tall, blond girl with a soft, sweet voice. Very deceiving. I take yoga on Monday nights at the gym, I started in Feb, skipped two weeks and went back this week. Now I can’t move. It really is a good class, she knows what she’s doing and explains the poses well. But she likes to target “those forgotten muscles”. Yeah, like the ones that hold your ribs together. And the ones that run your sides into your very very lower stomach. Oh yeah, and the muscles that enable you to sit down on and get up from the potty. I know, I know, it will get easier the more I do it, and I really enjoy the class, but I think the next time she says “Now I teach a Power Yoga class on Wednesday mornings” I’ll just slap her and get it over with.

In other news, the kids are good. The fighting has started already. Yesterday, as I was changing S’s diaper, little J came up to get the toy she had. She pushed him down so I was getting on to her. He pulled back up onto the couch and whacked the pillow next to her head. Then he got this beautiful look on his face and looked at his hand, then at the pillow, then at S and before I could stop him he whacked her right in the face. So I had to get onto him for hitting. He’s not even a year old yet. Goodness. And he is the reason the living room is such a mess. He sits on the floor in front of the book cabinet and pulls out book after book. Then he’ll stand at the toy box and pull out toy after toy. Of course he’s too young to put the back yet, but I’m trying to teach S that before you pull out another toy you put away the toy you already have. He’s defeating my teaching. And I’ve stopped trying to wean him for now. I had gotten him to take a bottle every now and then but when I stopped nursing, he stopped sleeping. Sleep is more important for both of us so we’re back to nursing. I’m cutting back on times during the day and length of time at each feeding, though.

Well, while I’ve been here the kids have been ransacking the living room, so I’m going to go pick up toys and then try to vacuum. When J vacuums, they are terrified and S screams and runs out of the room. When I do it, she helps. Silly girl. More later…