Sunday, September 18, 2011

Ostriches Make Terrible Parents

It's about time, right?

Some people need to talk issues out, but I typically go all ostrich and bury my head in the sand for a bit while the world careens on around my big exposed butt. Do birds have butts? Tail. My big exposed tail.

All that to say, I'm in Virginia and I'm getting to see people I love and attempting to see more people I love and mostly showing off my adorable offspring (which is not very ostrich of me, because I'm pretty sure ostriches make horrid parents). Nathan had a first birthday party yesterday and will officially turn one on Wednesday, which makes me proud and sad and hungry for cake. He's speaking now, but his only words are "Uh-oh", which was his very first word and of which he is exceedingly proud, and "mama", which doesn't count, because it doesn't mean "mommy", but rather, "I want that", which can refer to food, a toy, the bathtub... or his actual mommy, when he condescends to need me.

The other day I was at Potbellies (the glorious thing about that statement is that I have eaten at Potbellies like 5 times since I've been here (!!!) and I have no idea which time this was) and I was getting ready to leave, packing up diaper bag, purse and baby after tossing the trash. I was feeling efficient and capable, when Nate chucked his sippy cup on the floor. Without skipping a beat (and in that "you think way faster than you move" way), I simultaneously bent over to get the cup without putting the baby down and thought to myself, "I'm so much more agile than my mom or mother in law - they would take longer to bend over to get this". I was SO agile and swift that I smacked Nathans head against a chair next to me. He screeched and commenced wailing. And I was humbled. And decided that grandmothers know what they're doing when they stall before bending over. And also, I am, after all, an ostrich kind of parent.


So don't give up, I'll post birthday pictures soon. And the multitude of Nathan stories will commence. But if you're bored with toddlers and their ostrich mothers, let me know and I'll do something by myself to tell you about. Maybe like a nap.

Now I want chocolate cake and a nap.