Today Nathan Ate a Spider

The child is teething. He has cut one tooth and is working (violently and with much angst) on the second. Coincidentally, he has a cold.

There is no rest for the weary.

(I'm talking about me.)

So this morning, while his just-got-back-from-a-month-long-work-up Dad was on the ship, making sure fire doesn't destroy the helo (or something like that), Nate and I skipped church and were playing at the coffee table. He's just learning to pull himself up and it's a lot of exercise for the both of us while he figures it out.

Nathan has Go-go-gadget arms. Their reach is longer than their length.

I had moved most everything out of his way.

Perhaps a half hour before all this, I'd seen a tiny (TINY) spider crawling on the coffee table and debated killing it. Why should I? It was too small to bite anybody and I kill every other spider, so why not leave one? Anyway, I smooshed it with a tiny-spider-sized scrap of paper.

You can see where this is going.

In one of his various chin-ups, he landed on the floor and started fussing. When I picked him up, I realized he had a tiny-spider-sized scrap of paper in his mouth. I pulled the sopping piece out and looked for the smooshed spider, which was, of course, missing.

So Nathan ate a spider today.

Unfortunately, it seems to have had no positive homeopathic effects on his teething pain.

Maybe crickets?

Power Struggle

The two puppies are fighting over Henry's bone...



One puppy gives up and goes for the evidence...

From Now Until Maternity

Gluttony is okay when it's that or... oh I don't know... selling your son on Craigslist because he's decided to boycott sleep.

Because let's face it. When gluttony was listed with really bad things like murder and wearing white after labor day, the church hadn't taken deployment into consideration, which turns otherwise rational, mild-mannered mommies into Temporarily Single Mommies. And single parents have a free pass when it comes to gluttony.

Because they're tired and they could be selling their children on Craigslist, which, let's be honest, results in a much longer purgatory sentence.

I remember a conversation in college where I responded sensitively to a friend who was expressing how tired she was because her newborn daughter kept her up all night by saying, "Well, at least being up all night helps burn off baby weight, right?"

Oh yes. I am that sensitive.

She replied that it did not, because if she was up, she was hungry and snacked. So she gained more weight.

I'm not sure that I agree, however. I think that the stress of being woken up from peaceful dreams of watching your children go off to college to the jarring reality of trying to comfort an infant whose only problem is boredom is stressful enough to burn extra calories (I assume that little life experience leads to boring dreams. I have no proof, but it explains so much).

Which also makes gluttony acceptable. In fact, I believe it changes the nature of the beast, so that overeating is no longer gluttony, but survival.

Survival. Do it for your kids.

Or do it because of them.

Lawn Saga 23

The grass still grows and I still have to mow the weeds.

Yesterday I had a squadron wives meeting at the house, so I had to pretend to be put-together, which includes having some sort of control over the backyard. I knew I could artfully place the curtains so that I wouldn't have to mow the entire lawn, but I still had to mow the visible and Nathan was not asleep.

So I stuck him in laundry basket with some toys and sat him next to Henry on the patio.He did great. He looked up every so often to make sure I was still pushing around the noisy thing and chewed on stuff the rest of the time. He even threw a toy overboard.

The curtain trick, by the by, did great too. I'm going to have to mow the rest of the lawn sometime, but not today. Today I make amends to my son for sticking him in a laundry basket on the back patio like a redneck woman from lower Alabama.

Elegance Rather Than Luxury

To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common - this is my symphony.

William Henry Channing

God and Nacho Cheese

Nathan's reaction to low-calorie food

When I get to heaven, God's not going to have an awful lot to say about me... I'm not going to get one of the Patient or Generous or Kind prizes. Heck, I'm not even up for Most Improved (which always goes to the kid who didn't qualify for anything else). What He can say for me, however, is that I was grateful for my food.

I don't mean grateful in an "I once was starving and now I'm well-fed" way. It's more like, "I am truly giddy that you have provided for me with cheese and chocolate cake" way. It may be less moving, but BOY do I get excited about food. My pre-meal prayers tend to be heart-felt and full of enthusiasm.

With that understanding of my spiritual motivation behind us, you will no doubt understand how very thrilled... elated... I was when Taco Bell improved upon their Double Decker (which was almost perfect, already) by adding nacho cheese to the fatty fatty refried beans.
Praise. God. for Nacho Cheese.

It will be in heaven, with every single calorie and trans-fat that it represents. And maybe more. Because we all know that calories taste good. If a food item has 3 calories, it doesn't taste very good, but if it has 3000 (Bloomin' Onion, anyone?), it's delicious. Preservatives can ruin raw calorie flavor, but this really complicates the "more calories, more flavor" rule. That's why places like McDonalds and Chili's aren't very tasty, despite their high calories.

But Nacho Cheese cancels out preservatives, so Taco Bell is still okay.

All that to say, go to Taco Bell, eat that hydrogenated, trans-fatty, 89 cent-per-taco goodness and tell me it doesn't make you want to bow your sinner's head and PRAISE the LORD.

Good. Lord.

And I do mean, Good Lord.
The Good Lord has been working overtime since Nate was born. This chair is supposed to contain him with its seat belt, not enable him to bungee jump for dropped toys. I found him like this. I had left the room (but carefully buckled him in beforehand) to get my shoes and when I got back, he was upside-down and grunting, trying to pick up his toy.

Being the good mother I am, I took a couple pictures before righting him. I took these on my phone though, so pardon the graininess.

Once more, with both hands:

I might be in need of a nanny.