Goodbye Old Paint

This is not a picture of our adorable child. This is a picture of our kitchen. Its a very long story but we are FINALLY getting our waterdamaged, dirty, nasty-ass kitchen redone. To give you an indication, we met with the first set of contractors while I was on my maternity leave. After much ado and the threat of a lawsuit it looks like Monday will be the first day of demolition. Goodbye old waterdamaged bulkhead as seen above. Goodbye waterdamaged, ugly ceiling tiles.And and extra special goodbye to you, you nasty brown stove that won't heat up unless one of the burners is going. Of course the downside of all of this is the disruption. Personally, I'd be alright with eating all of my meals out for 2 weeks. However, we have this baby and that's not really going to fly. Plus, he plays in the kitchen alot. This will be a tough one for him to take. Today, for example, was another fingerpaint day as I had decided I was going to give him an apres nap bath. There will be no fingerpainting in anyroom but the kitchen, thank you very much.

So tomorrow, the grocery shopping will consist of paper plates, paper cups and prepackaged, don't need to refrigerate until opened containers of milk. Not very green but we'll make up for it when our new lives commence. Which, of course, will be when the kitchen is done.

We're so close. I can barely stand it.

OH: And I almost forgot. Donny went back to the doctor as his rash was sticking around, which was not consistant with the diagnosis of St. Vitus Dance, I mean, Fifth Disease that he got last week. His regular doctor looked him over and the verdict is: ECZEMA. I was told to get a prescription for hydrocortosone cream and then to "moisturize the heck outta him" in this cold weather. Donovan really doesn't like the hydorcortosone and I don't either--it doesn't really sink in so he looks like he's too drunk of a clown to get all the grease paint off. His skin, tho, looks soooo much better. Par example:

Plus, he's not contagious. That makes for happy daycare teachers.

While the Elephants Put Up The Tent, The Bearded Lady Goes Into Town

This has happened to me alot since last April but today's was the best yet:

Donny and I are going into Uncle Sam's. Lady walking by stops in her tracks:

LADY: Awww! He's adorable!
ME: Thanks!
LADY: How old is he?
ME: 21 Months.
LADY: [Pursing her mouth and looking Donny up and down] He's tiny!
ME: Uh..
LADY: He your grandson?
ME: No. He's my son.
LADY: Really?
Me: Really.
LADY: How old are you?
ME: 42
LADY: Get aht! Really?
ME: Really.

That was at 11:45. At 12, waiting for the bus I was asked TWICE by TWO different people if Donny was my Grandson.

Look: I know I've let myself go. That and I'm trying to grow out a bad haircut. BUT COME ON already! Obviously the time has come to make a statement: I'm going to hang myself with a pair of support hose.

Seriously, tho: what kind of mess am I? Is intervention necessary?

Back to the kid: you may be wondering what he and I are doing in Squirrel Hill on a Friday afternoon. When I picked him up yesterday, his little note from daycare said that his face had been breaking out and his cheeks had been flush and that I should take him to the doctor in case he had--I'm forgetting the name of it but it sounds like imbroglio or embargo. So we did go to the doctor and it turns out he has Fifth Disease. I'd never heard of it but apparently its a viral infection that causes a rash on your face, causes your cheeks to flush and, after 3 days, causes a quick fever and a rash all over the body and then its done. The doctor explained all of this and I wanted to say, "See--now you're just making shit up." I'm still not sure that's what this is but its not whatever that word is and its not strep--tho the doctor said that Donny's tonsils were very large. Also, this disease Donny apparently has isn't really contagious but pregnant ladies shouldn't be exposed to it. One of Donny's teachers is pregnant. The doctor said that, if she's in the final stages of pregnancy its not a problem but I wouldn't feel right taking him in knowing that, so here we are at home. He's down for his nap and I'm wondering what I should do with this precious and rare daytime babyfree hour at home...

Hi There.

Hello, Friends--its been a long time, yes, but even I was getting tired of photos of Donovan in his highchair. I need to invest in some new backdrops.

Things are going well at Chez Donny. The holidays are officially over as the tree is down and the decorations have been packed away. We are all back to our daily grinds, which doesnt make for good copy.

Like most of the midwest, Pittsburgh is in the middle of a cold snap. There is a wind chill advisory that was announced today (Thursday) that runs thru Saturday. Getting the kid home from daycare yesterday was a travesty that involved a bus too full to board, a shrieking child and a desperate trip to Wendy's for warmth for both of us and fries to block up the kid's piehole. The one good thing that came out of it? Donovan discovered catsup. That was fun to watch.

There are things brewing about which I can say no more. Good things, positive things but still too early to tell things. Stay tuned.

Baby Meets the 80s

I stayed home with Donny yesterday. I'm sure he'll be glad to know that I'm going to tell the internets all about his butt. One minute he was fine, the next he had diaper rash that was bad enough to make his Mom call off of work. I'm not sure what was going on but the poor kid had a rough, rough night so he and I stayed home together.

For a boy with a raw butt he was very good company, even if he did eschew his normal nap. No nap for baby meant no down time for Mom and, eventually, we ran out of things to talk about. I had put him in his crib to pace back and forth while I checked email and the like (the office is right next door to the nursery). He fussed so much I ended up bringing him in to sit on my lap at the computer and we ended up watching old music videos on Youtube. I should preface this by saying that, with a lack of any parental intent or design, Donny doesn't watch TV. Our TV only gets two stations (we're too cheap for cable) and the room the TV is in is too cluttered for babies. At any rate, I was really surprised, both in the attention he gave to the videos and also to see what ones he responded to. It all started with David Bowie as yesterday was his birthday. This is the Bowie one Donny seemed to like the most:

I felt very much like an old lady, trying to remember videos (do they even still call them that? Do they even still make them?) and hitting a wall at the end of the 80s. Still, that was a good era for videos, wasn't it? I mean, I remembered a few I thought were at least pretty to look at.

Actually, I take back part of that last self disparaging remark. This is the video Donny liked the most. When Mike got home from work, I made Donny watch it again so Mike could see his reaction and the kid didn't disappoint. Apparently, Christopher Walken is to Babies what Monty Python is to shmugendorks: Hi-LAR-ious.

Donny and Mike just left the house and its not even 7am yet. Mike is taking Donny to a store meeting and then to daycare. Hopefully, all of us will get thru the day and turn up on the other side of the week: Happy Friday, everyone!

Ho Tihs

While we were in Elyria for Christmas, I was sitting alone in my folks' kitchen and, for some reason, I was remembering a game my Dad and I used to play. I guess its not so much a game, but he liked to read things backwards and we would do that with signs and headlines and the like. My Dad, if I may say so, has good comedic delivery and he has this intonation he uses to overplay the Being Proud Of Yourself voice. That's the voice he would affect when saying his own name backwards: "Novonod Drofneb!"

"Novonod." Suddenly it hit me: Novonod is Donovon backwards, but only if you spell it with 3 "o"s. Not 2 "o"s and an "a". I had misspelled my son's name.

That's the type of mistake you, as a mother, keep to your damn self. I did'nt tell anyone, not Mike, not Sheryl, nobody. Except my Mom and even that was couched in a question. "How does Dad spell his first name?" She thought a moment. "D-O-N-O-V-O-N." Damn.

Today the phone rang at about 10am. I answered it fully expecting one of those robocalls. Instead it was my very breathless Mother, whose hello to me was "Is that you? Dad spells his name with and "a". Ok? Bye now." I felt like I'd gotten a coded call from the Cold War era KGB.

Nevertheless: WHEW.