Randomness at 10 p.m.

It’s after 9, and as usual it feels like my brain slipped out of my ear without me noticing sometime after J went to bed.  It’s that tiny.  Since I’ve lost my mind, I might as well bore you with details of my day, much like all of my family does to each other in our inane emails to each other.  Many emails detail an entire day like this:  “After breakfast, I swept the floor and then I called mom…”  It goes on and on and on.  Aren’t you excited to read my list?

1. There’s nothing like waking up to that constant ache in that useless part of my anatomy–and I’m lucky enough to also feel like I need to use the bathroom in an uncomfortable way for most of the duration of my period.  Now that I no longer chart, it’s always a surprise.  Joys.
2. J doesn’t seem to want to lose sight of me, so as I prepare us to leave for another trek to school, he sits in the crib and screams.  At the TOP OF HIS LUNGS.  JUST LIKE THIS.  What happened to the eyeliner, the only makeup I bother to wear?  Very odd.  I look a little like a one-eyed raccoon.
3. J helps me draw out what should have been a 30 minute stop at school to a 2-hour stop.  Much crawling, cruising and electrical cord adoration punctuated the SCREAMING session that highlighted my attempts to sit down and write up some assignments.  At the end of it all, I have cramps, rugburn and a headache.
4. My husband and I discuss Jim Rome.  I think he’s a hottie.  T’s got an opinion, too, but I’ve been forbidden to share.  It would have been really funny, but I’ve been censored.
5. J teaches me to catch him as he rolls off the couch, giggling, and then toss him back up to repeat the process all again.  Roll off.  Giggle maniacally. Get tossed back on the couch.  Roll.  Giggle.  Get tossed.
6. I begin to chant my daily “How big is J?  So Big!” and toss my hands in the air.  If my 21-year-old self could have seen me, she’d have turned to her friends and called me an idiot.  I don’t care–I’m past cool.  I’m a mom.  He finally caught on and did it by himself, after weeks of practice.  I feel like he’s won the Olympics.  I tried to get a picture to prove it, but by then he was gnawing on his plastic baby Tonka truck.  Plastic.  Wasn’t I going to only allow wood toys?  That’s another post all together.

Somewhere in there we did some clapping, or something that might pass for clapping as long as it’s a 10-month-old baby doing it.  Oh, and the crawling and the scaling small boxes, falling in and getting stuck.   All in all, I feel like there’s been progress, but I imagine that’s a given when you start off the day wanting never get out of bed but end it up with the suddenly-not-cranky, sweetest kid I know.