The terrible twos are soon to be upon us, but the Peanut has decided to just go ahead and start being crazy now. His favorite tantrum position is to sit down, and then bend his entire upper body forward until his face is touching the ground. It’d be cute if it wasn’t accompanied by wailing, lol.

He likes to line up his toys on the edge of the tub during bath time, and when one fell (out of order, he prefers to dunk them one at a time), he promptly proceeded to assume his tantrum position. Except he was in a tub full of water. So down he goes, dunking his face and a couple inches of hair, and up he pops, shocked and dripping. I, of course, am laughing hysterically… THISCLOSE to peeing on the bathroom floor. He then starts sobbing and wants out of the tub (because now his favorite place has hurt his feelings), so I soap and rinse him and pull him out. But now he’s mad at me because I laughed at him, so he marches/baby runs out of the bathroom naked, loudly vocalizing how much the world hates him.

This was after a day where he threw roughly 20 tantrums, took a 30 minute nap (as opposed to his normal two hours) and generally railed against the entire house.

Fun. Times.

We were supposed to be spending the weekend up north with my parents, but the Peanut got incredibly ill last night. High fever, vomiting and lots of crying meant I stayed up all night with him, and then took a nap when the Porkchop took over at 530. It’s been a very long day of him not eating much, being sad, taking lots of Tylenol, occasionally drinking some water and watching nonstop Yo Gabba Gabba.

As it turns out, our son is just like us. When he doesn’t feel well, he just wants to lie on the couch and be catered too. Poor bambino.

I seem to have picked up a penchant for insomnia from my mom. I’m not quite sure how or why, but I lay in bed, tossing and turning, my brain fully wired, trying desperately to pass out. I was so exhausted yesterday that I went to bed at 8.. but was up less than two hours later. I had some dinner, watched Justified (such a good show) with the Porkchop and back to bed we went at midnight. Except that I couldn’t fall asleep, so I read until 2, and then tossed in bed until 3. What. the. hell.

I try really hard not to pick sides. I think it comes from being the youngest and from growing up in a very one-sided (when it comes to most things) family. There is right and wrong – this is right, that is wrong. What we believe is right, what they believe is wrong. What we teach is right, what they teach is wrong. When you leave that environment and you begin to realize that with all the options, choosing a side doesn’t make that much sense.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for not breaking the law. I’m against drugs (this is a weird conversation the Porkchop and I have regularly – my upbringing makes it really hard for me to have any stance on pot other than “bad gateway drug to heroin and meth and DEATH”), murder, hurting other people for sport, cheating, stealing, lying and generally anything amoral. I’m an exceedingly moral person, to the extent that it never actually occurs to me to steal – once I left with a mascara under a bag of cat litter that I didn’t want to lift out of the cart and I walked back in to pay for it – not paying for it wasn’t an option I even considered.

But when it comes to other things, I’m hesitant to come down on either side of the issue. Politics, abortion, religion, child rearing, etc. I do what I think is best for myself and my family, but I try not to actively assert a position that’s against someone else’s – after all, they are probably doing what they think is best for their family, who am I to say what that is?

Except when it comes to personal freedoms (everyone should be allowed to have and voice their opinion and make the decision themselves) and matters of equality. I feel that everyone should be treated equally regardless of race, sexual identity, religion, etc., and if you are a bigot (asshole) or think that you can cure or change any of the above, I will absolutely take you to task. And probably say rude things about your lack of intelligence and/or assholery.

My Dad finds this highly objectionable. There is right and wrong and they are wrong and he is right. (Frankly I think that’s what’s wrong with most political battles – no one is willing to see the other side’s point of view.) A couple of days ago on PTI (sports talk show that is watched every day in my house, feel bad for me) they discussed Charles Barkley’s new ad where he wears a dress (hand to god, that man looks good in a dress). My Dad looked up from the couch and hrumphed and did his whole deep sigh that means “this is what’s wrong with our country. men dressing like women. that is so wrong. homosexuality is curable, etc., ad nauseam.” The man can communicate a lot with a sigh.

I just stared at him, rather surprised actually, because it’s not like we were watching To Wong Foo (great movie) and then went back to working. I didn’t have the time nor the inclination to explain that is was a joke for the diet Barkley’s on and even if it wasn’t, why are you such an asshole?

But now I’m annoyed with myself. I know that fighting with my Dad makes no sense. I know I will get nowhere and that in the end we’ll both be pissed off. I know that his opinion will never change – we’ve fought about this very thing many times. But now I have a child. One that I don’t want formed by wrong and stupidity-based opinions. And now they live closer (four hours via car vs. six via plane).

Now I have to pick sides.

I think I hate Facebook.

I’ve realized that I actually don’t want to know what’s happening in the lives of people I haven’t seen or hung out with since high school. HIGH SCHOOL. The place I graduated from 11 (omg) years ago.

Things I don’t want to know:

• That your husband is addicted to porn and after trying to work it out, you are divorcing. Maybe you should’ve dated longer than a year before you got married? Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten knocked up RIGHT BEFORE you got married? Especially since both of you had another kid each from previous relationships? And you both claim to be religious? I dunno. I don’t judge.
• That you voraciously support that douchebag pastor Mark Driscoll and think he knows everything. Seriously. This guy is an idiotic asshole. Why do you think he knows everything?!
• That you practice NFP (Natural Family Planning) and that you think it’s the BEST birth control and that this is something you wrote: “It’s knowing your body and communicating as a couple, respecting each other, and willful self control when necessary. It’s that and so much more.” I don’t need to know that about you. EVER.
• That you knocked up your wife on your anniversary – and you know that for a FACT. No, ew, over share.
• That you are pregnant, but still going to clubs. Regularly. And staying out until the wee hours. Why? Aren’t you tired? Also, why do I care?
• That you are pregnant AGAIN. For the 4th, 5th, 6th time. And your “quiver” is full. Or maybe not. Whatever God wants. Really? Are you perfectly willing to just pop out babies forever? Why are condoms and birth control bad again?

Maybe I just hate being “friends” with the people I never really knew in the first place. Or the people whose lives have diverged so much from my own that reading about what they do now is irritating.

The house ghosts have struck again – 20 minutes ago we heard a loud crack and pop from the nursery. Down goes another window and up goes our blood pressure. Amazingly the Peanut slept through it.

I really do think our house is possessed.

I posted a funny video of the Peanut on FB, and once the Chop’s Mom saw, she wanted to pass it around to her friends. So I opened it up to the public and also sent a link to my parents (they aren’t on FB and only view things on my account occasionally). Earlier today I received three emails from my Dad’s sister, who I do not keep in contact with (she’s batshit CRAZY). One was through my business site (weird) and two were through FB. She wants to be friends on FB because my Dad sent her that video and she just thinks he’s so cute and she wants to comment and blah blah.

Sigh. My Dad drives me freaking insane. Most of his family are religious nuts and I have absolutely no interest or inclination to be “friends” with them.

My parents arrive in two days and I haven’t even started to clean my house. Our three season porch/guest room is strewn with baby toys, the bed is covered in books, and I’m quite sure there are a fair number of dead bugs outside the porch door. The kitchen is not too bad, but I haven’t vacuumed in awhile (three weeks maybe?) and our bedroom is not something I like to think about.

I have a site due on April 1, plus another one that is technically also due on April 1 (but everyone else was late getting me what I needed, so yeah, April 1 is a pipe dream), which means I’m working until 2AM almost every day.

A clean house is so far down on my list of priorities, half the time I forget it’s something I’m supposed to do.

I read The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo when I was pregnant with the Peanut and sobbed while finishing it at four in the morning, waking up the Chop to tell him how absolutely devastating it was. After he was born, I read the last two books – neither of which was as disturbing as the first – but I still found them tough to read. Apparently being a mother has made it much harder for me to read the tough stuff – let alone watch it.

Once I heard the gist of the Hunger Games trilogy, I purposefully avoided reading it. Children killing children for sport = crushing, overwhelming sadness.

A friend talked me into going to see the first movie tonight and it was as devastating as expected. Especially for three mothers (one of whom is pregnant again) with young children.

The Peanut is currently sporting a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead. The bump is large, but the bruise is what’ll stick for awhile. He was playing in the curtains, the Chop and I laughing and Skyping his mom, and boom, with curtain wrapped around him, he ran straight into the wooden window ledge. The sobbing was immediate, as was the now-dubbed unicorn horn.

I realize that this will happen regularly for the rest of our lives – but man, I wish it wouldn’t, lol.