The Peanut, teething like crazy, drove the Porkchop and I insane today. It’s probably the first day since he was born that both of us ended up with a headache. Baby in pain = mad, cranky, yelling, sad baby… which means we spent the hours from 545AM-645PM juggling him back and forth, trying like crazy to find something to entertain him.

He Skyped with both sets of grandparents, watched one episode of Gabba during a particularly crazy work problem, chased the dog, had a couple doses of Tylenol and chewed the heck out of every plastic kitchen utensil we own. Ladles, spatulas, slotted spoons, potato mashers – nothing escaped the mastication.

The end of the week is supposed to be warm and sunny (high 50s, low 60s), and it cannot. come. soon. enough.

When I was six my family moved from the east coast to the west. Our belongings were moved by the military, but my parents drove our cars, with my sister and I switching between them through the journey. I don’t remember much about it.. until the day I slammed my head in the car door.

We were at a Long John Silver’s, and after getting out of the car, I slammed the door — hard — with my head tilted in. According to my Dad, I screamed and blood started pouring from my head. I only remember him holding my head and walking me into the restaurant, past staring patrons, to the bathroom where he proceeded to rinse my head and check to see if I needed stitches.

I don’t have any memory of the pain – but I distinctly recall being unable to swim in the pools of the Motel 6s we stopped in along the way. I was only allowed to sit on the edge of the pool, my head wrapped in an ace bandage, while my sister swam back and forth.

The night before we left the Cape, I pulled the stroller out of the back of my car and slammed the door down – on my shoulder. Gasping in pain, I had to sit on the ground before heading to the room from the parking lot. A red mark, and pain at the touch, was the only indication that I’d hurt myself. Six days later and I have a rather large green bruise, with a lovely purple and red center, that hurts to high heaven every time I raise my arm a certain way.

My Dad seems to think I might need to stop shutting car doors. Ass, lol.

For the past few months my phone has been claiming my SD card is full and suddenly refusing to take pictures. So I scroll up my gallery, back to perhaps spring of last year, delete 10-20, and then move on my merry way. I finally attached my phone to my computer to upload pictures today, and 894 later (and that’s only since November), my phone still contains over 2200 pictures.

That I don’t want to remove.

It’s nice to be able to scroll through and see the Peanut from age 4 weeks to now. It’s nice to see pictures of us in Italy, pictures of us on the Cape, pictures of him in the snow, with our families, etc. I am loathe to remove these pictures from my phone, even though I know they’re preserved on my computer (and largely on FB).

Having the past at your fingertips is a lovely feeling.

Every year on February 7th I think about my grandmother. Today was no different, except that someone posted on FB that it was their grandmother’s 93rd birthday, which made me inexplicably sad. My Nana would’ve been 87 today. How come they got their grandmother for so much longer than us?

Certainly yes, I realize genetics and cancer screwed us, so my mind gets it. But my heart thinks it’s bullshit.

The Peanut and I are both sick, rocking coughs, runny nose (him), sore throat (me) and a general malaise. It’s quite sad. One of the “perks” of being a parent seems to be getting sick regularly – or so I’ve gleaned from Facebook – and while we’ve been incredibly lucky (only sick twice in 16 months), I know that will change eventually. Between school, events and other activities, we’re destined for regular sickness.

Boo.

I’m currently working on a behemoth of a site – over 1500 products and loads of customization. I enjoy aspects of sites like this, but the mind-numbing detail work of organizing the content into CSVs to upload it into the site is enough to drive me mad. Particularly when the images they sent don’t correlate to the product IDs. Which means the uploads fail and I have to try and assess if the image was named incorrectly or if they just forgot to send it. Sigh. Is it really so hard to send what I need, in the way I need it?

So I’m taking a break and shopping kid’s clothing sales. I’ve been stalking my three favorite (but way too expensive unless deeply discounted) stores: Polarn O Pyret, Jacadi and J. Crew Cuts. And aside from the cutest pair of Christmas pajamas (I shop ahead) and four shirts, I snagged a pair of red jeans I’ve been coveting for the Peanut for $17.

I know, I know, you’re all impressed and you totally care. 😛

We took the Peanut to get new shoes today. He went up a size and a half, and when we stood him up after putting the new ones on, he smiled hugely.

Ah now he gives me a smile, said the sales lady, it must feel nice to not have to curl your toes!

Parenting fail.

It’s been a party the last couple of days. Short naps, tears and not our usual happy-go-lucky baby. Fortunately the Peanut has three molars and two front bottom teeth that have broken through… but there is one extremely swollen gum housing his last molar.

Today was a better morning.

But by the middle of the day, the pain had returned.

Amazingly I think being out in the cold helped… plus he got to watch cars close up, his most favorite thing to do.

We finally got some winter snow, about five inches that the Peanut could really care less about. He loves going outside (mainly so he can get closer to watching cars), but he did not enjoy a) his new snow boots, b) his snow suit coat and c) our suggestions that he “walk” in the snow. He went down on his butt a couple of times, but it was when he fell hands first and got snow inside his coat that he decided it was bullshit.

Cracked had an interesting article about growing up poor. Reading it reminded me once again how lucky I was to have the parents I do. Even when they drive me insane. 🙂