I grew up in a relatively religious environment, one with pretty strict rules about right and wrong, regular church going, private schools and the very strong belief that everyone else’s beliefs were wrong. Which is the main reason I am in love with the new show GCB. It’s soapy and campy and obviously exaggerates every aspect of each character (it’s always so entertaining to me that not one person is ever just “normal” on a TV show), but there hasn’t been one episode where I didn’t think, at one point in the show, oh yeah, been there.

Plus I love Kristin Chenoweth and Annie Potts is hysterical.

This week my aha moment came during a church function for singles – where the married women wanted to take the “sin” out of being single. It has been my experience that when you are an unattached female in a church, unless you’re quite young (or quite old and widowed), everyone assumes your goal is to get attached. And if it isn’t, it should be. Because God wants you to be married and produce children. That’s what you’re here for, after all.

We just found out that one of the Chop’s sisters is pregnant – only five weeks, so we are not allowed to discuss it yet – but oh man, I am so excited. The Peanut is going to have a cousin near his age – and even though they live rather far away, we’ll still see them once a year. The Chop is currently on the phone with her and they’re discussing names – hilariously two of the names for girls are on our list as well – and vitamins and baby Bjorns.

I’m of course interrupting repeatedly and debating how soon I’m allowed to start sending stuff. I have a plethora of gift ideas now that I’ve had a kid – good, very good, awesome gift ideas – and at this moment, one dear friend and one sister-in-law just have to find out what they’re having so I can start sending stuff.

SO FREAKING EXCITED.

It’s been awhile since I watched a movie and laughed until I cried (while sober). Cedar Rapids just accomplished that quite handily.

There are moments when the Peanut looks so much like the Porkchop that it takes my breath away. Aside from the looks, we see shades of his personality beginning to shine through, and movements and facial expressions that are straight from his daddy.

Then I make him giggle or squirm and he looks just like me.

I read an article today that said the reason older people listened to older bands is because you stop enjoying new music as you get older. You don’t get the same rush of dopamine when you hear something new as you did when you were young.

I hope when I’m old they’ll have fixed that problem.

When we first started going to the baby gym class, the Peanut stuck close to us. He sat in our laps during the warm up and the introduction; we carried him willingly to do the group activity and during free play, he usually stayed wherever we set him down. These days he’s off like a rocket the minute the door opens. He’s uninterested in staying on the big red mat, choosing instead to walk and crawl up and down the gym equipment (he loves the wedges). The warm up and introduction go as usual, with the teacher pointing to him and waving. He smiles and watches, but stays where he is. There’s obviously way too much for him to explore to waste time with us.

Today his teacher (whom he just adores) set up an obstacle course on the mat. Several hula hoops and rings to crawl through, all while on top of big blocks. As the other toddlers milled around, some banging on the blocks, others refusing to move once placed on top, we grabbed the Peanut and placed him at the beginning. He looked at us, turned and proceeded to crawl perfectly through the entire obstacle course, before jumping down and going back to his wedges.

We were shocked, but clapping, and we grabbed him again. Like a mouse to cheese, back through he went, not once veering off course or getting distracted. His teacher was impressed, and the Porkchop and I smiled a little and shrugged, noting that it must be all the playground time he gets.

Granted, once we left we talked about it nonstop and gave ourselves high fives. Whoop, whoop, parental pride baby!

My memory, never that good, has suffered greatly since the Peanut entered our lives. I’m assuming it’s lack of sleep, but perhaps it’s also affected by having someone else to worry and think about. Nonstop. Because that’s what parenthood is – an unending state of constant attention, sprinkled with concern, panic and terror.

While driving the Peanut back from the park, I had a very funny conversation… that I don’t remember at all. Which is sad, because all I could think was, “Ooo, I should write this on the blog.” What the hell? Five minutes ago I opened a browser window and promptly forgot what I wanted to look up. Thoughts flit in and out of my head with no rhyme or reason, and unless it’s Important Shit, I don’t remember it. Work stuff – no problem; baby stuff – no problem; anything else – it’s a crap shoot.

For about three months I’ve been working on a massive project. We launched about two weeks ago and it was such a relief to have it live and working and lovely. Frankly it’s one of the best projects we’ve ever done.

About a week ago we were told that the IT department at the company convinced the head of the company that it wasn’t secure enough, and so it was going to come down and he was going to redo my design and work into frankly a bad system. We fought it, as best we could considering I could never get the head boss on the phone. We listed places that use the software, including the highest of government offices.

But alas, the jackass who cried wolf has somehow won. The company is out thousands of dollars and I’m bereft over the many hours of work lost and my project being tossed in the trash. It represented hours upon hours of work, and although we’ll be paid, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I’m insulted that this asshole would think we would build something that is un-secure. I’m insulted that they won’t let me get on the phone with the head boss and explain how secure it is. I’m annoyed and irritated and saddened that almost 100 hours of my time was completely, utterly wasted.

The IT guy knew the program we were using from the beginning, but said nothing for months. And I knew he didn’t like us coming in and fixing something that he had made – something that was hideous and broken and unusable – but it never occurred to me that he would have the power to scare his boss into wasting all that time and money.

Today sucks.

The Chop and I just finished watching the Magic Johnson documentary, an incredibly fascinating look at his life, before and after his diagnosis. It’s mind blowing to me that it was only 20 years ago that AIDS was considered a death sentence and a scarlet letter of homosexuality. Neither of us remember the Announcement occurring – both of us young and not fully grasping the enormity of what had happened.

The Porkchop’s dad has Parkinson’s, a disease without the stigma of AIDS, but with the same outcome. Like Magic Johnson, Michael J. Fox has raised awareness and ensured that we’ll have him around for years and years. Celebrity is a double-edged sword, but in the right hands, it can move mountains.

Never underestimate the power of a few committed people to change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. – Margaret Mead

There are a few children’s book authors that we absolutely adore – two in particular whose books we purchase whenever we see them, Sandra Boynton and Nancy Tillman. Both authors illustrate beautifully and write with a cadence that makes memorization quick and easy, something useful for us, as we can easily calm the Peanut down by reciting books.

The Peanut’s gotten so good at knowing which book is which, that if I start reciting one, he goes to the pile and pulls it out. Boynton’s books are fun and funny, with lots of animal sounds and weird songs to sing; Tillman’s books are sweet and dear, easily eliciting a tear or two on certain pages.

As I was reading the latest one we purchased to the Peanut this morning, It’s Time to Sleep, My Love, I wondered if she ever sold prints of the illustrations.

And of course, she does.