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Stealing My Thunder

Perhaps you have noticed if you are a faithful reader of this drivel blog that I have a very faithful commenter in the person of my Uncle Paul. He is my dad’s younger brother, and one of the funniest people I know. In fact I have said before that I think I get my FABULOUS sense of humor from him because I really don’t think I got it from my parents (sorry mom and dad!) Here’s a picture of my Uncle Paul (left) with my dad: aren’t they cute old dudes?

Anyhoo, last Saturday I was at a super-fun party hosted by Katie and Andrea was there, and we were talking about blogging, and she was like, “I love how your Uncle Paul comments on every post! He is so funny! His comments crack me up!”

That’s right, Uncle Paul, you have at least one fan of your own! And she is Kind of a Big Deal!

Here’s a small sampling of some of Uncle Paul’s greatest comment hits:

On slutty little girls clothing: “Excellent post! Since I’m in a High School everyday where everything worn is from either Abertrampy and Skank or from Hos R’ Us, nothing surprises me.” (view post)

On my eyebrow waxing: “I am sure you knew that being a Brads, you would eventually have to do something. You might want to try getting them threaded, apparently it is less painful…not that I know…having and keeping the “manly unibrow” and all!!” (view post)

On my (our) inbreeding: “I may not have mentioned it, but Cenie and Charles are also related on her father’s and his mother’s sides. One couple. One couple had two children who figure in. They are your great-great-great-great-great-grandparents via Della and Charles M. Sr. Apparently the town was very small! Frankly, I think my astonishing good looks are the result of “keeping the genes pure”…ya know, kinda’ like the Royal Family.” (view post)

On my music choices: “I am a total Kelly Clarkson fan…and Jenny, My life would suck without you!! ;)” (view post)

And finally, this one’s for Emily – on my birthday-cake-baking-anxiety: “I am sure Kroger has a bakery Dear!!” (view post)

So, dear readers, keep your eyes peeled from comments from Uncle Paul (or UP as he signs his emails to me), sometimes it’s the best part of the whole post. In one recent email he said “Hope you don’t mind an old guy blogging back to you once in awhile.” And I have to say, I love it! And apparently, you are getting quite a fan base…so no pressure…but you better be on top of your game!

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Road Rage

My five-year-old is sitting next to me on the couch, curled up with his head on my shoulder. It’s early, and we’re both still sleepy. But clutched in his hands is a Hot Wheels monster truck. Because, if you’re Joshua, it’s never too early for Hot Wheels.

Since he’s turned five, Joshua has developed an intense interest in and love for cars. He comes by it honestly, since my husband works on cars for a living and also loves cars. As a matter of fact I can blame hubby for this little obsession, since it started when he and Joshua began playing racing video games together as a reward for Joshua. He loved identifying all the different cars in the game, and now, unfortunately, he loves identifying all the cars on the road we see when we’re driving.

Very loudly. And with much excitement.

“Mommy LOOKLOOKLOOK there’s a Chevy MALIBU!” I hear as I’m navigating the roads of our fair city. (Yes, he gets excited over even the most mundane of cars.)
“Mustang!!”
“HONDA CIVIC!”
“A Lexus! A Lexus!”

He gets very upset when I don’t see the cars also. My explanation that I need to keep my eyes on the road isn’t good enough. And at times when his exasperation at me borders on rudeness, I want to flipping put a blindfold and a muzzle on the kid for car rides! The constant dialogue of every car Joshua can see while we are driving down the road is making me NUTSO. A couple of months ago when Bobby and I drove to Chicago sans kiddos, I demanded that he remain mum about the other cars on the road. “I don’t care if you see a ’79 Trans Am,” I said, “Not a word.”

I miss the times when the kids just listened to music and sang and Joshua pointed out the odd airplane or helicopter he saw in the sky.

‘Cause really, I cannot get myself all worked up about a 1998 Chevy Cavalier.

But my son can. And if you drive ANY year of Mustang, you are a superhero to him. So congrats on that. You are much cooler than the impatient, carsick woman who chauffeurs Joshua the car officianado around town.

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It’s Almost Over.

I think Sammy is weaning himself.

He’s nearly 15 months old, and I know I should be prepared for this and ready for it to happen, but quite honestly I’m not. It makes me sad to think that he’s getting so big and that he’s not an infant anymore. I logically know this is true, but still, he is my baby.

We’ve been down to just nursing at night and sometimes in the mornings (when I’m trying to get a few more minutes of shut-eye), but lately Sammy hasn’t been nursing in very long stints – something much more exciting is always going on around him, and he’s soon ready to crawl off to find a ball or play with his sister. And the number one sign he’s just not that into it anymore – he doesn’t point and squeal at my laptop the way he used to when he wanted to nurse. (What? He thinks my laptop is somehow related to the nursing process, since it’s omnipresent when we sit down on the couch. Is that not normal??)

Tonight he was super tired and ready for bed, but I wanted to nurse him to sleep. I don’t normally do that, but tonight I wanted to pay attention, to make sure I remembered this night if in fact it turned out to be the last time he nursed. So we sat in the rocking chair in his room as we’ve done so many times before, and I just stared at him, trying to burn his soft little baby face into my memory. I want to remember everything about him.

He is my baby.

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