Luckily, James' need for constant attention can now be met, sometimes, by his adoring little brother. And thanks to their incredibly internet-savvy mother (yep, that's the third-person there) you can now delight in these little boys too!
28 March 2006
look what i can do!
and i'm back
I realize that I've been delinquent in updating this blog, and I'm sure the four of you who read this are terribly disappointed in me. Forgive me! While I was away for the weekend, our computer crashed and died and we had to re-install Windows and re-do practically everything, and in the process I lost the notes and outline I was working on for a really fabulous post. (Yes, I made notes and an outline for a blog post -- I was intending to include lots of links, and was attempting to stay organized and coherent rather than just throwing together a post. And yes, I know the computer problems don't explain why I wasn't updating for weeks before that. So what?)
I'm not sure whether I'll attempt to replicate the post; I'm not sure the topic would be current enough now that I've read about it in a million different places. I'll have to figure out whether or not I have anything new to say about the issue. (You'd love to know what the topic is, wouldn't you? All four of you.)
The boys and I were at my mom's this weekend, seeing my sisters (and one sister's family) for the first time since November. The influence of being in a crowded, noisy house for a weekend has turned my baby into a screecher. Excited? Frustrated? Happy? Tired? Screech! And it over-tired both of my children to a nearly intolerable point, a condition which we are working diligently and quickly to remedy.
And it's spring! The trees are budding, plants are emerging from the earth -- even in my little garden which gets literally no sunlight, some little plants are beginning to peek out of the ground. And now that the weather is nicer, I'll be able to send James outside more often, leaving me plenty of time to blog, you lucky readers! All four of you.
13 March 2006
a phone call from a poem
As a lover of all things poetic, I think this is an incredible and fabulous idea: my city's local writers' organization has set up, in front of their building, a British-style bright red phone booth to read poetry to those who pick up the phone. The poems are all written and read by local poets, too.
I've always been of the opinion that the world at large could use a little more poetry; maybe this will help spread the love. Now I've got to find some time to head down there and shut myself into that phone booth for a little while.
06 March 2006
we are not abusive...
Our baby is learning to walk. He turned 9 months yesterday and took his first steps -- one single step on two different occasions. The problem with this is that Evan is incredibly accident-prone (he must have inherited my clumsy gene). We were lucky with James, who seemed to have a built-in sense of caution that kept him from hurting himself too badly. But Evan, poor sweet little Evan, constantly overestimates his abilities, and consequently falls down pretty regularly. Now that he is trying to walk he's bruising his face and it makes me feel like a terrible parent, like someone is going to suspect we're abusive. But anyone who's ever been around a kid this age is probably aware that they fall a lot. Some, like mine, more than most.
And now, a photo of the ugly bump my baby gave his forehead this afternoon:
an open letter to hollywood
Dear Hollywood,
One of my most-anticipated nights of the year has come and gone, and I have to say I'm more than a little disappointed. You know I love you dearly, Hollywood, so the following criticisms are not meant to hurt, but to help.
I liked the idea of the "Return to Glamour" at first -- reminiscent of the Hollywood of the '30s and '40s, when everyone was painfully gorgeous. And last night, yes, Hollywood's best and brightest were indeed gorgeous and composed. But don't you see, Hollywood? Gorgeous and composed are not why we watch the Academy Awards! Where were the fashion disasters? Where were the political statements? Where were the crazy impromptu antics? Where were the drunken missteps? Where was the fun, Hollywood?
Oh, sure, you all looked pretty. You all, for the most part, had politely boring acceptance speeches. But what we want from you is spectacle! We want to be able to gloat that we have better fashion taste than Gwyneth Paltrow; we want to sneer that we'd never cry during our speech; we want to be astonished when an Adrien Brody spontaneously smooches a Halle Berry onstage! What we want, in short, is to stargaze, while being allowed to feel slightly superior from time to time. Yes, Naomi Watts' dress made me chuckle a bit, as did Lauren Bacall stumbling over every other word in the montage intro she read. But overall, Hollywood, you let me down, and you let America down by having the blandest, most white-bread Academy Awards ceremony in years.
And a personal note to Jon Stewart: if I were the type to write fan mail, you'd know how much I adore you. But your humor, your intelligent wit is far too subtle to entertain the public on the scale that we're craving to be entertained on Oscar night. Look, we all hate Billy Crystal, but he knows how to bring the obnoxious, overbearing inanity we expect in an awards host! Jon, your talents are much better suited to the Daily Show, where I hope you will stay forever, or at least until you run for President.
Here's the bottom line, Hollywood: in a year when no one in America saw any of the movies nominated for awards, you shouldn't have expected the actual films to carry the show. Every year there are fewer and fewer quality films for Americans to see, which makes it more and more important that the stars step it up and entertain us with their zany antics. If you can't reliably bring the entertainment to the big screen, then you'd all best bring it to the little screen for that one night a year when we're counting on it.
To paraphrase Lisa Simpson: I write this letter not to nag or whine, but to prod. You can better yourselves!
Love and hugs,
Heidi
01 March 2006
more baby weirdness
Greg and I are in the kitchen tonight when we hear happy baby noises -- cooing, squealing, babbling, the really happy stuff. We peek into the living room to see what he's doing, and find that James has trapped Evan under a laundry basket, which Evan cannot remove, but Evan's not trying to remove it. He loves his little cage! He peers out at us, grinning, and plays happily under the laundry basket for another 10 minutes or so. I'll have to remember this the next time I need to confine him for a few minutes...*
And since I haven't written anything of substance lately, I'll at least post a cute picture of my kids.
*Kidding. Really.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
