The Flip

Tobyjoe gave me an early (first ever!) Mother’s Day present on Saturday. I now own The Flip. I am in love with it. I feel the same way about it that I felt about my Elph back in 2001 when I took pictures of everything and nothing.

Here are a few of my first, not so major motion pictures.

First I give you Emory’s new weird baby thing: Banging his head on his highchair! (Seriously? This would have worried me if it hadn’t been for an offhanded comment my mother made. She said, “Soon he’ll enter the head banging phase. I remember when you three did that.” And then he did.)

Babies are weird.

Here’s one I took while walking through McCarren Park on Sunday. Whenever it warms up, McCarren Park turns into a beer guzzling, hipsterfest on Sundays. I think it has to do with the kickball leagues. And if the breeze blows just right, you can smell the VD in the air. MmmmmmmMMMMmmm VeeeeeeDeeeeee.

Pay attention and you’ll hear the hipster dude behind me say, “You’re going to upload that to MySpace for us, right?” To which I replied, “WRONG HIPSTER! HA! I’m going to upload it to FLICKR and my BLOG! Because I am a COOL BLOGGER!! I have a BLOG! MySpace is for LOSERS! and PEDOPHILES! DUH!! I AM SO COOL!”

Next up we have a video of Emory on the swing. I could not have come up with a better soundtrack. This pretty much sums up the sound of summer in Brooklyn. But for whatever reason, the ice cream trucks seem to come around at really weird hours, like 11 PM? What kid wants ice cream at 11 PM? I get the feeling that some of these ice cream trucks aren’t just selling ice cream.

But you didn’t hear it from me.

Last but not least, we have a video of Emory dancing on the table to New Order at Nita Nita while eating Kashi’s version of a Cheerios. Unfortunately, you can’t make out the music and so it just looks like Tobyjoe is shaking him by his arms. Also, he has no pants on. Normally, we have our kid in pants but it was a special occasion, one that didn’t require pants.

Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to become really annoying now that I have The Flip?

Beneath A Parachute.

Stories For My Son: Scene Three.

(Watch the others here.)

P.S. I am having great difficulty (both technically and personally) with the good ol’ blog today. Do forgive me for any weirdness you may have seen here today.

Making Boys Gay.

Stories For My Son: Scene Two.

(Side note: I realized today that I have a lisp. I am not sure if it’s due to my excessive hearing loss or all the orthodontic work I had done as a kid. But it’s there, clear as day.)

Stories For My Son. (Part 1)

I’m starting a new series called “Stories For My Son”. Well, that’s the working title. It may change. My plan is to record a story at least once a week. We’ll see how it goes. But for now expect a new video every Wednesday.

Edited to add: So, I think my video may have made some people uncomfortable. Perhaps giving a voice to a blog is uncomfortable for some? I can relate, I think. I’m sorry!

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 40)

This is my 40th week doing Tuesdays With Murray. I can’t believe that. To celebrate this milestone, I put together another video of clips featuring the furry beast. Enjoy!

(P.S. This is a work in progress. The final video will be up later today whenever Emory takes his nap.) I’m sorry, but what’s a nap? We don’t know what “nap” means.

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 38)

If somebody from Animal Planet contacted you about taking part in a reality TV show about pet weight-loss (Biggest Loser for pets) would you consider it? Murray’s so fat! Speaking of Murray…

TobyJoe and I have talked about how Murray will most likely be considered Emory’s first childhood pet. Tucker and Pookum are much older and unfortunately, he probably won’t get to know them very well. But Murray should be around for a while.

Lately, Emory and Murray have started to actually play with one another. They have their toys mixed up a bit. For example, Emory really likes to play with the blue cat toy shown above but it doesn’t really bother Murray too much considering they can knock the ball around together. And they do.

Murray and Emory tend to find the same things amusing, take the Swiffer, for example. Both of them love the Swiffer! Which I find really quite strange and since neither one of them speak English, I can’t get a straight answer as to why.

I thought today might be a good day to put together a video of clips featuring how Emory and Murray interact. I want to share it with you today to thank you for all your support lately. (I received some pretty great email last night and when I find the time, I do hope to write everyone back personally.)

Lastly, and this may sound a little silly, but when I watched the final video, it brought tears to my eyes. I hope you enjoy it as well.

UPDATED TO ADD: Lisa posted a video of Murray when he was just a wee little man. Check it out.

I Write This As He Screams.

Emory has been sick. He got a cold the day before we left for Florida, kicked it the day before we headed back north, and then got another one from one of the 4 billion kids we saw while we were away. He’s been cranky.

Wiping his nose has become one of the most impossible tasks. It’s become such an ordeal, we basically don’t do it, which explains why we have a bunch of vacation pictures that show Emory’s face covered in dried snot.

Here’s a video of one of his smaller hissy-fits. Believe me, this is nothing compared to what it’s like when he’s really cranky.

It’s been a rough couple of days for this mother and son team. He’s been unbearably fussy and impossible to amuse for more than a minute at a time. Yesterday, after listening to him scream and fight sleep for almost an hour straight, I sat on the couch and cried into my egg salad sandwich. (Which was nice because I forgot to add salt and I was too lazy to get up and grab some.)

Wooden spoons seem to amuse him long enough for me to pee or brush my teeth. The picture below gave me mental chatter, a problem I have whenever I’m dead tired. I repeat phrases or words until I exhaust every syllable, sound, and approach every cadence. Yesterday, I must have said, “MY SPOON’S TOO BIG!” 4,000 times.

I think it’s time for some sleep training because I’m losing my mind. But I don’t know when or how to begin or if I have the stamina for it. Plus, every time I let him cry for a bit, the cats circle and howl because the shrill sound hurts their ears. Tucker has gone as far as to climb close to my face and touch my nose with his paw as if to say, “Please make the lambs stop screaming. Please?”

I read last night that you’re supposed to take away a baby’s pacifier at 4 months. Well, we missed that window of opportunity. (We read that they help with SIDs, so we left it in. Conflicting reports, as usual.) I’m having trouble deciding what to focus on first. Do I let him cry it out for sleep with the pacifier, which will be easier to deal with. Do I take the pacifier away and then let him cry it out later whenever he’s over the pacifier? Or do I do it all at once? If it’s the last option, I am going to need either a whole lot of booze or a whole lot of antidepressants.

The more I read about how to nurture (or train) a baby, the more I think that sometimes this educated woman/mother thing causes more of a headache than it helps. I am convinced that’s how mothers who are cruel to other mothers get to be that way. (i.e. When career-oriented women become mothers, they tend to educate themselves to the point of judgment. Suddenly, there are no longer raises or bonuses, bosses or coworkers telling them what a great job they’re doing, so they have to convince everyone and themselves how awesome they are on their own usually at someone else’s expense. This can take the form of a three-way call where one mother calls another mother while a third remains silent on the line and the called mother tells the instigator how horrible a mother the silent mother is.)

But I digress.

I realize that I will have to let him cry it out (and soon) because he needs to learn how to sooth himself but when I combine it with all the other things I’m supposed to do (or have done), I start to feel a little overwhelmed.

Baby Eaters Anonymous

We have a new game. I scream “I AM A MEMBER OF BABY EATERS ANONYMOUS AND I MISSED TODAY’S MEETING!” And then chomp and kiss Emory’s sides and he laughs and laughs and laughs. It’s awesome. I look forward to this more than I do chocolate and cupcakes.

This is a video that was taken back in November. (I am way behind on uploading videos.) This was taken before I joined Baby Eaters Anonymous but you’ll get the idea of what happens whenever I miss a meeting. Also, sorry about the cleavage.

Enjoy!

Tuesdays With The Bean and Murray

I’m sorry I can’t use up today’s post on Murray entirely, Internet. But I will include a picture and this video of Murray’s butt.

 

Today is TobyJoe’s birthday. He turns 30. THIRTEE. He’s finally old man river. I turned 30 almost four years ago. I am almost dead. OK, that’s not true, but my body is currently telling me otherwise. Anyway, The Bean is 30. Happy Birthday, Bean.

This is what Toby looked like 15 years ago:

This is how he looks now:

Today will be much like every other day only today will have cake (and some overflow cupcakes) because I made a cake yesterday evening. The cake (along with several cupcakes) was made right under Toby’s nose. It was supposed to be a surprise birthday cake, one baked today, but I have learned that surprises are impossible when you have a baby because there’s no one to watch the (very needy) baby while the other is baking the cake. It’s also impossible to make a surprise anything with Murray around because Murray will find it, rip the tinfoil off and try and eat it even though chocolate is sometimes poisonous to cats. It’s impossible to have surprises with a baby and a Murray in the house, unless you consider cake ransack a surprise or a poopie diaper.

We aren’t going out for a romantic meal because we don’t have anyone to watch the baby. But that’s OK, because we would much rather have the baby than a romantic meal. Plus, a romantic meal is how we ended up with the baby. And there won’t be any presents because all the extra money we’re making is going into the baby’s college fund. It’s what I like to call our “401 Kid”. We’re putting as much money as possible into the kid’s education so when we’re old and immobile, in 7 years, he’ll be able to take care of us. He’s allowed to specialize in whatever he wants, except for law. I tell Emory all the time, “Mommy doesn’t like lawyers. If you want to go to law school, I will take your money and give it to Murray the cat.” And TobyJoe always says, “That’s a surefire way to make him become a lawyer.” And I laugh.

Anyway, it’s TobyJoe’s 30th birthday. Happy birthday, Bean.

 

P.S. You are the awesome.

One More Day!

I have one more day left of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). Writing every day for an entire month has been difficult. Especially since this month had a pretty substantial holiday. I realize that November is short, but man! It ain’t been easy.

For those of you still here, thank you. Here’s a short video. Emory thanks you as well.

P.S. I will be sure to include a video or picture of Murray next Tuesday to make up for his having off this week.