.::still blinking::.

The baby that lives at my house, the one that screams at me all day long, refuses to eat anything that resembles actual food.

Cheetos, not a problem. Juice, bring it on woman. Fruit snack, load my plate up lady. Alfredo and noodles, not a chance fat a**. Get it out of my sight and just because you ate some I am going to cry and blubber the rest of the evening. I, the man child, have a point to prove. Because obviously you are a little dense woman, and do not understand that in my life syllabus I outlined the three foods that I will eat. So dear lady, you had best not try to feed me anything else ever again or I will be forced to hit you with my spoon repeatedly.

Love,
Gentry
(You know who is in charge here).

He started crying today while I was doing the dishes. I looked over to find him alone on a deserted island with no way to get off.

So I turned the stool over and it immediately became a force to be reckoned with.

That poor kid of mine always wakes up angry. Not that I blame him much. He has a solid bruise across his forehead because he is so top heavy. I am not talking like Dolly Parton, more like an alien child. He is my very own extra terrestrial spawn. I can think of four times in the past week that he has beat his head on something and everytime he does it he cries harder and longer.

Could you imagine continually beating your head against something because it is the only effective brake that you have? That is basically what is going on here. He has learned to run but not to stop. He will get running down the drive way and the only way to stop is to fall and use his head as the anchor to make him stop. Ouch. I heard that one from the top of the drive way. I think that was bonk numero uno.

Numero duos was a little girl that lives behind us ran into him on accident. He was caring around screwdrivers at the time. I don’t know where he gets them. We keep locking them up and he keeps finding more. It is like he has a secret stash of them in some hidden corner of the garage. Everytime he has a new one we take it and hid it. But it was a good thing that he did not fall on those and hurt himself.

Number three was from the paver the other day. He was helping us dig holes to plant moss on our makeshift patio and hit his head on the corner of the paver.

Number four was on the wall. I don’t think that one was as bad as number three. But four times has really got to hurt.

And on top of that he has another tooth coming in. I have been keeping him drugged, I think that he appreciates it. I surely do.

As I write this I am sure that the child is in my bathroom systematically tearing everything out of my bathroom cabinets. It drives me crazy the way that he does this.

I recently went through all my receipts and put them in envelopes for every month of the past 2 years. It makes finding things so much easier. I got that box of reciepts out today to see how much I had paid for a few things and did not put them away. I just left the box, open on my office floor.

As I was cleaning up the bathroom in my room I started finding receipts from March 2005 in my bathroom. Strange, I thought. But I do have a little hunter and gatherer running around the house. So I just put it in jj’s pile of receipts and thought that I would file it later. Then it dawned on me. He had found the receipts. Luckily for me he had only pulled out March and some of May. But as I was putting those away. He started emptying the bookshelf of all books.

I can hear him right now in my bathroom. I am sure that he is emptying the tampon and pad drawer. And making sure that he pulls every q-tip and cotton ball out of the bathroom so that I can do my nightly gathering up of ALL bathroom textiles. He just breifly came in here and left. He had with him the cord that you plug into the pancake griddle and Darth Taters arm. I do not even know why that is upstairs being that the kitchen is downstairs and I never brought it up. I have not reason to bring it up. I make all my food downstairs. I never make pancakes in my bedroom. Both the pancake griddle plug and Darth Taters arm have small round portions, like unto pencils. He has found that they fit almost perfectly into outlets and the internet ports. He also looks for other small holes to stick them in. Zipper pull up things, screw holes, noses. Anything small and round.

I am aware that he is learning that that is what he is doing, but it is driving me batty.

As I have mentioned, my sister-in-law is pregnant. When she started showing she started wandering around with her belly showing and telling my son that there is a baby in there.

I have taught him where my belly button is and he knows where his is also.

He now lovingly points to my stomach and says, “Beebee.”

Darling, I think to myself, there is a fat chance of that happening anytime soon.

I am a bit busy. Not your average busy. More like the busy where you don’t have time to use the bathroom. And if you even threaten to use the bathroom you know your son is going to go find a pen and start coloring on the wall just out of your reach.

jj went on a brief visit to San Francisco today. He showed me how he is going to use BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) to get around. We have lovingly named it “The Rainbow Rail.”

I have plans everynight this week, we are going to Logan this weekend. On Monday I am watching a little boy named Liam. I hope he knows not to play by the stairs. I have taught Gentry this and he does not do it. He just pivots like a little beatle that has decided to go down the stairs backwards. Not all children are as bright as pivoting beatles.

Tuesday through Saturday jj will be in Florida. I am not going to jj’s parents house. I am going to be a big adult and stick it out here alone. Well, alone with a small lunatic that only has crackers on his mind. Most people would not consider that busy for me, but being at home alone with a small and demanding one with no break in sight is a bit daunting.

I hope that I don’t turn into a small pivoting beatle and do somethings that I regret.

Today we bought Gentry a new bike. It is for Easter, I like to think ahead. So we brought it home and let him play with it and when he goes to bed we will put it in the basement and pretend there is not a bike here until Easter.

He was so excited about his new bike, *he would run it into walls and then stand there and dance. He would then back up and proceed with the same course of action. After about three times of this he would stop playing with the bike and then spin around in circles until he was loopy and fall down. And then repeat from *.

I love the way he gets excited about everything.

jj’s mom brought down a little plastic bear. It is little like the size of your palm. Gentry has been hauling it around with him all day. Like it is his new side kick. We now have at our house grumpy bear, and little bear.

That child of mine hates loud sounds. (By the way I skipped church today and got a well deserved nap.)

He will be in the middle of a deep rem cycle and hear the ice cream man coming with his tangy music about two miles away and wake up. Luckily he does not know that they ice cream man bears treasures of pushpops and fudgecicles. But when the man comes even near our house the baby is up.

I guess that I should have been aware that this would happen. When I was pregnant with the wee one he was also jumpy about loud sounds. I had gas while I was pregnant. Just like I have it about every other day. But this was the kind that you get in an public bathroom that when you sit down to do your business echoes from the stall and you would rather die than continue serenading those around you. I had that kind of gas while pregnant. One time I farted in the toilet which is like a little echo chamber for those who are upside down inside of you. This kid was so scared of it he about clawed his way out my throat. He jumped and flailed and really surprised me. The first time this happened I thought what a strange coincidence, I fart and baby jumps. The second time it all came together.

The baby that lives at my house is allergic to bananas.

I really don’t want him to be, but I have to give them up and not give them to him anymore. He gets a really bad rash around his mouth. But he loves them. So once in a while I give them to him hoping that the allergy has gone away.

Being the brilliant mother that I am, I thought that I would try two bananas. Can we spell smart? S-M-R-T. I gave them to him when Oprah was on and he was fine up until we started getting him ready for bed and he started to turn pink. I went to the Relief Society thing and then came home and around midnight he woke up crying hard. So jj went to get him a bottle, and I was holding him in bed. In the dark I noticed that his face was bumpy.

Oh, my heck I thought. I could kill this child, out of sheer stupidity. Not because I want to, or have been thinking about it. I haven’t. But out of naivete, and inexperience. So we will not be giving the child anymore bananas, unless they are cooked. Like in banana bread (that is what we call a run-on). We will see how that goes, in a while, in a long while. The kid has been swollen for a day and has really dry face that are leading to dry little scabs. Like when your hands don’t get enough moisture and crack and burn.

I am sorry kid. I will do better.