That new house smell...

is a combination of sawdust, polyurethane and cleaning products. I LOVE it.We've been collecting our belongings from various caches around town (friend's basements, my studio, etc.) and moving them over one pick-up truck load at a time. Although I'm very excited about moving in, I'm also a little sorry to realize that in comparison to the newness of the house, our furnishings and junk look extra crappy. I was sort of in denial regarding the quality of our belongings. You've heard of Shabby Chic? We specialize in Salvage Yard Not-Very-Chic. As one of our friends commented upon entering: "It looks like a Steelcase museum in here."

So imagine me arranging and rearranging our "vintage" office furniture, trying to somehow to make it look cozy and inviting. I'll be out of touch for awhile until we get our internet switching over to the new abode.

Ta ta.

Ragnar...home again.

Excited!!!!

When Manimal came home for dinner tonight, he gave me the low down on the work they'd been doing at the new house.

Stove: hooked up.

Drier: hooked up.

Windows: construction gunk removed from tracks

Front Entryway Tile: sealed.

Kitchen Tile: scrubbed and ready to be sealed, tonight after dinner.

"And you know what else needs to be done, after the kitchen tile gets sealed, before the house is habitable?" he asked.

"I don't know, what?" I asked.

"Jack shit."

Ragnar...I'm in love with Jack!

PS: tomorrow I'm going over to take pictures of everything before we fill it up with our crap, so check out House of Straw sometime this week for finished photos.

Monogamous knitting...

But first, a finished object. Yes it looks exactly like the last finished object I posted. That's because I've been knitting the horned helmets non-stop...this one is bigger though. The grown-man-who-should-know-better that this one's for has a 25 and a half inch cranium. Usually I can try things on as I go and get an idea about how they'll fit, but this one just made me feel like a little kid playing dress-up...if her papa was a viking.
Notice that it fits a 26" soccer ball like it was made for it. And those horns? All me baby. I'm so danged proud of my self I could just spit. I am told that the recipient hasn't removed it since he put it on, and that it's the only hat that's ever fit him properly so I guess all those years of higher math finally paid off. Ratios people, it's all about the ratios.

If your first finished project sets the tone for the year, then 2009 is going to be one hell of a party.

And speaking of knitting in 2009, what's with this goal to become a monogamous knitter? Huh?

Well I had a little sit down with myself awhile back and said, self, said I, you need to get this knitting thing under control. If you don't reign in a bit you're going to be putting yourself at risk for all sorts of knittingly-transmitted-diseases, like stash-lice and UFOitis. And then I answered myself, okay self, I'm willing to discuss it, but you have to drop the knitting as sex metaphor because it's just sad, and no one likes that sort of junior high humor anyway, okay?

Long story short, I've realized that the reason I never finish anything is because I have (at last count) 14 things on the needles (no wonder I can never find my needles). And I flit from one to the other until I'm just not in the mood for any of it, and then I start something new. So I've written them all down and I'm seriously trying to whittle the list down to a managable size. I've even started writing down "promised" and planned knitting projects in a "list" with the intention of whittling those down as well. So far, so good, although instead of picking one item off the list and working on it until it's done, I'm still allowing myself to flit from one to the next as long as it's already started...sort of like an alcoholic visiting all of the old watering holes before going on the wagon.

The prize at the end? I haven't decided yet, but I've had my eye on some of those fabulous fair isle sweaters....dum dum dum dum.

Ragnar...knit slut no more.

Gate Crasher

Of course I knew there would come a time when I couldn't rely on babygates to keep Ragnarson in his place. Naively I thought that time would come when he was three or so. Turns out I was wrong by about a year and a half.

We call this tricycle his "seige machine." He uses it as a combination battering ram/stepping stool. I've tried hiding it but then he uses his toybox or a laundry basket.
So far I've managed to catch him before he gets the second leg over, but after a couple of thwarted efforts he gets pissed and just rips the gate out of the door frame.
Usually he pulls it down on top of himself, but a few days ago while I was cooking dinner, he managed to pull it out of the doorframe, staggering backwards a few steps, but remaining upright. When I stuck my head around the corner to see what was going on he was standing there looking like the Incredible Hulk, holding the babygate in front of him, which he then tossed to the side before stomping into the kitchen to confront me.

Oy.

For his next trick: he is learning the fine art of nose blowing, which is pretty useful what with all the winter colds that have been going around. This morning while I was folding laundry though, he was pulling kitchen towels and washclothes out of the laundry bin faster than I could fold them, and blowing his nose on every single one before dropping it and reaching for another.

Little...sweet darling baby.

Ragnar...proud? mama.

Be it resolved...

I usually do end up making some sort of nod to the tradition of New Years Resolutions...even on those years that I manifestly refuse to resolve anything, I have to honestly say that there's a deep down, follower inside me that just can't let January 1st pass without whispering something like: "work out everyday, I'm going to work out everyday! but not tell anyone about it, because I'm not making any resolutions this year...yeah."

And I'm feeling a lot of change related energy right now, what with (almost!) moving into a new house, a completely empty, new house where for the first time in my life I won't be living in a space that's full of other people's baggage. Add to that the fact that I'm having to reevaluate my lifestyle, finally coming to terms with the fact that Mommy Ragnar is in fact a different person from Step-Mommy Ragnar, and you have a me that's practically vibrating with good intentions for the New Year.

Freshly Inspired by Jodi Green and her Uberlist, both the 2008 and 2009 versions, I give you: Ragnar's Completely Ridiculous, Unachievable but Well Intentioned List of the 100 Things I Want to Manifest in 2009. I may at some point expand on some of these but for now, a simple list.

1. Smile at people, and make eye contact.
2. Participate.
3. Become a monogamous knitter.
4. Grow food instead of plants.
5. Take myself seriously.
6. Work in the studio at least once a week, even if that means going in for an hour and puttering around, accomplishing nothing.
7. Organize.
8. Get better at making things out of wood.
9. Take a class in something.
10. Spin
11. Reupholster the "dining room" chairs.
12. Publish at least 4 new knitting designs.
13. Submit at least 1 design for publication.
14. Do not allow the new house to fill up with junk.
15. Build 2x4 shelves for the studio.
16. Keep the Etsy store up to date.
17. Knit a sweater for myself.
18. Build a light box to facilitate the taking of better pictures of artwork and crafts.
19. Get excited about things.
20. Sew curtains.
21. Read something by Jane Austen.
22. Post a project on Instructables.
23. Stop using Ragnarson as an excuse for why I can't get anything done.
24. Make a chore schedule.
25. Economize.
26. Visit someone in a far away place.
27. Eat less pork.
28. Eat more lamb and goat.
29. Brush and Floss.
30. Build a wood oven in the backyard.
31. Whittle.
32. Make a dressform.
33. Send postcards to people instead of emailing them when I'm just writing to say "hi."
34. Stop eating candy at work.
35. Use my datebook.
36. Do laundry before I completely run out of clothes.
37. Make some artist trading cards.
38. Go to the dentist.
39. Compost.
40. Read less crappy chic-lit.
41. Sing.
42. Socialize.
43. Use up yarn.
44. Sew clothes that I will wear.
45. Send birthday cards.
46. Buy music.
47. Write a story.
48. Recycle
49. Ride my bike
50. Do not knit things that are not on "the list."

Half way through, whew. Take a breather for a second.

51. Make something out of clay.
52. Wear color.
53. Enter at least one quilt show.
54. Be a better friend.
55. Do not delay making phone calls.
56. Use Ravelry as a tool, not a distraction.
57. Take Rat Girl to a play.
58. Go to Wednesday night knitting group...once in awhile.
59. Follow through.
60. Bake bread.
61. Design my next tattoo.
62. Work in the Gardenhouse, at least once a month.
63. Keep a better record of knitting projects.
64. Eat at home.
65. Strength train.
66. Work on the yard.
67. Earn money.
68. Be less judgemental.
69. Work with K and B on quilt tile designs.
70. Plan meals in advance.
71. Take vitamins.
72. Cut back on caffeine.
73. Make deliberate decorating decisions on the house.
74. Replace plastic food storage containers.
75. Preserve food for winter.
76. Get fresh air.
77. Make soap.
78. Go to art shows.
79. Subscribe to a magazine.
80. Cultivate patience.
81. Make halloween costumes for the family.
82. Buy in bulk.
83. Teach a quilting class.
84. Tell people that I love them.
85. Approach local galleries about showing my work.
86. Don't worry about what other people think.
87. Use reuseable shopping bags.
88. Explore "found objects" in my quilts.
89. Repaint Ragnarson's blocks.
90. Reject guilt.
91. Sew fabric produce bags.
92. Sketch.
93. Ask for help.
94. Invite people over.
95. Read a non-fiction book.
96. Go camping.
97. Sew in the third dimension.
98. Swim in one of the great lakes.
99. Forage.
100. Listen to myself.

Ragnar...show me what you've got 2009.

Good-bye crappy old year that's been....

What am I doing for new years eve? Well...I made a big pot of borsht, and I'm waiting for my sweetie Manimal to get home from buttoning up the house project and then we'll probably eat borsht and go to bed at 9:00. Wheee!

I don't want to put 2008 down too badly because it's been the first year of my baby's life and I wouldn't trade it back for anything, but it's been a roller coaster and I'm not sad to see it go.

New Babies: just as much work as any abstinence only health class teacher ever tried to frighten you celibate by implying that they would be. Anyone want to help me with the grammar there?

And living somewhere that's not really your house, with most of your stuff in storage (I am STILL wearing maternity clothes, and I weigh ten pounds less than I did when I got pregnant, thank you belt) while your partner works 16 hour days trying to build a new house while also working at actual paying jobs. Yeah, that's not been the most fun. Remember the time I invited some people over for dinner and realized that in order to feed them we would need to use every bowl in the house...because we only have 8 bowls...no plates, just 8 bowls.

Did I mention that Manimal broke his collar bone? How about that he had knee surgery? Oh, yeah, at the same time that he had a broken collar bone. Let's not repeat that ever again, ever. If there is anything crankier than a wounded Manimal trying to get around on crutches with a broken collar bone, then you can keep it at your house and I will definately not come and visit you.

How about the fact that Ragnarson seems determined to win the tooth race and has been teething continually since he was about 6 months old? That kid has every single tooth already with the exception of his two year molars. And they all came in fours. This causes him to wake up approximately 6 times a night...boy am I looking forward to the end of that chapter of his development.

So...yeah. If this seems really whiney, I'm sorry, but it's really not. I'm just sort of reflecting back and realizing that the reason I feel like I've been run over by a dump truck is that I just lived through one hell of a year. I'm actually sort of proud of myself for keeping it together (as much as I did, and thankfully Manimal was the only one to witness most of the breakdowns, and he's forgiven me...I think).

Here's to hard times and the surviving of them. I don't usually mark the new year by doing anything more special than throwing away the old calendar and hanging up the new one, but I am really feeling optomistic about 2009. I think optomisim is something I acquired with motherhood, maybe all that good breastfeeding oxytocin. I used to call myself an optomistic pessimist, meaning that I felt like everything was fucked up, but that it was all going to be okay anyway. Lately though I've found myself feeling like things are getting less fucked up, and that maybe, just maybe things are going to be great.

Ragnar...maudlen and dreary, but, you know, in a good way.

The great thing about never posting...

is that when I do finally start, I can make it look like I crank out the cool knits at super speed by picking through all the boring stuff and only trotting out the winners.

Super you say?

One of my oldest (not chronologically, just historically...although come to think about it Rat Girl is the same age as we were when we met...ohmygod, I feel really old...wow) friends had a baby mere months after Ragnarson was born and when I asked her if she wanted a practical baby present, or a ridiculous knitted item, she casually mentioned that her signifigant was a huge superman fan. I considered it a mandate.
The sweater, modeled by Ragnarson, is the "Sue" babysweater, from Elspeth Lavold's "Take Five Collection." I picked that pattern because I had knit it before, and love the way it goes together...of course it only took me about five seconds to realize that I was going to include a button on cape...sewn of course, because knitted 1) would have been really heavy and 2) would have been too close to knitting a baby blanket, and I am philosophically opposed to the knitting of baby blankets.

It was finished embarassingly long ago, but I had to hold on to it because Ragnarson had to learn how to walk so that I could get a good picture of it, and then I had to hang on to it for months longer so that he could borrow it for a last minute Halloween costume, but it has finally winged its way to its new home and been pronounced by the Superman Fan to be the "coolest ever." High praise indeed. Good thing I knit it in a size two because the baby in question is definately closer to being two than he is to being a newborn. I'm going to start knitting his fifth birthday present soon...I think I'll make it for a 40" chest.

Ragnar...better at knitting than gifting on time.

I gotcher knittin' right here...

There are nasty rumors floating around the blogosphere. It's been whispered in some circles that Ragnar doesn't have the knit anymore (not true, the blogosphere cares not if Ragnar knits or doesn't but it makes for a dramatic opening).

Untrue! and to prove it I throw down the (100% washable Merino) gauntlet and say "bring on the pictures of ridiculous hats.
So there! And not only that, but for some unfathomable reason, adult men of my acquaintance have been clamoring to be decked in horns and rivets as well, so not only are there baby vikings running about the place, but full grown old-enough-to-know-better types as well.

Of course, they are happy to walk around in public looking like (ahem) fierce medieval warriors, but they will not condescend to be photographed for posterity, even if posterity is my humble low traffic blog.

I have knit this hat enough times that writing up the pattern for it has become inevitable. There were only two things stopping me. The first being that the whole thing was originally inspired by Chile Con Yarne's Viking Baby Cap. Well not exactly, it was inspired by my adorible...I mean ferocious nephew, but a quick google of the phrase "viking baby cap" brought me straight to Yarne's door. The second was that I've been cribbing the horn portion of the hat from Jen Stafford over the The Dominitrix. If you have her book, or her pattern you can do the same, but you're not going to learn her secrets from me, no no. As a finally-begining-to-publish designer I am suddenly quite sensitive to this whole copywrite thing that people are so anxious about.

However, I have decided that although inspired by, my version has enough variance from the orignial that I can claim it as "my" design, and tonight I polished up my knitting sticks and knit a totally passable "horn" that is all my own, short rows, slipped stitches, the whole shebang.

So watch this space! Sometime soon you to will be able to outfit your family and friends with knitted versions of kitchy viking helmets.

And in the mean time, I finally fixed the flame baby-hat pattern, which had a completely wrong flame chart in it...these things happen when you knit a lot of things with flames in them and completely fail to lable your notes.

And for those of you on Ravelry, I has finally got my own "store." Which has exactly the same stuff that's already posted here, but you know...it's in pdf format and you can save it in your Ravelry library and...and...yeah.

Ragnar...yes this is what I'm doing on christmas eve, SHUT UP.

One of those posts....

Yes, I suck as a blogger.

Yes I haven't updated in a loooong time.

Yes I have many many excuses (plague, broken bones (manimal's not mine), construction) which I will not bore you with here.

Yes, I have another blog which I did update. Go look at my soon to be finished new house.

Yes, I will make hollow, unenforceable promises to blog more regularly, in spite of the fact that we will be moving soon and have no immediate plans to plug in to the world wide waste of time...I wonder how long I'll be able to hold out before I go out and beg, borrow, steal an internet connection.

Yes, instead of content I will post a cute picture of a baby.

Ragnar...pathetic excuse for a blogger.

Open letter to failed financial institutions...

Dear FFIs,

Hey, it's me. Remember me? I'm that Fine Art major. You remember, the chronically under employed one who is always late on her payments? We've talked on the phone quite a bit. Usually the calls went something like this:

You: Hey, you owe us a bunch of money.
Me: Yeah, you and every other bank in America.
You: Ha, but seriously, how are you going to pay us back.
Me: Uhm...slowly?
You: Not good enough, we want it now or we're going to ruin your credit forever.
Me: So?
You: So that is really going to mess up your life.
Me: So says you.
You: No, really, give us our money.
Me: If I had it, you'd be the first one I'd give it to, after paying my mortgage, my utility bills, my grocery bill and the six other lending institutions in line ahead of you.
You: Aren't there sacrifices you can make? What if you cancel your cable?
Me: Don't own a television.
You: Uh...what about borrowing against your car?
Me: Yeah, I can't afford to pay you, and all you do is harass me at odd hours. If I borrow against my car and then can't pay them...because like I said, I can't pay you, then I don't have a car. That would seriously limit the amount of pizza I could deliver if I get that desperate.
You: Did we mention that we'll ruin your credit?
Me: Once or twice....look how about I call you back in 6o years when I have some extra cash?
You: But...but...but...
Me: Click.

Yeah, that chick. That was me! So anyway, I just wanted to say, welcome to the bottom. Also, you're welcome, since, although I couldn't afford to pay you, I do manage to pay my taxes, so part of that big check you're getting with all the zeros? That came from me. I'll be expecting repayment promptly, and if you're just one day late, I'm going to double the interest rate. Also, I'll need your home phone number so that I can call you during dinner and first thing in the morning.

Ragnar...I've been on the bottom so long, it's starting to look like the top.

All that and now he's getting smart on me?

I've been raising, maybe even nurturing (a little bit, on those days after I've gotten more than four hours of sleep...not consecutively of course, hah!) this "baby" for 13 and a half months now. You'd think that I would have realized by now that he is eventually going to stop being a baby and start being a "person," but no, every new thing he figures out is just as shocking as the last one.

There is one room in the house that is an absolute no-zone as far as the baby is concerned. It is where the computer lives, and where we throw things that are non-baby friendly so that we don't actually have to figure out what to do with them. He hates it when any member of his tribe is in this room. He used to hang on the gate and wail...but he has figured out that all he has to do is unplug the big orange extension cord, plugged in in the living room for lack of a three prong outlet in the "computer" room, and I will immediately cease to be engaged with the glowing box thingy and come back out, no doubt to play with him. If I sneak away while he is engaged with a toy or activity, I can eek out approximately 10 minutes to check my email or download photos before he figures out where I am and pulls my plug. He never pulls this plug when I am not in the computer room.

Similarly he has realized that if he brings me a toy I will say something dumb like "Oh, you brought me a green ball, thank you for the green ball Ragnarson," but if he brings me a book I will stop everything and read it to him...he doesn't really care about the book, and loses interest after about two pages (average of 10 words per page), but they work great as "mommy attention getter."

I noticed today that every time I went in the kitchen to try and wash dishes or cook (another gated off room), he would start banging one of his wooden blocks against the large window at the front of our house, which would of course bring me running.

But he still eats dirt, so he can't be that smart.
See that nice mud pit in the corner of the garden box? He made that all by himself.

Ragnar...mama of the monster.

Finally, some knitting content...

Yes it's true, in spite of everything I still haven't given up the old sticks and string...although I did make the mistake of letting Ragnarson "play" with a ball of yarn I was knitting off of the other day. "I'll just let him have it until I get to the end of this row," I thought to myself, thought I. Yeah...2 hours later, after unraveling the world's largest yarn knot, and untangling it from around his neck, and the furniture, I realized that getting to the end of the row just isn't that worth it.

Anyway, I'm trying to put some of my "patterns" together. I've received a ton of delightful comments about the "Golden Harvest Hat" since I've been using a picture of it as my "Ravatar." So I've decided to offer up the chart and let other people play along. I even reworked it a little so that people who aren't fans of our most preemenant breakfast eatery can enjoy it as well (the second version reads "eat the rich" which is a touching sentiment in these times of economic woe, don't you think?)

For the bargin price of ONE dollar, yes, One dollar (although if you are planning to pay via "paypal" I ask that you make it $1.36 since that's how much fees they charge me), I will send you a PDF file that includes both charts. The reason I'm selling it for so little is that it is only a chart, and it's only been knit once, it has some very long floats in it, and the gauge was sort of wonky and I had to felt it a bit when it was done. So basically this is an untested pattern, unsupported, but which took me awhile to figure out (tines on the fork people, there are tines on the fork). So it is what it is.

I am a complete newb at this "selling patterns online" thing, so you all are just going to have to work with me on this. If you are interested you can email me at jessyhenderson(atsign)geeeemail(dot)com (of course that is a phonetic spelling, to cut down on the spaminatoring, and you smart little firecrackers will correct the spelling before you try to send me a message yes?). Then I will send you the pattern and you will send me some money, honey. And of course you will send me pictures of your finished projects, and complaints about how fucked up my chart is, and eventually I will get sick of everyone's bitching and I will edit it into a proper pattern and then I will charge more money for it and anyone who didn't get it while the getting was good, will be shit out of yarn.

Ragnar...chart this.

Domesticity for Talk Like a Pirate Day...

Mixin' it up on the old D.P.

You were thinking I was gonna get all piratical for Talk Like a Pirate Day, weren't you? Huh? Weren't you? Well you thought wrong! I'm gonna get all domestic but I'll throw in a few "yars" just to keep everything comfy and piratical.

Yar!! I've got a crap ton of tomatoes sitting around the galley, and if'in I don't do something with 'em righty quick then they be stinkin' up the hold...and our hold doesn't need more stinkin' arrr har! A bowl of tomatoes, blanched and ready to slip out of their skins, yo ho. The pan on the right is to put shucked and seeded tomotoes in, the jar on the left is for seeds. If you're already seeding tomatoes for canning, you might as well save the seeds right? What? You've never saved tomato seeds? You wastrel! You scurvy lubber.

Just scoop the seeds out (or push them out with you thumbnail, yar!) and put them into some sort of container. Look! a jar of reddish sludge with lots of seeds in it. This jar has the seeds from about 10 tomatoes.

It is sitting on my windowsill where it will begin to ferment a little bit. We will be revisiting it every couple of days to see how those seeds are doing, yo ho ho and a bottle of rotten tomato pulp, har!

Ragnar...swash my buckle, and tie my apron strings.

My little prizefighter...

Last week I posted a (slightly exaggerated) story about Ragnarson's bedtime ritual, wherein I alleged that my baby doesn't look like an angel while he's asleep.

This is mama heresy, and admitting such a thing, in public no less, could get me bucked from the union. So I offer you photographic evidence.

See? He doesn't so much look like an angel, as he does a boxer down for the count.

Ragnar...mama jamma.

Should be...

Should be: writing cover letters to complete application packet for "dream job" that I didn't know I wanted before last Tuesday.

Am: farting around on Ravelry, having a beer and wondering how to translate "playing a lot of solitaire and occasionally updating my blog" into "excellent computer skills."

Ragnar...I am a people person, damn it, I am!

Lazy post...

I finally updated the "house" blog. So pretend you're interested and click on through.

And since I know that the only reason anyone stops here anymore is to check out pictures of the baby...
Notice how he is simultaneously mugging for the camera and pushing a piece of toast off the tray of his highchair...that is talent.

Ragnar...houseblogger, mommyblogger and maybe sometime soon a knitblogger...tease tease.

Are you sick of posts about the baby yet?

I've noticed a slight change in the types of anecdotes that "old-pro" type mama's tell me now that we've made it past the one year mark. For some reason when you are the mother (or father perhaps? one of you fathers will have to tell me) of a newborn, people tell you stories of the sleepless nights, the endless colic, the spitting up, the getting peed on...like you need to hear that. I think it's the same instinct that causes us to tell birth horror stories to pregnant women, an ingrained type of cultural hazing perhaps.

Now that I am the proud Mama of a rockin' walkin' one year old people look at my superactive, always busy, dirty, flirty little one and tell me some version of this story. (I've heard it three or four times now)

"Some of my favorite times with my baby were after they had been running around all day, and had their bath. They would be all warm and snuggly and I they would smell so good. Then when they went to sleep they would seem so peaceful, like a little angel."

The most important parts of this story are that 1). babies smell good after their bath, and 2). babies look like angels when they are sleeping.

Now I don't know if this story is some construction of memory, but if I was going to tell my version it would go something like this.

"I remember when my baby started walking, he would run around the house like a maniac all day long, spreading all his toys out around the living room, stashing them under the furniture where I would have to get down on my hands and knees to retrieve them, or dropping them over the babygates and then screaming because he couldn't get them. After all the toys had been taken out of the toy box, then he would start to hide our shoes and pull things off of the tables, where I put them so that he wouldn't be able to get at them. In the evening he would get this sort of manic intensity, alternating between hyperactive wriggling and fussy crying, and then I would know that it was time for bed.

I wouldn't want to give him a bath, because I knew that would just get him more cranked up, plus his favorite bathtime game was "swing the washcloth," so both me and the bathroom would be entirely soaked by the time we were done. I didn't really have a choice though, if it was just the fact that he was all dirty I probably could have let it slide, but bathtime was the time that I would check him for new bruises and scrapes and make sure that all of the new injuries were minor enough that we wouldn't have to run to the emergency room.

After the bath he would smell like a wet dog, and I would towel him off and wrestle him into his pajamas. Then I would lay down with him and try to calm him down by reading him a couple of books, although I would have to give him and extra book to chew on, and usually he would get bored with the story and start whacking me with the extra book. Then when we finally laid down he would try to nurse while standing up and getting out of bed at the same time, which was pretty irritating. Eventually he would just pass out, although he would still be twitching in his sleep, rolling around and tangling up his blankets. Sometimes he would even sleep for half an hour before he'd wake up enough that I'd have to come back in and nurse him back to sleep."

Ragnar...of course the son of the Manimal would smell like a wet dog after his bath.

Stealing a riff...Questions I knew the answer to, but asked anyway because I'm just masochistic like that. Part 1 of 22

Blatantly stealing someone else's funny idea is almost as good as coming up with your own right?

In an "imatation is the sincerest form of flattery" type vein, I give you:

Questions I knew the answer to, but asked anyway because I'm just masochistic like that. Part 1 of 22

Asked of Manimal, after returning from having rinsed the baby in the shower in an effort to remove the shit that he had managed to smear all over himself, including up his nose and in his eye:

"Do you want to hold the baby, or scrub shit out of the carpet?"

More fun with bowls....

The "turtle" bowl sculpture...
The "Alien Space Pod", bowl sculpture...
The "Happy Apple Up on Top" bowl sculpture...note Ragnarson's less than thrilled expression? Rat Girl isn't around to interpret for me, but I think we can safely say that he could he talk he would be saying: "Uh...Mom? Are you okay? Because I think you're sort of overdoing it with the bowls, and in case to forgot, those are MY bowls, so, can I like, play with them please?"


Ragnar...stainless steel is my new medium, baaaaybee.

Baby toys?

For those of you who don't have children yet, I'll let you in on a big parenting secret that will save you a lot of money when you take the plunge.

There is no such thing as baby toys.

There are lots of cute hunks of wood, plastic and plush marketed as baby toys of course, but these are really "parent" toys. Things for you to play with while the baby entertains him/herself by eating paint chips, and stale crackers out of the corners where the vacuum won't reach.

There's pretty much only one game at our house these days, and it's called "stack 'em up, knock 'em down." Guess which part of that is my job? Ragnarson is getting pretty quick at the knock 'em down part, so I rarely get more than three things stacked, and he's got quite an arm, so things fly pretty far. Really we should rename it "stack 'em up, knock 'em down, watch Mama crawl under the chair to get the blocks" because I think that's the part he really likes.

We have a set of stacking blocks, sturdy wooden nesting blocks that have been passed down to us through two previous children. Ragnarson is systematically destroying them. I have a "things that need to be glued" pile on the livingroom table, and there is usually at least one of these blocks awaiting repair.

The absolute best stacking "toy" of the moment is a bunch of stainless steel bowls, some that I bought at a garage sale specifically for Ragnarson, and some that used to be our salad bowls, but which are now part of the clangy, bangy pile in the playbox.

Being the frustrated artist that I am, I immediately saw the possiblity for sculpture a'la Brancusi's "Endless Column" and have been sort of obsessed about getting ALL bowls stacked up together...to the point where I caught myself holding Ragnarson at bay with one hand and trying to finish my tower with the other...see what I mean about "parent toys?" I finally managed it by making a secondary pile of things to distract Destructo Boy while I quickly stacked and photographed.Yeah, I am well aware of how pathetic this is.

And Ragnarson: such a critic.
Ragnar...yeah, I need to get out more.