Maybe I Can Stuff Him in a Jar and Have a Banzai Baby.

I can't remember if I have used this picture before. But I give no craps because it is both relevant and fantastic.
I can’t remember if I have used this picture before. But I give no craps because it is both relevant and fantastic.

So. Um. Hi? It’s been forever. You look great.

This whole blogging thing was easier when I was pregnant and had nothing else to do with my time but complain on the internet about being enormous and uncomfortable and always hungry. But that was a time in my life where I could sit on the couch or in bed or on the floor or anywhere with ample sitting space and be free to do as I please. A lot has changed.

I have a walking baby. He is not a full throttle walking baby, but he is walking. August takes a few steps when he knows someone is watching and will shower him in applause. He usually claps for himself first to let us know he is done his trick and he is ready for praise. Then he says screw this and goes back to crawling with Road Runner speeds.

Meep meep.
Meep meep.

I also almost have a toddler. August’s birthday is coming up. I’m taking a break from addressing invites right now. That may sound like I am addressing a lot of invites, but atrocious handwriting combined with my weird need to hold my pen in a death-grip makes writing much of anything by hand painful and annoying. It also becomes completely unsatisfying when I look over my work and realize a spastic seven-year old could have written neater.

Last week, Adam and I embarked on our first plane ride with August. I may have gone out and panic-bought all the things on all the shelves. We were just on a two-hour flight. And we may have ended up using hardly anything I brought for the flight. I may have over-panicked about August’s ears popping during takeoff and landing, so I brought bottles, a sippy cup, a pacifier, and lollipops. I’ve been weird about sweets and junk food for him. Not because I think deprivation is a good thing, or because I think sugar is the devil. Sugar is my sorority sister and my best friend and my adorable grandma. But I was trying to hold off until he turns one, aside from the occasional bite of my ice cream or something. I made myself feel better about giving him candy by deciding it would be a last resort, and buying crazy hippie lollies with all these hippie love words all over them like “no high fructose corn syrup” and “organic” and “gluten-free”. Duh, you are gluten-free, you stupid lollipops. You are not a loaf of bread. That is not an achievement so calm down.

Added for emphasis.
Added for emphasis.

Anyways, I panicked on the flight because that is something I am good at and shoved a lollipop in August’s face as soon as the engines turned on. And then we sat for ten minutes and August was all “mmmmmm delicious sugar” while our plane just sat there like an idiot. When we finally took off, he was over the lollipop, and so I shoved a pacifier in his mouth and before long, I got this.

The only way this would have been better is if his big head didn't keep me from pulling down my seat tray and ordering a beer.
The only way this would have been better is if his big head didn’t keep me from pulling down my seat tray and ordering a beer.

Champion Baby, Air Travel Division. This kid was easy as anything to fly with. Again, it was only a two-hour flight, but whatever. I’m calling it. Champion Baby.


The flight home was the same, mostly because of my genius brain. We got to the airport extra early, found an empty gate, and cut him loose. August crawled all over the damn place and walked a bit and waved at strangers while I followed him around and watched my evil plan unfurl.





August was tired as hell by the time we boarded, and was passed out in my lap for the entire flight home. I read my book and ate some carbs and it was glorious. Especially glorious when I got to throw shady stink-eye at some loud, obnoxious turds that were bitching about a baby being anywhere near their sacred personal bubble. Those jerks made way more offensive noise than my baby. August is just a baby whose only form of expressing anything in the spectrum of mild annoyance to fierce agony is crying. They were adults who made conscious choices to be dickwads in an enclosed area. Yes, I know being confined to a small space with something that is unfamiliar to you and that is possibly going to irritate you is somewhat inconvenient. But shit happens and babies happen and if you don’t want to risk your precious little ears being sullied by the cries of an infant, get in your gotdamn car and drive by yourself to your destination. Fack.


So I now have a flier. And a walker. And both of these things are weird, and all the other new shit is weird. I had this little helpless lump for months, and now he is transitioning from lump to person and is trying to do things by himself and doesn’t want my help. Except when it comes to changing his diaper. But I am in this weird space where I am trying to give August more independence and let him grow and explore and it’s so nice when he succeeds at something or learns something new, but shit. Stay little for a little while longer, Squirt. I’m not done yet.


4 thoughts on “Maybe I Can Stuff Him in a Jar and Have a Banzai Baby.

  1. I am soooo glad you are back!!! And also happy to know you have not lost your wicked sense of humor and turned into one of those weirdo stay at home types that refuses to cuss or drink! ; ) I need to see that little fella!

    1. I sent out invites for his birthday party (embarrassingly late). I hope you can come!! Either way, I propose a lunch date in the near future.

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