Baby shaming

You might recall from last week’s journal entry that I, the baby, have been super sick with the flu.  The mother has stayed up with me every night for over a week - rocking me, singing to me, and letting me sleep semi-reclined in her arms so that I can breathe more easily.

To repay her kindness, I sneezed directly into her eyeballs and gave her a raging eye infection, sinus infection, and ear infection, LOL!

I also gave both my parents the flu, so we’ve been hanging out all week watching Game of Thrones.  The Sis, who didn’t get sick this time, has been channeling her inner Mary Poppins and serving the rest of us hundreds of spoonfuls of medicine a day and then proclaiming (in a sing-song voice), “Now you will feel much more better.”

Today the parents decided we were bored of the flu, so we went for a walk.  The Sis walked over two miles by herself.  I personally find that it’s easier to just let my parents do all the work while I relax.

Finally, Mom was having a conniption fit because my dad made some kind of pork chop dish with a balsamic maple reduction sauce.  I personally don’t understand why they don’t just eat the oatmeal and mashed carrots that I’ve been eating – that is some seriously good grub, but whatever.

Dear Diaries

Dear Diary,

Uncle Eddie gave me this Sally doll for Christmas.  I love her more than the moon; however, my mom is a little freaked out by her.  Now that I think of it, I haven’t actually seen Sally for a couple weeks.  Hmmm.

But that’s okay, I have a bunch of other babies that are a little easier to manage.

Nana gave me this tea set last year.  I make approximately four hundred and six  kettles per day and offer it to everybody and everything in sight.  Just to warn you, I add a lot of milk and sugar, and I stir pretty rambunctiously.  Sometimes I drink tea straight from the kettle, which Mom thinks the queen wouldn’t exactly approve of, but whatever.

Grandma Lynette made me a superhero cape.  I like to dash around the living room saving the world.  Depending on the day, you may call me either Prince Philip or Pink Superhero Princess. I like to mix things up.

Everybody keeps asking me if I’m potty-trained.  Trained… like I’m a dog, or something.  Well.  I will not be trained.  I will continue to poop and pee in my diaper like a dignified human.

Sincerely,

Prince Phillip the Pink

…………………………………………………………….

Dear Diary,

Yeah, I can pretty much sit up by myself.  No big deal, really, except that I’m awesome.  I mean, sometimes I fall down (usually onto my nose), but I just try to keep it real.

The sis gives me a couple hundred cups of tea a day.  I don’t actually like tea, but I love me some teacup.  Tasty.

I’ve acquired a new skill – so much better than mostly sitting up.  I just open my mouth and shriek with all my might, just like a  pterodactyl. 

I shriek,

and shriek,

and shriek.

All day long.  I never tire of it, I could keep going and going…

                    … what’s that, Mom?  You want me to stop shrieking???

No problem, I’ll yell instead.

These are my adorable little piggy toes.  I yell at them, too.

I have a confession to make.  I love my mom.  So, so, so much.  Sometimes she puts me down which makes me really, ridiculously sad.  And sometimes (shudder) she walks right by me and doesn’t pick me up.  How am I to handle such sorrow?

Luckily I have The Sis.  We are BFFs already.  My favorite is when she’s Prince Philip or the Pink Princess Superhero.  She turns on some awesome bouncy-seat tunes and dances around the living room or kitchen.  That’s my favorite.

Lastly, I totally tried this new dish the other night.  It was called “smashed pears.”  Rocked my world.  Seriously, have you tried them?

Wait – one more thing.  I am so sick right now.  I’ve been crying with a fever for like three days straight.  Not really like me, but I don’t want the parents to let their guard down, because then they might put me down and I HATE THAT SO BAD WHEN I’M SICK!!!

(I may or may not have pooped all over my outfit yesterday and my mom and dad may or may not have forgotten to pack a spare.  So I may or may not be wearing an XL men’s Boston University t-shirt that my dad found in his desk at work.  Don’t worry about it.)

I guess that’s all for now. 

Peace out -

Lil

Contrast

Tim and I met each other in graduate school where we took courses together and studied viruses in adjacent labs.  In general, we approach life similarly in that we’re both fairly skeptical, and we apply the same sort of analytical reasoning that is useful in our careers as scientists to everyday situations.  We tend to feel similarly about most political issues and current events, we both go to somewhat extreme measures to recycle, and we tend to like (or dislike) the same people. 

However, there is one area in which we are… ahem… vastly, hugely, extremely  different.  I think the best way to characterize it is to say that we organize our lives, belongings, and schedules, ummm, differently.

Case in point:  Today we went to the grocery store.  I made a list, which makes me a rockstar, as far as I’m concerned.. I even categorized items with labels like “fruit” and “veggies” and “grains.”  I thought we were on the same page until we started shopping. 

Canteloupe, check.  Green beans, check.  Alfalfa sprouts, check.

Tim:  Whoa, what are you doing? 

Me:  I’m checking off items.

Tim:  You’re making barely visible checkmarks that run into your barely legible handwriting (I’m paraphrasing). 

He then confiscated the list, and neatly crossed off the acquired items. 

Tim:  See?  Now it’s perfectly clear what is left on the list.

Obviously.

When we were checking out, I was absentmindedly checking my e-mail on my phone while he unloaded the cart.  As the checker started doing her thing, I glanced at the belt… it was beautiful.  All the fruits together, all the vegetables together, all the boxed grains together… you get the point.  (Most of the produce and the dairy items were already scanned by the time I shot the picture.)

Tim likes schedules – I fly by the seat of my pants.

Tim neatly folds his socks, and organizes them with categories (sports, casual, dress) and subcategories (color, length) – mine are crammed together in a drawer in no particular order.

Tim is always on time.  I am usually (read: sometimes) (read: occasionally) on time.

You get the picture. 

Thankfully, he has hitherto been willing to put up with lack of skills in this particular area – hopefully my luck won’t run out any time soon.