Unfurnished Brooklyn

Um...

Handling some family drama. Trying to come up with ways to entertain Cheb during her spring break. Fixing the blog.

Back soon.

Cheburashka bobs her hair. Again.

What looked like makeup was actually hives. Turns out that she is allergic to Splenda- which I gave her accidentally. Turns out that when something says it has less sugar, it doesn't mean that they've taken sugar out but put more crap in. Fortunately she only had two bites of the yogurt meant for me, and didn't react too badly. I myself have never had Splenda before, and as it tastes like crap I don't intend to ever again.

(Okay, I was about to get all high-falutin' about artificial sweeteners and additives when I remembered my Diet Coke addiction. Well.)

But Redheaddread called it: she had a rather drastic haircut. It started with a bit of gum in her hair, and instead of telling me she decided to cut it herself. And then cut a few more chunks for good measure. At least she didn't give herself a mullet like last time....

I had to cut a good 3 inches off to even out her hair. What was once shoulder-length now just reaches her earlobes. She was nervous about it, wondering what her friends at school would think, but now she loves it. Especially since we bought lots of sparkly barrettes. On Sunday she found an orange silk orchid hairclip in my jewelry box and paraded around Manhattan looking very tropical with it tucked behind her ear.

Baby sweater #1 is done. Ah, but no pics yet. This is a quickie post before I run to my orthodontist and the dozen other errands I have to do today. I'll start baby sweater #2 today- same pattern, different color. I think I'll use the same pattern for all five sweaters. I'm lazy like that.

A lot of catching up to do

My frickin' friend Frida Frogg (ok, that's not her real name but one of her many aliases. I'm Myrtle Tyrtle) was in NY for a long, pizza-filled weekend. We bopped around the city on Friday and Sunday, and was it not a great weekend for it?

Sunday was gorgeous, and we went to Thompkins Square Park to meet an old friend and his brand spankin' new baby . (Oh, the cuteness.) The park was filled with people and music. It was strange, though, seeing all the babies and young children playing happily when I recall a far different park in my youth.

I also had to comment repeatedly on the orderliness of the playground. No fighting. No simulating wrestling moves. Parents actually paying attention to their children. Gay parents, straight parents, lots of fathers jumping around with their kids, biracial kids (like my own) running around with wild curly hair. It was perfect, until Cheb fell off the ladder to the slide. I guess it ain't a real day at the playground unless there are tears. (She's okay.)

We kept running into people we know (everybody was out on the streets). And in catching up with all these folk I haven't heard from in ages, I've learned we've all been busy breeding. Sorry, y'all, but I'm just not gonna knit that many sweaters.

Updates:

TLM got his assed kicked last Thursday, and I helped him. I then went to his grandmother and explained what happened. She thanked me, and we talked a little bit. TLM has actually behaved a bit (just a bit) better since, and his grandmother is actually paying a bit more attention. If I'd have known that's what it took, I'd have kicked his ass a long time ago.

I keed.

Toofwatch 2005: On Thursday Cheb lost her first tooth. Today she lost the second, while on a class trip. I was a parent volunteer, helping to herd the kids from the school to the center where they learned all about making matzas. Got to grind their own wheat and everything. Again, with the cuteness.

See?

The matza in the foreground? I made that one. Also: notice anything different about Cheb? I'll discuss that tomorrow.

About a boy

Last night I couldn't sleep stressing about this. I'm venting to everyone I know....

I posted in January about this little monster of a boy in the playground. The little creep has been a pain in the ass ever since: he runs around unsupervised, punching and kicking kids at random. Many times I've had to get in his face and tell him not to hit Cheb again. His specialty is blocking the top of the slide, and kicking kids after he lets them pass. Now Cheb knows when she sees him near the slide, to play elsewhere in the park.

His grandma (who looks like a bulldog in a dyed-orange wig) never watches him. She sits in a far corner of the park reading her Russian crime novels, oblivious to the havoc this kid creates. Even when she's nearby, she pretends not to see. Unless someone approaches her directly, she does nothing while he grabs another little boy and imitates wrestling moves.The other kid usually leaves crying, and The Little Monster (TLM) walks off to find his next victim.

Badonkadonk

Oof. Long post, shot to hell by a wayward tap of the keyboard.

Long story short: I bought a pair of jeans. The point was that they are the same size I wore pre-baby. There was all this stuff about weight gain and body acceptance and intestinal parasites and shimmies but it is all gone now.

Too bad; it was pretty darn good.

My niece had a baby on Saturday: a girl! Good for her: she has two boys, and she's wanted a girl for a long time. She never found out the sex while she was pregnant, so it was a very pleasant surprise.

Must knit something. Also for her sister, pregnant with twins. And a friend whose first child was born last week. And another due in a couple of months.

What's going on, people?? What's with all the babies??

Iris wants to be a superwoman

But is that really in her mind? And all the things she wants to be she needs to leave behind...

I'm whupped. I've lined up a few soul-sucking temp agency interviews for next week, I'm trying to "spring clean," and I'm fighting off either a cold or an allergy attack. And then I go and hurt my back trying to clean and jerk a sleeping Cheb off the floor.

(Though, that last thing sorta cracks me up. My back doesn't hurt constantly, but every once in a while gives a sharp pain that makes me yelp. In public. Not funny, yet funny. If it lasts a few more days I'll see a doctor.)

So I've been lazing about, knitting Waves in All Season's Cotton. Doping the cats with catnip so they can entertain me. Watched Eternal Spotless Sunshine Mind (tres Jackie Harvey of me, no?), which is freakin' incredible. And rediscovered the pleasures of a hot bath. And Peony has rediscovered the pleasures of diving into the bath unexpectedly.

Two knitting projects have hit the skids: the shrug pullover was set aside because I got tired of fighting with the Cadiz (and I may not have enough yarn). The hooded pullover from the new Vogue is on hold because I definitely do not have enough yarn.

Last week I went to Knitting Hands, where I bought it two years ago, but of course there is none left. Cascade Sierra Quatro, y'all. Keep yer eyes peeled. Color #81, green/yellow/lt. purple. If you have any or know of any, drop a line.

Toofwatch 2005

Cheb is losing two of her lower front teeth. I predict one will fall out today or tomorrow. I'm resisting the urge to yank it out, like my mom would do to me. It's a miracle she didn't lose it yesterday, when an evil little boy blindsided her on purpose and knocked her to the ground. Anyway, I don't know who's more excited about a visit from the Toof Fairy. Probably me.

The question is perfectly simple

Finalmente, the questions:

Redheaddread

1)Cadbury Creme Eggs- friend or foe?

2)I know you're into food porn: share the best of your collection.

3)Have you always loc'ed your hair? If not, share your biggest hair disaster.

4)When did you first feel like you had some sort of grasp of the whole motherhood thing?

5)How did you meet V., and does your version of the story differ from his?

*Bonus question, in two parts: why haven't we met in person yet? What's up with that?

Caroline:

1)Does your yarn speak to you? What does it say?

2)Um, what do you do exactly?

3)The year is 1983- describe your taste in clothes and music.

4)Is there someone in your past that you really want to reconnect with? Why?

5)Is there a song that you've sung for years before realizing you had the lyrics all wrong?

*Bonus question, stolen from Mindy: What's the lamest pick-up line that you've actually responded to?

Last night I watched Bus 174. I want to call it intense, but that doesn't seem sufficient. An incredible documentary; it will move you.

Well. I'm off to put away the laundry that I washed a week ago. Hey- maybe I'll even unpack my luggage today.