File Under: General Improvements

Forget flowers! April showers bring new stores to the mall that is 3 seconds from my house. 4 seconds if you hit a red light. We got Aldo and an Apple store and a newly remodeled Baby Gap (Which, seriously people, is badly needed. Harry has been slumming at Old Navy since like mid January).
So soon, we will be rolling in ballet flats, software that starts with i and cut-off jean shorts a-plenty for the bebe. (Because Apple and BabyGap are not quite open yet, but they COMING SOON, I am told by way of huge storefront signs and maddeningly blacked out windows that make me want to smoosh my face against them and wish for x-ray vision. Or the ability to fly because that'd be a really nice super power.) I noticed last night-- as you are probably noticing now-- that I don't go to the mall enough these days. The old me would have seen these stores coming months ago. The new me makes fabulous dissertation progress, revises articles for publication, and is much less stylish.
Speaking of which, want to know the thing I like best about my mom hair? When I tell people I have mom hair (which I can do WITHOUT WORDS), they don't even try to give me the "nuh-uh." Denial is pointless when we're talking about hair like this .
Harry is better! He slept well last night (because he could tell that we were going to literally die with exhaustion if he didn't), and look how happy he was after nap this morning:

He also had a fan-freaking-tastic time at Little Gym yesterday. And no, I am not wearing too muh makeup. It's really darn hot in there because all the babies are adorabley barefoot. And no, that is not a maternity top god forbid, although I did get a lot of sideways belly glances. And no, a cutie little ponytail does not disguise mom hair. Sadly. But look how strong the Bear is and how cute he and Josephine are standing and walking!




And I am not a paid spokesperson for Little Gym, but I totally would be if they asked, but I just want to say if you have a baby and an hour to kill every week, it's sooo fun. And you can meet moms. And I need an editior because everything starts with a conjunction and is a run-on or a fragment.

Did I tell you my mall kicks ass?

A Note About My Research Assistant

He has chubby widdle thighs


And he thinks that Chesler's book is a tad too celebratory, wanting her to do more to question the veracity of the Sadie Sachs narrative and to describe in more nuanced detail the political backgroud against which Sanger operated.




Also? He's snotty.

Mom Hair

Not his hair. Mine.

Holy crap. I have Mom Hair. I got it here, and I do not think I'll be going back. Ever. Not even to ask them to FIX IT, because, as Ben pointed out, I don't have a lot of hair left right now. So, if you see me in the next month or so, don't comment on the lunch lady cum PTA president coif I have going on. I've had this do (don't) for a couple of weeks now, but I realized it was Mom Hair just yesterday when I noticed that it FEATHERS when it air dries.

Okay, that's all with the hair. Just had to get it off my chest so if you do see me you won't think, "Oh my goodness. Sarah has the hair cut of a much older, fatter, and pastier woman. Do you think she knows?" Boy does she.

Here's Harry at the farmers market and Harry saying good bye to our old place and deciding he doesn't like the way grass feels on his knees. Harry, if you're reading this in a few years, so sorry about the blue hat. The green one, however, I'll stand by. Ditto the awesome short shorts.

How big is Harry?

That's not a sun burn, I swear.

See, look. He has some hilarious sunscreen

Peek a boo!

Harry, Daddy, and the Capitol. Check out how cool harry is-- Robeez with no socks!

"Yummy. I always wanted to eat this, but my excersaucer was in the way. It's as delicious as I thought it would be."

Ha ha! Your Mom dresses you funny.

Oh yeah. I dress you funny,

Grass? Not so cool witb shorts on.

Baby Daddy

Poor Harry is sick! His first official illness. A cold. And fluid in his ears that is not infected but could be soon. We are giving him Motrin and slathering him with Vicks and making sure he sleeps with his head elevated. The urgent care doc we saw said to have him sleep in his carseat or swing, but hello? That is so not who he is. I took him to a playdate (with the most adorable little girl) last Wednesday and got a call from her mom on Thursday saying she had a fever and the sniffles. I thought, "Oh, crap," and sure enough, Harry woke up sick on Sunday. I woke up sick on Monday, and Ben still feels okay. But none of us sleeps much, and that sucks. Oh to have a newborn again. I should have licked the little girl, so my body could make immunities to ward off the illness for Harry. But you just can't go around licking other people's kids.

Since Harry is sick, I bought him a toy (duh). A baby called Busy Little Honeybee, which is the worst name ever. Harry calls her "Ahg?" which is way nicer. When he first grabbed her, I thought he was calling her a no-no, but I realized he was smakicking her nose and saying, "No." How cool is that? So no-no is a thing he can't touch and no is nose. He can also find her eyes, and thanks to Ben, her junk.

We took him to the farmers market on Saturday, and I'll post some pictures of that soon-- no veggies out yet but lots of cookies. Yum. I have a boatload of exams to grade this morning, and I get more papers this afternoon. Oh, the glamour of it all.


Um, guys? I'm not feeling so good today, guys.

Mom? Still feeling kind of puny here. Don't really care about Ahg? right now, okay?


Seriously, people.

Harrys and Hunters and Bens, Oh My

Today Harry and I went to the zoo with Jamie and her little boys Ben and Hunter. Jamie went to college with Ben and me-- we were all on the speech team together. And now she and I are Sconnie mommies. Funny, huh?

We had a fabulous time at the zoo and the park and Barriques . All three boys were perfect angels even though they were sleepy toward the end and the restaurant was NOT kid friendly. There were, however, two little babies in there, each with his holier-than-thou mother, both of whom glared at us and seemed to be judging the crap ton of cookies our boys were eating. But they also seemd to be judging the screaming our boys were doing. Think how much MORE screaming there would have been without cookies!! And just wait until those babies can't be Bjorned into submission, ladies. Or nursed in public without biting the hell out of you and getting so distracted by I don't know the freaking AIR that they pop off to get a better look/feel/smell and leave your nipple exposed for the world to see. Ha! Just wait until then and see who you judge. I, for example, judged a woman who let her 2-year old lick the bugs off her car's front bumper. This was last spring when I was pregnant and thinking what an awesomely perfect parent I would effortlessly be. Today Harry licked the guard rails outside the polar bears' cage, and he digested at least 3 twigs and a strip of tree bark. And possibly a cigarette butt.

I didn't get a single pciture of Jamie, who looks beautiful and YOUNG, but I got a couple shots of the boys-- love the ones of Hunter relaxing on the grass! I am sure jamie got way better pics than I did. I was way too distracted by the wheels coming off my Eddie Bauer stroller and by the overwhelming cuteness of all the little boys together to properly document the afternoon.

Step Away From the Girl Scout Cookies

I will not eat the rest of the thin mints today. Er, I will not eat the rest of the thin mints before noon. I mean, I will not eat the rest of the thin mints for breakfast. And by "the rest," I mean the seven or so that remain after I opened the box yesterday. Yesterday night. The second box. Because we cannot talk about the first one.

Moments after we took this picture, Harry climbed head first into the bathtub. Ooops. He also likes to pull himself up on the toilet, which makes him the perfect height to LICK THE TOILET SEAT. MY GOD.


Harry and I were hanging out in the bedroom like we always do midmorning while I try to do my mom hair and slap on some makeup to hide the ginormous circles under my eyes, and all of the sudden, he was up, up, up on the bookshelf and I was thanking god (and mostly Ben) that we (Ben) bracketed the darn thing to the (yellowyellowyellowyellow) wall.


I soon realized, however, that he had a very specific goal in his teeny little mind. This was no random showing off of his new standing up skills-- although? I don't call him Standy Bear for nothing.


"I am a very important person. I am looking for a very important note I wrote. It's sure to contain a very important message to my future very important self."


"Oh yes. Now I remember the dreadfully important message on my note."


"Eat this note!"


Sleeping through an exhausting breakfast. Fruit pancakes, again? He actually has hunks of pancakes in his fists.



Harry and Daddy

Dear PowerBook: Ode to My Ailing Comrade

My Dear Sweet Lovely PowerBook,
I will miss you so much when you pass from this life to the next (sometime between now and October when Leopard makes its debut and I will forsake you for another, but if you could just hang on until then that'd be awesome). Oh how I missed you Saturday-Wednesday when you were in the Mac hospital and I had to use that vile Windows machine! And use it I did, my angel PowerBook. There was no love between us, no passion. Only business and not so gentle disgust (which weirdly? seemed to be mutual-- seriously that bastard mouse pad was stiff and cold the whole time). Boy have we had some memories. Seminar papers. Excel gradebooks. Our obsession with the Knot and the Nest. I love waking up in the morning and smearing you with peanut butter as I check my email and my favorite mommy blogs, and I always enjoy our time together snuggled under the covers. The sad truth, my 12 inch titanium love, is that you are not so young anymore. You can't run any faster than 10.4, and the OSX world is changing. I am sorry I dropped you and dented your case, and I am sorrier still that I am too cheap to buy you a new case, preferring instead to cover your hole with Band-Aids and the Apple stickers that came with my iPods. I am even too cheap to cover your wounds with the bumper sticker I saw that says "I'll Be a Post-Feminist in a Post-Patriarchy." True that, my sweet silver painted devil, true that. I am certianly too cheap to buy a new computer prior to October only to have to upgrade to Leopard when it finally launches and makes Tiger totally passe, so I implore you, PowerBook, do not go gentle into that good night. Instead, stick around, pull your rotting motherboard off its deathbed, and help me make a little more Harrytimes magic, like we used to do when we were kids
Love and kisses,
The Lady Who Gets Food in Your Crevices and Never Charges Your Battery and Is the Reason You HAVE Crevices. Ooops.

Look: Here's an overwhelming stack of grading. Yep. It makes my tummy hurt, too. I blame you, PowerBook, for being gone 3 days this week and forcing me to fall behind.


These were taken before Harry decided he only wanted to eat what he could feed himself-- limited options for self feeding when you only have 4 teeth. Mmmm cheese and pancakes.



Bath time is so friggin cute. I can't stop taking pictures of it.



Is he a good witch or a bad witch?

Harry is like so cool he like totally won't even talk to me


Blogger is too slow. I'm going to bed and will post more in the morning.

Shut up, PowerBook-- it's not YOU. It's the internet connection. Grow up already!