Favorite hats? Special chairs? Houndstooth panties? What's your Bama ritual?*This is serious.
I continue my (temporary) unemployment, proving every single day that I'm worthless without a schedule. I've been trying to rest my fuzzy brain and blind eyes from these infernal compuscreens. So no post Monday. I'm nigh on to abandoning the 'official' Monday posting schedule, since I've blown through those for 3 or 4 weeks. I know nothing of the news, have no real bones to pick, and have little to post about. But on to the crumbs I do have.
We continue to buy every set of baby clothes in sight, since Jack seems to literally outgrow everything in a single week. Our last foray to the store lasted us for about a month. Really. He's talking a TON, with new words coming from everywhere. He displays all sorts of new talents, some of which we've taught him, some of which we can only wonder at the origins of. Was that proper anglais? Probably ain't. Twasn't. Anyway, I get up there one morning, and Jack starts flapping his fingers, thumbs interlocked, hands crossed... like a butterfly. There's just no telling.
As with all little kids, the frightening malleability of Jack's mind is shocking. I was carrying him one day, and well, I spit. I spit, alright? Immediately, I hear the little sponge on my arm going "Puh! Puh! Puh!" I shudder at all the little bad habits of mine that will come to light over the next few years. Like I've noted before, parenting seems to be the most potent of motivations. Motivation for improving oneself. Motivation for improving the relationship between hubby and wifey-wife. For religion. For one's health. For finances. For fixing things we can't fathom yet. For changing habits we cannot change now.
Like not spitting.**
*For more entertainment, be sure to read the waaaaay over-the-top society column on the left side of the Houndstooth Knickers article. You're welcome.
**I don't HAVE a problem!