Lucy's birthday will always usurp mine, because it's just under two weeks from mine. But mine's not important. 29. Who cares. My Little Lucille will be turning 2!
The big 2! My little girl! She's hitting growth spurts all the time, getting taller, and she's learned how to say, "No"!
Now all I've heard about the learning of this new word is that they'll say it when you don't want them to. So far, I've noticed something else, something more relieving than anything. Basically, it can be boiled down to: I'm learning not to overhelp her.
I made her a little bowl of cheerios-equivalents, cashews, and raisins and let her watch her Sesame Street dvd. When she had almost finished the cheerios-equivalents, I said, "Do you want more cereal?"
"No."
In that little, naturally high, soft voice. I melt. I said, "Oh. Ok."
Events like this happen all the time in my house, where I can't tell if she does or doesn't want something I'm probably being paranoid and overprotective about, but now she can at least tell me when she doesn't want it before I waste my time getting up to get it for her.
As I was just proofing this blog entry, I had to get up to change her diaper and refill my coffee cup and comb her hair and put the dvd away (heavy breathing), and when I sat back down at the computer she was by my side again, falling and leaning on my legs, wanting me to laugh like The Count, again, for the krillionth time, and I picked her up and held her butt up in the air and she was like, "Light!" and pointed to the lights. And then I sorta let her fall back down fast, but with a gentle landing, and I whispered, "Do you wanna go high in the sky again?" in as tempting a voice as I could muster.
"No."
"Oh. Ok." Put her down. She doesn't wanna be your rag doll, dad!
Some friends suggested I make a Pottery Barn registry for my birthday. Metal. Because it's brutal.
I think this, this, and this would be really liven up my home, and accent my life. Thanx Pottery Barn.
There's really nothing special about turning 29. It's just one more year away from saying goodbye to the 20's. And you know what? I'm glad. Because teenagers piss me off, and when I think of myself as a teenager I cringe, and young-20's people are rarely ever as cool as you want them to be when you're in your late 20s, and I'm ready, willing and able to distance myself from the age groups of teenagers and 20-somethings.
Figuratively, of course. Age ain't nothing but a number.
And I'm not saying this as a way to draw attention away from the fact that I am getting old and there's nothing I can do about it. This conclusion I draw from two recent things I've been noticing about myself.
1. I'm actually starting to fill out in the stomach area with more fat than I've ever had down there. I've always been so skinny, and pasty. And now I'm skinny and pasty, with a bulging stomach. My ass is probably a little more saggy than usual, too, but I haven't checked lately.
2. Wrinkles and bags are appearing on my face that weren't there before.
I think that you're really at your peak when you're between 18 and 22 or so. That should be called middle aged. After that it's all downhill.
No, I jest. I've heard many people say their 30s are much better than their 20s. And in reality, I've always felt one with the earth and nature and I realize my place here. It is what I make it. And life is beautiful, and the older I get, the more easily I'm able to understand the bigger picture, to see all sides of an issue, and to develop more self-confidence as a result.
But Lucy! Hey, she's turning 2! Now that's a milestone.
For me.
she's not gonna remember it....
2s
The big 2! My little girl! She's hitting growth spurts all the time, getting taller, and she's learned how to say, "No"!
Now all I've heard about the learning of this new word is that they'll say it when you don't want them to. So far, I've noticed something else, something more relieving than anything. Basically, it can be boiled down to: I'm learning not to overhelp her.
I made her a little bowl of cheerios-equivalents, cashews, and raisins and let her watch her Sesame Street dvd. When she had almost finished the cheerios-equivalents, I said, "Do you want more cereal?"
"No."
In that little, naturally high, soft voice. I melt. I said, "Oh. Ok."
Events like this happen all the time in my house, where I can't tell if she does or doesn't want something I'm probably being paranoid and overprotective about, but now she can at least tell me when she doesn't want it before I waste my time getting up to get it for her.
As I was just proofing this blog entry, I had to get up to change her diaper and refill my coffee cup and comb her hair and put the dvd away (heavy breathing), and when I sat back down at the computer she was by my side again, falling and leaning on my legs, wanting me to laugh like The Count, again, for the krillionth time, and I picked her up and held her butt up in the air and she was like, "Light!" and pointed to the lights. And then I sorta let her fall back down fast, but with a gentle landing, and I whispered, "Do you wanna go high in the sky again?" in as tempting a voice as I could muster.
"No."
"Oh. Ok." Put her down. She doesn't wanna be your rag doll, dad!
Teenage 20-somethings
Some friends suggested I make a Pottery Barn registry for my birthday. Metal. Because it's brutal.
I think this, this, and this would be really liven up my home, and accent my life. Thanx Pottery Barn.
There's really nothing special about turning 29. It's just one more year away from saying goodbye to the 20's. And you know what? I'm glad. Because teenagers piss me off, and when I think of myself as a teenager I cringe, and young-20's people are rarely ever as cool as you want them to be when you're in your late 20s, and I'm ready, willing and able to distance myself from the age groups of teenagers and 20-somethings.
Figuratively, of course. Age ain't nothing but a number.
And I'm not saying this as a way to draw attention away from the fact that I am getting old and there's nothing I can do about it. This conclusion I draw from two recent things I've been noticing about myself.
1. I'm actually starting to fill out in the stomach area with more fat than I've ever had down there. I've always been so skinny, and pasty. And now I'm skinny and pasty, with a bulging stomach. My ass is probably a little more saggy than usual, too, but I haven't checked lately.
2. Wrinkles and bags are appearing on my face that weren't there before.
I think that you're really at your peak when you're between 18 and 22 or so. That should be called middle aged. After that it's all downhill.
No, I jest. I've heard many people say their 30s are much better than their 20s. And in reality, I've always felt one with the earth and nature and I realize my place here. It is what I make it. And life is beautiful, and the older I get, the more easily I'm able to understand the bigger picture, to see all sides of an issue, and to develop more self-confidence as a result.
But Lucy! Hey, she's turning 2! Now that's a milestone.
For me.
she's not gonna remember it....
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