We leave weeee early tomorrow morning…hopefully I can post from Hawaii, but then again, hopefully I’ll be asleep under a shady palm while Jojo plays with my parents. And Mr. Squirrel will bring me iced tea with lots of ice and a lemon (or orange) wedge. I’m not picky.
Be good while Momma Squirrel is gone…
I did not even realize that I missed Project Runway until another blogger mentioned it HELLO? Christ on a cracker. Please don’t tell me a thing! SHH! ZipIt! Gracias.
Also…thanks for your support with the SIL situation.
CPAMom’s comment made me realize I need to start a business. She’s fired up my entrepreneurial spirit! I’m offering her a prime position in this start-up! Act now! Get in while the gettin’s good. Or until we get arrested for assault and battery. Whatever. Our company is called BitchSlap Patrol! Hire us to slap some sense into ungrateful family members, thoughtless neighbors, and idiot coworkers. Perhaps due to some legalities, we should just figuratively “slap them” with a skillfully prepared Scroll of Stupidity, which will read a little somethin’ like this:
Dearest SIL,
Consider yourself SLAPPED! Your ungrateful behavior renders me almost speechless. With my stunned last breath, let me just say: You’re LUCKY to have such loving and generous in-laws who want to spend quality time with your daughter. Get over yourself before we’re forced to move to Stage 2: Tire Slashing.
Don’t Make Us Come Back.
Fondly,
The BitchSlap Patrol
This company reminds me of one that my BFF Smitty and I dreamed up when we lived together in our single days called “Another One Bites the Dust.” A little long, but work with me. We would provide the invaluable service of breaking up with people (friends or significant others) or just saying “no” to That Guy who keeps calling for another date even though, have mercy, he picked at his ear wax all during dinner and now he thinks you’re an item.
Seriously. He would slowly work out the ear wax, then roll the wax between his index finger and thumb and then kind of flick it off and I’m starting to dry heave.
Ok. Moving on… My BFF often provided concise, honestish wording for me when I had to make the dreaded phonecalls to cancel dreaded second dates that I’d agreed to and then freaked out because I cannot possibly sit through another dinner watching him pick his earwax without vomiting. Here is her favorite phrase, which I used far too often on the freaks of a certain midwestern city: “I cannot see you tonight…or ever again…” and then I would give one or two reasons (“I don’t see this going anywhere”– true– or “I’m looking for a husband”– blatant lie, but boy did it work) and hang up, often not letting them get a word in edgewise. She would write it out for me. It was quick and virtually painfree.
We’d even offer the service as an in-person break-up, which Smitty did for herself on a bike, after a horrific camping trip with her boyfriend’s family. She unpacked her bike from his car, peddled around him and said “don’t call me tonight…or ever again…” Poetic, really. And he didn’t. He ended up marrying the perpetually drunk girl in their group of friends who once shat herself because she was so wasted. They live happily in Wisconsin. See? Everybody wins.
I received this email message from my sister-in-law yesterday:
I’m in need of your opinion!! Hope you don’t mind me bouncing this off you. Yesterday your parents watched SquirrelNiece for us most of the day (which I’m grateful for), but when I picked her up YourMom informed me that they took her to the pumpkin patch during the afternoon – something we haven’t done with her yet and were looking forward to doing this year. I told YourBrother/MyHusband and he was upset, but doesn’t want to say anything. Should I??? I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but my feelings were very hurt. I never tell them they have to stay home with her all day or give them any restrictions, but I just think they should have asked before doing something like that. Do you agree? And should I say something? I’m just afraid if I don’t this will keep happening – but like I said they also help us out a lot and I don’t want to piss them off. Help!!!!!!
I’m conflicted. I see her annoyance. I remember our trip to Florida, when I was eager to take Jojo into the pool for his “first swim,” and my mom grabbed him from my arms and headed into the water with him herself. I was irked. My sister-in-law and I even shared a look.
But I don’t know what to say about this. The Squirrel Family’s relationship with my parents is much different than my brother’s relationship with my parents because we live 13 hours away, and they live 15 minutes from my parents.
My mom has watched SquirrelNiece (who is now 15 months old) one day a week since she was 6 weeks old. The other days of the week, my brother and/or sister-in-law are home to watch her, as my brother works 3 overnight shifts a week. But my parents offer to drop by and watch SquirrelNiece at least a couple days each week so my brother can go to the gym or mow the lawn, or my sister-in-law can go shopping by herself. This doesn’t include the weekends, when my parents will take SquirrelNiece so they can attend weddings, dinners, card nights, etc., without the baby. Seriously. They are so lucky.
Once, when Jojo was 3 months old and my brother and his family were out visiting us, my sister-in-law was lamenting the following week, when my mom was coming out to stay with me & Jojo while Mr. Squirrel travelled for work. Her words, forever etched in my hardened heart, were “I don’t know WHAT I’m going to do next week with your mom gone.”
My response? “Boofuckinghoo.”
She realized immediately what she had said and how bloody fortunate she is to have my parents so willing to spend time with her daughter and be so close in proximity to my parents. Not to mention, she has her two sisters, her parents, & her extended family within a 45 minute drive.
Setting all of that aside, I tried to read my sister-in-law’s message again and come up with a response that did not involve bitterness or jealousy. Honestly, do you think my 15 month old niece will remember the trip to the pumpkin patch? No. The majority of you do not know my mom, but let me assure you– she did not set forth on the pumpkin patch expedition with any malicious intent. My mom is a “doer”– she’s not going to sit around the house when she can enjoy the outdoors. I’m sure she just looked at the changing season and saw the opportunity for a fun fall activity that she once shared with my brother and me.
Also, what other events do you want to do “first” before allowing my parents to also do? If “visiting a pumpkin patch” elicits this type of heartfelt disappointment & hurt, I can only imagine what “building a snowman” or “breaking the wishbone at Thanksgiving” will bring in the coming years. Do they need to clear activities with the parents?
The bitterness I felt when I first read the email because I was irked that she and my brother were complaining about my overly generous and loving mom, turned to jealousy (“I wish we had that ‘problem!’”), and finally to sadness.
The thought of having to discuss this issue with my mom hurts my heart. I remember what she said to me when she first held SquirrelNiece last July, and what she reiterated to me again, last October, when she held Jojo in her arms– that she was so thankful to be alive to see her grandchildren.
What you also don’t know about my mom is that she battled breast cancer 11 years ago. Her “soul mate,” her best friend, had died four years earlier of the same diagnosis and exact recommended treatment. She was working full-time at a germy pediatric’s office, and I remember one day, years later, she told me that she was sent home from work because her oncologist’s office had called to tell her she had to go home immediately because her white blood cell count was 50. Fifty. Total.
My mom was not about to let go of my brother and me. She’d lost her adored father when she was 20. Her mother and both of my dad’s parents (whom she loved as much as her own parents) all died by the time she was 36. There was no way in holy hell that my mom was going to let cancer come between her and her children or future grandchildren. So, to my sister in law, I say– just be thankful SquirrelNiece has her grandma to love and spoil her. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of my grandparents and wish I’d had many more years of “hide the thimble” with my grandpa (dudes, he excelled at hiding that damn thimble), watching game shows with my mom’s mom or hanging out on the “davenport” (“you mean, couch, grandma?”) with my other grandma.
If you’re tempted to finally use the frozen ground turkey that you bought back in May… do yourself a favor and just order a pizza instead. Cuz 5 month old ground turkey tastes like the southern end of a northern bound donkey.
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Remember the coffee issue at work? The whole disbanded coffee club? And the coke machine which does NOT function? DUDE. Listen TO THIS.
There is a frigging WATER CLUB in the building. A WATER CLUB. You pay $5 a month to drink from a water cooler. Is your head spinning? There ARE fountains, but apparently you WILL DIE (that was told to my office mate) if you drink the brown water which trickles lazily from the fountain in the lobby. But, my officemate and I both survived our first days, when without coffee or pop, we were forced to drink from the seemingly benign water fountain. Does anyone else think Water Club is bizarro, and I don’t know, beyond stupid. Cannot I not expect to be able to drink FREE untainted water while at work?
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Which brings me to the word “free”… as in, we don’t get ANY free food on our (many) flights bound for Hawaii. ALL of the meals are listed as “food for purchase.”
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And on a completely different topic…has anyone watched Men in Trees? If so, can you HEAR the dialogue, because we can’t. It’s axed from Tivo for poor sound editing. For shame.
Who should I call first today?
Your choices are…
1. American Airlines regarding our upcoming trip to Hawaii (swoon all ya want, I’m having panic attacks) concerning all of the following issues:
a. the change they made to our itinerary which now includes a SEVEN HOUR layover in Los Angeles on the trip home.
b. the 2 of 6 legs of the trip where we are all seated in different rows. Have fun back there with Jojo! He’ll need a bottle in about an hour. Oh, and I think he needs to be changed.
2. The hotel in Hawaii to get a crib in the room “for a nominal fee.”
3. The local Montessori school to get Jojo on the waiting list. I bet their fax machine works…is all I’m sayin’.
4. Some car place to get my NY state inspection that is due in t-minus 5 days BAH WHY DID I WAIT?????
5. Our local police department to query… “how should we handle people parking ON OUR LAWN, after we have kindly asked them to, in the future, not park on our lawn and their reponse is ‘ya know, the town owns the first 10-15 yards of property’?” And then patient Mr. Squirrel grits his teeth and replies “Well, I still have to mow my lawn” and then the dickweed (who is the grandpa of the kids next door) grumps away and moves his car, but SERIOUSLY, every single time they visit, he parks his big ass stupid lincoln continental in front of OUR house on OUR LAWN– not a little bit– the entire right side of his wheeled yacht is on our property. Killing our grass. Pissing us off. Park ON THE STREET. And here’s a concept: in front of the house you’re visiting. Because HELLO… we know you know that your son or daughter would not want THEIR grass being smooshed under that hunk of crap. FOR THE LOVE.
MY GOD this viral infection overstayed its welcome. THANKFULLY, Jojo finally packed up its coughing, green-snotted, cranktacular ass and kicked it out the backdoor. Just GO and don’t even THINK about coming back.
This last week sucked in a spectacular fashion. I know that I can be harsh, obscene and impatient, but I’m basically a good person. Or so I thought. Clearly, karma thinks otherwise. You would not. believe. how. friday. went. down.
FIRST, Thursday: I’m scheduled to work, but Jojo isn’t allowed back at daycare according to the pediatrician who diagnosed his croup. My mom (ped. nurse practioner) agreed over the phone and five states away. Ok. I get that. Fine. I called daycare to let them know that Jojo will not be whining alll dayyy long in their care, and I inform them that he will return tomorrow. BUT I need a note from the doctor saying that Jojo is not going to infect the other kids. “Have them fax us a note! We have a fax machine!” I realize that quoted sentence sounds reasonable and helpful, but they’re always so excited that they have a fucking fax machine, and it’s starting to annoy me. Little did I know.
Anyway, Thursday morning, I stayed home with Jojo and seriously, almost lost it. NOTHING I DID was right. Therefore, EVERYTHING I DID gave Jojo reason to whine and cry and oh dear lord. Serenity now. Mr. Squirrel took over at noon, but before then, I called the pediatrician’s office to ask them to fax a note to daycare and to call me if there were any problems with any part of that task. You see what’s coming, right? Need I even go there?
Thursday evening/Friday morning was worse than the night before. While his fever had abated, he coughed allll night long and none of us slept well. But with the fever gone for over 36 hours, I knew it was safe to bring him to daycare on Friday morning.
At 7:30, the time I usually take Jojo to daycare, I called to make sure they had received the fax. “No, I don’t see anything on the fax. Did you give them the right number? It’s xxx-xxxx. I don’t see anything. Have them fax it again.”
Me: “They’re not open for at least another half hour. I have a meeting at nine. His fever went away 2 days ago. He’s not contagious. But you want me to have the note, right?”
Daycare: hmmm hawwww “yes.” (Because we’re asshats)
Me: “Fine.” Clipped tone already in progress.
A quick call to the pediatric’s office’s answering service (h.a.t.e. answering services) revealed that the office doesn’t open until 9 am. The same time my meeting begins! Classic! I leave a note to have the office fax a note (blah blah blah) and give the fax number again.
AnsweringServiceUnfeelingBeyotcha: “We’ll have them call you.”
No, I don’t NEED to be called. A note, the one supposedly written and faxed yesterday, needs to be FAXED again. Fucking A.
A little before 9 (oh we have a go-getter here!!), someone calls from the pediatric’s office. They appear very helpful and notes that the fax was attempted twice on Thursday, but it didn’t go through. That, for me, qualifies as a “problem,” which would mean that they should have contacted me. But. Well. No. Let’s move forward, Mrs. Squirrel. The nurse reports that “yes! the fax has been sent.” I ask if she wouldn’t mind calling the daycare to see if their fax is being received and to read the fax to them over the phone, in case it’s not, because then this will all be done. Normally, I would not request this, but come ON…the office isn’t open yet and PLEASE!?!! No. She tells me that I should call and see if the fax is sent. Ok. Fine. I thank her and call the daycare to make sure they have received it.
Nope. “Nothing’s coming through. Are you sure they have the right number? It looks like someone tried to fax something yesterday, but it didn’t go through. I don’t know what the problem is. We have a dedicated fax line. I mean, we have an answering machine on this line, too, but they should be able to get through. They’re not doing it right.” [uh what? Why can't people just have a truly dedicated fax line and not fuck up connections with answering machines and the like? Do you NOT THINK THAT IS THE GODDAMN PROBLEM HERE? No. Of course not. Nurses are notoriously STUPID PEOPLE and cannot fax properly THREE SEPARATE TIMES. Please note: I heart nurses and that was SARCASTIC because CLEARLY, Jojo's daycare providers are utter morons. I'm looking elsewhere for care as I type.]
But…if the nurse had just called the daycare and READ THEM THE NOTE, this nightmare would be resolved. Ahem. So, I’m bitter at both parties, actually.
I’m getting frantic. I NEED TO GET TO WORK. I’ve already missed most of Thursday, and some of the previous week and HELLO Amsterdam. And Hawaii coming up. STRESS HELLO. Plus, this is RIDICULOUS.
I call BACK the pediatic’s office and again request another fax. I talk to a different person, but one who knows the situation (because I’m sure they’re all ranting about the spastic mom and the Mystery of the Missing Fax) and for the love of Christ, she won’t call the daycare either. “That’s not my job. We don’t have time to do that.” Um… well, if I call you back every 4 minutes to ask you to fax again, that’s going to take a LOT OF FUCKING TIME OUT OF YOUR DAY. I’m getting bitter. I think it was after this exchange when I broke down crying.
Which was also the only time that morning when Jojo smiled. And laughed. Ah yes. Mommy’s emotional breakdown is funny.
I call daycare. Again. The provider I’ve been dealing with again sounds *shocked* that these nurses cannot figure out how to fax. Uh huh. “The fax machine rings but then they hang up.” Yup, I’m sure that’s what’s happening. “Why don’t you just ask the nurse to call us and read us the fax.”
At that point, I believe I went out outside and laid in traffic. Or in my dreams I did. So what did I do? I had to load up Jojo and drive to the doctor’s office to PICK UP the fax. And deliver it to daycare with Jojo.
(Another) bad thing about daycare is that I then had to talk to the daycare providers about this *mysterious* faxing issue and how stupid it is that daycare can’t call the doctor’s office and just ask if Jojo can come back to daycare. Whatever. Shut up. I don’t care if you used to be able to do that. You can’t now. SHUT UP and SHUT UP and SHUT UP. I seriously almost had to make the “zip it” motion or I was going to LOSE IT. Instead, I stiffened and said something hurried and annoyed about missing two meetings, pulled a smile out of my ass, kissed Jojo goodbye and left. I may have cried again.
Thankfully, my mascara did not run but it did magically disappear. I guess no mascara is better than racoon eyes. Beautiful morning.
SO what I’m asking you, my friends, to do is to fax something awful, obscene, ridiculous or maybe even just a photocopy of your ass (which is SO not awful or obscene or ridiculous– it’s beautiful, I tell ya. STUNNING!) to my daycare provider. Would ya? Could ya? Not that it’s going to actually GO THROUGH THE FAX MACHINE.
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On a positive note, Kathy Griffin is heeelarious. One bad thing about live shows: you really cannot get up to pee. So I was on the edge of my seat for several reasons. FANTASTIC though. Several times I’d wished I’d brought a pen and pad to tell ya’ll the gossip and funny stories. Quick recap:
- she doesn’t buy that Suri (who she thinks looks asian) is their child…there may have been some mention of Katie screwing Jackie Chan.
- she still loathes Star Jones who apparently told Barbara Walters (when she was fired) that she’d be fine with any replacement “as long as it isn’t Rosie O. or Kathy Griffin.” Ah snap.
- Jason Lee is a Scientologist?!?! Oh Earl!
- she had an “Ambien blackout” in Iraq and ended up struttin’ naked through the barracks, thinking she was clothed.
- she did several impersonations of her parents who are hilarious, if you’ve ever watched the show. And if you haven’t?! What?
- Jerry Springer made $250MILLION off of his “Too Hot for TV” videotapes. Dude.
Ok that’s all I can remember for NOW, but throughout the day, I was all “did you just mention Whitney Houston?” And Mr. Squirrel would shake his head “no,” but then I’d tell the bit about Whitney. Poor Mr. Squirrel.
Anyway, the show was fantastic. And I got to spend the evening with MyFriendJen who, with her good looks and sweet demeanor, immediately scored us a ridiculously awesome couch/table from the (smitten) host of the restaurant which had an hour wait before the show.
Oh, I mean THIS post, not yesterdays or well, any other day. Ahem.
The croup sucks ass. What sucks more? ‘Roid Rage, which apparently is a side effect of, duh, the steroid drops that I have to coerce Jojo into taking. My mom (a trained pediatric PROfessional) predicted increased crabbiness and appetite. Right again, Mom. My CIRCUS OF THE STARS is Jojo crabby today. The whining. Un-re-len-ting. This mommy is dancing on the edge. And not in a good Joey Lawrence kind of way.
But back to RantFest, version September 21. So I wait around the pharmacy yesterday for the prescription to be filled. My name is NEVER EVER called over the loud speaker to alert me to its readiness because my last name is unpronounceable. And guess what? So was my maiden name except for like 1% of the population who, lucky for Hillary, included the volunteer who called last night so with her accurate spelling of my maiden name (which I still use for my email account…I feel like I’m going off on a tangent here perhaps?), I chipped in an extra $25 bucks to my contribution. BUT ANYHOOOO… so I wrangle the Wiggly Worm Formerly Known As Jojo up to the counter where I receive a “oh yeah, your Rx has been ready” and pay for the medicine, magazine (addict. me.) and big yellow bouncy ball. Back into the car we go, and we head home to dole out the ‘roids and get on the road to HEALTHY!! Woo hooo!
Until I open the bag with the medicine and notice there is no medicine dropper. Fuck. I head upstairs to our stronghold of all things medicine-related and find no medicine dropper (I swear I registered and received one of these…damnit). Instead of getting back in the car or stroller to head back to the pharmacy, I call my mom. She, too, curses the pharmacy for not including a medicine dropper (and pissing off her tempermental daughter AND prolonging her poor grandson’s bout with croup-related nastiness — we’re very loyal — and bitter!) and then proceeds to tell me how to measure out 3 ml using a 1/2 teaspoon and some other random kitchen utensils. Thanks mom! I get the first dose in Jojo and contact Mr. Squirrel about stopping by said stupid pharmacy to buy a real medicine dropper on his way home from work.
Fast forward to Mr. Squirrel’s return home, where he shows me the two-pack of medicine droppers that the idiot worker found for him. Only one type of medicine dropper is sold there. And we “should really use the one we received with our medication.” Mr. Squirrel didn’t see the irony there nor did he then proceed to the pharmacy to ASK FOR A FREE MEDICINE DROPPER THAT SHOULD HAVE COME WITH OUR MEDICATION. So. Instead, he purchased two completely useless UNLINED, NOT MARKED IN ANY WAY, glass tubes with a squishy thing on one end. I could have just sucked up the medicine with a straw and my finger. I mean SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.
Soooo guess who drops by the pharmacy on her way to a “mom’s night out” gathering to get that damned medicine dropper and complain about the assinine medicine dropper selection (that I couldn’t return because my husband opened them even though I had pointed out their uselessness before the package was opened?!?!!?)? Yours truly. Dudes. They probably heard my angry stomping coming the second I entered the store. I was LIVID. I held my tongue fairly well and did not swear! Nor did I roll my eyes. I may have employed some sarcasm and a clipped tone. But I got the blessed dropper thingy and some mumbled apology. BAH. Stupid CVS Pharmacy. BAHBAHBAH.
And on other notes: No new Project Runway last night = great sadness at Casa de Squirrel. Por que? Did we do something wrong? Why must you tease, dear Bravo execs?
And the mom’s night out dealio? MY GOD there was this one girl whose stories were TOO LOUD and TOO SPASTIC and dear lord quit yelling VAGINA so loudly. Or at all. Oh. Yeah, that was me. I’m blaming the latte.
AND… guess who I’m going to see tomorrow night? Giddy and up. A fun night out with my uber-hilarious friend JEN. Can’t wait!
And now I’m going to go before I publish more poo.
I’m swearing a LOT today. I’m a bad mommy. We all know this, so really? What’s new, HollowSquirrel? I have a lot to tell you that I wouldn’t want to keep from you because apparently that is not allowed (and NO I did NOT appreciate SillyHily’s threat to delete Project Runway from my TiVo– not funny. Not funny at all.). I kid girl– I heart you…just stay away from my TiVo though…
So, here goes some random happenings and accompanying rants:
Party favors: The Squirrel family attended a first birthday party this weekend. What were the party favors for the kids? A case of the croup. Delightful. No gift bag necessary. Thanks! This gets me thinking about Jojo’s upcoming 1st birthday party. For favors, I’m thinking explosive diarrhea? That’s always fun AND more likely to be passed onto the parents as well. A gift for the whole family.
Croup: Yes, Jojo is sick. What started as a fever then major snot attack has progressed into a terrible barking cough. The poor little buttercup couldn’t fall asleep early this morning in his crib, so I had to sit with him in the glider, where his head was elevated. His breathing was so labored and fast then slow then too slow then COUGH BARK COUGH BARK fast then slow that I took him to the pediatrician’s office this morning. Please send healing thoughts our way.
Working Part-Time: Not fun when your kid is sick and not allowed to infect others at daycare. And you get to pay for daycare even though your child is not there. AND I really have to go to work because I already missed four days while in Amsterdam, one day with the migraine, and am missing three days when we’re in Hawaii. Mr. Squirrel should have flex-time saved up from working late several nights on the presentation for the conference in Hawaii, but he said, and I quote with a clipped & bitter tone (my own, not his):
“This doesn’t count as work?”
Reasonable Mrs. Squirrel: “What? Why not? You’re working on something for work. “
Ridiculous Mr. Squirrel: “No, not really.”
Reasonable Mrs. Squirrel: “Work is paying for you to go to this conference. You wouldn’t be attending this conference if you didn’t work there. You’re speaking about a project that work pays for you to work on. It’s work-related. Therefore, the 8 hours of work you’ve put in this week in the evenings should be somehow compensated to you in the form of flex-time (insert forehead slapping and some obscenities)”
Ridiculous Mr. Squirrel: pretends he can’t hear me suddenly and eyes glaze over
Frustrated Mrs. Squirrel: “Fine. I’m going to watch the third episode of Six Feet Under.”
Six Feet Under: I just rented the first disc of the first season and may I query “WHY didn’t anyone tell me to immediately rent and watch this show before?” Or does it get worse or something? I love it. LOVE it. Well, I could do without the corpses. Of course, now that the shows are starting up, I may have to postpone the rest of the series for later in the season.
1st Birthday Parties: Any suggestions on reasonably priced yet wicked stylish invitations? I’m finding either $3/invite or fugly primary-colored circus-esque invites. The countdown begins tomorrow on his 11 month birthday! Go Jojo!
Momma Needs a New Blog Template: I mean, seriously, this blog is ugly, and I’m not just talking about the pics of me with the shiny forehead (come ON now people, you’re telling me you didn’t notice the “white light?”). I’ve signed up for a chance to win a free makeover, basically! Thank you CPA Mom for noticing this contest and alerting your readers to it! I hope we BOTH win big! Even if I don’t win, I think I may contact them after the whirlwind of October passes.
Hawaii: Did I mention this? Hmmm… I’m not sure. We’re going to Maui NEXT Saturday. Mr. Squirrel is speaking at a conference, and we’re bringing Jojo… and my parents! Didn’t I tell you this earlier this summer? Yes, bad readers. You’ve been very very bad. Don’t make me start up the spankin’ machine, cuz I will. Let me remind you… when we mentioned the trip to my parents and hinted at dropping off the Jo at their home to watch for the week, my mom instead mentioned them coming with us: “We can watch Jojo, and you guys can have sex and make me another grandchild.” Does that ring any awful bells for you?
Future Site of… Jojo’s Corner of Love: Or something of that nature. Jojo’s, when not wiped out from his hacking croup, been hounding me to give some shout-outs and words of encouragment, love, etc. to friends and readers of HollowSquirrel. Once we win (or buy) a new template, some sidebar spaceage will be given to Jojo to do with what he will. Although the official space is obviously non-existent, he wanted me to wish Sweets & Poodle safe and ridiculously fun trips to China & Italy respectively. Bon voyage! (wow, I didn’t realize he knew french!) Jojo also wanted to congratulate and cyber-hug the fabulous Queen of Napville on her recent Brand! New! Job! Congrats & best of luck…they will heart you big time!
Ok, the barking seal is up from his nap. More later! BYEBYE says Jojo.
Yes. I have been. TOTALLY holding out on some exciting Jojo-related news. I don’t know why. This motherhood thing is weird, and I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging, because every child develops differently. So, if I reported this developmental news, I wanted it to be like a big “Yeah Jojo! This is so cool!” but not a “Yeah Jojo you’re supreme and talented and WAY AHEAD of everyone else.”
Anyway, he’s walking. And he’s been walking for a while. Of course, part of my reluctance to report this is based on my own issues with being correct– remember my diatribe on the seemingly innocuous question “how long were you in labor?”
When Jojo let go of the coffee table and ventured three steps towards me, we celebrated! He took steps! Is that walking? What constitutes “walking” exactly? I excitedly told close friends & loved ones about his first steps! I hestitated using the term “walking,” but after a couple of weeks of this, I asked my mom, a pediatric nurse practitioner if this was “walking.” I’m fairly certain she rolled her eyes as she sighed and told me over the phone, “Squirrel, I don’t know what you expect him to do to make it walking. He’s walking for heaven’s sake. Now shut up and go make me more grandbabies.” Ok, she didn’t say that last part outloud, but we all know that’s what she’s thinking.
Jojo the day after his first steps. We stalked him like the paparazzi following BritBrit, but alas, he toyed with us and didn’t walk again for a couple of days…until the hype wore off:
Don’t you people have anything better to do? You’re pathetic!
He seemed to be in a hurry…
Must not look directly at the blinding white shine on mommy’s forehead. I will run and get her some powder STAT!
of Amsterdam and particularly one of Jojo enjoying our vacation:
Here’s another picture of the happy traveler…momentarily subdued by the bumpy ride and passing bicyclists not to notice the harness system which he loathes.
Jojo loves him some dirty birds. If only we’d have let him catch one to take home. He’s now obsessed with pigeons. Lovely.
Other things Jojo fell for while overseas? Sushi! And before you start freaking out about raw fish, what do you think Japanese kids eat? So shut it. He loved the salmon, not so much the tuna, and the wasabi that was accidentally given to him off the ends of Mr. Squirrel’s chopsticks? Well…that didn’t go over so well. Lesson learned.
Here’s a nice little (albeit dark) picture of the Jo playing with a scooter once used by Mr. Squirrel and even his mother! I heart his expression. I’m not sure which expression this is– either he’s crapped himself or he was caught doing something naughty. And considering that cute Dutch shirt reads “nice,” I think it must be the first thing. Time to change the Jojo…
As seen in the photo below, at times, Amsterdam disturbs Jojo. I can understand that. But what was it that elicited this horrified reaction from Jojo? I didn’t see anything and poor Mr. Squirrel was facing the wrong way AND having his scalp clawed (Jojo drew blood). I guess it could have been one of the many hobos in the park we were walking. Mr. Squirrel queried whether it was the site for the casting call for Holland’s Next Top Hobo. He may have been onto something. Seriously… if hobo spotting is your thing, I have just the park for you. 
Random creepy spider. There were far too many of these for my liking.
And finally, this is a site of more completed Christmas shopping. And yes, I’ll provide the batteries for ya. There’s nothing worse than receiving a new toy without the batteries.
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In other news… the new Today Show set. The one-on-one interviewing setup? It looks like the locker room at the new YMCA. Seriously… very hygenic (which is why I said “new”) and cold. Should we shower before meeting Matt?
Also, let me be a friend to you. The friend who promises, under any amount of Hollywood pressure or fashion magazine assurances, to never NEVER buy or wear leggings. NEVER AGAIN! Join me. Vote No on proposition “These Things are Fugly and Will Never Grace My Body.”
