"Elmo? Bih Burhd? Mama, p'ease?"

Okay, you know that last post where I was all "Look at me! Sleeping in! Just a phase-phase-phase!"

Last night the boy woke up at 2:10 am. And that, as they say, was that.

For the record, asking for Elmo at 2:00 in the morning? Never gonna fly, kid. I don't care how whispery and cute you are. Nobody's that adorable at 2 am. Nobody.

ANYBODY GOT A LEAD ON AN 18" STUFFED FOZZIE BEAR? AN IMPENDING BIRTHDAY WANTS TO KNOW.

I am happy, grateful, GIDDY to report that the blasted 4:30 am wake ups appear to be over. After grilling some of the other parents in Owen's class I found out that the ridonkulous early-birding was pretty typical. Almost every kid had gone through it, right around their 2nd birthday. It usually lasted a few weeks and then everything went back to normal, which is exactly what happened here. The general consensus was that it has something to do with the dreaded 2-year-old molars combined with growth spurts/daylight savings/new babies/potty training... Basically, something wonky happens to kids around age 2 that effs up their sleep. And yes, it all goes away. Funny how when you're in the wilderness of parental weirdness (sleeplessness, potty training, the tween years) it seems impossible that it will end. When Owen was spending all those pre-dawn hours tossing and kicking and "Mama, play?"-ing at me, I felt certain that it was permanent. There's something about sleep deprivation that makes all sense of reason and logic go away. Which explains why I'm wary of doctors and pilots.

The boy turns 2 next month. I already see a few changes happening. My independent, never-met-a-stranger-he-didn't-love baby has suddenly started clinging to my knees whenever things get a touch "new car" for him. Even familiar places like our playground cause nervousness. I suspect this is normal but it's definitely a change. His language has totally caught up so that's a big phew!, but what's with the not eating? These days Owen lives on air and milk. My instinct is to go all short order cook ("Do you want this? How's about this? Maybe some of this?") but since I'd like to refrain from spending my entire adult life in the kitchen, I force myself to offer two choices - either the meal we're eating or something neutral like crackers and yogurt - and then call it a day. I keep reminding myself that he'll eat if he's hungry but we all know that's easier said than believed, especially when it's 6:00 and all he's consumed that day is a sniff of toast. (Truth be told, my anxiety comes less from the fear that he'll starve and more from the impending early morning wake up call...)

In other news:

- I'm still spending an inordinate amount of time searching for real estate we cannot possibly afford. It's strangely relaxing and yet, not.

- I just discovered Jack's 99 cent store. Where has this place been all my life?! The Dollar Generals I'm used to were good for two things - crappy party supplies and off-brand sponges. But this place has my favorite overpriced conditioner ($2.99), Fisher Price Little People school busses ($9.99) and - can you believe it? - organic food. (Amy's pizza - $2.99!) As someone who can spend hours investigating a drugstore sale rack, this place is my new home.

- I'm happy to report that Powerless is still going strong! Great reviews and spectacular support from the folks at Random House. A couple of movie people are making yummy noises which is totally exciting but I have to keep reminding myself that it's all a crap shoot. Matt's leading a Q&A and doing a book signing today at Symphony Space with the amazing Scott Westerfeld (Peeps, Uglies, Leviathan) so if you're in the neighborhood...

- I'm still doing the magazine thing. I should have a piece out in next month's Self and stuff for Dramatics and TONY Kids in January and April. It feels great, it really does. I just wish I could figure out how to make more money doing it. I'm still really new to the game but even at the top it seems hard to make more than $2,000 a month freelancing. (I don't make clooooooooooose to that.) If you have a regular column or something, maybe, but even high-paying features take time. Plunking out more than one a month seems unlikely. Maybe I'm totally wrong but making a living in NYC solely as a writer seems about as likely as making a living solely as an actor. Possible, but rare. So I'm trying to figure out what to do next with my life. I know that I have to go back to school for something but that's about as far as I get. I've thought about going into copywriting - along with every other writer on the planet. (I know I can bang out some punchy copy but I'm not delusional enough to think I can wade into those shark infested waters. Those writers would eat me for lunch.) I've also thought about teaching but then I realized that A) I generally dislike children that aren't my own, and B) teaching requires lots of hard work and patience. If you could go back to school for anything, what would it be? And what would you do with your new degree? (Psst! Got a job for a snarky, glamour-seeking redhead with no computer skills? I'm your gal!)

ANYBODY WANT A KID?

The boy has woken up at 4:30 every morning for the last 2 weeks. Every. Single. Day.

Is there any chance this is just a phase?

46 FLOORS. 2 TRICK-OR-TREATERS. GO FIGURE.

Angry shroud cookies. Not turds.

It's HALLOWEEN! Or at least it was 3 days ago. My kid's still recovering. Want to terrify my toddler? Just answer your door wearing an Edvard Munch scream mask.

It was a pretty scary day for little guys all around. We tried to go to our building's Halloween party but after 3 minutes of darkness and masks and strobe lights everyone under the age of 2 was DONE. We tried to relax at home with some Playdoh but someone (ahem) decided to stick the entire lid in his mouth. (Think it's not possible to choke on a Playdoh lid? Wait until it gets rammed down your toddler's throat when they try to close their lips. So much for vaguely distracted supervision...)

Terror aside, he loved being a bee! We've worn that costume every day for the past 2 weeks and he shows no sign of tiring which is great, especially since it means we get to have conversations like this.

Me: "Hey bub, what does a bee say?"
Owen: (wiggling his hips back and forth) "WOCKA-WOCKA!"

I have no idea how Fozzie got into the mix but I'm not about to say anything. That level of awesome shouldn't be corrected.

Just like two peas in a pod! (Or bees in a boat, as the case may be.)

WOCKA- WOCKA!

In other news, Random House has posted a book trailer on Matt's website! (Who knew books had trailers?) There should be a video Q&A up soon too, if you want to see Matt in action. Unfortunately Powerless got bumped from Borders' front table by those Diary of a Wimpy Kid books (drat!) but he just got a killer review from Publishers Weekly so that helps soften the blow. My Babble piece keeps bringing out the haters (the comments started out so nice...) but I did manage to snag a job from ever-awesome Time Out New York Kids. I'll be interviewing two of my former college classmates about what it's like to raise a family of 4 in NYC. (Naptime. How?) Two other big-deal parenting mags are also hanging on to some pitches so fingers crossed, crossed, crossed. Diapers must be bought!

YOU'LL LOVE THIS. AND BY 'YOU' I MEAN 'ME'.

It's cold. It's raining. Got a kid nursing some low-level yuckiness in the form of yet another cold. Time to cheer myself up with some THINGS ALISHA LOVES!

- A Day on the Farm by Nancy Fielding Hulick and John P. Miller

Yes it totally perpetuates gender stereotypes and negates the day-to-day struggles of farm life but curling up with this Little Golden Book is like sinking into a warm tub of Americana. I could spend hours with Farmer Brown and his family and their bucolic, Leave It To Beaver-y life. ("The big folks sit and chat on the front porch while the children play hide-and-go-seek. A harvest moon is rising over the fields.") Even if you aren't a sucker for nostalgia, the illustrations alone are worth a look. (10 points if you can identify half of the utensils in Mrs. Brown's kitchen.)

- Time Out New York Kids
And not just because they recently gave me an assignment. (April issue, here I come!)

- Awkward Family Photos
I could spend hours here. Hooooooours.

- Will Ferrell sunscreen
SPF 30 and Will Farrell's bare ass? Yes.

- Antique quilts...
like the one featured behind these two totally intimidating shop owners.

- Totally intimidating shop owners
As a rule, handlebar mustaches don't inspire me. But paired with the glasses and the slicked back 'do? I'm in. (Maybe it's the resemblance to Malcolm McDowell in Time After Time. I'll ask Freud.)

- J.D. Salinger
I'm currently re-reading The Catcher In The Rye and while I find Holden as aggravating as ever, there's something about the petulance of Salinger's characters that warms my heart. Plus I'm a sucker for any description of New York in the 40's. (E.B. White's Here Is New York, anyone?) But mostly I love J.D. for writing my favorite book of all time. (20 points if you can guess which one.)

- The dustbowl-meets-circus aesthetic of HBO's (sadly defunct) Carnivale

- Which is why I'm itching to try this place.

- Bangs.
Mostly because I can't have them.

- The new Stella McCartney line for GapKids
Why yes, I will be waiting in line (along with every other mommy in Manhattan) when these looks are unleashed. Just because I look like crap doesn't mean my kid has to.

- Pretty much anything Wade Robson choreographs on SYTYCD

- This awesome, awesome shirt.

Okay, off to do some real (read: paid) writing. Or take a nap. (Cue waking toddler...)

I'LL PLAY WITH YOU

Who wouldn't want to play with this guy?

Whelp, my little brush with internet fame is over - for now. (GRAND PLANS, PEEPS! GRAND PLANS! And by that I mean that I have no plans.)

It was fun while it lasted, though. Well, it was mostly fun. Comment boards really bring out the wingnuts. I didn't have it too bad (it's not like I was writing about circumcision*) but a few people took my article way, way too much to heart. I thought I was writing a heartfelt-but-comedic piece about playground politics but some parents weren't seeing the funny.

At all.

I've decided that anonymity and the internet don't mix. There's something about not having to publish your real name that turns people into bullies. And I don't even think that it makes people more honest - it's like it triggers some deep, primal aggression. I understand the critical comments I received from those raising autistic/developmentally disabled kids. Valid, all. But I'm pretty sure some of the other ones were written by bored, lonely folks who needed something to complain about and their neighbors/delivery people/kickable pets weren't around. I actually found myself feeling sorry for Paris Hilton. Being disliked, even by people who don't know you, feels rotten.

Speaking of not letting small people hurt your feelings, today after nap time my todder - my sweet, angel boy - told me, in no uncertain terms, to go away.

Go away? Where did he learn that batch of awfulness? I blame those little bastards at the playground. The obnoxious "big" kids (usually Kindergarteners) who take over the toddler boat and declare it off-limits to boys or babies or kids they don't know. As a mother who's prone to hovering, I constantly struggle with letting Owen claim independence, and part of being independent is learning how to handle some inevitable rejection. But when I hear those little jerks tell at my boy to leave them alone I want to do unspeakable violence. He's a baby! He shouldn't have to feel rejection yet! I know that innocence has to wear off and that it's totally normal for kids at this age to start losing their purity and gentleness, but he's a BAAAABY! And even though he doesn't understand exactly what they're saying, he understands enough. (Apparently he understands what "go away" means now too, which breaks my heart.)

Bastards.

Anybody got tips for what to tell a toddler when kids are mean? I usually do some variation on "that child doesn't want to play right now" but that's not dulling the hurt these days. What can I tell this little guy?

*All the circumcision articles - pro and con - in this week's NY Mag were fascinating, by the way.

THAT'S IT. WE'RE MOVING.

Maybe we should start substituting the Dictionary

It's articles like this that make me want to punch something. Not that I condone punching, or any sort of aggressive physicality (you paying attention, kid?) but... ugh.