Anyone care to join me in a small primal scream? The Terrible Twos have hit big and mama is NOT HAVING IT. I'm not proud of the grouchness. Since my main job in life is to make sure the kid becomes an empathetic, patient, fully-formed tot, beating the snot* out of a defenseless pillow because SOMEONE insists on going limp the minute I try to get him to (insert any friggin' activity here) might not be the best model for appropriate behavior. But holy tantrum, Batman, sometimes I get infuriated! While I'll never regret staying at home, not having a break from the seemingly endless whining and crying and pushing and flinging and Ehn! Ehn!-ing takes a toll. I try to get him out and active as much as possible but Spring is refusing to sprung here in the East, resulting in cold, wet, child-unfriendly days. The boy is about an inch and a half away from walking on his own (he goes gangbusters if he has a hand to hold and can practically run with the walker) but in 700 square feet there's only so far he can go without knocking something over or stepping on a cat. His way-back molars are coming in which hurt like the dickens, so I feel for him, definitely. Just not as much as I feel for me. If anyone in the Metropolitan area feels like hanging out with an increasingly irritable momster ("Momster"! Like monster! Funny? No?) feel free to drop by. Scratch that - don't drop by. The only thing that would make my head explode more than a child flinging an entire bowl of yogurt is a child flinging a bowl of yogurt at an unexpected guest. Call first.
In other news, Grandma came to visit which was just as marvelous as it sounds. Matt and I got to see a movie! We took full advantage of the free babysitting to haul our happy heiners over to the AMC for Coraline in 3-D. The verdict? Awesome with a side of glee. (I'd skip it for the under-10 set. Gaiman gets dark.)
I've been writing a lot. My big heap of pitches to Unnamed Woman's Mag got several (very complimentary) rejections, one solid maybe, 3 un-solid maybes, and a definite yes as soon as they find a companion piece. Not bad. The World's Nicest Editor is pitching the maybes to her peeps today - I'll let you know how it turns out. I'm also trying to move forward on the book but it feels a lot like learning to walk - wobbly and slow. But I'm happy with my voice and I think what I'm writing is interesting. If I could just figure out how to craft a story faster (and, er, sell it) that'd be swell. Mama wants to buy an apartment while the homebuyer tax credit holds.
Speaking of buying:
A) we want to, and
B) we can't afford a cardboard box overlooking the West Side Highway
Not to go all Miley on you but OMG, peeps. The Times Real Estate section touted the return of the $200,000 studio apartment which might be deemed awesome in Backwards Land but come on! (A 250-sq-ft studio for "only" $199,000? Oy.) Since Matt would like to continue having a job it looks like we'll be staying here for a bit, but throwing away (sobs into sleeve at price of rent) every month is starting to feel stupid. Unfortunately our meager budget won't get us a 2-bedroom in the shittiest part of the worst borough... (We could just move to Richmond and get this little jewel instead.) I Heart New York!
The child is stirring. Time to make the donuts. (Or in this case, the scrambled eggs with broccoli, parmesan, and leftover soy sausage. Which he will then refuse to eat.)
(*Lest someone decide to call Child Protective Services on my venting ass, please note that I'm prone to exaggeration.)