While pondering the weather and various random things, that question pinged into my head this morning. I’ve been sitting on it, trying to figure out exactly what I would do and why. Mostly because this morning was really wretched as far as mornings go so I’ve been in a bit of a grumpy mopey mood. And what with 2012 just around the corner, I don’t have time to waste being grumpy or mopey. You know, the supposed end of the world and all that? The four horsemen… and apparently they aren’t bringing flowers (super bonus points to anyone who recognizes that quote, mostly because it’s not exact, but in it’s exact form, the way it’s sounding off in my head, it is a glorious quote – so super bonus points).

Anyway, the morning started off just like any other morning, with the alarm clock assaulting our senses and vaulting us out of bed. Jasbaz and I took our morning bath, washed hair, played with the hand towel (she kept trying to hook it over the bar in the bath), etcetera. She started to get really cranky towards the end of the bath, so we wrapped it up – as well as ourselves – and prepared to get ready for the day.

As soon as I laid her down on the bed to diaper and clothe her, she started freaking out, rolling all over the place and screaming, kicking her bum in the air. It was rather startling to say the least and I had to practically tackle her to put her diaper on. But as most of us know, you can never trust a baby sans diaper. Never.

After she was successfully diapered, I released her and watched her thrash and wriggle all over the bed, bawling while she did so. Now I must admit, I pondered the situation carefully because one has a checklist of things to look out for to diagnose problems. Has she been fed and watered? No, not yet. Diaper changed? Yes. Is she cold? Well, I know I certainly was being wrapped in a towel. When did she last have a BM? Dunno, not this morning… but I had school last night so… no idea.

It’s amazing those quick checklists. Anyway, I hurriedly clothed her as best as possible, popped her into her playpen, and dashed off to get a bottle of juice to calm her nerves. She was livid, to say the least, at being put in the playpen, but the way she was rocking and rolling around, she could have hurt herself otherwise. I handed her the juice, scooped her back out of the playpen, and headed to get ready myself.

I put her on the center of our bed and let her have at it while I tried to get ready. But it’s very tricky getting ready when your daughter is making a scene similar to the Exorcist and you have to keep checking to make sure she stays on the bed while thinking in the back of your head where the nearest crucifix is and do I know the Lords Prayer? No, the truth is I don’t. And I’ve no idea if we even have a crucifix.

What I did have was the Mom’s Gift of Massage. It’s one of those latent talents that all women have hidden somewhere in their psyches and when you can tell a little one has constipation, you feel the overwhelming urge to rub their bellies and massage out the poo. Sorry if this got a bit too much for those of you who have never experienced this moment. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.

Anyway, I started massaging her belly, we walked throughout the house singing that one song from the Lion King about how the lion sleeps tonight. Hush my darling, don’t fear my darling, the poop will come out right… Oh OH oh. Ah wee mah wah. You know how it goes.

Well, we were pushing our get ready for work and get out of the house time limit, so I was starting to get really antsy and perhaps a bit frantic. Getting stuck at home with a cranky baby is pretty far on my list of things I don’t want to do on a Tuesday, which sounds bad but at least I’m honest, okay. Cranky babies are not fun at all. Don’t lie to yourself.

So about five minutes before I was supposed to be at work, she unleashes the biggest fart of her life. And probably mine. Jesus. She exorcised something, let me tell you.

Then we went on our merry way with me being about twenty minutes late to work and kindly letting the daycare wranglers know that she might be a tad bit cranky and to call if in dire need. So far, no calls.

So, the stage is set now and I think we’re all pretty much on the same page. I’m not in the best of moods but like I mentioned earlier, time is short and we’ve got to enjoy what we’ve got while we’ve got it. And if today was the last day of MY life, I know exactly what I’d do.

First, I’d bust the hell out of this office with a quickness and lasso the Jasbaz out of daycare. Next, we’d assault the local KFC and fill the car with Popcorn Chicken, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Biscuits, Biscuits, and Coleslaw. Then, we’d go to the local bakery where I swear the chefs have sold their souls to the devil and provide the most sinfully delicious brownies I think I’ve ever had in my entire life. We’d buy two boxes of brownies (because Andy gets scary when he is presented with one, we had to think of ourselves too) and wander around the city trying to track Andy down. He can smell a brownie three miles away. It’s an amazing talent.

After collecting the fam, we’d head out to the local zoo with a plush comforter and go visit all the animals. See, it’d only be fair to show Jasbaz the world right before the end, and well, I’d like to go see some animals too. Then we’d picnic and play in the sunshine, except that today isn’t sunny. But I’m hoping that if it was the last day of my life, God would find it in his heart to give us some pretty weather. So likely the way we’ll know the Apocalypse is upon us is when we are experiencing the most lovely day ever. Maybe. I’m not really an expert on these things.

What would YOU do?

Jasbaz got a fabulous pair of bright white out of sight shoes yesterday. So I expect her lost shoes to pop up this weekend while I’m straightening the house. Still, it was worth taking her into Payless and watching her go berserk in the store.

She’d toddle up to the rows upon rows of shoes, pull one out, and wander away in delight. She’s a big fan of light up shoes. But plain white was what she got since we got the ‘Walking’ shoes. You know, to help with the whole stability thing. Although they had some really cute Velcro ones that I was drooling over for her. We would have gotten them if they had had her size because that’d make mornings even easier! No wrangling while attempting to shoe her. Alas, maybe next time.

I’ll likely get photographic evidence this weekend so we can show them off. I also have to capture our backyard’s new flora and fauna that we inherited as well as finish my Photography project. Which is going to be awesome. It’s entitled ‘Plastic Makes It Possible’ and will be featuring the many floating plastic bags that swarm our city. In honor of recycling and Earth day and THROWING YOUR TRASH IN THE GARBAGE. You know.

As a side note, there are so many people in this city that I want to berate for not taking responsibility for their purchases and leaving remnants on the ground. For example, at our old place we lived a block down from a liquor store. Everything you bought at that store came in a solid black plastic bag. And it seems like every bag that came out of that store ended up in people’s front yards, floating down the street, and snagged in trees and brush. Not to mention empty bags of Cheetos, broken glass bottles, cigarette butts, and the occasional newspaper.

I used to hate having to clean up our front yard every weekend because there’d be so much litter from passersby. I intimated to Andy once that I’d become the Recycling Police and sit on our front porch with an AK-47 keeping the streets clear and taking out/glaring at anyone who dared not keep their trash to themselves. Obviously, I haven’t yet done this. But mostly because I don’t want to turn into a stereotypical Republican and because I don’t want someone to scratch up our car.

So, chyeah. Back to the topic… which was… shoes? I shall document them this weekend. You know, along with plastic baggies. It’ll be like American Beauty but without all the dramas and with more bags!

~ Penguin Gets A Wetsuit — true happy news

As luck would have it, out of all the boxes we’ve moved and unpacked, we simply cannot find the box that contains Jasbaz’s shoes. I’ve searched like crazy for the past three days trying to find them and I’m afraid the box seems to have wandered off the face of this planet. Which isn’t terribly dreadful except for the fact that her footwear was in it. Everything else was… crap that needed to be tossed.

I think that is the worst thing about unpacking too. Realizing how much of this stuff you don’t want to put away because you don’t even know why you own it and knowing that there is no way you can sneakily eek out to the alley and throw it in the garbage because Andy has some kind of mental inventory of all the random stuff that we own and will know. It’s crazy, I tell you. Or it will have sentimental value.

But really, I think that is why unpacking the house has come to a stand still. I’m not unpacking stuff I don’t want in the house and since I’m not unpacking, Andy’s not unpacking because he does whatever I do. He’s one of those social copycats sometimes.

Honestly, I can be doing dishes and then he’ll want to do them, which will prompt me to attempt laundry only to find him wandering into the room about ten minutes later wanting to do laundry instead. It’s a tad deranged and generally only happens on occasion. But it’s occuring now and these boxes of junk are making me crazy. I think I might just carry them up to the attic and put todays date on them in black marker. If they are still up there, unopened, two years from now, they’re hitting the garbage can in the alley.

Yes, I do like that plan. Note to self: achieve this and let Andy know he has a deadline: 2 years from now.

The house is still coming together rather nicely aside from the groups of boxes sitting shiftily in corners and extra space. You can tell there is a fundamental outline to the room and it functions still. It’s not complete and utter mass mayhem in there at least. But still, I’m kind of steemed that we have to take Jasbaz out shopping tonight for a new pair of shoes. And even though I went through each individual box personally, I know in my heart that a day after she’s wearing her new shoes, we’re going to come across her old ones sitting in some completely obvious place, likely propped up with the missing box of junk.

I’ve realized that I’m getting old and it’s a rather odd feeling. I got a phone call this past weekend from a friend that I hadn’t spoken to in three years. THREE! Hehe. I was so glad she had called too because then we spent the next hour or so reminiscing and catching up on our lives.

She was so surprised when she heard about all the changes I’ve made since high school. But then, everyone is. What did they expect from me, really? =) Makes you wonder. Did they think I was going to be the serial cat woman or expect me to be prancing down runways in NY? I dunno. I can’t really stereotype myself, so I’m going to say they expected me to model for Balenciaga and live happily in a villa in Spain. Yeah, that’s it.

Anyway, we started talking about class reunions and I realized that I only have two years until I’m expected to ship back to VA and show off my life. And catch up with friends, of course. ;D

I guess I just thought it’d take longer but there it is. I’m getting old. But then again, I’m kind of hyped about seeing all my old friends again and catching up. And also, showing off the Jasbaz. Would it be appropriate when people compliment on how gorgeous she is to respond, “I know, I built her myself!” or with “Yeah, she’s our masterpiece”. I’m uncertain. They don’t explain these things in baby books.

Anyway. I think I need to start reading more books again. For some reason I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus and I feel like my literary prose is slipping into something a little less stimulating and lot more blah. I can’t really explain it. I could blame it on Prin quoting my text and really, when you read what you wrote on another’s page, you go into a full editor mode. And I wish I’d phrased things differently. It just sounded… dumb? Hehe. So… time to hit the books.