Queen of Rambles

I’ve read exactly three books this year. In the days of my wild and crazy youth I was reading at least one book a day, sometimes more. In the days of my pre-parenting adulthood I was managing at least a book a week. Now I can’t even manage a book a month. I am hanging my head in shame.

Maybe it’s just that I haven’t had a book catch my fancy in a very long time. Oddly enough, I started a book a few days ago and am whizzing through it even though it is totally not the kind of book I would ever say I liked. I picked it up simply because I enjoyed the movie, and now I am hooked and am ready it in every spare moment. I may even finish it tomorrow, if MisterE isn’t as whiny as he was today (and boy howdy could I tell you about some whine. I can’t stand the whine.).

The book? In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner. I hear it’s not even her best work. I’m loving it even more than the movie (of course) and can’t wait to read some more of her stuff. I never knew I was a chick lit kind of gal.

I also devoured an issue of “Brain, Child” that Heather sent my way. Finally, FINALLY! What took me so long? I had heard so many wonderful things about it that I was a little afraid I would hate it and be disappointed. Basically, it was like reading several really excellent blog entries by people I’d like to get to know better. There were hardly any ads and absolutely no ridiculous hundred dollar dresses that your little girl just has to have. In fact, one story had a quote that I have thought many times: If you’re unhappy running your kids to ten million different activities. . . . don’t do it! Amazing. Someone else with a modicum of sense! Not that I think activities are bad for kids. In fact, I think an activity or two is good for a kid. That’s it though. Two maximum. Why do they need to be highly involved in twenty different things? I guess it’s all about keeping up with the Joneses for some people, but I don’t know the Joneses. I don’t care about the Joneses. The Joneses can eat my shorts.

Now on to more important matters: how do you take care of a baby who thinks he’s an acrobat? Changing his diaper has become impossible. I was getting pretty good at doing it with him facing down, but even that doesn ‘t work. He’s decided he likes to hang upside down when he’s nursing, or else he likes to pretend he’s a calf and nurse while on all fours. It’s really fun and oh-so-attractive to feel even more cow-like. I would take a picture of his silliness, but my boobs are not for public consumption. I think that’d attract a whole new demographic.

I guess I better quit writing while I’m ahead. It’s almost midnight. Eeep! Those darn next Food Network stars reeled me in and wouldn’t let me go. Funny, since I never watch that network any more. I miss Door Knock Dinner and Naked Chef. I’m old school that way. Who wants Sandra Lee and her nasty semi-homemade food? Or Rachel Ray and her Joker like smile? Not me!

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 16th, 2006 at 8:37 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.