What Would You Say

I can't believe that once again it's been forever since I have properly blogged. I don't know where the time goes. I have a few minutes today here and there since our one carseat is in my husband's car, parked at work. I don't really mind. I was supposed to take Animal to the Children's Hospital today to get bloodwork done for her low iron count, and was not looking forward to it. I guess we'll make it on Monday. I do have a forward-facing carseat for her but it's not installed and I have no confidence that I'll be able to properly install it whist corralling her to not run into the road. I'm such a bad mother.

I wish you could see her-she's sitting (for the moment) watching Bert and Ernie singing. She's dancing, laughing and clapping along. She's so freaking cute. She just turned around to smile at me and she has two trails of snot running out her adorable nose. She's on day 6 of her cold. It needs to go away. Another reason I didn't want to subject her to her first blood draw today. She's miserable enough. That's justification, isn't it? Not really.

We survived her first birthday mostly intact. We planned a small party in a local park, figuring if it rained, we'd cancel. I think my husband, who didn't grow up having birthday parties was hoping for this option. He almost got his way-it rained overnight and in the morning, but sort of cleared up by the time the party really got going. We have hearty friends and family-they donned their raingear and sucked it up. The sun came out eventually.

Nice allergic shiners, eh? Just like her mama.

She's not a big fan of sweets (unlike her mama). I made her a carrot cake and she ate it, but it wasn't the smear-it-in-her-hair, finger-paint-the-face kind of event that often surrounds a first birthday cake. Or maybe she just recognizes the value of a tasty cake and doesn't want to waste it. Much like my theory on the shoving of the wedding cake into each others' faces. Not to mention that it's a crappy way to start off your marriage and declare your devotion in front of your friends and family. But, I digress.

She got a baby doll from my mom and a metal dump truck from my mother-in-law. Talk about clash of the gender rolls. I love both gifts. She loves them both. The metal truck is upstairs until she's a little less likely to split her giant head open on it.

Teaching is going well. I got stuck with the honors section. The pesky little buggers ask questions that totally stump me. Damned them for being smart and inquisitive. I reiterate: I am an archaeologist, NOT a cultural anthropologist. I don't have a clue.

I applied for yet another job that I am totally qualified for. It's for an architectural historian, which I would give my eye teeth to do. And, it's in Rhode Island. Who knows. It's a position that they don't have a ringer in mind for in a CRM firm I am somewhat familiar with. They get some of the coolest projects in Southern New England. Keep your fingers crossed. We'll see.

Dane Cook: obnoxious and cocky or cute and funny? He's horrifying the women of The View at the moment (okay, I think it's just that little blond one and Baba Wawa that are horrified), so that's points in my book.

Animal is destroying the living room, so I should probably go.