Cooper’s at that age. Do I really need to say anything else? I’m pretty sure that anyone who has even a passing acquaintance with children can fill that sentence in with any number of things. “Cooper’s at that age where he stomps on our feet when we grab his hands to keep him from hitting us.” “Cooper’s at that age when he refuses to eat dinner and only wants to drink a half gallon of milk.” “Cooper’s at that age when he looks at you and says in his questioning little voice, ‘potty?’ So you put him on the potty where he just hangs out for about 10 minutes before demanding that you pick him up so he can promptly pee in the bathtub.” You know how it goes.

But lately, Cooper’s at that age where he’s difficult to take to restaurants. So when dad recently suggested that we take him to a bar/restaurant where his friend was playing music, I was obviously skeptical. However, I agreed, thinking that Cooper would last for maybe a half an hour and then melt down, necessitating a swift getaway.

Continue reading →

I learned a delightful new Spanish word at work recently: Mapache. It’s Spanish for “raccoon,” but really means, “scavenger.” In other words, it’s Cooper’s new nickname. This child has always been kind of feral, and when we were in Nashville recently for our family reunion, it was on fine display.

I truly believe that free food makes you eat more, and Cooper proved that last year at just 10 months old when he snatched a piece of bread from me.

And a year later, at just 22 months old, he clearly felt the same way: except this time it was about the free muffins that they offered on the breakfast buffet. You would think that we taught him how to eat by constantly smacking food out of his hand, because that kid was guarding this muffin with his life.

Continue reading →

It’s weird. I had a baby, and he was adorable. He rolled around and was generally awesome. Recently, however, I’ve had trouble finding him. Instead, there’s this dude who runs around my house all day and tries to climb in drawers. He subsists on nothing but fruit and soy milk, and if you take your eyes off of him, next thing you know, he’s climbed the stairs, climbed onto the headboard of your room, and has the cordless phone to his ear, saying, “he-lloooo,” in kind of an annoyed fashion– as if he has a lot of important business to attend to, and the person at the other end of the phone is wasting his precious time by not telling him what he needs to know.

You guys, I think this dude may have eaten my baby.

My baby, who learned to walk and took unsure steps around the house, has been replaced by a dude who doesn’t know how to walk at all– he just runs full-tilt to get to wherever it is he needs to go. He races around on giant hams for feet that slap on the ground like a fat guy doing a belly flop.

Continue reading →

Against my better judgment, I went and saw Sex and the City 2 with my sister and some of her friends on Friday night. How did I find myself in this position? My desperate need to leave the house for anything not involving a baby or work, that’s how.

So the “city” in this installment is strict Muslim state, Abu Dhabi. Sex and the City in Abu Dhabi. You guys, I don’t even need 10 seconds for this.

Americans: We really don’t give a fuck, do we?

JUST PUT SOME PANTS ON YOUR BABY. Are we trying to raise a nation full of Lady and Gentleman Gagas? Pants work, you guys.