Oh Brother Where Art Thou

When will our brown dog become the brother that the big-headed-baby deserves?

When will he stop his whining and kabitzing and man up to this new role? Ok, big dog up?

When can we put the credit card back in the freezer and stop buying doggie eye procedures and surgical supplies?

Anyone?

So yep, when hubs and Bongo visited our new BFF's at Pasadena Eye Care for Animals (I capitalize and link with respect) on Thursday, they gave us some bad news. Essentially stop-gap procedure on eye #2 had not worked like it had on eye #1 and while we could try another 500 dollar option, with success rate of only 50%, the only really effective move was to bust out the 2K surgery at a 90% success rate. Since we were already 400 dollars in, we figured...ok wait. I know. It's kinda low class to talk numbers but on the OTHER hand - specificity helps storytelling, so propriety be damned, that's whats going on. And shoot, why not go all the way there? We are now 3k into this cute dog's eyeball's, and my god I hope that's all we need to do to prove we love him this week.

Now all of my pet-loving friends out there, you are all nodding and blinking along going, yep totally, that's what credit cards are for. And all of you Momma's who have bills that kick my vet bill's ass due to physical challenges with your human kids, I apologize for going on about this. My guess is that in the face of serious hardship, this is a bit whatev's. But seeing as how he is our first born, and was until very recently the only true love of our lives, I am compelled to share more. (than before)

Side note: I've been reading a ton of blogs tonight and really touched by what I'm finding out there. In that spirit I'm going to have to link it up to where I've been and why I suspect my puppy troubles are Nothin'....amazing blog here.

So here's the thing. My dog doesn't like our baby, he really doesn't.
If we kiss the baby, he harumphs. You think I'm kidding? I do not kid. It is a groaning Harumph sound.
If we laugh and coo at the baby, he whines and paces.
If I am hanging with the baby, I don't' know, feeding the child? I get the stare. Please witness.

Okay so they are both staring at the nut-job with the camera. But you can imagine.

I get that as a cooped-up Mom with a new-ish baby I'm on the list of potentially coo-coo-for-cocoa-puff's and voted 'Most Likely to Loose It Before Christmas' and since I think my dog is thinking deep dark thoughts about how to get his #1 status back, it's probably hyperbole and over-reaction. And if you think so, I would like to invite you over.

Here's a photo essay to prove my point:

Blanket time turns into squish the baby time:

How cute are their feet? Is it troubling that I'm shooting pictures instead of rescuing the child from his brown butt?


The little one is pretty good nature-d about it..















I finally realized that this rug is the brown dog's rug and that the mistake was CLEARLY mine when I thought it was okay to put the baby blanket's on his rug.

I mean.

Sheesh.

Don't you love the tail over the boy?


So what do y'all suggest?

Working Girl

Blinking cursor. Blink you blinking cursor! You suck and you're torturing me with your blinkiness on white. Blink!

I'm paralyzed by how much I want to talk about. What would Brian Boitano do? Make a plan, and follow through...mmmkay. Let's make a list! Bloggers love them some list, don't they?

1. Went to work today for the first time since the baby bean showed up. I wept on the way out to set. I forgot essential pumping parts so my body suffered needlessly as it ached to feed the boy who was 30 miles away. To summarize it was a mix of exhilarating and devastating and everything in between. A great first job out since it was tiny crew and easy shooting in the exterior sparkly sunlight. I stole many a glance at my iPhone to admire pictures of the little guy...and of course made other poor unsuspecting crew and actors admire his big head on the little screen. Hey! In fact! Here are some recent pictures are for your viewing pleasure:





2. Bongo saga continues. Send up a puppy prayer if you believe in doggie dieties. We're sliding dangerously close to actual eye surgery folks, and we are silently screaming for him as well as (let's get honest) our bank account. More tomorrow, will keep you posted. Ha! oh I do love bad puns.

In the meantime, these pictures begin to tell the story:

From when lil G showed up, back in April and we had a crazy heat wave in LA. It's a tenuous beginning....

This one is I took this week- it appears that they can't even look at each other!


3. And for door #3, I am going to tell you something shocking. Get ready, are you? Did you sit? Well, hold onto your sandwiches because - tonight, we put the baby down completely awake and alert and HE SOOTHED HIMSELF AND WENT DOWN WITHOUT (k I'll stop yelling) he went down, to a deep fabulous sleep without a single pop-up. There are usually 2-3 in the first hour or so that require some milking or rocking to convince him that sleep is the swell way to go. These pop up's have become a staple that we are actually fine with seeing as how it is usually followed by the 4-5 hour stretch of sleep, so this little party seems damn reasonable.

But! Hey! Holla! I'm just floored that he went down unassisted tonight. And for all of you veteran mom's who are shaking your head like that... I see you! And I feel y'all, I do. "It's one night Jane! Calm down sister, the Blog Brag is going to totally bite you in the ass." You're probably right. I get that these victories are temporary. But does that make them any less sweet? I say no. I say that this book is helping and all of the little subtle stuff we're doing is working. Dammit. That's way I say. I'm sure I'll be back to eat crow soon.

Oh how I wish this post was a little more bedazzled with pics and other funness. I'll bring more sizzle to the table soon. And you know, I have to say thanks. Thanks for the comments and love that y'all passed along, even and especially the one-handed wonders. I shamelessly asked for comments, and y'all totally obliged me. And now that you know I'm a big ol whore for comments....well, you know.

Lost In Space

ahem. attention!

hello?

I'm just hanging out here, a tiny zipcode of IP magic thanks to Blogger (well Google) who gifts me this lil' piece of the Interweb. But why do they offer such real estate? In case I become Dooce and sell s-loads of diet coke ad's next to my witty banter cascade of whining, anxious, yet hopeful words?

Nah, doubtful. Google knows what it's doing, and as it's becoming more and more obvious, I clearly do not. I guess that's what I'm spinning around in tonight, the vastness of the space. I was going to say cyberspace, but I got a little slap down doing the research, here's what Wikipedia says...

Cyberspace as an internet metaphor

While cyberspace should not be confused with the internet, the term is often used to refer to objects and identities that exist largely within the communication network itself, so that a website, for example, might be metaphorically said to "exist in cyberspace." According to this interpretation, events taking place on the internet are not happening in the locations where participants or servers are physically located, but "in cyberspace".

I found this gorgeous image in my search to understand the above. Apparently it's a visual representation of what a piece of the internet might look like. By the way, did you know that we might run out of internet space? Pretty freakin' nuts, right? Time for some IP addy hoarding to save yourself. Well, 'cept you won't, just like most of us LA citizens who do not actually have an earthquake kit. Our family is pretty much ready because we've got about 5 extra jars of TJ's almond butter and 3 cans of black beans. The end of the world will be a gassy, sticky affair. But I digress.

When I'm typing into this black hole of inter-web-inter-connectivity nothingness, I feel both excited to be reaching and yet lonely not knowing where it's landing. It reminds me of the first setting on our sleep sheep. It's supposed to be 'white noise' but instead it's a whale's whooping cry that rings out into the darkness of the big headed baby's room. (bhb photo to left for your enjoyment) The trouble is that no other whales ever answer because it's a loop. Freakin' depressing right? I imagine a giant gray whale swimming alone in a vast dark sea pinging the sonar again and again, but. Nothing comes back. Kinda like trying to talk on the ATnT wireless network. Is there anything worse then chatting along and then finally figuring out that the last two paragraph's of a self-obsessed monologue has fallen into the gap of dropped call netherland? I get that twangy mix of embarrassment and loneliness.

So this basically my round about way of asking...Hi, um, who are you? I know a few of my buddies have signed up as followers, god bless 'em (even though they'll never be back to read this). But hey! If you are here, reading, can you give me a shout out via the comment thingee? I promise I won't ask again.

Oh and I"ll be sure to follow your whale song back to your part of the ocean too...