Career Counseling From Mommy Dearest

I have a recurring conversation with folks.  It goes something like this--

FOLKS:  I really give you credit. 

ME:  Really?  Why?  

FOLKS:  Well I mean moving to L.A. with a baby and everything.  It probably wasn't easy leaving all of your family and the only state you've known with a baby.  I mean, with a baby, it has to be tough.  Right?  You have a baby AND you moved out here to struggle.  Wow.  I commend you.  

So like many things in my life, I took this extraordinary leap a little backwards I guess.  And it's hard to not question what life would be like if we were still in Chicago.  I'd see my family all the time!  Mr. Jarcy might have booked some more commercial work and performed in corporate gigs!  I'd be back to dog walking my good friend's pup pups or maybe even nannying her infant!  I'd have a job at the improv theater to go back to no problem!  I'd see my family constantly!  I'd be shopping at Oakbrook with my own mama this very weekend if I were in Chicago!  Oh god, Chicago!!!  Yes, it's difficult to turn off that "what if" switch.  

But I can't stay there long.  It does me no good.  We're not there anymore.  We are here.  In Hollywood.  And it's hard to not question what the hell we're doing here.  We're 36 years old and have a baby!  The baby is nearing preschool age, how are we gonna pay for the baby to attend preschool?  Is there an expiration date on dreams?  Maybe once you turn 36 and have a baby you're supposed to relinquish those aspirations and find stable work!?  Everyone keeps talking about how this is the worst possible time to be an actor or writer out here!  Reality TV is taking over and all us creative types are getting squeezed out by Snookie!  Agents are tough to come by.  Managers are even tougher! You're nothin' without managers and agents!  Oh god, Hollywood!!!  Oh boy, yes, it's difficult to turn off that "this is reality" switch too. 

But here's the deal-- 

As far as I know there has NEVER been a time when it was said, "Oh you better get out to Hollywood!  You know they're giving actors a starring role on the show of their choosing just for showing up! Wanna sell a script?  EASY PEASY!  Just throw one together and collect two hundred thousand dollars!  As long as you get there by year's end, the opportunities are endless.  ENDLESS!"  

Nope, not true.  Even in the 20's Joan Crawford had to bust her ass.  I read on Wikipedia the following:

As MGM screenwriter Frederica Sagor Maas recalled, "No one decided to make Joan Crawford a star. Joan Crawford became a star because Joan Crawford decided to become a star." (I'm guessing no one wanted to make Frederica a star either but she decided to focus on Joan with that statement.)

Following in Joan Crawford's parenting practices would be ill-advised.  Following in her plight at stardom--whatever the hell that means--may not be so bad.

Toy Strollers Only Come In "Girl" Versions Which Is Sexist

"This picture is sort of blurry because I won't sit still for one second.  I gotta push this stroller everywhere!  Who could you blame me really, this thing is awesome!"  

The Boy has his very own stroller to stroll.  I bought it at a resale shop and he's been pushing it around the apartment and all the building's hallways ever since.  He's also been mainly sporting a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and diaper.  He's been quite a sight.  I've tried to put various items in the stroller for him to stroll--a ball, a stuffed bear, myself--but he wouldn't have any of it.  By the end of last night, however, he was piling his cars onto the pink strawberry seat.  Today he took the stroller to the park with his father.  Yes, quite a sight indeed.    

Chamomile

I read in Self magazine that chamomile may reduce the body's production of stress hormones.  I'm afraid to admit how much chamomile tea I have been drinking in response to this discovery.  Epic proportions here.  Let's just say if my consumption used to be in the "occasionally" range it has now crossed over into "constantly."  And if my posts start to lose their stressed out mom/aspiring Hollywood player edge you'll know what to blame...chamomile.

Judging by my little pre-bedtime meltdown, I'm gonna say a trip to Whole Foods for more tea will be first on tomorrow's agenda.

Buns Perp

"Honey," I bellowed, "please come here."  I said it as calm, collected yet commanding as I could.  The Boy was asleep in the next room and I didn't want to wake him.  It was time for him to get up from the late afternoon nap but then Mr. Jarcy would have two babies to tend to.  As Mr. Jarcy got into the bedroom I started to show my true colors.

"THERE WAS A SPIDER ON MY BUNS!  THERE WAS A SPIDER ON MY BUNS!  THE THE THE BUNS SPIDER ON ME BUNS IN THERE STILL LOOK!" I frantically pointed to the bathroom sink and the bus-sized spider presently residing in it after a brief layover on my derriere.  "Oh god!" Mr. Jarcy cried, "That thing was on you?"  Imagine a naked woman nodding uncontrollably, shaking uncontrollably and glancing at her backside uncontrollably in the event the spider had teleported back to it's previous locale.  I was a mess.  I had been toweling off after a shower, grabbed the towel and just happened to glance in the mirror when I noticed what appeared to be a giant spider on my buns.  Instinctively I had flicked my hand back at it and it had landed right into the sink before me.  Now Mr. Jarcy was sizing up his competition while doing his best at talking me down off the ledge.  

"Okay, you're okay, Honey, he's not on your buns anymore, he's right here and I'll take care of him, lemme just..." SLAM!  Just like that Buns Perpetrator was dunzo and I continued to dance around like a crazed lunatic.  After the stunt that spider had pulled I couldn't even feel my usual kill guilt.  

"Did he bite me?!  Oh god oh god oh god!"

"It doesn't look like he bit you.  Did you feel him bite you?"

"No, I didn't feel anything!  What if he bit me?!  What if he was a black widow and bit me?"  A guy we sort of know had recently been bitten by a black widow in his downtown L.A. apartment.  Mr. Jarcy and I had already been on high alert as a result.  We're the most impressionable couple you'll ever meet.

"Oh, you would have felt him bite you, honey. You're okay.  I don't see anything there to worry about.  Do your best to calm down, okay?  That's right, deep breaths, deep breaths..."  My anxiety began to subside until my calf muscles started twitching and I internally panicked spider poison was numbing my limbs and rendering me helpless.  

But this was not the case, I was fine.  Physically, that is.  Shortly after this whole ordeal went down I made Mr. Jarcy get the vacuum and it's attachments out to suck around the skylights in the two bathrooms and the kitchen.  I think that was Buns Perpetrator's point of entry, the skylight.  We're not taking any chances around here now.  I will be shaking out and thoroughly inspecting my towel before each use from here on out.  It's not like I'm gonna just be able to naively use my bathroom now.  Any trip in there since this security breach has had me scanning the room and all containers for another spider.  And please, spiders, please, please, please leave The Boy and his room alone.  If you think I was crazy from today just wait until you mess with my son.  

Like I said, we're rather impressionable. 

   

Jumping

My friend Carrie is lovely.  She moved out here not too long before I did and while we weren't close in Chicago we have done just that out here.  This is her blog of Jumping Across America.  It too is lovely.  Since I don't get to travel, well, at all right now I find this to be the next best thing.  

http://jumpingacrossamerica.blogspot.com

Heed Tantrum Warnings. Lesson Learned. Sorry, Suffering Neck.

What, these markings?  

Oh, no big deal...I just was taking an SPF swim shirt off The Boy in preparation for a nap and he didn't feel like playing along.  Why, yes, it did hurt actually.  A lot.  But he had spent the morning giving me hugs and kisses prior to the attack.  My neck decided to forgo pressing charges and instead hold onto those earlier, more pleasant experiences to cope it's trauma.

Date Night Friday

I have done the unthinkable--I've hired my very first babysitter.  Can you believe it?  Me neither.  Listen, it was time.  Despite my countless trips to Target, Mr. and Mrs. Jarcy are not made of money.  It's not easy paying a stranger money that I could use to buy The Boy more toys.

Mrs. Jarcy, you've never hired a babysitter?  The Boy is almost 18 months old, right?  Do you just not leave the house ever?

You are correct, we do not leave the house ever.  Or if we do go out we don't go without him.  If we can't take him we don't go.  Even if we CAN take him we often times don't go.  Not a lot of "going" going on around here.  Unless there are grandparents or beloved friends trustworthy enough, familiar with The Boy enough and free enough.  Mr. Jarcy and I are horrible at asking for this free help so we usually just wait until someone offers and then we still don't take them up on it.  If we do it's like, We'll just be walking along the L.A. River which is 200 feet from the apartment so call us as much as you need!  Be back no later than 35 minutes from now and THANK YOU!!!  Yes, something like that.

But enough is enough-- I gotta get to a dinner out WITH Mr. Jarcy and WITHOUT one of us having to pace the floors with Maniac Boy while the other gobbles down a meal like it's his/her last!  I told Mr. Jarcy to ask around the theater he works at to see if any students of improv might be available to babysit.  By god, he came home that very day with numbers (I only asked him to do this once!).  I made ONE call and, BINGO, we have a babysitter scheduled!

After my behavior on the phone with this gal it is a damn miracle she said "yes."  First off, I talked incessantly and by that I mean I barely let her get a word in edgewise.  I was so busy working out my "momedy"* act on her that she finally said, "So, do you have any questions you'd like to ask about my experience and credentials?"  Oh sweet lord, of course, questions to ask!!!  So I did what she asked and I liked what she said.  Then she said she is First Aid/CPR certified and covering infants and small children.  So now The Boy will be safer with her on watch than his two idiot parents combined (it's been on my TO DO list for at least a year to become re-certified, guilt guilt guilt...). To top off our conversation, I told her our friends live downstairs and to call them if any problems came up with The Boy while we were away.  Do you think I gave her the impression we are not to be bothered?  I hope so.

So there you have it, big steps for all the Jarcys.  Our sitter (that's right she now belongs to us) does not come cheap but I still made more money an hour as a dog walker back in Chicago.  Figure that one out.  Now let's all raise our glasses and sippy cups and toast The Jarcys on their newfound, albeit expensive and short-lived, freedom!  Let the date night commence!  

*Mom + Comedy = Momedy (I made that up but feel free to use it whenever applicable.) 

One Task Down, Arms And Dress On Deck

"My mommy only has pictures of me in my crib from Monday morning to share this week.  She's been busy doing other things like reading books and removing moles.  I love books!  Moles not so much."  

An entire herd of moles and skin tags took up residence on my left armpit.  I started out with one and then WHAMMO there were many.  The worst part, however, was how unbothered I seemed by them for so damn long.  I knew they were there but other things seemed more pressing than having them removed.  Things like naps, endless viewings of House Hunters International, more naps.  Then Tuesday rolled around and all I could think was, OH MY GOD I have to get this cluster of mutated skin cells off of my body before I lose my mind!!!  So I called a dermatologist, made an appointment for the following morning (that's right, the next day!) and prepared for a painful, mole liberating outing.

Now I have never been to a skin doctor.  Have you?  I'm not gonna lie, my skin is pretty nice.  I can say this because there are PLENTY of other issues my body can claim as being problematic.  Super poor vision?  Yep.  Defective heart valve?  Oh yeah, got that one too.  Bad skin?  No chance in hell!

So when I arrived at the dermatology office I was SHOCKED by how many signs were posted about cosmetic procedures they offer.

• Need lovelier lashes?  Brooke Shields did too so she got Latisse! Be like Brookey and get lashes as big as your eyebrows!
• Courtney Cox-Arquette uses Kinerase skin care line.  Courtney looks way beautiful!  Buy the Kinerase summer kit for only $250 when its usually $400!    
• Let us know if you need botox, restalyne and face creams!  Did you know we do facials for $60?  We do facials for only $60!  Get on that!  Oh yeah, we also treat skin cancer.

I was kind of annoyed by the promotions but I was also fearful I'd get talked into getting them.  All I needed was this nurse practitioner to mention my dark under-eye circles and I would have told her to do whatever she needed to make them go away.  Need $2000 for 3 sessions of dark circle eradicating?  Here's my credit card, let me just line up child care!  I'm easily talked into this stuff.

Alas, the lady was very nice.  She said I had great skin, to keep up the good work with applying sunscreen and to return if any moles seemed to change.  No mention of cosmetic offerings crossed her lips.  Then she picked up what appeared to be two sets of pliers and had her way with my moles.  And now that I know a board certified doctor will give me a facial for 60 bones, I may have to alter my Christmas wish list.

Crib Cat (Not) Cancer

Exhibit A:  Wood Turnicate  

This past week has been a time of super-obvious-but-took-me-forever-to-figure-out-how-obvious problem solving.  I'm ashamed to even share how blatant some of these solutions have been.  But I will--

We all know The Boy loves no snack more than his very own crib.  After trying various methods of deterring this behavior-- "Please stop, Boy" was the least effective of them all--I finally just tied a baby blanket over the nibbled on location.  There is a baby blanket tightly wrapped around each end of the crib.  Refer to Exhibit A above for the Wood Turnicate (and ignore the rest, I know this picture looks ridiculous).  It doesn't cover all the places he has gnawed on, however, it does get the "sweet spots" he seems to eat more often.  There, problem solved, suckers!

For as long as she's been alive, Creepy The Cat--shown on the right side column-- has demanded food somewhere around 3 am.  She's nearing age 11. !!!!!  Yes, I know this is insane and, no, I can't just get rid of her.  Back in our beloved Chicago apartment we were able to close her off in the kitchen which was far enough away from the bedroom to not be awoken by howling and door scratching.  It was glorious.  We also started her on Prozac which makes her rather delightful.  She is relentless, however, with this middle of the night food request.  Unfortunately, when one doesn't sleep consistently for long stretches (me), one tends to become enraged from the disrupted sleep (me) and then is just as big a pain in the ass, if not worse, as the cat (me).  Then genius struck.  I have now strategically placed a fan blowing out in front of The Boy's door so she can't go bug him and then have a fan on so loud in our room that we can't hear her woeful cries.  And it is amazing.  SLEEP!  OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU!  We'll all need hearing aids in five years but it is worth it.  There, problem solved, suckers!

So yeah, we're not curing cancer here but sometimes it's the little things in life getting fixed that make a world of difference.  Problem solving here, suckers!

Beyond The Boy

"Mommy, when you're done having a life of your own with this writing stuff can you please buy me more stickers and paper?  And some more balls?  And blankies?  And definitely matching pajamas."  

I've been writing much more lately.  This is a good thing.  I've even been writing about things unrelated to The Boy.  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!  Me neither.

40 Lashes For That Wink, Woman

"Did I just catch my parents smiling at each other?  BUSTED!  Unacceptable behavior you two...UNACCEPTABLE!"  

I remember my parents informing me my mother was pregnant with another child.  I was eleven years old and beginning my long journey down Tween Angst Avenue (I'm still on it).  I had wanted a sister for as long as I could remember and was beyond thrilled with this unforeseen turn of events.  Then I realized what act my parents must have partaken in to make this dream of mine come true.  "EW!" I cried, "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU TWO STILL DID THAT SORT OF THING!"  I was thoroughly grossed out.  I wasn't some Puritanical being.  On the contrary, I enjoyed forms of affection in our household.  Hand holding and kissing were not only acceptable, they were encouraged!  That meant I had two loving parents who loved one another-- what kid wouldn't want that?

The Boy, that's what kid.

The Boy HATES when Mr. Jarcy and I are affectionate with one another.  Now get your mind out of the gutter, we're not talking serious hanky panky in his presence.  We're not channeling John and Yoko.  We're talking an innocent peck on the lips, a few moments of innocent hand holding, maybe a five second hug.  What is his reaction, you ask?  Screaming.  Grunting.  Growling.  Flailing all about.  It's extreme enough that we purposely hugged one another at a friends' gathering yesterday just so he would perform his little outburst.  That's right, he's now a party trick.  Listen, I'm gonna try to enjoy it if he's going to reach such epic proportions dramatizing!  Usually it just stresses me out (the list of Mrs. Jarcy stressors is also reaching epic proportions).

I could cut him some slack if showing affection was in some way prohibiting him from securing basic needs like food, sleep and diaper changes.  We all know, however, his needs rule the roost around here.  I guess that's why he thinks if he makes a big enough stink we'll ease up on liking each other.  Mr. Jarcy has tried to explain to him the only reason he's around is because we "liked each other" a little over two years ago but he doesn't care.  He only knows that Mommy giving Daddy hugging is unacceptable!  I expected him to some day be mortified by this, I just didn't anticipate that day to be at age 17-months.  And if he's worried this liking behavior will lead to more children, therefore jeopardizing his reign, he has NOTHING to worry about.  One child is just perfect for this family.  His reign will last for a long, long time...possibly forever.           

Now if you'll excuse me, I've been ordered to wash all size 2T clothes as punishment for butterfly kissing Mr. Jarcy earlier in the day...

An Amazing Sense Of Humor Makes Up For Toddler Meltdowns

I have been signing words to this child FOREVER!  Okay, I haven't been the most consistent but I have been trying out words like "more," "milk" and "all done" on him for ages now.  Well he finally signed one back and in such a hilarious manner.  His high chair has now become his stage.  Why is this not surprising...

How About Team Jedward Or Edcob?

As I mentioned on Wednesday's post, I go to the movies by myself.  Well, technically I just did it for the first time in years on Tuesday.  Since I have now done it more than once in life I feel I can state that it is something I do.  A stranger will ask, "Mrs. Jarcy, what do you do for fun?" and I will confidently reply, "I sleep, peruse TMZ's website hourly and drink wine any chance I get.  Oh yeah, and I go to movies alone!"

All kidding aside (fine, we both know the above isn't a joke but whatever), when is the last time you went to the movies alone?  It feels good!  What are you waiting for?!  Go for it!  Get that tub of popcorn and diet coke for $45 and let the good times on the big silver screen roll!

I saw Eclipse, the latest Twilight movie.  I was a tad self conscious about going by myself but once in the theater spied a slew of older and solo men which immediately made me feel more secure.  A gaggle of tween girls chattering throughout sat directly behind me.  At first terribly annoying, I soon realized the movie was too silly and soap opera-ish to take seriously and began to enjoy the altered version their commentary provided--  "OH MY GOD HIS SHIRT IS OFF!  SQUEEEAAAAALLLL!  HE'S SO HOT!"  My inner tween giggled with delight as did those of all the other adults.  It was too much fun!

I used to accrue frequent flyer miles from work.  Then I moved on to amassing a fortune in Pampers rewards (no end in sight with that one).  Now I'm working on Arclight Theater points.  My how life evolves... Now seriously, go buy a ticket for ONE and give yourself the gift of 3 hours of mindless fun!  You'll thank me for it.    

Earthquake 101

The Boy at 6 months of age-- "You're moving me to California?!  You know they have earthquakes there, right?  Prepare for that you two, I can't do everything here."  

We've been getting into our apartment building's pool more lately.  It's not heated but now that it is 99 degrees outside the coldish water is refreshing as opposed to revolting.  Usually it's just me and The Boy but some Dudes (yeah, these guys were dudes) who also live in the building came down to join in the fun.  I brought the cranky toddler teetering on "terrible twos" and they brought a cooler of beer (see, I told you they were dudes).  It's a small pool and would have been more awkward had we all ignored one another so we chatted it up.  I was more than happy to talk with adults as they tend to hold conversation better than The Boy with his made-up language.  We started off down the "How long have you lived here?" route and ended up on earthquakes.  Since moving here The Jarcy's have experienced at least three earthquakes and that's just the ones we've felt.  There have been more all around the area.  It's freaky.

"I was in the big one of '89, you know," Dude 1 stated.  "Oh wow, yeah that was bad," I replied.  I had no idea what earthquake he was talking about but felt like it might be like admitting I hadn't heard of Hurricane Katrina if I fessed up.  "So, what was that like?" I asked.

"Well, I was up in north in San Francisco and it was intense," he said.  Aha!  We have a location, good good.  "The house just swayed back and forth, back and forth.  And the street was rolling like waves.  Really crazy stuff.  It was one of those rolling earthquakes, not the usual shaky kind."  Shit, I thought, there's more than one kind of earthquake?!  I'm really screwed!  "So after that," he continued, "I realized you can never be too prepared.  That's most important, you gotta be prepared."

Uh huh.  Prepared.  Well to me that meant the following:

• I should be showered and wearing make-up at all times.  Jewelry couldn't hurt as well.  Before bed I should wash my face but then re-apply essentials like concealer and mascara. 
• I should be wearing coordinating pajama tops and bottoms to bed.  I don't really like wearing pants but god forbid "the big one" hits again and I'm in my undies and stretched out Axe Body Spray tank top.  I bet recovery crew workers would have a field day with that discovery.
• Speaking of bed, I should be sleeping on a futon in The Boy's room.  I'm so far away across the living room from him!  What if "the big one" hits in the middle of the night?!  How would I get to him 15 yards away!?  
• I should turn my cell phone into a necklace.  Now, what else is essential during a disaster that I could turn into a necklace?  Or a bracelet even?  Maybe a fanny pack could contain all these essentials instead?!  A fanny pack is big enough to hold money, aspirin and some granola bars as well!  Okay, it's settled, I'm gonna have to go out and get a fanny pack.  And granola bars.  And long-lasting concealer.        

"Right, you gotta be prepared," I repeated back to Dude 1, "I hear you loud and clear."

Hobnobbin'

"This comforter is amazing!  Have you felt it?  Unbelievably soft and down-free.. wowsers.  Hey, where's Daddy?  He's really missing out on this comforter action.  

Poor guy never has any fun."     

Mr. Jarcy is off for the day.  He's attending an awards show.

Now that's not something you hear every day.  You mean like an awards show one watches on TV and involves celebrities?

Yep, that is correct.  Mr. Jarcy's friend is involved with the event and so he is going as his guest.  His red carpet walk began somewhere around 4:30 pm and he'll return home somewhere around 4:30 am after the late night host party.  It's all very surreal.  One minute we're contemplating temp work and the next Mr. Jarcy is attending an awards show.  I tell him he needs to get out and have fun more often.  I just didn't realize he'd be walking a red carpet and hobnobbing celebrities in the process.  I imagined him going down the street for fro-yo with a buddy, for god's sake.  Or be like me and go to a movie all by himself.  But that's the thing about Mr. Jarcy--he does it up almost never but when he does he does it up big.  (In a suit he got for free from his stint as the Illinois lottery spokesman no less.)

But Mrs. Jarcy, why didn't you go with Mr. Jarcy to this grand affair?  

First off, who would take care of Maniac (also known by many as The Boy) for 12 hours and basically sleep over?  Grammies and Grandpies live far away and with short notice they're not going to be available.  Besides, The Boy has never been away from a parent for more than 5 hours in his entire life so I can't imagine putting him, and more importantly, a poor and unsuspecting babysitter through that.  I should also mention I wasn't invited.  It seems to be a grand affair for the guys.  And that's fine with me.  Just thinking about finding something to wear that would look exquisite, expensive and elongating with only 24 hours notice is stressful enough let alone attending.  I really don't need to freak out about how the mole I've been meaning to get removed from my bulgy tricep looks as I pose for pictures next to (yards behind) a 20 lb. Eva Longoria-Parker.  

So Maniac and I will stay home.  He will play with his cars and watch Dora while I scout out dermatologists and perform multiple sets of push-ups.  And then we'll frolic around in the pool because the Valley is now 200 degrees.  And we'll watch the awards show and hope to see Daddy in the audience.  We'll alternate between watching the show and perusing the jobs section of Craigslist.  It's all very Hollywood around here for us today.        

My Pilot Fish

Alright, alright--if you must know OF COURSE I consulted a psychic on the Saturday Night Spook Out.  Because that's the kind of person I am.  Freak out, consult a total stranger and then MAYBE think more rationally about the situation later.  By later I mean NEVER.

Lucky for me I live in L.A. where there are more psychics per capita than anywhere else on the planet.  These creative types running around the streets of Hollywood need guidance, encouragement and, most importantly, something to do with all their free time.  Just as sharks rely on pilot fish to keep them clean of parasites, actors rely on psychics to guide them to the next pilot.  So when you see freaky orbs floating about your son's crib you head to your friendly, neighborhood psychic bookstore.  (Or to your friendly, neighborhood medical marijuana clinic but that's not the kind of person I am and most are getting shut down anyway.)

Two hours after calling to schedule an appointment I met with Psychic Lady (there are no less than 15 psychics working all day, every single day at this one place).  I told her the whole story.  I sounded something like this--  Could it be a deceased grandmother watching over The Boy?  My one grandma kept calling him Sammy before she died, maybe she's trying to contact him because she's just now understanding he is indeed not Sammy.  You know, his room often times smells like cigarette smoke and while I thought it was just the chain smoker who lives next door now I'm wondering if it's the spirit of some jaded old stand-up comedian who hung himself in our apartment after a particularly tough crowd at The Improv one night.  Maybe he's lurking about and not crossing over.  These things happen right?  I'm familiar with "The Ghost Whisperer", I've endured my fair share of Friday nights with nothing to do but tolerate Jennifer Love Hewitt for an hour.  Are those orbs gonna come back and swirl around his head?  I hope not, I didn't like it.    


Since I gave you the long, somewhat exaggerated version of my questioning I'll give you the short, concise version of Psychic Lady's answer.  She said, "He's fine.  No spirit is harming him.  The orbs could be anything.  Maybe dust?  Maybe a friendly guide.  He's got guides.  They help him stay calm." (Insert long pause here.)  "So, is there anything else you wanna talk about now?  We have 50 minutes left."

Calm After The Orbs

You'll be happy to know The Boy and his mother are just fine after their bizarre, somewhat paranormal night last night.  I am, however, wondering if we just had another damn earthquake.  This building rocks a little bit if someone walks down the hall a little too forcefully though so who knows.  Ah, life in L.A...it definitely keeps you on your toes!

On a completely unrelated note, The Boy has a new toy.  It's a fire engine!  How fun is that?  For him this is very fun.  Here he is posing on his new prize.  He won it for being so darn cute.  

My mother will read this and think, "Why doesn't that kid have clothes on?  He's never clothed!"  She's right.  Sorry, mom.  Sometimes (most of the day) it's just easier this way.  I promise we dress him to leave the house (most of the time).  Tonight we dressed him just to go outside and walk on some grass in front of another apartment building.  The poor kid is terribly undergrassprivileged (add that to Urban Dictionary, go ahead).  I lay awake at night wondering how I can afford him a yard.  I really do.  Ah, life as a parent with unstable/unpredictable career aspirations living in L.A....it definitely keeps you on your toes!    

Alright, I better go mentally prepare myself for the toddler gym class tomorrow morning (that crabby instructor annoys me) and then head to bed.  Dreams of cushy writing gigs and even cushier sod awaits...(it definitely keeps you on your toes!)

Spooked In Studio City

Something weird happened tonight.  I put The Most Amazing Boy To Ever Live to bed a little while ago.  He usually plays and tosses and turns a bit before falling asleep.  I usually go into my bedroom and watch him on the video monitor until he falls asleep.  Well tonight I've been noticing all these orbs of lights flashing around him.  WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?  I've never noticed them before and that is not part of the "Usually" routine.  The shades are drawn and the room is relatively dark.  The TV is on outside his room and the door is cracked but I have never, never, never noticed light balls dancing around the room.  He seemed to notice it as well and eventually cried.  I went in there, held him, announced out loud to leave The Most Amazing Boy To Ever Live alone and then changed his diaper.  And the whole time I was changing him he kept looking up over my head and even pointed at something up above and babbled out in his baby talk what it was.  Since we don't speak the same language I have no idea what he said (although I still asked him "What?").   And that was really freaky!  Then I held him some more, we both calmed down and I put him down again.  The door isn't closed as much this time and, knock on wood, I'm not noticing these little orbs of light any more.  He seems to be falling asleep.

I'm trying to stay calm but WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?  Seriously, what was that?  It was odd.  I don't want it to happen again, I'm too spooked!  And when he pointed...THAT WAS FREAKY!  Usually he's pointing out the hummingbird at the feeder on our balcony or a fire engine blazing down the street...not something invisible to me in the darkness!  Again, not part of the "Usually" routine!  I don't want to stray from the routine!!! 

Yeah, I'm spooked.  And yet glued to this damn video monitor now.  Mr. Jarcy is not here to talk me off the ledge.  I may have to make Mr. Jarcy stay awake and on guard all night so The Boy and I can rest.  I just might do that.  It's settled, he'll be doing that.  

Wood Is NOT A Food Group

The Boy loves eating his crib.  Yes, you read that right--he loves eating his crib.

HOW DO I GET HIM TO STOP EATING HIS CRIB?!!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!

This is ridiculous.  When you have a baby, nobody tells you that baby is gonna want to eat the vessel in which he sleeps.  Nobody.  They may be like, "Yeah, my baby chewed up the railings but then I got some covers and he/she stopped.  No biggie, problem was solved."

Well that's not the case here.  HE'S EATING THE CRIB!  SOON HE'LL BE TRYING OUT HIS FORK SKILLS ON THE CRIB!

I would be more than fine if The Boy were simply nibbling on the crib.  Instead he is now EATING the wood.  I've gone in to his room 4 times today just to tell him to stop, lay down and take a nap before Mommy opens a bottle of wine for lunch.  There is nothing to cover the section he's eating.  I've tried.  I tried fabric AND the gummy guard rail cover.  He eats both of those as well.

You'd think we never feed him.  We do.  Often.  I'm going to blame this shameful behavior on teething and pray it ends by the week's end.  If it doesn't then I'll be forced to find another sleeping vessel to put him in.  Perhaps one made out of actual food.  And then I'll get myself one too because sleeping and eating are two of my most favorite past-times.  

Okay, Here We Go Again

Mr. and Mrs. Jarcy's love produced this bendy and terribly lovable weirdo.  Their union also gets celebrated by some natural disasters.

Mr. and Mrs. Jarcy have been married for 5 years as of today.  5 years ago today we were told to evacuate Key West immediately.  Leave immediately because a hurricane named Dennis was on it's way.  We still had a marriage to conduct so we rearranged it all and got married as soon as possible.  By some goofy woman named Linda Mendez.  (I will never forget this woman's name.)  Wearing really odd outfits-- bride, groom, family members and Linda.  When it's 100 degrees outside and as humid as a steam sauna you tend to pick interesting attire I guess.  Our wedding clothes just seemed too hot and sticky for our impromptu daytime wedding.  The weirdest woman I've ever encountered named Jennifer was hired as our photographer but she never showed up which was probably a blessing because she was that crazy.  Then we bought lots of water and a few snacks before driving like mad up to Ft. Lauderdale for cover.  It was nutso.  And stressful.  And extremely memorable.  

We haven't done much today to celebrate the occasion.  A kid will do that I guess.  We went to Target, strolled around the park, took the routine naps...and then an earthquake hit.  AND THEN AN EARTHQUAKE HIT!  Yep, of course it did.  It was very minimal where we live, just a little jiggling here and there.  But an earthquake nonetheless.  

Now if something happens with extreme weather or natural disasters next year on this date I'm gonna get really paranoid.  More paranoid than I am already.  Consider this a warning to stay far away from us next year on this day just to be safe.  

C'est La Vegan

Actually, here's another link to check out as well.  I'm not vegan but the food looks so good that I may have to dabble more in that direction.

C'est La Vegan

Wow...two Non-Boy Posts.  Can you believe it?  I stopped taking pictures of him for two minutes!  Unbelievable.  Okay, break time over and he's doing something cute.  Must find camera...

Catalog Living

If you haven't seen this then do yourself a favor and click on the link below.  It's quite enjoyable.

Catalog Living  

Mastering The Fork

The Boy has been doing amazing things with utensils lately.  Good job, Boy.  That fork technique looks fabulous!  He also said "Da Da Deee" which we're going to count as "Daddy."  Big stuff going on around here!

FYI, there are a number of children with the same name and around the same age on YouTube eating.  One was even with french toast.  I know his name or this fork feat is in no way unique but found that tidbit interesting nonetheless.

Friday Playgroups

Every Friday The Boy is in a playgroup.  Here is a picture of him in his pirate boat with some stuffed friends.  The older girls must have piled them on top of him and probably in an effort to keep him from playing with whatever they were enjoying.  I don't mind when they do this, it's rather cute.  Either way, he's not paying attention to any of the animals...just the car he's driving on his chest.  Best purchase ever those cars.

Post Bath

Cars, headstands and nakedness.  A perfect Friday night for The Boy.

  

Every Moment Documented

"Yes, woman, I'm eating lunch again.  Does the camera really have to capture this moment too?  Maybe it's time you found some new hobbies."