Closing Time

After a year here in Philly, J and I have bought a house. Well, she isn't on the hook for the mortgage payments, just me but it is hers as well. We closed yesterday so I am a homeowner once again. Only this time, my partner in crime is a chubby short stuff, instead of a husband who never really was a partner in any sense of the word (read: didn't pay the mortgage anyway on top of all previously whined about qualities).

So here is a picture of J looking a bit sad/nostalgic about leaving our apartment. We do have a wonderful apartment and have hosted such famous guests as T&A lady, JL, J-Bux, Baby A and family..... Plus, it was decorated by M, who came all the way from SF to visit, stay with us, and help us pull it together. Even though one lamp that took a three flight tumble, J and I appreciate her help - it wouldn't have been "home" without it.*

The new place will have a true guest bedroom so all past guests are invited back, and other visitors always welcome. As are any aspiring decorators/designers.....

*in the interest of full disclosure, J did color with crayon all over the one nice piece of furniture I bought - the chair you have seen in some of these pictures. And she chose to do so in blue.

Missing J

I don't have Jillian this weekend, she is with MSBTX, the girlfriend, and the girlfriend's mom. He was annoyed with me when I asked that the nanny bring her down to him, rather than the trio hang in my apartment while J got ready. Crazy request, I know.

Anyway, it hasn't been a bad weekend. Did some work, some yoga, some drinking, was generally boring. But I was just looking at pictures of J and figured I would post a cute one. This one shows a technique I used to distract her during Easter mass. Moms, dads, guardians - feel free to copy this top notch parenting technique.

Now I desparately want Chinese food, which has not happened since leaving SF and Eric's General Tsao's chicken. Weird.

City Baby Goes to the Beach

J and I traveled to Kiawah for Easter, and while it wasn't warm enough to swim, we still went to the beach to play. Except J was afraid of the sand. She didn't want to walk on it. She also didn't want to walk on the grass. She was totally freaked out. I didn't realize how "city" she is until I realized that the child is afraid of grass.

Anyway, she eventually warmed up to both surfaces, but absolutely refused to touch the sand with her hands. Kids are funny.

31

On Friday I turned 31. As with turning 30, which was not that different from 29, 31 is not that different from 30. Except I kinda wish it was. I guess in some ways it is. I recently bought a house, J is awesome, I feel settled in at work, I have actually made some friends in Philly blah blah blah. So in those ways my life is different. However, I have not been on a date since oh...maybe October. And every time someone at work sends around pictures of his or her new kid, with pithy captions about how dad isn't good at feeding him or her, how mom rocks, how dad tries but doesn't get the diaper on the way mom does, it does make me wonder if this is more fun if you are doing it with the person you planned to do it with.

Then I remember life with MSTBX and I don't regret leaving him. Even with the impending arrival of the boohoo and the knowledge that this was going to be how I would experience being a mom for the first time. Without the captions, without the support of a partner, without someone who remembers my birthday. (MSTBX didn't bother to say happy birthday. Not surprising as even when we were married and I was pregnant, he forgot my birthday - that was 29). Not sure why this is bothering me today. Maybe because I am still not divorced, MSTBX's girlfriend is moving here (her presence in my kids life irks me beyond belief), maybe because I am tired of all the options in the work cafeteria. Who knows? All in all, everything considered, I still have it pretty good. Happy posts soon - promise.

Anyway, let's pretend that these are pictures of J shopping for my birthday present. Of course she did not get me anything, as she has no money and is only two feet tall. Those are both big challenges when shopping.

Oh and an update to last year's birthday post - I still have not run a marathon. So that goal is accomplished for another year.

I just like this picture....

Reminds me of good times, bizarley and I having fun during a break from pole dancing....and yes, there is booze in our cups and that is a dollar on the floor. Thanks to justsomeguy for the photo.

She Shoots....She Scores!!! And other items...

Jillian has a toddler basketball net, that unsurprisingly came with a toddler basketball. The ball, however, is not nearly as interesting to put through the hoop as Curious George. My father thought it would be HILARIOUS to encourage monkey abuse by showing J that George can be thrown into the basket. Since she is a quick learner, here she is showing off the fact that she has game. Watch out Carmello Anthony, et al. I am going to send her to the courts in West Philly to cut her street ball skillz. Though she may get beat up when she tries to convince everyone to use a stuffed monkey instead of an actual basketball....hmmmm parenting - so full of tough decisions.

Also in J news, the other morning I was getting ready for work and she was downstairs with the nanny of the century (her nanny). She was repeatedly yelling up the stairs (where I was) "MOMMY!!! DOLLAR!!" I can only assume she wanted a dollar? Not sure what for. She has been hanging out at the dollar store lately and got a rubber chicken there. Maybe she wants another one? Or maybe someone told her about mommy's pole dancing and she wanted to fold the dollar lengthwise?

Then this morning, J was putting on gloves (a pair she keeps in her pocketbook) and could not get one glove on her right chubby hand. So she took the glove, threw it, and shouted "BROKEN!" Hilarious.

Kids Are Weird.

See above. Not sure what she was trying to accomplish, except making me wrangle a naked child before bath time. Or perhaps she was trying to get to Elmo. Either way, nekkid pack and play scaling is weird.