The Queen's Rambles

I really should read my posts before I post them. Kisha was asking about Elsa’s amazing walking accomplishment and I was scratching my head because of course she can’t walk. Then I read my post. I said she could walk.

But she can’t.

Of course she’s a wonderful prodigy super special snowflake beauty genius, but she’s not walking at 8 months. I meant to say that she slimmed down considerably when she started crawling. Not that I would ever accuse her of being a tiny little mite, but at least she has not outgrown her 18 month clothes just yet. She can even fit in some of her 12 month stuff, though they are at the breaking point.

She is cruising all around the furniture, so walking might happen in a month or two. Erik started walking a day shy of his 10 month birthday and she seems to be doing most physical things around the same time he did them, though she sat up a lot sooner than he did. He could crawl before he could sit so he never had any motivation to sit. That would mean holding still and why would he want to do that?

She just cut two top teeth, so she’s been cranky. By cranky I mean she cried for three whole minutes yesterday. How did I win the baby lottery? Seriously, best little baby ever. Except she likes to bite and pull hair.

In the “what the hell?” news, I got quite a phone call today. Remember the plumbing company that threatened me and didn’t even fix our plumbing problem? I got a call from them today. I answered because I thought they might have something important to say like “We’re sorry we employed such a jack-hole, but he’s been fired!”

Nope, they called to tell me that my husband wanted me to schedule an attic inspection and “let’s get this set up right away!”

Uhhhh.

Jaw dropping.

What?

My husband was in very important meetings today at an undisclosed location. Suffice it to say there were more important things on his mind than attic inspections. Our home warranty place is AHS; this place is ARS. He thought the home warranty place wanted to schedule an inspection so told them to call me.

Poor girl got an ear full. I didn’t yell or anything. It’s not the girl’s fault they employ slimeballs and teach them to use slimeballish techniques (my husband wanted me to schedule an inspection? Did she think I wouldn’t TALK to my husband at some point?) It was made very clear that the only time a person from their company would be setting foot on my property was during the zombie apocalypse and only because law enforcement would be too busy to haul them away. Even if they were the only company providing zombie apocalypse house proofing I wouldn’t employ their services. I’d put my faith in duct tape, garbage bags and rock salt before dealing with them.

Why the rock salt? I have no idea. I just have a big bag of it and salted my sidewalk in preparation for Oh-emm-gee! Blizzard! So far we have about a two inch accumulation and it seems to be done. I hope we have school tomorrow.

Anyway, Erik, my dear boy, is growing up so fast. What happened to my little baby? Today he pulled out a cookbook and found a cake recipe to bake. He can’t exactly read, not well enough to follow a recipe, but he is gaining skills every day. I suppose it helps that his preschool teacher used to teach second grade and didn’t change her curriculum at all when she moved to pre-K.

I agreed to help him bake a cake, but was not very invested in the outcome since I am trying not to eat high calorie things. We discovered a built in video camera on my computer and now I hate myself and never want to look at myself and need immediate weight loss surgery coupled with serious face work. Erik? He thinks he is beautiful and is planning on making a naked video of himself to send his grandma. Please dear computer gods don’t let him figure out how to post to YouTube. He is not allowed to be naked in my house anymore, but that doesn’t stop him from sneaking his clothes off at every opportunity. He could have a naked video posted with three simple clicks (except he would probably be prompted to sign in or create an account, so maybe I am safe from jail time and having my children taken away).

So the cake. It was glorious. I just set out the pre-measured ingredients, gave him a bowl, showed him how to use the beater (he is scared to turn it up past 2) and let him go to town. I even let him crack the eggs. Five year olds are fun! I love his independence.

At the end I explained about alternating the flour and the milk into the batter and my life changed. Angels were singing. Clocks were chiming. I was free. FREE!

Instead of doing it in three or four batches like an experienced baker, he did it a teaspoon at a time. With 1 3/4 cup of milk and 2 1/2 cups of flour to blend in, do you have any idea how long that took? Almost an hour! And hour of glorious time when he wasn’t on top of me, in my face, begging me to “fight! fight! wrestle! fight! wrestle!” He was totally into it and having a good time. Mike had the baby. It was a beautiful evening.

Sadly, it ended with him burning his chin on the pan when he was blowing on it to cool it off. He is finally asleep, but was in quite a bit of pain. I gave him children’s Advil as soon as I found out what happened and slathered him up in aloe vera gel, but it was hurting him for a long time. Mike said he didn’t seem hurt at the time it happened, so I don’t know if he was just playing me to try to get to stay up later or if he was really hurting. It was red and starting to form a blister so who knows.