Boo!

I haven't posted much in the past couple of days because our family has been under the weather. Baby Bear, who got the bug first and therefore is recovering first, has been running around our apartment as she pleases (sometimes you lose the will to parent when your head feels like it's going to implode). I was sofa-bound. Sitting or standing was dizzying for a couple of days there. I've been feeling better, but sometimes I still have to sit down for a spell.

Today she meandered over to the kitchen, played with some of the plasticware and returned to where I was sitting, pointed to her diaper and said, "Boo!"

I thought Nah, she couldn't be telling me...

So I changed her diaper, and sure enough she had "Boo."

I told my mom what happened. She replied, "That means it's time to start thinking about potty training."

What?! Oh "Boo."

Yogurt

I admit it. I let Bear feed herself most of the time. I realize that it usually means there will be a horrible mess to clean up, but I figure that she's going to have to learn sometime. Although I guess it might have gotten a little out of hand today.



I gave her a bowl of yogurt, a spoon, and a couple of graham crackers. This is what resulted. I'm guessing the yogurt exploded.

Turmoil...

I had to turn off the television. Every news channel has this story plastered all over. It's weird because the other day when Matt and I were watching The @pprentice I was commenting on how Asians were starting to appear more mainstream on television. I guess that has to include the bad news, too.

So I turned off the television because I couldn't watch anymore. And I heard yelling outside our door and our window. Van man has been asked to leave quite a few times. Our building manager has come to talk to him. His ex has come over and yelled at him a few times (of which he responded with a few expletives). His sister came over and yelled at him (of which he responded with a few expletives). A guy friend of his ex has come and had discussions with him. Seriously, I'm not eavesdropping...they're just that loud. I try to ignore it, but when they're yelling right outside your doors and windows, it's hard to tune out. At present, he is yelling at someone...I don't know who.

So I turned the television back on. Maybe I'll find some old Cosby show reruns.

Tidbits...

I realize that I haven't been posting as much as I would like to. For those of you faithful readers out there, I'm sure that you're bored seeing the same thing on our site day after day. I just don't like writing any old thing...I strive to have purpose and thoughtfulness in my writings. Unfortunately, today is not one of those days. Here are some tidbits...

CRAFTSY

Lately I've been finding myself being "craftsy." In some ways it's a release for me. After running after a toddler all day, I find I have this need to create...so lately, I've been knitting, sewing, papercrafting, cooking, etc. I probably would be playing my guitar as well if it wouldn't wake up Baby Bear. I know it's not that out of character for me (for those of you who do know me), but seriously I actually recovered a chair. I crocheted a small hammock so I could hang up all of Bear's stuffed toys. I knit a dress for Baby Bear, and I'm considering creating a wall hanging for Bear's room. Perhaps I've finally gone insane.

NOT SO BABY BEAR

Baby Bear is no longer a "Baby." I'll probably have to start referring to her as "Bear Cub" or just plain "Bear." She's toddling around, talking up a storm (of which we understand a quarter of it), and asserting her independence here and there. I catch Matt every so often looking at Bear and saying, "She's not a baby anymore," with a sad look in his eye. *Sigh*

TODDLER TRAUMA

Last week Bear had a traumatic experience. We were in a parking lot when Bear lost her grip on Sonia. Sonia fell flat on her back into a mud puddle. Bear just looked at her muddy Sonia and started crying. Matt took the doll inside to wash her off, but as she was still dirty, we couldn't return Sonia to Bear. So the whole car ride home she cried, intermittently shouting out, "Doh-Dya!, Doh-Dya!" Poor kid. So needless to say we did some laundry that afternoon, and by bedtime Sonia was back into Bear's waiting little arms...

Neighbors...

I have these faint memories of the couple who lived next door to us as I was growing up. They were nice, helpful, and hospitable. I remember their little fluffy dog named Muffin. I also remember their garden, of which my sister and I would water when they were away.

Ah, how I miss them...

We've had interesting neighbors come and go from our complex. There were the twenty-something musician types who changed their apartment number from "6" to three 6s. There was the guy above us who was an in-home tattoo artist who had visitors at all hours of the night, plus two large dogs. We have the family across the way who barbecues and invite extended family to eat with them on cardtables in the driveway (wouldn't be a problem if the smoke wasn't flooding into our apartment). But I think our most recent addition is by far the oddest.

Currently I'm having an allergic reaction to incense. This neighbor apparently received a large package of incense, and although it's put away, our whole complex smells like sandalwood. Yuck. Our livingroom smells like aromatherapy gone wrong. Even with our windows and doors closed, the aroma has wafted it's way into our home seeping into everything we own.

This same neighbor is also living in his van in the garage. We suspect that "he's in the doghouse." I haven't seen hide nor hair of his pregnant girlfriend or 3 year old son in the past few days.

A couple of nights ago, there were these strange noises coming from the direction of his van. It sounded like a loud radio being turned on every once in while. We found out that he's putting together a studio in his van (although I'm not sure what that means). He has a cable line running into the van from upstairs as well as a power cable running out of the van.

Our other neighbors have called the police on him twice. We only know this because the "van man" asked Matt if he was the one to call the police.

Every time we leave our apartment he's out there, hanging by his van, eating his meals by the dumpster, pacing up and down our driveway, yelling at the handyman who is fixing the 2 empty apartments...

At this rate, there will be 3 empty apartments.