Tall Tara

He’s such a little boy.

Build the block tower only to tear it down. Rip the junk mail into tiny shreds. Put the clothes in the laundry basket only to take them all out. And let’s not get started on the books in the bookcase. To put it mildly, there is quite a bit of ransacking and utter mayhem that goes on in our house.

(Maybe that’s not boys, but just babies?)

Pat Benatar may believe that love is a battlefield. I contend that for my son, naptime is the real battlefield. It’s not just that he fights off sleep…he literally fights before falling asleep.

To clarify, I offer the following photographic evidence of his room before and after a nap…

Luckily, he survived.

Let’s hope these forces can be used for good one day.

According to my insightful Lijit stats*, it turns out that the vast majority of people who come to my blog from Google do so by searching for something cervix-related.

I feel sorry for these people. Mainly because they get a post like this, which helps no one but makes me laugh. It worries me that someone might go looking for their cervix at a kegger. Or the Bermuda Triangle.

But the people I don’t feel sorry for?

The ones who found my blog by searching for ‘Squirrel Munch-A-Bunch’.

Because they’re awesome and I’m pretty sure we could be friends.

*Full disclosure: I no longer work for Lijit, but I am a stockholder. And I freakin’ love the stats they provide.

Step one: Find a baby and a pumpkin.

Step two: Give up any hope of measuring or planning. Decide to wing it.

Step three: Take the top off.

Step four: Cut out an area the width of baby’s shoulders and continue that cut further down the back side of the pumpkin. Scoop out guts.

Step five: Take a break. Play with the guts.

Step six: Cut leg holes as wide as baby’s hips. Or attempt to.

Step seven: Time for the trial run. See how baby fits into the pumpkin and then make adjustments to leg holes and add decorative finishes.

Step eight: Convince baby that sitting inside a pumpkin is really fun.

Step nine: When step eight fails, let baby chew on his hat.

Step ten: Enjoy the Halloween spirit!

(A final note, though I hope it’s obvious: No babies were harmed in the making of this jack-o-lantern.)

(And one other more final note, though I hope it’s obvious as well: Bathing your baby is a really good step eleven.)

I totally know how he feels.

Needless to say…this kid has no idea what he’s in for.

(And by that, I mean the intense geekiness level of his parents.)

I also hope that Hurley is his first babysitter on the island.

Below you can see an outfit that I don’t let Elijah wear…because if you’re living under my roof, you’d better be using adverbs correctly.

{This post was inspired by a tweet from @eatplaylove, directing me to this post about squirrels attacking by @connieaw. I felt it was time to come clean about my hatred of squirrels.}

It all started back in college. There were these huge fat squirrels that roamed campus and bothered students for leftover food. Of course, the students actually fed the squirrels, making for an environment where squirrels were not afraid to come up and attempt to steal your food. I will never forget the day that I saw a squirrel sitting proudly on top of a trash can eating an entire Snickers bar, and doing it just the way a human would with the wrapper pulled down halfway. Snickers apparently does satisfy…even rodents.

Fast forward five years. I’m living in South Boulder, near the foothills and open space trails, when I start noticing problems with my car. After the mechanics pop the hood, I’m informed that a squirrel has taken up residence in my engine. I don’t actually believe it until I see the nest built in the corner of my engine compartment and come to find out that squirrels enjoy eating the wires located around your car’s engine. Turns out, according to the mechanic, squirrels get a little jolt and it gives them a buzz. (Not sure how the mechanic knew that, but whatever.) After receiving the bill for the work done on my car, my hatred for squirrels only increased.

(Related question…what’s so fucked up in a squirrel’s life that it has to seek mood-altering substances anyway?)

Now, in my current place of residence, there are many, many squirrels. They have taken to digging through my recycling bin in an attempt to find something to eat. Despite scaring the shit out of me on numerous occasions, I didn’t have much of a problem with the squirrels…UNTIL…one of them tried to come in my house. I was leaving for work and he was sitting a few steps down from my front door, looking desperately like he wanted in. I took a step closer to him, expecting the squirrel to run away. Instead, he looked at me and took another step closer to my front door.

Hell no. There’s no way I’m inviting a squirrel into my place. Not with the car trouble in my past or the fact that those little fuckers carry the bubonic plaque. Disgusting.

And I’m not looking to keep a squirrel as a pet.

Nope.

So, in a moment of anger and fear, I do the first thing that comes to mind and kick that squirrel off my front porch.

Before PETA attacks, what would you have done if there was a dangerous intruder looking to enter through your front door? It may seem harsh but word must have spread because I haven’t had any of his friends coming by to check out our recycling lately.

Adding insult to injury, here’s an awesome shot I got of a neighborhood squirrel going to town on his privates…

But please don’t think that this evens the score. I still hate squirrels.

So we all know what an Ignite junkie I am, right?

(And for those of you who don’t know about Ignite, educate & enlighten yourself.)

Basically, ever since Andrew Hyde and Jeremy Tanner peer pressured me into speaking at the very first Boulder Ignite, I’ve had a deep respect for the short-form visual presentation style. It reminds me a bit of stand-up…but with more Powerpoint. And way more geeks.

Last year, I gave my fourth Ignite talk in front of a sold-out crowd of 800+ people at the Boulder Theater. I made people laugh, taught them a thing or two and shared a little bit of my dorky past with everyone.

If you want to brag about knowing a game show champion, you best watch the video below.

You can thank me later.

The top five breastfeeding rap lyrics:

99 problems and the latch ain’t one.

It takes boob to make a thing go right.

…because that boob you’ve got makes me so hungry…

Can’t you hear the milk is pumpin’ like I wish you would? Pump it. Pump it real good.

Never let the nip slip, cause if it slips, then I’m drippin’

Yes, this is what I find funny now that my whole world is ruled by the Young Master and his love for my “titty juice”, as my hubs affectionately refers to it.

This is totally true. And I’m still pregnant.

{hat tip: Amber Rhea}