I am currently lacking the ability to form smooth, extended, coherent thoughts. Instead, I'm all hippity-hopping around. Perhaps because it's my busy week at work, perhaps because Saul is insisting on being precocious and trying to start his terrible twos a year early, perhaps because I had a cup of black tea this morning after several weeks of a strict caffeine-fast.
About the terrible twos (please God tell me it doesn't get much worse): Saul throws food. He throws tantrums. He throws himself on the ground. He bangs his head against the wall. He fights to get me to put him down at daycare, and then promptly stands up, hugs my leg, and won't let me go to work. He refuses to eat, and then cries because he's hungry. He refuses to drink from a cup. He refuses to eat from a spoon. He throws things out of the bath-tub and screams if I catch them before they make it over the side.
I talk as though he's terrible all the time. He's really not. Most of the time, he's happy and cheerful and playful. But it doesn't take much of Evil Twin Saul to overshadow the Sweet Angel Saul.
Remember the Mark Twain statue? Here's the only picture I took. See how Saul is as far away as he can get and keeping an eye on it? I guess Mark Twain does look a little shifty there.
So about Saul's first birthday. It's coming up very soon. I am not throwing him a party, and I'm feeling a little bit ambivalent about it. Family will come, of course, and he will get some really awesome presents, and the opportunity to smash an (eggless) chocolate cupcake all over his face. But there will be no friends, no other babies, no party hats and gift bags and coordinating napkins. Because I hate that stuff, and I do not have the bandwidth to organize that kind of big to-do. But I have been invited to many first birthday parties recently, including one for Laney, who was born the week before Saul. It makes me feel a little bit guilty. I think I've mentioned before how I'm trying really hard to avoid the culture of competitive mothering that seems to be so prevalent. But it's hard, because I am constantly questioning what my motives are for everything, and trying to draw the line between what is good for Saul and what is excessive, and what will truly benefit Saul and what will just make me feel better. It's a very hard thing to do, and sometimes I just want to give up because going against a current is a good way to exhaust yourself. Words of wisdom would be appreciated.
Ok, on to something happier: cooking! I received two cookbooks for my birthday. The one is all about bread, and the other is all about pie. Thanks, Mom, for helping with my diet.
Anyway, I'm getting all ambitious this weekend and I'm going to make pear and brie turnovers. With homemade pastry dough, yo. But no Crisco, cause we don't roll with the trans-fats.
Of course I will take pictures. Many, many pictures. And you will all want to come over to my house for dessert. And I will welcome you with open arms, because having dessert is no fun around Mr. Healthnut.
And that is all I have to say right now. I would like to go on about my new Audrey Hepburn capelet thingie and how I'm going to dress up like it's 1962 and wear a big hat and go somewhere and pretend to be glamorous, but then you would just think I'm a little bit weird. And I know you don't think that already. Right?