I just finished watching The Pianist. Turns out that's not exactly the movie to watch when you want to chillax.
Speaking of the Holocaust, my dad sent me an article about parents in the U.S. who raise their kids to be Nazis. Wow. What lucky kids! And I can't legally adopt my own son because his other parent is also a woman and that is somehow a threat to traditional marriage or some such bullshit. Nice. Great country. God bless America.
So I've hurt my back. It was, in fact, just yesterday when someone asked me how much Gavin weighed (nearly 24 lbs.) and she said something about how I would either get really muscular or throw my back out. I haven't thrown my back out, but there's definitely a strain somewhere in there. Something is pulled or something (note: that's the best sentence I have ever written). Watching The Pianist definitely didn't help. I realized when it was over that I'd been tensing my back and shoulder muscles the entire time. I need some Tiger Balm, but I can't actually reach the spot on my back where it hurts the most. Stacy has already gone to sleep. And Henri and Gavin are sleeping, too. I won't even bother asking Jota. He is useless. In any case, I really hope I wake up tomorrow feeling A-OK. Otherwise I don't know how I'm going to hoist my son.
Speaking of my son, the "Paparazzi" kid was on Ellen and I am even more charmed by him than ever. Although I do wonder why Ellen parked herself on a stool behind him while he performed on her show. I mean, I know it's her show, but really? She doesn't get enough camera time? In any case, Buzzfeed pretty much sums up my feelings about this kid exactly: "Paparazzi Boy is so confident and charming! And he has a decent command of the English language, unlike Justin Bieber. I believe that Paparazzi Boy is our future!" Teach him well and let him lead the way. But as a friend of mine pointed out on Facebook, "I hope someone is truly looking out for what is best for this kid." Me, too. I hope his parents aren't assholes. But then, they probably aren't because he does not seem to be an asshole at all. Seems like those two things go hand in hand much of the time.
I have to take back what I said about Gavin's budding hockey talents the other day. We went back to the Ferndale Community Center today and I let him loose in the gym. He crawled right for a hockey stick again but this time when I rolled a ball to him he either let it roll right past him or he tried to hang on to both the ball and the stick. He spent much more time trying to put the hockey stick in his mouth. I spent a good deal of time saying, "Not for mouths," though the fact that the foam hockey stick clearly had actual bite marks in it I don't know how convincing I was. So no hockey prodigy to see here. Move along. Who knows what he'll be? Hopefully something that makes him rich so Stacy and I can retire early and live on his yacht. Just kidding (though for the record I sometimes fear that this is my parents' retirement plan). And anyway, Stacy gets seasick. I just want to raise a good kid and a kind man. And if I raise my son to be a man who knows to wear a belt with jeans then I've really accomplished a lot.
When Stacy came home from work we managed to take a walk for the first time in several days. It's been raining here in sunny Michigan. Gavin talked a lot on the walk. He's a very vocal little dude. I love the sounds he makes. And more and more he seems to be using "mama" as an actual word directed at me or Stacy. Today at the play center he and I were off playing by ourselves. The three other moms seemed to all be there together and were sitting in a semi-circle on the mats while their kids played around them and didn't acknowledge me, but I didn't exactly try to engage them either. Also all of the kids were older than Gavin and anyway he's at an age where he gets much more out of watching other kids than playing with them. So Gavin was climbing the mats and stuff and would occasionally turn toward me and start to pull himself up on my pants if I was standing or my shoulder if I was sitting next to him and each time he said, "Mama" at least once, though usually a few times in a row. So this could just be a continuation of his mamamamama sound that he likes to make, but I think it's more than that. So I'm going to call it: Gavin's first word is mama. :) Hopefully that doesn't disappear like his hockey skills.
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