Last weekend, Mr. Dude's mom called me up and invited me to go strawberry picking.
Mr. Dude was out with his own dad to celebrate Father's Day [something about a brewery tour and a viewing of Godzilla, neither of which I was interested in], and Little Guy and I were about ready to go on a run.
But strawberry picking?
I posed the question on that social network the all-knowing audience [aka, "Facebook"]:
Exercise
Option: Do you think I'll choose my normal run with a stop at a park to
let Little Guy play, or going to pick strawberries with my mother in
law where Little Guy can play in the mud with us?
I'll give you a hint: I'm a foodie who hates running, and a mom who doesn't mind dirt.
Bonus points if you got the right answer before I show you this:
Grandma had a fabulous time with Little Guy, showing him how to find the strawberries and pull them off the plants. I'm pretty sure her plan was to get time in with her grandson whilst her daughter-in-law did most of the picking.
Cute baby in a strawberry basket in the middle of a field. Ridiculously cute? I think so.
Also, there was a lot of dirt. C'est la vie.
Once we got home, though, the real work began. Washing, slicing, sorting and freezing two whole flats of strawberries is no picnic, people! It called for a marathon of something to entertain my brain.
[Fellowship to the Rescue!!!]
It was rather odd to be slicing something so sweet and yummy whilst Ring Wraiths attacked poor Frodo at Weathertop, or whilst nine members of the Fellowship fought off hordes of angry goblins and a cave troll down in the Mines of Moria. But it was nice to have the distraction.
Mr. Dude came home from time with his dad and paused the movie to tell me about his day. I think he may live in the meme-world a little too often, because he stopped it right here:
["So I walk in the door and Steph had
this going. It seems I paused it at EXACTLY the right moment. One does not
simply pause a 3 hr movie at the opportune time."]
[We interrupt this broadcast to tell you about this awesomeness in a jar: Trader Joe's Lemon Curd. Put it on toast and enjoy with a cup of Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. Or drizzle over plain yogurt, then toss in some sliced almonds and dried cranberries. Better yet, put it on top of ice cream. Trust me, you'll be glad you spent the $3.99, and I'm not even getting paid to tell you that.]
Look at me. The post hasn't even started and I'm already digressing.
If you've been paying attention, you've noticed that I'm somewhat addicted to having lots of internet browser tabs open. As a visual processor, it's just how I function, okay? I know that the browser tab's inherent "to do" item is completed when the tab is closed. Until then, it stays open. Deal with it.
So, some days the top of my browser may or may not look like this:
[Pay no attention to the fact that my arrow via Microsoft Paint is horrendous. I know that. If you'd like to get me a subscription to Adobe InDesign, then I'll make pretty graphics for you. Until then, you get the cheap stuff. Or you can pretend that Little Guy was helping me with the illustrations. :D]
[Also, you know you're married to a nerd when ... you see the Lifehacker tweet and exclaim to your husband, "You can randomize your MAC address?!?!" ... because you actually know what a MAC address is and some of what it's used for ... ]
But telling Mr. Dude that I need all those tabs open to work on my projects just makes him shake his head and sigh. It also makes him require that any machine we purchase for me needs to have as much RAM as possible. [I haven't maxed out the 12G of RAM on his super computer yet ... perhaps that should be a personal goal for the summer ... ]
Anyways, whenever he needs to use my computer, he's just learned to open a new browser. Not a new window for whatever browser I had open - no, a new browser entirely.
What?
You're surprised that we'd have Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox and Internet Explorer all on one machine?
You must not know us very well.
So while Chrome chugged along with my 46 [!] and counting tabs, Mr. Dude pulled up Firefox to start Pandora since we had friends coming over for the evening.
As I was shutting down the computer for the night [and this is where I thank whoever had the brilliant idea to make browsers capable of resuming where you left off when you turn your machine back on again - hurray for saving all the tabs!], I noticed this video was the other tab he had opened up:
Surprising? Not in the least. It's one of his favorite franchises, all kinds of previews are coming out for games with E3 going on, and he's easily distracted. So of course he was watching that while pulling up Pandora.
I right-clicked on the video to get the link so I could share it with all of you, and I started giggling. Bonus points if you see it in under 10 seconds:
Did you get it? Oh, c'mon!
"Stats for Nerds".
REALLY?!?!
I have no idea what stats it pulls up - I was laughing too hard to bother looking. And I have no idea if that's a standard option on the right-click menu, if that's special to Chrome, or if Mr. Dude was messing with my machine again.
To be honest? It's getting hard to tell anymore.
In the meantime, I'm off to enjoy my toast and lemon curd with Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. while the Little Guy sleeps. And who knows? Perhaps I'll get enough done so there are only 30 Chrome tabs open at the end of the day.
[Near Gear Mondays. Where I tell you all about the random gear that Mr. Dude - or I - may or may not own. Or gear that we may or may not plan to own. Or gear that we may or may not find interesting. You're welcome.]
Once upon a time, a long time ago, baby gear was all about what baby actually needed.
And then along came things like dishwashers, washing machines, dryers, vacuum cleaners and electronic baby swings ... suddenly, people had time on their hands for more than the bare minimum. So they started coming up with things that would be cool for baby to have, which usually coincides with "things baby definitely doesn't need to have".
[As a long time babysitter and nanny, I've seen my fair share of the ridiculous things that people could swear they "need" for their kid. Wipe warmers, anyone? But I digress.]
There are some baby items which - admittedly - baby does not need.
BUT! Mom and Dad find them cool.
Bonus points if Dad finds them cool, because supposedly that makes Dad more interested in hanging out with baby ... or at least feeling like he has a say in some of the gear that you buy. [Let's be honest. Most dads don't care about decorating the nursery or picking out a diaper bag.]
Bonus Points: It's even made of maple. How very ... um ... Canadian of them, eh?
Whenever Little Guy gets a Little Gal or a Littler Guy to teach about all things nerdy, I can almost guarantee you that we'll buy one as a teaching prop for him to use. You gotta equip the next generation, you know.
Can you hear the conversation now?
Little Guy: Here, baby. This button helps you jump and this one makes you go faster. This one helps you get the extra star ... No, no, no! You don't eat it! That will make Mario fall down and die! Future Little Sibling:[blank stare, blink blink, continues chewing]
[Sigh. This is the part where I resign myself to my fate of always living in a house of nerds ... in case you hadn't caught on to that yet ...]
In the computer world, "bug" is a bad, bad word. [This is where all the coders start shuddering.]
Within the confines of my house, "bug" means "pest that's only alive because the cat isn't doing her job or Mr. Dude hasn't killed it yet even though I asked a whole 2 seconds ago".
For my garden, "bug" means "that thing that's trying to eat all the plants!"
As far as my to do list is concerned, "bug" refers to the verb, as in - "I haven't done Item A [or Item B, or Item C, or Item D, or Item E ...] yet, and it's starting to bug me".
For the purposes of this blog, "bug" explains the content of this post, and I'm going to refer to all of the above.
Let's go in reverse order, shall we?
To Do List: Let's just say that mine has been rather long, without much progress and without enough coffee. [For the record, there's never enough coffee. You'll be my best friend if you bring me some good coffee. Promise.] We've had lots going on with Mr. Dude's work schedule, Little Guy's sleep schedule, and my manage-our-home-behind-the-scenes schedule. Thus, the blog fell off the "highest priority, must get something posted today" radar. Hard to blog about life when you're too busy living it, right? Don't worry - it gnawed at me. So we're back.
Garden: The bugs in the garden have been watching us pull up undergrowth, kill off the moss that was eating our lawns [oh, the joys of living in the PNW] and set up all kinds of accessories. Our backyard is now sporting some awesome garage sale finds and hand-me-downs: patio table and chairs, solar LED umbrella [oooh! blinky lights!], fire pit, and gas bbq grill. [Can you say "neighborhood cookout"?!]
If you thought Mr. Dude's only hobbies were building and modifying computers or finding random videos on YouTube featuring reviews of the Goat Simulator game given by a gal who just ate a habanero pepper stuffed with ghost chili pepper sauce, then you were mistaken.
He ALSO loves sprucing up a much-loved grill to make it shine like new and filling up the gargantuan yard waste can with vines and dandelions and blackberry bush clippings. Not the stereotypical nerd who never sees daylight, I tell you. [Although, did I tell you about how he worked in the basement at our university's IT Help Desk, and they had pictures of windows overlooking sunny landscapes on their computer desktops in lieu of actual windows? Apparently the nerds thought their virtual UV rays were sufficient ...]
But seriously, when he's not doing yardwork, he really is looking up Goat Simulator game reviews.
House: I've been doing my own geeking out over things like design, function and decorating. I may or may not have spent most of a sunny day outside, lounging in our new-to-us patio furniture and reading this:
Mr. Dude likes the "DIY" concept for building computers; I like it applied to cooking and decorating. Also, I appreciate bloggers with a sense of humor, so I follow them on Bloglovin'. [Note: You could follow The Almost Nerdy Wife on Bloglovin', too. Just sayin'. #shamelessselfpromotion #justkiddingIhateselfpromoting]
The only downside is that I can't actually do most of the project ideas in here: we're waiting on even basic things like paint and hanging pictures until our walls are demolished and rebuilt. No, we're not knocking our entire house down. Yes, we have to redo most of our electrical work.
[1916 House + Nerd with Excess of Electronic Devices = Supply and Demand Imbalance]
Actually, we needed to do the update anyways [hellooooooo, knob and tube!], and I'm too lazy to paint walls that are just going to be torn up in a few months. But it's so much more fun to point out Mr. Dude's wattage consumption. He won't mind, though. He willingly measures how many watts his machines pull out anyways.
This is actually pretty low, especially after we had legit outlets installed downstairs, in addition to the lightbulb-to-outlet conversions he had done. Otherwise, he had a ridiculous number of devices daisy-chained to a single extension cord running off one outlet in the mudroom/pantry just up the stairs from his man cave and it was consistently up in the 400s. We really need to get the electricity finished, folks!
Where were we?
Oh yeah. Decorating. Or not. At least not until Mr. Dude's machines can't cause a shortage throughout our entire house and blow every fuse in the box with one fell swoop of overclocking.
Excuse me. I'm off to go stock up on batteries for the flashlight in case of Wattage-gate.
Maybe I'll buy a can of paint while I'm at it.
[*Bonus Points for those of you who ever watched the Cartoon Network "June Bugs" specials where they ran a marathon of Warner Brothers' Bugs Bunny cartoons. Ah, such wonderful childhood memories.]
Little Guy turned one earlier this month, and my family made the trek all the way from sunny CA to celebrate with us.
They took the opportunity to give him some ... um ... appropriate gifts.
One sister, for example, created these:
It's what happens when you have access to the interwebs, a printer, and iron-on patches. So now my kid can go around proclaiming on his shirt what his general M.O. of life seems to be:
"But what about second breakfast?"
The other sister gave him what I call the "maniacal bumblebee" and what Mr. Dude has proclaimed one of the most awesome toys ever.
Want to see their ad for it? Watch the overly cheerful video. And then wonder if the video editor lost some hair while working on that project. Auntie's "Operation: Bug the Momma, Please the Nephew" is a complete success, y'all. Because Little Guy LOVES it.
[We have a dichotomy in our parenting philosophies, by the way. Mr. Dude thinks that loud, noisy toys make childhood more fun. I, on the other hand, am the one at home all day with Little Guy, so I hear that noisy toy a LOT. And I think a kid needs to learn to be entertained without all the flashing lights and sounds. But hey, he loves leafing through his board books and playing with blocks, so we'll call it good.]
I'm just worried about what's gonna happen when Mr. Dude gets around to building that DOS Pentium II off-line machine that our kids will get to use.
Or in my case today, what about a second cup of tea?
There have been a lot of second "cuppas" this past week as both I and this blog fell off the face of the earth. That's what happens when you've got one very sick Little Guy who decided that a fever meant lots of snuggling with momma and sleeping. I took to calling him a "Clingy Monkey". But at least he was a cute clingy monkey.
So, we're back. He's back to causing mischief, I'm back to writing, and Mr. Dude is the same as he ever was.
Well, except for today, when his company sent him to a SharePoint training this week instead of his normal work routine.
Know what he's most excited about?
Free, unlimited Mountain Dew.
You know, the kind of soda he used to drink during multiple weekends of playing waaaaaaay too much Halo in high school. He claims it's how he stayed out of trouble.
[I'm guessing his mom is grateful her couch got a little beat up by crowds of teenage boys working their way through endless levels of video games on the "Legendary" difficulty, rather than have her son get mixed in with the wrong crowd. I wonder if they thought to buy stock in Mountain Dew since they were probably single-handedly keeping the profit margin high?]
But back to real life outside of Mr. Dude's nostalgia trip today ...
I'm back on "PAX Duty" since he's out of WiFi. And back to real life chores after spending most of my weekend doing this:
Ever seen Meryl Streep's amazing performance in Julie and Julia? Holy cow. The movie is based on a mix of this book and the blog of a gal named Julie who learned to cook by working her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I'm wondering if anyone can read this book without getting drool all over their face and not getting up at least three times to go scour the kitchen for something, anything that could be even a fraction as tasty as all the food she describes in her book.
The mug, by the way, is full of Earl Grey. Hot. Make it so. [Yeah, that was a Star Trek reference. I know.] Because every good book needs a good mug or glass of something yummy to accompany it. One friend suggested that I have a good glass of wine, some fantastic crusty French bread and a really creamy Brie to savor while I read. I agreed, but I was fresh out of all three. And too glued to the book to go to the grocery store. So I settled for the tea. Much more British than French, but still tasty.
So that's what I geeked out on this weekend. Mr. Dude may be writing PowerShell scripts for this and that, continually locking down our network, and waiting for PAX Prime tickets to go on sale. I'm learning how to cook all sorts of tasty things.
C'mon. 'Fess up. What hobbies did you do instead of chores this weekend?
Last night, I was all settled in for a lovely semi-marathon of BBC's London Hospital. Little Guy was down for the count. The house was reasonably clean. And Mr. Dude was out with friends to watch the new Captain America movie.
[As an aside, I was supposed to go to that movie, too, but we couldn't get a babysitter in time. So I couldn't watch the latest iteration in a never-ending parade of superhero/comic book-based movies. Oh darn.]
And then I get this text message:
Grammatical errors aside [because I'm one of those annoying people who try to make sure even my text messages have proper capitalization, punctuation, etc.], this pretty much sums up my weekend.
Stalking PAX Prime tickets.
Mr. Dude [who really is listed in my phone as "Yours Truly" ... and who chose a ridiculous profile picture based on a meme] knows that historically, PAX Prime tickets are announced very soon after PAX East in Boston has concluded.
So the man who has a Twitter handle and never uses it turned on notifications for @Official_Pax a week ago to be sure he could rush to a computer at a moment's notice to get one of the coveted 4 Day Passes. Since PAX East was this weekend, there's been a tweet every. freakin'. 30. seconds.
That's a lot of notifications on his phone, people.
And a lot of times for my heart to start racing, waiting to hear him yell out, "To the interwebs!"
And a lot of times of not knowing when I'm going to have to drop everything [except for maybe the 1 year old Little Guy ... I love my husband, but I draw the line there] to run to my computer and basically live out this scene:
Key Difference that Mr. Dude would like you to note: They're trying to get into Comicon in San Diego. Not PAX.
I actually offered [!!!] to go to Emerald City Comicon last month and he refused.
Why?
"That's for a bunch of nerds, Stephanie."
Riiiiiiiiigggggghhhhhhttttt ...
[Updated: Apparently I should use the interwebs for some of my proofreading. You know, so that I can discover that it's spelled "Comicon" instead of "ComiCon" ... like I tried to do the first time around.]
Found some more treasures at the consignment shop for Little Guy, just in time for the M's home opener on Tuesday:
Does this Giants' fan get bonus points for buying M's gear for our son? I mean, seriously.
[Mr. Dude asked me to wear M's gear to the game, and I think I almost laughed in his face. I reassured him that I love him. A lot. And then I reminded him that this is baseball we're talking about. I only wear black and orange, no matter who is playing or who my husband is cheering for. The "leaving and cleaving" may apply to my family, but it does not apply to my baseball team. Just sayin'.]
Also, I'm claiming bonus points for the R2D2 and C3PO shirt. Because what nerd's kid's wardrobe is complete without something from Star Wars?
I digress.
The day of said home game where Little Guy sported his Griffey gear, Mr. Dude and I were filling out paperwork at the doctor's office for the [insert trumpet fanfare here] one year appointment.
Me: What's the date today? Mr. Dude: The 8th. Do you know how I know it's the 8th? Me: Because it's our dating anniversary? Mr. Dude: No. And yes! But today is the day that Windows XP support ends. Me: And you know that more than you know that it's our dating anniversary? Mr. Dude: Hey, I had to live and breathe that deadline!
In all fairness, our dating anniversary is something more like a three day stretch, because it took one day for him to ask me to be his girlfriend, one day for me to think about it, and a third day for me to say "yes". April 8th is the day I said "yes". So sometimes I have a hard time remembering which one we celebrate [answer: we kinda, sorta celebrate all three].
And in all fairness, his massive project at work as a "Sharepoint Farmer" [as he calls himself] has been to migrate everything on their servers to a new OS so that everyone and their mom couldn't hack into the system. So the countdown to April 8, 2014, has been on his work desktop for the last couple of years.
Oh, widgets. What did we ever do without you?
Even so, the ordinals in his head for April 8th events went something like
[Windows XP end-of-support, M's Opening Day, 8 year dating anniversary, SQUIRREL!, Little Guy's appointment].
If he's not careful, I'll start calling him Szalinski.
[And he'd like you to know that he's proud I'd even use a reference from a 90's movie.]
[The title is an onomatopoeic reference to me gasping for air after
drowning in the ocean that is buying a home and moving into it ... all with one
very wiggly and mobile Little Guy and a Mr. Dude who is working overtime right
now.]
That's right, people. We bought a house. And Mr. Dude officially
has a "man cave" that is his to do with as he pleases.
[Can you say"ridiculously happy geek"?]
Aside from putting our laundry machines downstairs eventually to
accommodate a larger dining room, Mr. Dude has a sizable space to use with
plans for a full bar, a media area[with
surround sound for him ... and sound-proofed floors for his wife's ears],
his computer desk and an extra table for working on tech projects.
That extra table is important, people.
Because there are stories from his past that still haunt him.
Stories of using a soldering gun to repair a laptop.
Indoors.
On his mother's dining room table.
With a tablecloth.
That now has a small hole burned into it.
So he's banned from doing said tech projects in such places. And
thus we're getting him his own tech work bench/table/space.
But I digress.
For Christmas, I promise I actually did get him a tech-related
present, despite me listing a few things I vehemently declared I wouldnot get for him.
Yes, that is a Companion Cube Ice Cube Tray. And warning sign coasters. Because a geek's bar needs to be tricked out with appropriately geeky stuff, right?
The full bar is going to be Tron-themed, complete with blue and
orange neon mixed in with acrylic.
[Mr. Dude really likes acrylic.]
I figured that Portal 2 was the same colors and cool enough that
he'd be okay with something of a mash-up for his theme.
The wife guessed right. Booyah! And as a bonus, I got Geek Points from ThinkGeek AND my husband. Double booyah!
Also on the list of "you-know-I-love-my-husband-a-LOT-when-I-buy-him-ridiculous-stuff-like-this":
[Exhibit A: Valentine's Day gift - Mario Mushroom Tap Lights. That I found in a consignment shop. For $3 each.] Before you think I'm a cheap-o gift-giver, I also told him I'd play one of the Mario games with him for an evening. If you believe this infographic about how much a stay-at-home-mom's time would be worth in the "outside world", then my time is worth about $20/hour, give or take. Assume that an evening of video games is about 4 hours [because that's all I think I can handle before I go cross-eyed and want to pull all my hair out], then the gift is at least $80. There, now you can't think I'm a cheapo. And Mr. Dude is ridiculously excited for me to voluntarily play video games with him. Yes, I love him that much.
[Exhibit B: Command Gold Onesie, 24 months. That I found at the same consignment store. Also for just $3.] Yes, that's Little Guy's size. But when I called Mr. Dude to tell him I found him a present, and he saw it when he came home from work, he definitely agreed that it was a gift for him. Because what nerd wouldn't want their son to proudly sport Kirk's uniform? As long as our son doesn't end up doing commercials for an online travel company, we're okay ...
[Bonus Items: Classic Children's Books] Because there are some titles that you buy immediately when you see them in such good condition at the consignment shop. So while Mr. Dude is trying to convince Little Guy to be a computer nerd, I'm going to be instilling a love of books into him. Hurray for a growing library!
In the meantime, my apologies for leaving you all hanging for so long. I know
you were just dying to hear about all
the funny things Mr. Dude has been up to in all of his geekery these past
couple of months. Or maybe you were just living life as usual. Or perhaps you were too busy playing Age of Empires with Mr. Dude to realize I hadn't been writing about his antics?
Some days, I literally have to tell Mr. Dude to stop talking.
No, I'm not being the mean wife who hates hearing what her husband has to say.
And yes, I listen to my husband talk a LOT. Because my husband can literally talk a LOT.
Sometimes, I just have to tell him to stop talking because otherwise he'd never stop. Especially when you get him talking about tech stuff. Or when he gets himself talking about tech stuff.
Tonight, for example, I asked him a simple question:
"Do you need anything from Target?"
Purpose: I have a pair of slippers I was planning on getting from there - my old ones are kaput after 5 or 6 years and it's cold here in Seattle's winter, by golly.
The nearest Target is a half hour away with traffic [darn city living] and that's just not a good life choice most days with a munchkin in tow. I also don't need enough stuff from there to justify spending that much on gas, anyways.
But Amazon [oh, Amazon - how we love thee] has taught me to despise the thought of paying for shipping.
So we play Target's game - spending enough money to trip the "free shipping" discount. I can't think of anything we need at the moment [isn't that a lovely feeling?], so I ask my dearest husband if he can think of anything.
After I throw out his first few suggestions [one of which was an Ouya console, which is another story entirely], I suggest we go for a baby monitor since we've been considering it. We live in a small apartment, so we can either hear Little Guy from anywhere we stand, or we use a baby monitor app on our phones that calls whatever number we set up when the decibel level in his room reaches a certain level [officially called the "he's awake" decibel level ... about 74, if you're counting]. But with trips and other events, we've decided it's finally time to shell out the less-than-fifty-dollars for a decent audio monitor system that's portable and doesn't require one of us to sacrifice a phone during naptime. [First world problems, I know.]
Being the good wife of a techie, I know a few questions I should ask - do I need to make sure that the device works on multiple channels so that it doesn't interfere with our wifi and other wireless devices?
[This is important, mind you, because Mr. Dude informed me that there are over 30 wireless access points within range of our apartment, and they had caused so much interference as to make his Xbox controllers disconnect the other day. While he was using one. In the middle of a game. Oh the horror! But I digress ...]
[Oh, and our Xbox friend of Gears of War 3 fame would like me to correct "XBox" in that post to "Xbox". Apparently the appropriate capitalization thereof is vitally important. I told him to get over it. And now I'm digressing again.]
You know, my father-in-law has a saying:
"If you don't want to know the answer, don't ask the question."
I'm beginning to think it would be wise to start listening to some of his advice.
Know how Mr. Dude answered my very simple question?
I got a very loooong and drawn out discussion about how 2.4MHz is the standard on consumer devices ... but that some devices used 5.1MHz to mitigate the interference factors ... Unfortunately that frequency isn't as good at sending signals through walls, so it's almost useless anyways ... But the router has the ability to "auto-hop" between channels on the 2.4MHz frequency, so it will automatically skip over whatever channel the baby monitor is using and it won't be an issue ... Some devices will solve the issue by sending smaller packets of information that can wedge themselves into the same stream that other devices are using on that channel ... And what if he were to just replace the bad RAM in the server he's got, put a microphone on it, and have it send an email or text or something when Little Guy's noises reach the "I'm awake" decibel level? ... Ooh! That could be a fun Christmas vacation project ...
Dude. Mr. Dude. Just stop.
My feet are cold.
I want to go order my slippers.
And I'm going to order a baby monitor, too, since we need one and that makes free shipping possible.
And all that you just told me boils down to simply "Stephanie, the frequency and channels on the baby monitor don't matter because I can tweak our other devices to work around it. So just order one that has a decent range, good reviews and isn't more than $50."
Done and done.
Ten minutes later, I have an order confirmation number and the satisfaction in knowing that I found a baby monitor for under $50 with a 1000 foot range and 120 channels.
Booyah.
Now to go find a pair of socks to fill in for the slippers that haven't arrived yet. Darn instant gratification addiction.
Mr. Dude and I often debate about lots of things, particularly Washington vs. California, since those are our respective birth places. Maybe "mock each other about our respective birth places" is more accurate.
Don't worry - it doesn't mean our marriage is on the rocks. We've been doing that ever since we were "just friends" and arguing about everything. [By the way, being able to argue about anything and still be friends and on the same team afterwards is a highly valuable skill in marriage.]
One topic in particular: schooling.
God bless the man, but he went to school in Washington, the land of the rednecks. And I like to remind him of it. Often. Also, it helps that his undergraduate degree was a B.S. and his master's was an M.S. [ie, "More of the Same"], so I've got lots of material to banter about with him.
But I should probably start learning to hold my tongue, since "Mommy Brain" is affecting me more than I'd like to admit.
Why?
Because now apparently I can't do simple math.
Never mind the fact that I've taken calculus and I'm the daughter of a high school math teacher.
Little Guy turned 8 months old on the 6th [we've kept a human alive for eight whole months ... woohoo!] and I made a passing comment about his age while we were playing on the floor.
Me: Little Guy, you turned 8 months yesterday. That means we're 75% of the way to your first birthday! Mr. Dude: You mean 9 months, Stephanie. Me: No, he's 8 months now. Mr. Dude: I know. Nine months would be 75%; he's only two thirds of the way to his first birthday. Me: What are you talking about? Eight over twelve is 75%, Dude! Mr. Dude: Stephanie, nine over twelve is three quarters. Me: [insert awkward silence] Oh ... you're right. Drats! Mr. Dude: So about that Washington schooling, eh Stephanie? Man, I've been waiting for his day for a looong time! Me: Can I have some more coffee now? Apparently I really need it.
This is where I insert foot in mouth and start wondering if I should be worried about "Mommy Brain" affecting anything else important. You know, like speaking and writing and thinking in general.
Friends of ours came over this last weekend to enjoy some dinner and good ol' fashioned fellowship. The husband needed to borrow a router [and of course Mr. Dude had an extra one] and some troubleshooting in setting it up for whatever project he had going on at home. I told him any night of the week was fine [amazing how your evenings are suddenly all available when you're at home with your sleeping kiddo], and he'd get bonus points for bringing his wife along and staying long enough for us to have dinner together. He agreed and the date was set.
So our home-beer-brewin'-gotta-moustache-that'll-make-Moses-jealous-composer-extraordinaire friend and his lovely graphic-designing-film-photography-I-can-knit-anything-with-my-eyes-closed wife joined us for a fantastic evening in.
After dinner, the guys set about to work on their project while we ladies decided that chatting away with BBC's classic Pride and Prejudice in the background would be lovely. Suddenly, though, Mr. Dude quit out of the movie and went to the arcade games section on the XBox360, declaring that he had been waiting for Mr. Composer Friend to come over just so they could play this particular game together since they share a love of the movie by the same name.
Even more suddenly, a controller was in my hands and all four of us were trying to help poor Scott Pilgrim defeat all the bullies so he could go on a date with Ramona, or something to that effect.
Correction. They were all helping Scott. I was randomly pushing buttons and wondering what the heck they made my character do. It all seemed like a giant plot just to get me to play video games.
Attempted indoctrination via "gateway" games, I tell you.
[But, Stephanie! This is a really easy arcade game! You gotta admit that it's awesome! How could you not like video games when there's stuff like this to play?! Look at those graphics! Listen to that 8-bit music they wrote just for this game!]
And when we all got horrendously sick of the soundtrack [or maybe that was just me] and finally beat the level, our artsy and talented friends pulled out all four of their Apple devices so we could play an epic group game.
[I make the distinction about what kind of friends they are because there are very few people that Mr. Dude will recommend Apple products to or not scoff at for purchasing said products. He's a techie - and it irks him that Apple won't let him "under the hood", so to speak. But if you're a composer, a photographer, a graphic designer, an architect, etc, who actually needs some of their specialized software, then he's all for you dropping a ridiculous amount of money on an Apple product.]
Spaceteam is a cooperative game where you have commands flashing on your screen that you need to follow or one of your teammates needs to follow. And if you don't follow them all [or enough of them], then your space ship dies. Oh no!
Here's the official [and better-than-Stephanie's] description from the Apple Store:
Fluxtrunions? Beveled Nanobuzzers? Auxiliary Technoprobes? Outrunning an exploded star?!?!
Felt awfully Star Trek-ish to me.
I guess I'm just lucky that Q didn't show up to make it all the more confusing.
Also, have you ever tried to play a game like Catch Phrase, Pictionary or Yahtzee quietly, especially when there's an infant attempting to sleep not-so-far-away in a rather small apartment?
This was like that. As in, not possible.
Multiple infant-wakings aside, it was exhilarating, confusing, fun and stressful, all at the same time.
And I think I may actually like it.
[Gasp! Is this where I tell Mr. Dude that I found it on the Google Play Store, so we can install it on our phones, too?]
So that was my epic Friday night. It was Scott Pilgrim vs. me. Or maybe that was Mr. Dude vs. me. Not sure if he won or I lost.
Either way, I spent my Friday night playing video games.
Mr. Dude and I spotted Skyfall on Amazon Prime this weekend, and took the opportunity to sit still for a couple of hours. It's a rare occurrence when you're the parents of a 7.5 month old, even when he's not mobile yet.
[Irony: It actually took us a couple of days to watch it because we couldn't sit still long enough in between caring for Little Guy and tending to household chores. Oh you childless couples - savor your restful times now, because they all but vanish when you've got a munchkin!]
May I submit to you the best movie prop ever?
Screenshot from our TV. Note the closed captioning. Yes, we're old.
Folks, that is a Scrabble mug.
And I think I need to find one.
And then play a game of Scrabble.
But not with Mr. Dude.
I love him, but the man takes at least ten minutes on every single turn trying to get the best possible play. Maybe I just need to start reading a book or something when it's not my turn. But then I can't watch to make sure he's not trying to cheat.
You know, like this time:
Where was the cheating, you ask?
Hint: Look at where he placed "frigid".
The good news is, I still beat him. Soundly. Even after letting him get away with such an atrocity. We were on our "babymoon" and I was both in a good mood and feeling sorry for how badly he was losing. Aren't I magnanimous wife? :)
Now to look for a Scrabble mug on the interwebs ...
They happen in the theater, and sometimes they happen in real life.
Like when Little Guy hits a growth spurt and decides that a full meal every two hours between 10 pm and 6 am for a week straight is necessary to life.
There's not enough coffee in life for me to function well after that, let alone blog.
In the meantime, Mr. Dude has made a declaration:
"Look, Stephanie! Little Guy's first console will be a Nintendo Gameboy. I'm going to start showing him how to use it!"
Aren't they just the cutest?
Okay, okay, I'll confess my bias. I only think they're cute because they're mine. But you have to admit that it's cute to watch a munchkin and his daddy hanging out together.
Side note: Curious as to how Mr. Dude acquired a Nintendo Gameboy?
A friend of ours decided to have a "Hipster"-themed birthday party and posted this as the cover photo for the event:
Source unknown. My apologies to wherever he downloaded this from!
Mr. Dude saw the guy on the right and immediately yelled out, "That's awesome!"
A search on craigslist and ebay ensued for a Nintendo Gameboy in good, working condition.
A trip across town and $20 later, and he had a new toy.
A trip to Goodwill and $5 later, and he had the appropriate gold chain.
A pair of shorts, a button up shirt, an origami paper bowtie and white socks helped him look like the hipster version of a guy from Weird Al's "White and Nerdy".
Ergo, more proof that my husband is most definitely a nerd. And a sucker for nostalgia.
Mr. Dude and I have been taking a lot of walks lately.
They're a good way to escape the soon-to-feel-really-cramped-when-Little-Guy-starts-crawling apartment at the end of a long day and enjoy whatever sunshine we have left here in Seattle before the gloom and doom of winter sets in.
[This is where Mr. Dude chimes in, "But Stephanie, you have to admit that we've had a good summer! You had 80 degrees and sunshine most days!" And my reply will always be, "Yes, but I will still miss my Rainbow flip flops."]
It's also great for keeping Little Guy placated in the late afternoon doldrums somewhere between I'm-too-tired-to-be-cheerful and it's-too-close-to-bedtime-for-another-nap.
So, we suit up with jackets and the Ergo (aka, "Little Guy's Kryptonite") and head out for a nice stroll.
Because we live close to one of the universities in town, we often see college kids. They look at us walking along with our munchkin and smile. And we look at them walking along with their load of books bag that probably just has a tablet and smart phone in it and smile. (And then I remember how long ago our own college years were. And I start wondering when the gray hairs are coming.)
Late last week, we saw another family walking with their two children and I'm sure the mom gave us that knowing smile which said, "Oh, that's so cute that you just have one who's not mobile yet. Just wait till you have two and one of them talks and runs everywhere!"
[Side note: Mr. Dude's mom keeps reminding me that he was running - not walking - at ten months old. Ten months old!!!! I'm quite content for Little Guy to just sit up on his own and only roll one direction at six months, thank you very much. Once he's mobile, it's game over at our house.]
The family's older son looked around 3, almost 4 years old and the little one was only a couple of months old. Mom was pushing the stroller and dad was attempting to hold the little boy's free hand as he bounced around like a jack rabbit.
The little boy's other hand clutched a light saber, drawn and ready to use on any Sith Lord who dared attack.
And I suddenly had a glimpse of my future.
A few years from now, when Little Guy is running and jumping and talking about a hundred miles a minute, we'll be on another family walk. I'll have the next Little One in the Ergo and Mr. Dude will be attempting to contain Little Guy's free hand while the other one grasps a light saber.
Um, does that mean my kid is going to end up like this?
I wonder if I could get him a play version of Peter's Sword from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to use instead ...
Yesterday marked six (6!) months of life with Little Guy, post utero.
Man, time flies when you're having fun. Or when you're Sleepless in Seattle. Literally.
It was a loooooooooooooooooong labor, starting at 2:45 A.M. on a Friday, and going all the way to 9:41 P.M. on a Saturday. 43. Freakishly. Long. Hours.
Eeesh.
This weekend, we celebrated by taking it easy. Coffee. Walks. Naps. Parks. Sunshine. Reading.
I'm reading Fellowship right now, but the day I went into labor, I watched Peter Jackson's Two Towers and Return of the King.
I'm not kidding.
I listened to the soundtracks while I studied in college. I pretty much know the movies by heart. I've read the books. I figured it was a good (long) distraction while dealing with the contractions in early labor.
Good thing Mr. Dude and our doula didn't care. Or that they knew better than to argue with a lady in labor.
Someday, Little Guy is going to be watching those movies or reading those books and end up hearing all about his birthday. Hope that doesn't traumatize him ...
Never too early to start going to story time at the library. Or to start reading classic literature.
Side note: I borrowed The Hobbit from a friend and she was out of town when I needed (not wanted) to start reading The Fellowship of the Ring, so I got it from the library when Little Guy and I went for story time. I looked in the fiction section to find that Tolkien was not there. Then I looked in the library catalog via the app on my phone ("Oh those kids and their newfangled contraptions these days!") to see if our local branch had it.
Yes, they did. In the science fiction section. You know, where you'd find Star Wars, Star Trek, and comic books of all kinds.
Monday took TWO cups of coffee for me to function like a semi-conscious human being, especially when Little Guy decided that 4:30 am and 5:30 am were good wake up times this weekend.
This morning, he actually let me sleep (mostly) till 6. It was heavenly.
Not to worry. Despite the crazy "let's pretend we're three time zones away" schedule, it was a fun weekend.
For one, I did this:
"Never laugh at live dragons!" - The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien Duly noted.
while drinking this:
"Earl Grey. Hot ... Make it so." - Jean Luc Picard
I lucked out with a husband who says, "What can I do to help? Take Little Guy? Okay!"
I got an entire afternoon to sit and read The Hobbit and drink tea while he and Little Guy watched the Seahawks/Jaguars game upstairs with the neighbors.
And it was fantastic.
To be honest, I'm not sure if he likes hanging out with Little Guy more because he likes being a dad ... or because he likes having a legit excuse to act like a little kid. Either way, it's ridiculously fun to watch them giggle together.
Mr. Dude keeps telling me all the things he's going to do with our kids - play whiffle ball in the yard, go to the science center, play Mario Kart, build Lego sets.
I believe him, too, because those were a large part of his childhood and he loves any chance he can get to act on his nostalgia.
That being said, I should be on the lookout for hidden plans to build a treehouse, complete with acrylic window for a Star Trek-inspired clear screen thingy.
Mr. Dude has indulged me by watching all of Season 6 over the course of the last week. Big Bang Theory, that is.
Not The Next Generation.
We already did that.
In fact, we've already watched The Original Series, The Next Generation AND Deep Space Nine.
That's seventeen (17!) seasons, folks.
Not episodes. Seasons.
So when I reference Earl Grey and think of Picard, or when I see an episode of Big Bang Theory that has the main characters dress up as Data, Worf, Picard and the Borg ... I know what I'm talking about.
The irony?
Watching The Big Bang Theory counts toward the seasons Mr. Dude "owes" me since I watched SEVENTEEN (17!) seasons of one of his shows.
He's now seen SIX full seasons of Big Bang Theory and THREE full seasons of Downton Abbey.
He'd like to claim that each season of Downton should really count as 2, and that he should be off the hook for anymore since last season was such a heartbreaker.
And then I remind him that 6 + 3 = 9.
He's still short by 8 seasons.
So ... Casa de Nerds has a standing 8 pm Thursday date to watch Season 7 of Big Bang Theory (aka, laugh at the nerds) starting this week. And there will be a standing 8 pm Sunday date to watch Downton, starting in January, no matter how many times he protests. Even then, he's still got 6 more seasons of my choice to go ...
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