...and the clouds parted and a voice said "LET THERE BE SPROUT" and it was good

The Sprout is on the move. He has decided that crawling is certainly where it's at, if only he could stop scooting backwards and actually achieve the forward momentum that he knows is there. Pretty soon I'm going to put him on the ground and he's going to NinjaWarrior the hell out of crawling. He is going to pwn it as it has never been pwned before.

Mother-in-Law has been having some sad days lately watching him scoot ever further (backwards) from babyhood and into a new and adventuresome phase of his life that, if we're lucky, won't ever end. I feel uncomfortable talking too much about her feelings here because she doesn't know about this blog (and I intend to keep it that way. She's an English teacher and I totally don't need that reading my wurds and sleeping under the same roof.), and...well, because it's really my ideas of maybe the way she might be feeling. But I will say this: This is probably her last baby. When we bought a house together we were not expecting to go down this road. This road was well paved, we thought, and did not need another layer of asphalt. Apparently we were wrong. It hellof needed a quick going-over and the Sprout was happy to oblige and here we are, one brand new baby in the house and a grandma who is beginning to face the other end of things. I'm not saying she's on her way out--far from it. She's healthy, in way better shape than me and is determined to keep it that way. But at almost-seventy, things must look a little different and having a baby in the house who is quickly becoming not-such-a-baby probably puts a little emphasis on it.

All this to say that while grandma is sad that she's losing her baby, and I am maybe a little apprehensive about losing a non-mobile being, I am so excited to see this look again. It's the look of adventure and opened cabinets that I thought were locked. The sense of reckless abandon and brick steps on the patio. That all things are new and must be eaten/touched/banged/eaten. That the world truly is an oyster and that if you don't get Vibrio parahaemolyticus then it's all fun and games.

For 9 months he has taken in the world around him. He has been a little baby of light and sweetness. There was nothing but pure love and happiness in his whole being. Holding him was calming in a way that I have never experienced before. He was present and loving and beautiful and bright. He still is these things. But now he's ready to pwn the world. I feel lucky to be a part of him.

My son loves tootsie-pops to distraction. Thank god.

I had to go get a pregnancy test today.

But wait! That's not all!

I had to take a pregnancy test at Kaiser with my 4-year-old and my infant.

But wait! Again, not all!

I had to pee in a cup in front of the 4-year-old. Can I tell you how many questions I had to answer without using the word "pregnancy" for fear of causing near riots at our house if the Peanut got wind that there might be another little monster on its way? Which there TOTALLY ISN'T OMFG AND IT TOOK SOME AMAZING FORCE OF WILL TO NOT TELL THE POOR MAN AT THE LAB THAT I WANTED A PREGNANCY TEST NOT BECAUSE I THOUGHT I WAS PREGNANT BUT BECAUSE KAISER WANTS ME TO SUFFER BEFORE IT WILL LET ME HAVE AN IUD. Yeah, the poor lab man and all the people in the room who might have heard me ask for a pregnancy test even though I totally ordered it in a whisper lest the boy find out why we were really there. "Bean, we've got to go to Kaiser this morning." "Can I get a pop?" "Why, yes, we are going to Kaiser to get you a pop. But first I have to pee in a cup." "....but, I get a pop, right?" "Yes." "....why do you have to p--" "LET'S GO!"

Also, I got dressed up and put makeup on so that I didn't look trashy while asking for a pregnancy test with an 8-month-old in tow because if I don't want people getting the wrong impression or anything.

Also, don't you think, with my track record, Kaiser would be falling over itself trying to make it as easy as possible for me to get some semi-permanent and fairly infallible birth control? I mean, dude. COME ON. Clearly I suck at not getting pregnant. Yeah, yeah, I know. Poor me. I should stop complaining. But I suck at that too.

You know you're an asshole who should turn in their card as a human and a mother when...

...this makes you want to do some serious victory fist-pumping.

something about increasing the fountains in Italy or something

So I had a heart warming tale of SAHMdom all planned out, but fuck that shit because guess what I learned today? And yes, this is embarrassingly old news, but still. I cannot NOT share. So go. Learn. Try to forget that we have been slightly porn heavy as of late.

I want to live in a country where they elect watersport-and-shit-loving hardcore porn stars to their parliament because, verily, that is Democracy at its finest. I can picture old women (old as the fucking hills) hobbling to the polls on their scary old Italian woman ankles (honestly: I have never seen scarier ankles than on old Italian women.) in their hot-as-blazes black dresses clutching their handbags and giving you the evil eye while answering their cell phones, to cast a vote for Italy's most beloved porn queen.