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| Not a single thing has changed. (Enjoy it now, you ridiculously well-rested fool.) |
Lollygag Blog turned four years old yesterday. Which means that it’s now bossy, energetic, and decently good with the English language. (Up to a point.)
What started out as a writing exercise to keep myself motivated for plays/diverted from checking my Facebook status every three minutes has turned into a cheerful time-suck of epic proportions.
Let’s take a look back to what we were blogging about during that first year, shall we?
Here’s one, dated October 1st, 2008- and it’s a slice of life at the Schoeny household, sans kids, sans house, sans anything except unfettered late twentysomethingitude:
An excerpt- “The next thing Keely knows, the movie is indefinitely paused, P.J. has dismembered the coffee grinder, and he’s asking her to look up the manual online. He calls out the product code from the other room. (Keely wonders where he’s getting the product code from and hence doesn’t pay attention to her typing. Her fingers are cold, too.) She gets it wrong. He repeats. The manual comes up and they discover that the grinder isn’t intended for flavored coffee beans. (Attention KitchenAid: If you’re telling me that I can’t have freshly ground cinnamon hazelnut coffee each day then I don’t wish to live in your America.)”
Okay, sure, life back then was pretty swell. But just the next year THIS was going on in the baby prep department:
“Last night was our first Great Expectations class at Northwestern (do they mean for the class? For my Expectations are only Meh) and what a time was had by all! Eight to ten couples eyeing the other eight to ten couples with these actual inner monologues: Guys- Does he make more money than me? Is he younger than me?/ Gals- She best be delivering after me. She is ridiculously tiny. I don’t think she’s really pregnant.”
By 2010, there was a new sheriff in town. She was very tiny, but very, very loud. And our leisurely evening routines had changed…
“However, as we got Nora ready for bed (jammies, sleepsack, sleep hat, sleep mittens- it is chilly in her bedroom- two books, five songs, sponging of her gums under the guise of toothbrushing, monitors on, humidifier elephant on, mini space heater on- it is COLD- and noise machine on (her room faces the Kedzie alley, woot woot!), I noticed that Peej was extremely tired. His rendition of Corduroy was, shall we say, sleepy. By the time Nora fell asleep in her crib (I think the bedtime routine wears her out, frankly), P.J. had also faceplanted on a giraffe blanket, a copy of Goodnight Moon, and one of the cats. Boy, I was peeved. So peeved that I downed a Newcastle and half a box of Girl Scout (no court in the land would convict me) and watched the show. By. Myself. Peeved. And faceplanted into a pile of towels, a monkey blanket, and a fleece with ears before the show ended.”
And by last year? Well, even with an uber-active Nora and another of my signature crazypants pregnancies, I was still managing to keep it all together in the form of once a month Wii workouts:
“I decided to hop on the ol’ Wii Balance board- with Nora in tow. (Side note- try working out with a toddler if you ever want to feel like you’re living the good life.) Right off the bat, the Wii’s all like- Oh, HI, Keely, been a little too busy for daily workouts? I responded that I’ve been too busy for daily showers AND she should feel lucky I’m squeezing in a workout between liverwurst sandwiches at all. They are not programmed to receive sarcasm (regardless of the inherent truth). But boy can they dish it out. “Seen P.J. lately?” “Yep, we high-five before bed.” “I haven’t seen him in a month…how’s he looking these days?” Choosing the on-screen option for ‘more toned,’ I remarked that P.J. had been training for various races. I swear to God the thing smirked. “Well, I suppose anything’s possible,” she shrugged. THAT put me in the mood for a good workout. Insult my husband!”
And that brings us roughly up to date. Sure, a few other things have happened (we met Miss Zuzu, our house imploded, etc.), but by and large the same themes are present:
P.J. continues to be a good guy. Nora keeps on bossin’ on. Susannah beams at people. The house pretends to be a livable abode. The cats still contemplate running away from home. I nap whenever possible. And lovely people continue to read and comment and re-post and validate this completely unexpected obsession of mine, furthering delusions of blogging grandeur and inspiring me to post things forever and ever, Amen.
(Thanks for reading.)
By 2010, there was a new sheriff in town. She was very tiny, but very, very loud. And our leisurely evening routines had changed…
“However, as we got Nora ready for bed (jammies, sleepsack, sleep hat, sleep mittens- it is chilly in her bedroom- two books, five songs, sponging of her gums under the guise of toothbrushing, monitors on, humidifier elephant on, mini space heater on- it is COLD- and noise machine on (her room faces the Kedzie alley, woot woot!), I noticed that Peej was extremely tired. His rendition of Corduroy was, shall we say, sleepy. By the time Nora fell asleep in her crib (I think the bedtime routine wears her out, frankly), P.J. had also faceplanted on a giraffe blanket, a copy of Goodnight Moon, and one of the cats. Boy, I was peeved. So peeved that I downed a Newcastle and half a box of Girl Scout (no court in the land would convict me) and watched the show. By. Myself. Peeved. And faceplanted into a pile of towels, a monkey blanket, and a fleece with ears before the show ended.”
And by last year? Well, even with an uber-active Nora and another of my signature crazypants pregnancies, I was still managing to keep it all together in the form of once a month Wii workouts:
“I decided to hop on the ol’ Wii Balance board- with Nora in tow. (Side note- try working out with a toddler if you ever want to feel like you’re living the good life.) Right off the bat, the Wii’s all like- Oh, HI, Keely, been a little too busy for daily workouts? I responded that I’ve been too busy for daily showers AND she should feel lucky I’m squeezing in a workout between liverwurst sandwiches at all. They are not programmed to receive sarcasm (regardless of the inherent truth). But boy can they dish it out. “Seen P.J. lately?” “Yep, we high-five before bed.” “I haven’t seen him in a month…how’s he looking these days?” Choosing the on-screen option for ‘more toned,’ I remarked that P.J. had been training for various races. I swear to God the thing smirked. “Well, I suppose anything’s possible,” she shrugged. THAT put me in the mood for a good workout. Insult my husband!”
And that brings us roughly up to date. Sure, a few other things have happened (we met Miss Zuzu, our house imploded, etc.), but by and large the same themes are present:
P.J. continues to be a good guy. Nora keeps on bossin’ on. Susannah beams at people. The house pretends to be a livable abode. The cats still contemplate running away from home. I nap whenever possible. And lovely people continue to read and comment and re-post and validate this completely unexpected obsession of mine, furthering delusions of blogging grandeur and inspiring me to post things forever and ever, Amen.
(Thanks for reading.)
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