As a parent, you realize quite early that there is no dignity you will not sacrifice if it makes your kid laugh his/her way out of a tizzy (or, laugh in general). And so it was that I found myself changing Liam's diaper, grabbing a kitchen spatula from his hand with my teeth, growling, and nodding vigorously enough to make it slap me in the boobs. This is Liam's idea of comedy. I wonder if he will grow up to be a Carrot Top fan.
Everything here is great. Personally speaking, we're great: Liam is walking, which has been a fascinating experience -- you really understand why they're called "toddlers" because the best word in the world to describe the way he roams the house now is in fact "toddle." It's not a waddle, but it's not a smooth walk. He just half-shuffles, half-wobbles around like an old man lost in his nursing home, biting his fingers, then glowing with recognition and hightailing it when he sees something that interests him. Or, he holds his arms out in front of him like he's a zombie and staggers at you like he's after your brains. Dylan can still only walk while holding something. I think he just knows that his balance isn't there, because he seems to WANT to let go, but also seems aware that if he does he will fall flat on his face. The kid doesn't know "slow." You grab his hand to do some laps around the house, and he takes off like Road Runner, which means his head tips forward and his little legs pump like mad and he drags you away at top speed while practically horizontal.
Professionally, Jessica and I have in our hot little hands a copy of Spoiled, our YA novel that's coming out in June. Well, we have the advanced reading copy, which is paperback; on June 1, 2011, or thereabouts, the hardback Real Version will debut. We are very excited. Kevin loved it. I can't decide whether that means actual young adults will REALLY love it, or that we've missed our target demo altogether. But we can't bask in it, because the second book on that deal is due March 15. We don't have an outline yet. We have awards season to fug through, and Fashion Week, and the busiest professional time of Kevin's life. I am not sure how we're going to get there. But at least if we do, it's only a few months of concentrated hell. I'd rather get it over with than drag it out endlessly.
As I try to get back into the swing of things, I have a question for y'all: Should I switch to Wordpress? I'm familiar with the platform, and I can live with either, but it'd change my link and I don't know what it'd do to my picture posts (or how easy it is to import entries from one to the other). Most of the reason I want to switch is that the spam in the comments on Typepad is getting insane (as it was on Movable Type, which we just moved GFY off of; seriously, wow). I have a lot in there from "viagra online" or "generic Viagra" or "air jordans," things that read like normal comments but are not -- but the final straw might be the opus at the end of this entry from a "commenter" named. "WWII's Unit 731:::Tsushogo was a clue from the Gods illustrating their positioning long before it began. Incidentally, the used it to hurt the Chinese and position against future sucess, concealing Japanese atrocities." The name is long, the comment is about a mile longer, and racist to boot -- it's gross. I am leaving it temporarily just so y'all can see it in all it's COMPLETE AND UTTER INSANITY. Most of the spam is harmless (one was even written as though the person had been watching a UNC basketball game) and chatty, if irrelevant and signed by someone named, "Free Cialis." But that one is really bizarre. I'm sick of dealing with all of it and if anyone is still checking into this blog, they're probably sick of it too. Six Apart claims they're trying to fix it all, but do I wait? Is moving really melodramatic and more trouble than its worth? And would people come with me? I don't want to lose any of the awesome people who were my sanity and my salvation during IVF, the boys' birth, etc. Y'all are the best. I wish I'd gotten www.DancingBrave.com a long time ago, or something, so I could just change the redirect. Ah, well. Hindsight.