Boston Update

Hello, my friends! I’m in Boston! And warm!

Thanks for all of your suggestions- of course, I didn’t read most of them until I arrived here, but I’ve brought lots of layers and am peachy keen, jellybeans.

I’m extremely superstitious and don’t want to jinx future travels, but I have to say, yesterday was a breeze. We woke Wito up at 5:00am PST, he went to sleep last night at 10:45pm EST (with only a 35-MINUTE NAP on the plane) and was perfect all day. PERFECT. He must have been delirious, yo.

Currently, we are adjusting to the loss of three hours (aka Time Change alá SHITTAY). I’m experimenting with the blogging-to-keep-me-awake approach, but the boys seem to have nipped the issue in the bud:

5:15pm. Look out, Boston! The Whoorl Family is CRAZY.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

19 months!

Happy 19-months to Mr. Wito Whoorlito. He’s a catch.

This is how we spent the morning. So, um, maybe this photo would be a better example of Wito’s current age.

“BROWN! BROWN!” Yes, sweetie, it’s brown, but possibly petrified shit. Please refrain from placing in your mouth.

Bonus points for anyone who can tell me what those round, spiky balls that fall from trees are called. SAJ calls them “dingleberries”. Unfortunately, I grew up with an ENTIRELY different definition of a dingleberry, and can’t bring myself to yell, “Wito! Quit eating the that dingleberry!” at our local park.

An Apology

To the people of Orange County wearing brightly colored ensembles, I apologize if you were recently accosted by a gigantic 18-month-old screaming out the color of your outfit with the intensity of a roid-raging WWF wrestler.

I apologize that yelling “YELLLOOWWWWWW! PUH-PUHHH!” once or twice didn’t satisfy said red-faced toddler, thus prompting him to repeatedly scream, “GWEEEEEEEEEEN! WHHHHYYYYY-TUH! WHHHHHYYY-TUH!” until you were forced to run away, clutching your belongings.

I also apologize if you happened to be wearing an athletic jersey or any kind of fashion displaying letters and/or numbers.

My child, as you will see here, is intensely passionate about his new skills.

Letters from whoorl on Vimeo.

Some video points of interest:

1. This is a short snippet of our original 72-hour video of Wito recognizing letters. He never stops with the game, PLEASE HELP ME. In fact, the only thing that trumps this new game is going to the sandbox and pouring a bucket full of sand in his mouth.

2. I sound like Bill Clinton when I say “R” after Wito does.

3. Wito has waved his arms in excitement just like that since the day he was born.

4. When we say bye-bye, have you ever seen a child look so concerned? YOU MEAN NO MORE LETTER GUESSING? WHAT WILL I DO? I CAN’T POSSIBLY GO ON!

5. And yes, I always dress my child like a little elf with mango pants.

An Important Message From Wito

I noticed yesterday that my mother was braggity bragging about our house not being a “den of kiddie crap”.

You see, my mom likes to keep things tidy. She even wrote about it here. (Although DUDE, mom. I know I’m your muse and all, but could you NOT include me in those posts? Some of those ParentDish commenters are hella mental.)

However, on occasion, my mom’s silver laptop draws her in with the force of a black hole and I can do whatever I want.

Namely this:

So, um, I’m just saying she might want to change that statement or something. In fact, I have a new motto:

Wito: Keepin’ it real in ‘08.

Peace to all of you on this Super Tuesday. DON’T FORGET TO VOTE OR MY MOM WILL HUNT YOU DOWN. (Armed with a Dustbuster.)

Guitar Hero

Last week, I changed my New Year’s resolution. I originally wanted to start crocheting so I could make hats like this, but I just couldn’t get myself super excited at the prospect. (Maybe because I can BUY them with one lazy click of my mouse!) (Wait, I don’t have a mouse. Whatever, look at how cute Wito looks!)

I still wanted to do something with my hands, in order to help pull me away from my computer. (Internet BAD, Music GOOD!) So, I decided to learn to play the guitar.

Now, I’m not a total stranger to musical instruments, as I kicked SOME TRI-STATE ASS with my clarinet as a young lady.

Jealous much? 9 years old under the influence of something. (Most likely, Benny Goodman.)

I also started flute lessons in my late twenties, and let me tell you, there is nothing more humbling than showing up in your $500 J. Crew suit after selling a trillion dollars worth of pharmaceuticals that day, only to be sandwiched in between two eight-year-olds with braces. (Keep rocking the flute, Brittany and Jessica! Drugs BAD, Music GOOD!)

However, I have absolutely NO experience with string instruments. But I’m ready! Bring on the blistered fingers and utter frustration!

(I am hoping that having an extremely gifted guitarist as a father might give me an edge. GENES, DON’T FAIL ME NOW.)

To put it simply, I love music. My family loves music, and Wito LOVES music. In fact, he experienced his first jam with my father over the holidays.

Jam from whoorl on Vimeo.

The kid has an affinity for Hammond organs, no?

After much discussion and searching with my father (who will now be called GURU Stu Tu), my first guitar arrived today.

Isn’t he handsome?

So, I’m asking the internet a favor. Check in on my progress once in awhile. Keep me in line. Hold me accountable. And especially, expect a nothing short of a fabulous recital next December when I participate in Neil’s 3rd Annual Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert. I guess I better start practicing.

WAIT! What should I name him? (He was made in Spain, maybe something Spanish?) Oh help me, wise friends.

Adventures With Hoagies

Adventures with hoagies - complete with visual and audio pleasure! (Tasty AND sexy!)

Multiple choice. Christmas day is approaching. It’s 32 degrees outside and snowing with wind gusts up to 35 miles an hour. Conditions are deteriorating rapidly, roadways are quite slushy and it’s colder than a witch’s tit. What do you do?

1) Make hot chocolate, wrap yourself in a cashmere throw and hunker down for the day.

2) Gather the family around the fireplace and sing Christmas carols.

3) Order pizza and watch some favorite DVDs.

4) Drive clear across town (and when I say across town, I mean across Oklahoma City, the SEVENTH LARGEST CITY IN AMERICA IN TERMS OF LAND AREA) to pick up a 4-foot hoagie.

Awwww, yeah. You know the answer to that.

Now, before I go any further, I must inform you that our family has a certain Griswold-esque charm. We’ve had some interesting situations in the past, therefore, we prefer to stay on the down low for our own safety, and the safety of those around us.

Like the time we were enjoying a family barbecue at my home. Dad was cooking steaks outside and the ladies were taking care of side dish duties in the kitchen. I remember washing fruit at the sink, when I suddenly noticed our extremely ancient and DRY pine tree bursting into flames in the backyard.

Turns out, my father had chucked a tiny, flaming piece of beef over his shoulder while grilling outside. That tiny, flaming piece of beef landed ever-so-softly in the ancient and DRY pine tree, and well, the rest is history.

Oh, how I long for you, Mr. Pine. Rest in Peace.

So, um yeah. The Griswolds.

After our gratuitous, smiley “I’m gonna blog this, heh” photo, we hunkered down and got serious. We had a toddler in the car, you know.

We decided it was best not to talk - we needed to focus on the task at hand. That was until Feliz Navidad came on the radio.

Game over. This was the result. (Little did my family know that I was utilizing the Voice Memo feature on my phone. BWHAHHAHAAA.) Notice how the chorus of Feliz Navidad quickly dissipates into “Blahdadaadablaaa”. The family that sings together stays together.

Then, as we were cruising a cool 40mph and caroling in faux-Spanish, this came into our view.

Dear person,

Not really a good place to leave your trailer. OKTHXBAH.

Love, Whoorl

I’m pretty sure my mother was trying to explain how, in Oklahoma, people leave their rusty trailers filled with garbage wherever they please, even if that place is smack dab in the middle of a 45 mph roadway.

Wito was all, “That’s some crazy shit, Grandma! Holla!”

It was not the most optimal day to be on the roads, but the streets weren’t icy yet. We decided to press onwards.

When we finally arrived at our destination, it was quite shiteous outside.

However, Bishop Stu Tu procured our 4-foot hoagie with careful precision. FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, DON’T SLIP WITH THE HOAGIE! SECURE THE HOAGIE!

Did I mention this massively long hoagie (which almost didn’t fit into the SUV), was going to be consumed by a mere 5 people?

So, I ask of you. Was the 4-foot hoagie really necessary?

Someone, please save me from the crazy.

Stay tuned for Adventures In Rural Oklahoma: Whoorl’s Visit To A Meat-Packing Plant Straight Out Of Deliverance!

The Annual January Death March

I’m sick. Sinus explosions, 1,000-pound head, the whole deal. Wito has mild croup, but seems to be on the mend, given his penchant for hyperactive, barking behavior. Fun for me.

Wasn’t I sick this time last year? Why yes, I WAS. Hey, don’t forget 2006!

However, this year involves no surgical masks. Caring for a toddler sure puts a stop to the GOCD behavior quickly.

*said as she licks her finger and wipes a booger off Wito’s face*

Any good croup remedies?

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