No, not standards relating to web design and browsers. Standards in clothing. In other words, I’m wondering what crackheads determine sizing on baby clothing and why it is that there can’t just be ONE size no matter who designed it.

Breanna is almost eight weeks. She’ll be two months old in eight more days. She got some nice fuzzy pajamas for Christmas that I washed the other day. They’re all size 0-3 months. I put the first pair on tonight and then had to remove them because I couldn’t snap them all the way up and Breanna couldn’t even completely straighten her legs and looked like she had been horseback riding all day when I held her up.

My favorite clothes for babies are the ones that indicate weight instead of months since not all babies will grow the same. Still, even those don’t always scream accuracy. More than once I had to toss aside something that I tried to put on Hayley as a baby that should have theoretically fit based on her weight but really didn’t even come close.

This goes beyond actual clothes too, because I’ve found that diaper weight guidelines are nothing more than a very generous guess. I found Hayley would outgrow her diapers when she was as much as two pounds below the suggested weight limit, as evidenced by frequent leaking, and though Breanna is still in size one diapers she did outgrow the newborns before hitting the limit too.

And since I’ve gone off on a diaper tangent anyway, I would like to mention that I hate Huggies diapers SO VERY MUCH that I am very tempted to write them a nasty letter just to tell them how VERY MUCH I hate them. All the leaks from other diaper brands combined couldn’t add up to the Huggies blowouts, all of which seem to happen straight up the back so that you have to remove all clothing and pretty much offer up a sponge bath to do what should have been a simple diaper change. This was true with Hayley and also with Breanna and I was so happy when we ran out of Huggies. If anyone brings me Huggies from here on out, I’m taking the package into the bathroom and setting it on fire. I’ll stick with the store brand diapers which have not caused any problems with either kid.

I have diaper rage. And I’m still disappointed that the pajamas Breanna never wore didn’t fit even once since they were nice bright colors. Alas.

By the way, don’t forget about de-lurking

I’ve really enjoyed the comments, especially from those of you who don’t usually comment at all. Honestly, if I didn’t want people to speak up, I wouldn’t have comments on this weblog to begin with, so by all means, feel free to say something.

(I was asked to answer my own questions. Favorite joke: How do you catch a unique bird? Unique up on it! Honorable mention: What do you call cheese that doesn’t belong to you? Nacho cheese! Where I would love to travel: Prague and Moscow. The color of my favorite underwear: Black, but I’ll settle for anything that fits these days. Celebrity I have a crush on: Not actually a celebrity, just the character he plays, but I’m pretty keen on Horatio Caine these days, and with that confession Amanda just disowned me as her sister.)

In lieu of actual content at this time, I’ll give you two pictures.

It’s fun to have your very own Disney Princess running around. Even if the dress leaves a metric ton of sparkles all over EVERYTHING it touches.

On Tuesday I decided to dress Breanna in real clothes just for fun. I have decided since then that I may not let her wear anything but pajamas from now on until she’s five years old because jeans make her look like a big girl instead of a little baby and I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.

This isn’t a spoiler if you haven’t seen Lost yet, because it won’t mean anything taken out of context. Best line on Lost ever?

Charlie: What if I don’t – what are you going to do? Beat me with your Jesus stick?

I came very close to choking on my tea.

A few people mentioned that at least I don’t have to deal with the boy-peeing-in-your-face thing at diaper time when I mentioned that every time Breanna’s diaper comes off she farts. I dedicate this post to those people.

Just a few minutes ago, I was changing Breanna’s diaper and as I went to put the new diaper on, she farted. And as she did so, she proceeded to crap from my fingers to my elbow, straight up my arm. Thanks, Bree!

For what it’s worth, when I looked at her, her reaction was to give me an ear-to-ear smile. Good to know I amused her. 🙂

Did you know that it’s De-lurking week? That means that you need to leave comments on the blogs you like to visit, because a lot of us don’t like to feel like we’re writing to the Great Void and appreciate knowing that you’re out there. So please, whether you’re a regular commenter, an silent reader, or just someone who passed on through by following a link from somewhere else, say something! Tell me your favorite joke, or where you would love to travel, maybe tell me what color your favorite pair of underwear is, or let me know which celebrity you have a huge crush on. Tell me anything!

(Note to spam bots: Trying to sell me Vi@gra will not be included, thanks anyway!)

Just speak up for one brief moment. And then, when you visit the next weblog on your blogroll, do the same for them!

Heard today:

The scene: I’m drying my hair and George puts Breanna on the bed.
George: I’ll just leave her here so I can… Aw.
(Inspects back of pajamas and notes the diaper blew out.)
George: Sigh. She always does that when I hold her.
Sherry: Don’t feel bad. Maybe it means that every time you hold her she just gets so excited that she craps herself with joy. It’s a good thing!

The scene: George is in the living room changing her diaper.
George: And these diapers are like a vapor lock!
Sherry: … Vapor lock?
George: Yes! Every time you take one off, she starts farting!

The scene: George is holding Breanna on the couch, looking at her little face.
George: Breebles, you have no lips.
Breanna: WAHH! WAAAAAH!
Sherry: Look, you made her cry. It’s okay, Breanna, you have lips, you have lips.
Breanna: WAH!

The funniest part is that the vapor lock statement is true. Every time her diaper is changed, she really does start farting madly, as though suddenly having air waft around gets her gas in an uproar. I don’t mind the farting, it’s when stuff comes flying out that I freak out a little.

The more I listen to the election coverage and leader debates (such as the debate being broadcast tonight), the more I must resign myself to the fact that most of the time, politicians are big lying bullshitters. It’s discouraging and kind of makes me feel like writing in Jimmy Hoffa as a candidate and voting for him on the 23rd.

Also, Gilles Duceppe is driving me batty with his constant references to “all the provinces AND Quebec” in almost every question. What the fuck? The provinces AND Quebec?! Dude, the referendums in Quebec always ended in NO. We did not, in fact, separate from the rest of Canada. There is no “provinces and Quebec” statement to be made seeing as how we ARE one of the provinces. Christ.

I hate politics.

Breanna loves bath time, as proven in this post-bath photo.

This was immediately made into my desktop background. Can you blame me?

Hayley sometimes gets peeved – understandably seeing as how she’s only three – if she wants something when I’m busy feeding Breanna, and she’s not always thrilled to have to share the limelight, but she definitely loves her sister. She’s always asking to hold her and I can’t say boo to Breanna without Hayley immediately coming over and poking her face in to kiss her sister, sing to her, and touch her.

I think she’s made to be a good big sister. It should be really fun for her when Breanna can sit up on her own and interact a bit more.

I went into Hayley’s room to get her some clothes and I noticed that the lid for the rat tank (which had already cracked ages ago) had collapsed completely and fallen into the tank. Annoying. Except then I noticed that only one rat was sleeping in there. The other was gone. Oy.

Only panicking a little, I didn’t say a word to Hayley and convinced her to go get dressed in the living room while watching Treehouse. I put Breanna in the stroller in the room with me and began my search. I figured Nicodemus is a bit of a doofus animal but he’s smart enough to know that for his entire life, his food has always been brought to him and so he wouldn’t be likely to leave. If he had escaped into the rest of the apartment, it would have been a nightmare.

I looked under both dressers and under the crib to no avail but then spotted his twitching whiskers hiding behind a few little stuffed animals. I tried to catch him but he ran further back. I ran to the kitchen and got a few pieces of chicken and used that to lure him out. Once he came out a bit further, I grabbed him and although he squeaked loudly, he didn’t struggle and I think he was relieved to find himself back in his tank. As I constructed a temporary lid out of cardboard and a piece of wood, I saw Mozart frantically giving him a bath; getting rid of the human germs, I presume.

Whew. I lost a hamster once and found him under my sister’s bed, eating a piece of fluff. I also lost a very unfriendly bite-your-face-off gecko years ago, only to find her a week later, clinging to the inside of the coat cupboard door; I screamed, she ran into the closet, and luckily my sister’s ex was there and managed to catch her and take her home with him.

I was just worried that this rescue mission would not end as well. I wasn’t scared of the idea of a rat wandering around since it’s not like he’s a sewer rat full of disease. Still, even though our cat is a total moron, I was worried she’s find the rat first. I was also worried that dehydration would kill him before I found him and I would end up finding a rat carcass somewhere in a couple of months – eww.

I think that whole ordeal woke me up even more than my coffee did.