Okay, I have been in hiding. For a month. And if you've been wondering where I am or why I haven't written, well, heck. I HAVE A TODDLER. That, and, has anyone else been paralyzed with wonder about how Rosie O'Donnel is dealing with the fact that Donald Trump thinks she is fat?
The holidays left me disorganized and befuddled. I cannot tell you where my days go, or what one productive thing I manage...ever. But let me drop Olivia off at your house for half an hour and we'll see what you do with that time.
Eric is really a fine father. He works hard and comes home to cheerfully parent Jake and Olivia and doesn't complain that he never is going to put a golf club back into his hand again. And I allow him his victories and try very hard to not burst his bubbles.
Last week Olivia had decided to play with his work computer. She put her hands on the keys and banged. "No, no," he said firmly. "Not for Olivia." She smiled at him her favorite crinkly nose smile and attempted to type in her resume again. "No, no," he repeated. "NOT for Olivia."
She retracted her hand and looked around on the floor for a certain toy to play with. "See," he noted triumphantly. "She is really great at listening to my no's."
Olivia picked up a ball and threw it past Eric. And as soon as he turned around to retrieve the ball and participate in her little game, she banged the computer as hard as she could.