Sure, everyone’s talking about the Academy Awards today. And guess what? So am I!!

Keira Knightly – Beautiful, and I still can’t believe she’s not even old enough to drink.

Michelle Williams – Further proof that God doesn’t distribute the “weight loss after baby” gene fairly. Although I think Heath seems to have put on a little bit of the Daddy Weight, no?

Jon Stewart – Loved him! It’s a shame that many people in the audience didn’t get half of his jokes. Lighten up, people!

The Makeup Award – Chronicles of Narnia won, and there were two makeup artists. Was it just me, or was anyone else hoping that Tami Lane whacked Howard Berger in the head with her Oscar as soon as they got off stage for not allowing her to get in one thanks during their 40 seconds? He took the time to tell a story about his childhood, thank Disney, and thank his 1,000 friends. Dude, let the lady at least thank her family! I think he’s got one less friend this morning.

Reese Witherspoon – I want her dress. I really want her dress. I love it.

A Mama’s Rant is having another contest! This time she’s giving away copies of the BusyBodyBook family organizer!

For those who don’t know, here’s a bit about the BusyBodyBook:

It’s the perfect solution to keeping track of a family’s numerous and varied activities, such as birthday parties, sports and dance practices, library story times, as well as Mom’s work commitments and appointments. It’s an old-school alternative to digital organizers that’s custom made for families.

Joan Goldner, a mom from New Jersey, developed the BusyBodyBook with family organization, time management, and goal-setting in mind.

In other words, it’s a dayplanner for a mom, designed to keep track of family activites as well as your work schedule. As someone who is chronically unorganized, I can see something like this being a big help. So get on over to A Mama’s Rant and see how to get your copy!

Cordelia and I had the day to spend together (daddy had a film shoot), so we visited my mom and grandmother.

This morning, as I tried to put her coat on her (and we know how she feels about that), she stomped her feet up and down and shouted, “Nnnnnaaajjj nnnaaagggghhhhh!” in her deepest, most growl-y (is that a word?) voice ever.

The tone and inflection in her voice sounded like toddler-ese for “Back the hell off and put the damn coat down!” Stunned, I let go of her coat and just looked at her as she let out a big huff and glared at me.

Later, while at lunch with my mom, I said, “I think Cordy cursed at me today.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“Well, I don’t know. It wasn’t any actual curse words. More like swearing in some baby language.”

“She may have been upset, but I doubt she was swearing at you.”

At this point, it’s mid-afternoon, and Cordy is wearing down fast. We go back to my grandmother’s house to install antivirus updates on my grandmother’s computer. I swear I’m my family’s tech support.

My mom attempted to grab Cordy to take her shoes off, and was met with flailing toddler arms and a sharp, deep, growl-y, “Aaaaaannnyyyaagghhhhyyyyjjjjnnnaag!” Mom let go of her and Cordy gave a stomp of her foot and a huff, as if to say, “That’s right, bitch. I said leave me alone.“

Mom looked at me, and then we both burst out laughing. “She really is swearing at us!”

“I told you!”

“You were right – we’re being cussed out and don’t even know what we’re being called.”

So what do you do when a toddler swears at you in gibberish? I know we probably shouldn’t laugh at her, but it is so damn funny, and she’s so serious about it. The growl in her voice is almost primal, and her little eyebrows knit together with her angry glare. I certainly can’t punish her for it, since I have no idea what she’s saying. For all I know, “nnnnaaayyyyggghhh!” could mean, “Please remove your hands from me.”

For now, I’m just trying to stifle my laughter and ignore the behavior. After all, if this is how she acts now, we’re in for it once she begins to mimic others and is stuck in traffic with her daddy.

I think we’re one step away from a sailor suit and a cigar for our little foul-mouthed tot.

Life with Cordy has been fun the past few days. She’s at an interesting stage in her development. While she still can’t express herself very well, her language comprehension skills are making large strides. Combine that with her other well-developed ability to understand and predict patterns, and you have a true avoidance of things she doesn’t want to do.

This is partly the fault of “the experts”. I’ve been beat over the head with the advice that you should always tell your baby/toddler what you’re doing to help their language development. This running monologue teaches them about language. Well, now I tell her everything we’re going to do: “We’re going to put our coats on now.” “I’m gonna wipe that nose of yours.” “Let’s change your diaper.”

All three of these sentences now have the same result. She understands exactly what I’m saying and takes off running. Language comprehension, pattern memory, and increased mobility result in several laps around the downstairs. She’s a miniature Running Man, trying to escape the evil hunter-mommy who wants to change that diaper of hers.

As I’ve mentioned before, our downstairs is laid out in a circular pattern: the living room opens to the dining room, which opens to the kitchen, which opens to the living room. The carpet is starting to have a running track worn into it from the chase we reenact several times a day.

Oh sure, I could catch her if I actually put some work into it. I walk behind her while she squeals and runs away from me. We probably complete at least three laps each time. I know that once I catch her, she’s going to be upset and fight me, which means that I’d rather tire her out a bit before the actual struggle versus power walking to catch her early. Besides, I’m too lazy to make my big butt power walk.

I suppose I could end the drama just by not announcing what I’m about to do. But to be honest, I get such a kick out of seeing her eyes widen and light up when she comprehends what I’ve said to her while she turns to run. Her little legs go as fast as they can, her arms swing, she huffs and puffs after the second lap or so, and she occasionally looks back to see if I’m gaining on her. It’s pure mommy entertainment.

Speaking of which, I smell a dirty diaper. I’d better go stretch for the next race.

I realize most of you probably don’t want to hear more about my cat, but well, it’s currently on my mind.

Good news: the surgery is over with. Marlowe is recovering well. He’s groggy, and will be able to come home tomorrow afternoon.

Bad news: The vet wasn’t fully successful. The testicle that descended was removed, but she wasn’t able to find the other one. The other two vets in the practice even scrubbed in and tried to find it. It’s missing.

They also did a second abdominal incision to look for it in the area between his leg and abdomen (it can sometimes migrate there), but no luck. Which could spark the beginning of a joke – how many vets does it take to find a cat testicle?

I’d find this amusing if it wasn’t putting my kitty in more pain from incisions. Plus, testicles that remain in the body often turn cancerous. Not a good thing.

There’s a chance he never developed the second one. At this point, our plan is to let him heal, and then do a blood test in a few months to see if he has any testosterone. If he does, it’s back to more exploratory surgery.

At least we took him to the best – the clinic is for cats only, and all three vets there are board certified cat specialists. They really are the best (and sadly, the most expensive) clinic in town for cats.

Our other Siamese, Dante, misses him and has been needy all day. Hopefully Dante will let me sleep tonight.

Thanks to all for thinking about my little Marlowe. I’m crossing my fingers that his second testicle never developed and we can avoid more surgery.