So you know what gets more smiles from strangers than a dad carrying his baby daughter through the grocery store? A dad in uniform carrying his baby daughter through a grocery store. Honest to pete, my face is sore from all of the polite smiles I had to return trying to walk through Safeway the other day. All these people were glancing at Phil, looking back over their shoulders at him, nudging whoever they were with and jerking their head in our direction.
“Look! A man with a baby! A man in UNIFORM with a BABY!”
I GET IT, IT’S ADORABLE. HE FARTS IN BED, THOUGH. THEY BOTH DO. JUST SO YOU KNOW.
I’m not mad. I’m just bitter, probably. Whenever I take Penny through the grocery store, I get some smiles, but mostly a train a passive aggressive olds telling Penny to tell her mommy that her feet are so cold without sockies! So cold! Tell her you need some sockies! Sockies for those feet! Tell her, “Mommy, my feet are so cold here in the store! I need sockies for my feetsies!”
Phil, though? Phil in uniform? All smiles, no mention of sockies.
*****
I think I use Goodreads more than I use any other socially networky thing right now, but there is something that will eternally bother me about Goodreads. I think I’ve talked about it here before, but I’m talking about it again. What are you, the blog police?
Anyway, I had several false starts with using Goodreads (I’ve been member since 2009) and didn’t really get into it heavily until recently, because I got TOO OVERWHELMED. It’s a simple site, but I, like most people, have been reading books for about a berjillion years. That’s roughly 30 berjillion books.
So, I would start listing books that I’d read, and pretty soon, I’d become hopelessly overwhelmed with the task of adding EVERY BOOK EVER. I don’t think I ever even got to one berjillion. So I’d give up. If I couldn’t add them all, I JUST WOULDN’T ADD ANY.
Coincidentally, that’s very similar to the stance I have on eating potato chips, but usually goes the opposite way.
So the only way I was able to make Goodreads work for me THIS time is to tell myself that I would only list books from that point FORWARD. I have a couple of favorites listed, but aside from that, I WILL NOT fall down the rabbit hole of books that I’ve read since the dawn of time.
This makes me constantly self-conscious, though, that people will think I started reading at 29. I COULD READ BEFORE THEN. I just can’t allow myself to tempt insanity by remembering every book I’ve ever read, because I can’t just list SOME of the ones I read before I started using Goodreads. It’s none of them or all of them. That’s how it has to be. IT HAS TO BE.
Sometimes, someone I follow rates a book. A book I READ, pre-Goodreads attempt 47. And it’s right there. No searching necessary. It’s right there on the home screen. And all I would have to do is just pick a star rating. One click, and there it is. Added to my books. That’s not so bad, right?
EXCEPT IT IS. The only way I can use Goodreads at all is by telling myself that I have an UNDERSTANDING with the larger Goodreads population. We ALL AGREE that I read books before I started using Goodreads, but I haven’t listed any of them. We just AGREE that it HAPPENED.
If I go ahead and list one, the agreement is BROKEN. Now there’s one listed. And that can lead people to assume that sure, I read books before I started using Goodreads. Or, more accurately, I read BOOK.
No. No. I can’t add any of them. So they pop up in front of me, and instead of clicking, I sit here in front of the computer and worry that people are going to think I HAVEN’T READ THAT BOOK. Then I remind myself of the agreement. But I READ THAT BOOK.
You guys, I’m just saying, it’s hard being me.
*****
So I’ve been preparing for PJs@Tj’s, which is now in less than a month, and in my every waking hour, I find myself thinking about tiny details, which stack upon the other tiny details, which add berjillions of things to my mental to do list, which I haven’t actually started, other than cleaning out the pantry, and I don’t see why anyone would really be in my pantry anyway, so, right. I have not gotten very far yet in the whole “preparing the house for a pile of guests” thing yet.
But I’ve been thinking about it, which we all know is half the battle. And here’s something I’ve been thinking: a while ago, we got this hand soap we really liked. It was some kind of Soft Soap, and the smell was blackberry vanilla. Or black currant and pears. Or something and something. Anyway, it smelled great. Next time we were at the store, though, and needed soap, we just got one of those big old refill jugs, and we’ve been refilling the same bottles – one in the bathroom and one on the kitchen sink.
So, while the bottle says you’ll be washing your hands with a delightful mix of berries and puffy clouds, it’s actually just generic soap smell.
And I wonder, does that make the soap a lie? And, as a hostess, am I being rude with this bait and switch? This soap and swap? This scrub and… drub?
Seriously, I have 18 women descending on my house in less than a month, and this is what is keeping me up at night.
*****
We’ve made a plan. Well, not so much a plan as a plan to make a plan. We’ve decided that when Penny is about five, we’re going to take her on a Disney cruise and a stay in Disney World. We figure we’ve got to plan that far out so that we can save up the money, because I’ve always said that when we do take her to Disney, we want to go ALL OUT.
I mean, we want to stay in one of the hotels right there, so that we can go back to rest as needed. And we want enough days to do everything we want. And I want to take her to that place where they do her up like a princess. We want to be able to throw money around like we have it. Sure, you can have a $75 Mickey balloon! Oh, you let it go? That’s okay, here’s a $115 ice cream sandwich. Wipe your face with this napkin, it was only $5.
We’ve also emailed both of our families to extend an invitation to join us, because, why not? We’re planning far enough in advance that everyone can make it, if they wanted to.
But just today, I started thinking that there needs to be more to this plan than just saving the money and picking a cruise.
ONE – We’ve got to start watching Disney movies, post haste. This shit is not going to be even a LITTLE BIT MAGICAL if Penny doesn’t know who the hell Ariel is, you know what I mean?
TWO – I’m thinking that by the time she’s two, two and a half, I’m going to want to start working with her on developing a real allegiance to one of the princesses.
I know you’re about to get your Internet dander all up, what with the princess culture! And teaching appropriate values! And rabble rabble! And girl power! And all of that. And to that I say this: Look. Shut up. Because, come on. Did you grow up thinking that you were an actual princess? I mean, did you grow into the total warped asshole of a she-witch that the anti-princess culture people seem to believe will result from exposure to made up, cartoon fancy ladies? By the time you were of reasonable age, did you understand that your suburban town house bore little resemblance to a castle and no one cared when you lost your stupid shoe?
You did, right? You turned out to be a functioning adult? With only a moderate number of tiaras? AND managed to also enjoy Disney movies as a child?
Yeah, so, now that we’ve established that THAT’S possible… I’m thinking Belle. Or maybe Ariel. I mean, Ariel’s a pretty predictable choice, but come on. Obviously the superior princess.
THREE – We’ve got to concentrate on NOT raising an asshole at all, even more so now. Because we’re not going to tell her we’re going until we’re about to leave. You know, like all those YouTube videos? So, we’re going to want a really sweet, really genuine reaction of joy from her when she finds out we’re about to blow all of our money ever on a cruise and a trip. And then we’ll put it on YouTube.
FOUR – I probably have to get a passport.
FIVE - I should also probably learn to swim.
Anyway, I’m already excited. Four or five years is just enough time to build this up in my mind enough that I completely ruin Penny’s enjoyment of the whole thing by trying to force some FREAKIN’ DISNEY MAGIC on her at every turn.
*****
LASTLY, we are considering joining the YMCA. Which seems silly, you say, because there are 800 gyms on base, but look. I can’t go to those. I just can’t. I know people say, “Everyone is there to work out! No one is looking at anyone!” But come on. People look at people. It’s human nature. And while we’d all like to think that no one cares, just a few days on Twitter will net you at LEAST three people saying, “At the gym today… ” and commenting on someone they saw. It’s not always mean or even… anything… but it belies the “no one is paying attention!” crap. So while I’d like to be one of those, “Whatever, I’m above all that” people, I’m not. I cannot go to a gym on base, full of people whose job it is to be in great physical condition.
And I really don’t want any more of that “no but really, no one is paying attention to anyone else” stuff. I know you’re lying. You know you’re lying. There’s no point in trying to get someone to go exercise where they won’t be comfortable, because they will try it once or twice and not be able to stand it, and then, worse than the guilt of not trying, you have the guilt of QUITTING.
So is it silly to pay for a gym membership when you can go to a gym for free? I don’t know. I don’t think so. My mother has had a membership to the Y for a berjillion years, and there’s a gym in her office building. She wouldn’t go to that one. She wouldn’t be comfortable. So it’s the choice of paying for a place you’re comfortable, or not working out at all. So far, the choice for me has been “not at all,” so I’m beginning to be quite convinced that paying for something that is also available for free, in this case, is not totally ridiculous.
It’s not, right?
*****
I can’t think of where else I’m ever going to work these in, and I need more people than Phil to appreciate me, because he doesn’t laugh, he just says, “Yeah, that’s funny.” Even when I can see him TRYING NOT TO LAUGH. Won’t even give me the courtesy of a laugh. Anyway, two things I have come up with recently, regarding Penny:
Number one: Don’t forget to enter to win a two pack of FuzziBunz cloth diapers from Sweet Pea in a Pod. Unless you don’t have kids in diapers, or don’t know anyone who has kids in diapers, or hate cloth diapers, or hate entering contests, or don’t enter contests because you never win anything and just don’t see the point of subjecting yourself to the crushing disappointment anymore. Then I guess if you didn’t enter, you didn’t forget. You just don’t want to. And that’s okay. But for the other people. This is a reminder. To not forget to enter. You have until… let’s say… Tuesday at midnight. I’ll pick a winner on Wednesday.
Number two: This is my new favorite thing right now:
I’m usually the drug store make up type, but I went and got my eyebrows done at Ulta the other day and they were running a special – free eyebrow arch with the purchase of $50 in Benefit products, which was THE MOST FRUSTRATING promotion EVER. I had two items I really loved, this eyebrow pencil thingie included. They totaled $48, and there was nothing else I especially wanted enough to pay Benefit prices when a $7 lip gloss is more my standard speed. So my choices were to pick only one of the two things I really loved (the other was this blush) and pay for the eyebrow wax for a total of $48, or add another item on, and of COURSE there are no $2 filler items, so I’d get the eyebrow wax for free, but would end up paying for $75 worth of make up and IS THAT A SAVINGS? NO.
Yeah, so, anyway, anticlimactic ending, I bought this eyeshadow in Leggy.
BUT THAT EYEBROW CRAYON THING. You guys. First of all, my eyebrows look nice for the first time in my entire life. They look so nice, in fact, that I can ignore the bright red spot of waxed-off flesh next to my right eyebrow. Second of all, this pencil-crayon thing is some kind of MIRACLE STICK. I am, in general, a rather grouchy-looking person, even in my best moods, but this stick thinger makes my eyes look open and somewhat PLEASED TO BE PRESENT. Internet, I can talk myself out of just about any purchase, especially luxury items for myself, especially ESPECIALLY luxury items for myself that I can convince myself aren’t that great, and I BOUGHT THIS even though it cost more than a DIAPER. Because it is that good.
Number three: I have now watched 115 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I expect to be caught up to the current season before I leave for The Blathering (VERY SOON!). The Blathering will be a nice temporary distraction, but the downside of marathoning several seasons of television will eventually come to call, and I will be bereft and lonely for a while.
Number four: I got my hair cut. I don’t like it, but it’s not a bad haircut. I don’t really know how to explain it. It doesn’t look bad at all. It looks kind of nice. It’s appropriate for my age and for my hair-grabbing child. It’s not especially hard to style and it’s pretty flexible if I don’t have the time to do it. I just… don’t really care for it. It doesn’t look how I FEEL. Maybe it’s that it looks rather grown up and I don’t feel like much of an adult most days. I think it looks like mom hair, but not in the way that mom jeans look like MOM jeans. It is not tragically unhip. I just find my head unappealing, but realize at the same time that no one else would blink at it. It’s like buying a shirt that you hate, but that you know looks good on you. Except you can’t just take it off like a shirt because it’s your head.
Number five: It’s a long and involved story that includes many different circumstances, but I haven’t been driving at all for a long while, and just recently started driving Phil’s car around. At my own suggestion. Which doesn’t sound like a thing, but again – long, involved, circumstances, etc. It’s a thing. I started by driving to the mailbox. Then I took Phil to and from work. Then I went to the BX on base and I bought a lightweight stroller for Penny. It had no front wheels and I had to get a different one, but I’m still considering it a largely successful errand. Then this weekend I drove off base, and then I did it again. Today, I am running both an errand on base AND taking PENNY to Target.
Target is basically in the same place I went yesterday, and it’s a straight shot from the base, and I don’t think I can get on the highway or go anywhere else at all yet, because the highway is still terrifying even when Phil is driving, and I still go in the back gate of the base rather than the front, closer to our house, just to avoid making a left turn. But I can go to the commissary, I can go to the BX, I can go to Target, and I can go through a drive through for iced coffee. So, basically, I am a free lady again, and it kind of rules.
Number six: I am very tempted to go back to Ulta and pick up some more Benefit stuff – Erase Paste, specifically. Or maybe an eyebrow pencil for my new fancy eyebrows that are kind of a little bit bald in some spots. Or maybe a really good foundation. I’ve never had a really good foundation. I thought about getting a lipstick, but I always end up getting the same color, because I can’t wear red and I can’t wear nude. I also think I’ve been using the same tube of mascara for a criminally long time. Basically, since I have been driving the car all on my own, I have been rewarding myself with prizes. I have been rewarding myself with prizes, and yesterday, I returned $95 worth of clothes and only spent $40 (on two identical pairs of shoes in different colors), so I basically have $55 of PRETEND MONEY.
THE BEST KIND OF MONEY.
So, Internet, if you were me – and you can watch the video below to put yourself in the right awkward, weirdly animated state of mind – what kind of prize would you buy yourself at Ulta? OR TARGET. I also like to shop at Target.
1. I am extremely slow with changing the link over in my sidebar blog roll – well, it’s only one link, so it’s more of a blog crouton than a blog roll – so I figured that the people who don’t read this site through a feed reader have probably stopped checking. But I just changed it! Which doesn’t mean you should stop visiting Not Bagels. It means I got off my lazy butt. Well, no. I stayed on my lazy butt while I changed the link.
2. There are still spots open for The Blathering! (This is my roommate. We’re both sadly excited to spend depressing awesome nights away from our babies. We’re looking forward to sleeping. It’s going to rule. In a bummer kind of way.) Why don’t you come to The Blathering? If you don’t want to go because you don’t do bars and karaoke and nightlife and cocktail dresses, that’s not a good reason. I’m shooting down your reason. I don’t do those things. I’ll bring Settlers of Catan for us. Looks like I’ve poked some holes in your defense. See you there.
Unless you do like to go out for drinks and dancing and ride mechanical bulls. Then guess what? That stuff will be happening, too. Looks like you’re SOL on reasons for not going to The Blathering.
3. People ask me a lot where I find all of my in law stories to read and be outraged about, and I will tell you my trick. Find a really active set of forums somewhere – any kind, but ideally some that cater to ladies, for the most part. Wedding forums, or pregnancy forums, or really, anything. Then just do a search on one of the included message boards for “MIL.”
Baby name forum?
“MY MOTHER IN LAW WANTS TO NAME MY BABY.”
Wedding forum?
“MY MOTHER IN LAW CANCELLED MY CATERER AND REPLACED IT WITH LONG SANDWICHES.”
Pregnancy forum?
“MY MOTHER IN LAW BURST INTO THE DELIVERY ROOM AND CHECKED TO SEE IF I WAS DILATED.”
Anything. Anything at all. Any kind of topic. Whatever you can think of, there’s a forum for it. And if there’s a forum for it, there’s someone talking about how their in laws RUINED IT.
A current favorite, though? Grandparents.com. It’s got parents-in-law AND children-in-law on the SAME MESSAGE BOARDS. It’s GLORIOUS.
4. Here’s my baby:
She’ll be moving in to her own room sometime in the next few… a while. My mom is coming to visit and we’re going to work on putting together her room, both because I need something to do other than pretend to be totally into it when my mom wants to stand around and gush about Penny (not a gusher, myself) and also because Phil is not especially interested in baby bedroom creation.
We’re doing a floor bed. I think we have pretty good reasons for choosing the do a floor bed, the main one being that we won’t have to buy a crib. Second main, I guess, is all the benefits of and reasoning behind doing a floor bed make logical sense to us. I haven’t yet decided if we’ll do a crib mattress or toddler bed mattress for the floor bed, or just go ahead with an adult twin. If you’ve done a floor bed, what did you go with? Any tips? I’m kind of nervous about where to put it in the room. I don’t want her to roll between it and the wall, but will she be heavy enough to really wedge it away from the wall with her body? I’ve never seen a picture of a room with a floor bed in any place but a corner, so I assume it works out.
Any first hand floor bed experience is greatly appreciated.
5. With all the cloth diapering and the floor bedding and the intent to skip rice cereal and purees and instead follow a baby-led weaning style of introducing solid foods, sometimes I feel like I might be turning into a hippy. I mean, if someone had told me they were doing all of those things, before I had my own kid, I’d definitely think they were kind of a hippy, in a harmless way.
But all of these things, when I’ve looked into them, have just really made logical sense for us. Note how I’ve italicized selectively so that the wild Internet understands that our choices have absolutely nothing to do with their choices in any way. Anyway, is this how people become hippies? I thought you started out hippy and made your choices based on levels of crunchiness (which, by the way, I HATE – I mean, the word crunchy used as a descriptor for these types of things, mainly because I think it’s stupid). But maybe the road to being a hippy is paved with adorable cloth diapers and floor beds.
For me, though, I think what it actually comes down to is that I hate spending money on things I don’t like or personally need. I don’t need a crib, thus, floor bed. I don’t eat baby food, therefore, Penny can eat what we eat and like it. I don’t wear diapers, so… okay, I like the diapers. So I spend money on them. THEORY HOLDS UP. Not hippy, just cheap.
6. Also my baby:
7. Your opinion requested, but not a reality, rational, or fact-based opinion. A FEEEEELING opinion.
We got two cast iron enameled casseroles as generous and lovely wedding gifts. I loved them. Okay, actually? I loved that I owned them, because they made me feel like a lady who might some day make something that would require that very specific type of cooking vessel, instead of just dragging out the biggest pan I can find and using it for everything. And one time? I used them both to make soup, because I am a lifelong container misjudger and started with the small one and moved to the big one.
But Arizona isn’t really a place where you make a lot of soup, or make anything that needs to sit in a very heavy pot in a very hot oven for a very long time. I guess other people probably do, but I don’t. So, in the time I have owned them, I really haven’t used them too much.
Reading Princess Nebraska the other day, I found out that they have been recalled, because the enamel can crack and send BURNING HOT SHARDS flying at you. So, I can take them into Macy’s for a full refund, in the form of store credit, I believe.
Since they were gifts for the wedding, I feel obligated to replace them with something similar, since the givers intended for me to have cast iron enameled pot thingies, and had chosen them off my registry, in fact, where I had CHOSEN THEM FIRST, myself. So I should take them back and replace them with other heavy pots, even though I didn’t use them too much. Because maybe someday we’ll move somewhere cold (PROBABLY NOT, WE’LL BE IN ARIZONA FOREEEEVVVEEERRRRR) and I will need them. Maybe I will grow into a lady who uses those kind of pots, just like I grew into a lady who only has 1 out of every 5 or 6 dinners turn out inedible, instead of 1 of every 4 being good, 2 being edible, and 1 going straight into the trash.
Or maybe, I could cut myself a break, and just stick to the spirit of the gift and get something kitchen-related. Sheldon did just eat our good slotted spoon.
But, like I said above, I am going to start working on Penny’s room, and I bet that Macy’s has one or two cute things that we could use. Or I could put it toward her floor bed. But the gift givers did not BUY Penny a present, they bought presents for Phil and I. They didn’t know about Penny (or that Penny was 10 weeks underway at the wedding). But Penny-room-items are what we need, though at the time of the wedding, we DID specifically request, via registry, these pots that I actually never use.
So. Internet. If you end up having to return a gift, do you feel (note – FEEL – because I KNOW I can do whatever the hell I want) obligated to replace it with something similar? Would the fact that it was a gift from a registry that YOU CREATED, thus something you SPECIFCALLY ASKED FOR, have any effect on your response?
Understand that I will absolutely do whatever the hell I want when the time comes. I just want to know if anyone else has ridiculous feelings of obligation tied into the whole gift return/exhange business, and since I am the most average girl in the world, I AM SURE YOU DO.
Should I live in fear of someone coming over and saying, “Hey, where’s that 2.5 quart casserole in cobalt blue that I got for your wedding? I’d love to SEE IT!”
Even better, do you have any stories about awkward gift returns? Have you ever gotten something so awful/tacky (my pots were neither, I’m just EXPANDING) that you had to immediately return, donate or throw it away? Has anyone ever come over and asked to SEE the gift that you returned/donated/threw away? OH GOD, WHAT DID YOU EVEN SAY?
Hey, so did you know that I spend a lot of time reading baby forums? I wasn’t sure if I ever told you that. I mostly just read in law stories, because parents of new babies have the best and most insane stories to offer, but I come across other ridiculous stuff on the regular as well.
So let me ask you about this one: What’s with ladies who are having girl babies who manage to work into every conversation some point about how they won’t be buying their daughter anything pink, they hate princess stuff, their stupid mother in law keeps buying DRESSES for her baby GIRL, and it’s all so awful, and there will NEVER be ANY of that pink or girly stuff around HER baby because she doesn’t want her daughter to have girly stuff?
Which, I guess, is kind of fine, but you never hear anyone going, “My mother in law keeps buying PANTS for my SON! Doesn’t she know I don’t want any of that PANTS CRAP in my house? And get this – a blue onesie! BLUE! I’m sorry, we’re just not doing that. Nope. I don’t want any of that boy-y shit for MY son.”
Nope. It’s only ever against the girl stuff. And okay, I know there are a couple of people out there who deliberately bought gender neutral EVERYTHING for whatever sex baby they were having for some kind of deep reason, but if that was you, you need to understand that you’re the exception, not the rule, and that this is not about you.
In fact, Internet, the Internet would be a much nicer place if people could recognize when they were an exception
“No, ACTUALLY, I hate Ice Ice Baby, so your offhand comment that everyone loves Ice Ice Baby, a comment composed exactly .05% of this entire blog post , is completely wrong, and even though you made some very excellent points further down the post, I didn’t read them, because I needed to come to the comment section IMMEDIATELY to let you know how wrong you are, because I don’t understand that you made a pretty inconsequential generalization and feel you MUST BE INFORMED that not only is your statement not correct 100% of the time, but I, in fact, am one of the VERY PEOPLE to which it does not apply!!”
and not the rule
“You know, you’re right, french fries do have a pretty universal deliciousness acceptance rate.”
Anyway, Internet. Exceptions and rules. Figure out which one you are and stop shitting on people’s days.
So, right. The vociferous refusal to buy pink, girly stuff for girl babies. (There is a post here on Mommy Interrupted discussing the specific implications of little girls being exposed to a sort of “princess culture” which I think is a different thing entirely, important to discuss and outside the scope of what I am bitching about right now, but available to you if you’re interested in a good read about the topic and have opinions! To share!) I would get it more, I think, if the same thing happened for boy babies, the refusal to have anything blue or any trucks or what have you.
I don’t see why it’s bad or wrong or somehow objectionable (even for the few people that make an issue of it) for your little girl to wear little girl clothes and play with little girl toys. I’m not saying you should PAINT the kid pink or something, but… she is a girl. So why so determined to strip away anything “girly?” I think you’re sending more of a harmful message about “girly” things being shameful than a powerful message about whatever you think you’re sending a powerful message about.
I have no conclusion to this.
*****
Kind of related? People who buy their kid 6 of those wooden toys and nothing else, not because they want to live some kind of Montessori lifestyle with their baby, but because they don’t want that plastic crap all over their house. I think their baby boys also wear ties and sweater vests 100% of the time.
It kind of goes with the whole thing that people are afraid of other people thinking that they’re different now that they have a kid. I have seen that a lot with blogging and with my own blog – Oh, so and so has changed since she had a baby, it’s just awful.
OF COURSE SHE CHANGED, SHE HAD A BABY.
Except no, it’s not really changing, I don’t think. I think you’re the same, but you’re living a different life. I mean, what if you won a bajillion dollars in the lottery? I don’t think it would fundamentally change you, as a person, but you wouldn’t be living the same life any more and you’d probably conduct yourself differently in a lot of aspects of your life. I mean, you could try REALLY HARD to keep everything EXACTLY THE SAME, but I don’t think it would be possible.
(“Actually, I’d keep everything exactly the same!” See above re: exceptions and rules. Jerk.)
Having a baby doesn’t make you a different person, it makes you the same person living a different life. Why would you even want to keep everything exactly the same and as indistinguishable from pre-baby life as possible? You’re still the same person. There’s nothing to be scared of about living a different life. It’s a good thing.
*****
Hey, want to pretend for a second you’re interested in the diapers I bought yesterday because, okay, forget the charade that I buy them for Penny, I was having a bad day and wanted them.
Actually, I only bought the top one yesterday, but the pirate one became available this morning, and my eyes were still all blurry, and these diapers are SO hard to get, and Penny already has two OTHER pirate diapers, which everyone knows is a perfect justification for buying a third of ANYTHING, because now it’s a COLLECTION.
These diapers are all-in-twos, or AI2s, which means that they have two pieces – a shell and a soaker, and the soaker usually snaps in to the diaper. The soaker is the absorbent piece. This is different from all-in-ones (AIOs) because in those, the soaker is sewn inside the diaper. It is different from what is called a fitted diaper, which can be constructed in the same way as AI2s or AIOs, but does not contain a waterproof layer, so require a waterproof cover to be worn over them. And, of course, also different from pocket diapers, which are waterproof and have a pocket that you stuff with absorbent inserts.
Phil likes AIOs, because obviously they are the simplest to use, but they take for-ev-er to dry. Since the soakers in AI2s just snap in, and they don’t require any covering, I’m hoping he’ll like these. He’s always willing to do a diaper change, which is great, but he doesn’t have the same kind of memory as I do for which inserts work best in which pocket diapers, so I usually have to stuff a diaper for him to use anyway.
*****
Penny is closing in on four months old now, and we are dying to get her to laugh, but she seems to be channeling Mandy Moore’s Scrubs character.
“Penny! Penny! Hey, Penny! Poop!”
“That’s so funny.”
“Butts! Farts! Funny face.”
“That’s sooo funny.”
“Tickle! Chick-a chick-a chick-a chick-a TICKLE!”
“That’s so funny.“
“GODDAMNIT BABY, LAUGH.”
“That’s so funny.”
She’s SO CLOSE to laughing that I’ve stopped trying to make her laugh when Phil isn’t here, so that he doesn’t miss it. Of course, this leads to the two of us hunched over her, making total assholes of ourselves, while she just stares and occasionally graces us with a goofy smile and an ALMOST LAUGH.
Seriously, we are making TOTAL ASSHOLES of ourselves.
*****
The picture for Penny’s birth announcements was taken when she was eight weeks old (oops), the actual announcements arrived when she was about 10 weeks old (oops) and the last of them went out when she was 14 weeks old (damn it).
This is what they look like:
I have a pile of them left (okay, and three left to send out, shut up). So, just like my incredibly large stack of lady-part ultrasound pictures (WHY did they think we not only needed to see it, but needed a labeled picture EVERY SINGLE WEEK?), I am left with a bunch of Penny paraphernalia that is useless, but not quite suitable for the trash.
I’m going to go hand them out on some sleazy street corner, I think, so when you get one, you look down, ready to pitch a flier for a strip club or bad comedy show right into the trash, and you’re like, “Whoa, a baby! That’s unexpected!” and then you throw it in the trash, and your day is just ever so slightly better, either from the unexpected baby OR from the one fewer strip club flier you are forced to gaze upon because you’re too polite to say “No, thanks!” to the flier people.
I am not reworking that title. It’s just staying like that.
There’s some stuff that I just really, really enjoy. And now I will tell you about them.
Playing board games with Phil
I wonder if people consider board games to be a nerdy hobby, but then I think, how could they possibly? Doesn’t everyone love board games?
In particular, like the rest of the world, our favorite is Settlers of Catan. Have you played this game? You should play this game, if you haven’t yet. We love this game. When we lived on opposite sides of the country, we would get on Skype and play a version of the game online. We’d always play best out of three and whoever one got to declare herself Champion of the Night.
What a great game. Seriously. We love the shit out of that game. It’s an awesome entry game for people who tend to automatically thing of unending games of Monopoly when they think of board games, and an introduction to the idea that “board game” doesn’t necessarily have to mean roll the dice, move your little hat, maybe turn over a card, race to the end type thing. And for people who are already into board games, I think Settlers of Catan is the gold standard of awesomeness. The game is different every time, there’s a great balance of strategy and luck, and it takes less than an hour to play a full game. Plus, it’s not obnoxious to explain to new players. Big bonus.
We’ve also got this game called Forbidden Island, which we need to take out on several more test runs. We’ve played it a couple of times, I think, and don’t know it well enough yet to not have to consult the rules continually, so it’s hard to rank it among our favorites, but it’s definitely got a hook that makes it worth keeping around. Forbidden Island is a cooperative game, with each player taking on a specific role with specific abilities, all working toward the same goal, which is getting off this island before it sinks into the ocean. The board changes as you play, and each person’s “turn” is really more of a group turn, because you have to plot two, three, four or more moves ahead, taking advantage of each player’s abilities.
It kind of rules.
So. I like playing board games.
Reading reviews of things I just bought
Like other people with access to the Internet, Phil and I research every $30+ purchase to death. I usually do at least a cursory search before buying, while Phil seems to enjoy to research and review reading almost as much as he enjoys the actual item. I think he was actually, in some small way, kind of disappointed when he brought the monster television into the house, because the searching for the perfect monster TV was over.
The difference between Phil and I, though, is that once he has done his research and purchased the whatever, he moves on to the next whatever. Not me, though. I go and read reviews. Not instructions on how to get the best results from the whatever, not reviews on accessories and add-ons for the whatever.
Nope. I like to read reviews for things I have already bought and use. Whether I like the whatever or hate the whatever. I read reviews about it. Actually, I think I’m even more likely to search them out if I like the product. Then I get to scoff at people who write negative reviews, and say, “Yes, me too!” at positive reviews.
Related: When I see a new infomercial or “As Seen on TV” product, I immediately take to the Internet to find out if it actually works, even if it’s something I’d never use. I just need to know if it works.
Kevin Smith has had this podcast – Smodcast – for a long time now. When Phil and I drove across the country from Maryland to Arizona a couple of years ago, we listened to Smodcast almost the whole way. Not only was it hilarious, it made the time pass much more quickly. Even now, I look back on driving ACROSS THE COUNTRY, for DAYS ON END to be “not that bad.” We still reference and repeat lines from the podcasts we listened to on that trip.
Booberty!
So, he did this podcast with his friend/often business partner Scott Mosier for a long time, and then a couple of other related podcasts popped with his friends as well, with a different one each day of the week. Then he started doing live podcasts, selling tickets and all of that, and NOW? He’s launched an entire Internet radio network.
If you’re not into Kevin Smith, it’s definitely not for you, because it’s super Kevin Smithy. If that could be an adjective, that’s exactly how I’d describe it. Super Kevin Smithy. Not all the shows on the network are Kevin Smith shows, but I like his best. In particular, the standard Smodcast and Plus One, which is the morning show with Kevin Smith and his wife Jen Schwalbach.
In addition to the live radio, there are PILES are archived shows, so. If you’re into things that are Kevin Smithy, WHICH I AM – not just the movies, but the GUY (smart, funny, and you know what, I’ll say it – super hot. That’s right.), you should be passing some of your day with Smodcast Internet Radio (SIR).
Reading about the outrageous behavior of other people’s in laws
AND if you haven’t read that post and the comments, go back and do it. Because, holy shit. And if you have any stories of your own, you should add them. But add them to THIS post, even though they don’t seem to fit with the THEME, so that we can all read them without having to go back in the archives. This is my blog, so I can allow that.
So, Internet. What do you enjoy the hell out of? How do you feel about things that are Kevin Smithy? Have you seen Red State? I haven’t. Also, outrageous in law/family behaviors ALWAYS welcome. ALWAYS.
Let me tell you a little bit about what I did this weekend, but first, you should know this – AS I TYPE, Penny is having her first real nap. You know, the kind of nap where I deliberately PUT HER DOWN for a nap. Not in her little baby chair when she feels like sleeping, not in her swing because she’s been crying and crying and I don’t know what else to do. In her little Penny bed, swaddled up, at a time decided upon BY ME. For the first time.
EVIDENCE:
After taking, watermarking, and uploading that picture, I realize that you probably would have taken my word for it. I should have let you take my word for it, because I waited until two hours in to said nap to start writing this post. I spent the rest of the time tiptoeing down the hall and peering around the door frame. Baby naps are such an unproductive waste of my time.
Also, have I said enough times yet that Penny’s blanket was sent to her by Rhy?
Or that it has seen her through a lot? Or that Rhy has a yarn store right here? (Which I was just looking at and realized that we probably lived, like, 8 minutes apart before I came out here to AZ.) Or that we call it Special Blanket? As in, “Where’s Special Blanket? She needs Special Blanket.”
Anyway, all of those things.
So. This weekend.
*****
Decided to start the process of getting the dogs interviewed and approved to hang out at Camp Bow Wow.
Guess who apparently was not impressed with our plans?
Well, too bad, Sheldon, because you are going to the freaking camp and YOU WILL PLAY, because any weekend that sees me shrieking at the top of my lungs,
“STOP IT STOP IT STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT YOU GUYS HAVE GOTTEN SO RUDE I SWEAR I AM GOING TO CALL CESAR MILAN AND YOU ARE GOING TO GET WHISPERED YOU ARE GOING TO GET WHISPERED SO FUCKING HARD.“
is pretty much a come to Jesus moment about the dogs and their need for exercise or at least TIME AWAY FROM ME.
*****
Packed up to scale Everest.
I KID. Obviously. Because, HA.
That’s all the stuff we packed to take Penny to her first movie – Harry Potter at the drive in!
She clearly loved it, as you can tell. Do we count that as her first movie, or is her first “official” movie one where we take a small yet conscious child to sit in a seat for an hour and a half and shush her through a stupid movie we don’t even want to see in the first place?
Not important. What’s important? I loved it. It went so fast, though, didn’t it? I mean, I know there was a lot to cover in the last book, but man. It just blew by. Like any other fan, I would have been pleased as all hell for them to go into all kinds of crazy detail and gone to part 3, part 4, part one jillion. Seriously, I could happily watch Harry Potter for as long as they want to draw it out. Except, they aren’t drawing it out. So. It’s over.
BUT, back to the movie. Snape, you guys. Right? RIGHT?
*****
This is where Penny finally woke up, I went and got her, fed her, changed her, dressed her, put her in her baby chair, went to the kitchen, stood in front of the stove where a diet soda cake is hanging out, and ate some cake with a fork right out of the pan.
Like you’ve never.
Don’t worry, I’m cancelling it out with some frozen grapes.
That reminds me, though, of my first real experience with the SO SO SO SO SO HUNGRY phase of pregnancy, when one morning, AFTER I ate a granola bar and a banana, and WHILE my waffle was in the toaster, I stood in front of the same stove, where some brownies were hanging out, and ate some. By fist. I was so frantically, panic-ly hungry that I ate brownies by the fistful during the seemingly unending Eggo toasting process.
I don’t have pregnancy as an excuse right now, but I do have a serious case of don’t feel like getting a plate.
******
I did not buy another adorable pirate-themed fitted diaper this weekend.
But I did get the one I bought last weekend in the mail.
*****
Penny learned to stick out her tongue and hasn’t stopped since, which is adorable, until you are the one returning her pacifier to her mouth every 5 minutes between 10pm and 2am.
In case it wasn’t clear, I am the one. I am the one who is returning the pacifier to her mouth every 5 minutes between 10pm and 2am.
First, we can’t seem to agree who is at fault for the fact that we go through nearly an entire roll of toilet paper per day.
“Maybe if you didn’t need to roll a 3 inch thick catcher’s mitt of toilet paper around your hand every time you used the bathroom, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
“First, I don’t make a poo-mitt. Second, YOU PEE FIFTY TIMES A DAY.”
Second, we can’t agree on when it is time to change the roll. I’m here alone, and I keep the toilet paper supply at an adequate level for my anticipated needs. Even if that means just leaving one or two rotations of paper on the roll until my next visit. (WHICH IS SO NOT FIFTY TIMES A DAY.) Phil doesn’t like this, though. He thinks that I should ANTICIPATE that he might arrive home sometime between the last time I went and the next time I’ll go. Therefore, since he MIGHT arrive, toilet paper levels should be keep adequate for HIS NEEDS at all times.
This has lead to a lot of him coming home, grabbing PC Gamer, heading into his lair, and huffing back out mere moments later to glower at me as he grabs a fresh roll. I inevitably bellow back at him, “THERE IS PLENTY OF TOILET PAPER IN THERE.”
I know what you’re thinking. Men and women have different toilet paper needs (Phil did not, at first, know that even if a diaper is only wet, areas must still be wiped down well, though who would really expect him to), and I should maybe go ahead and change the roll if there are only a few inches left, even if those few inches are adequate for me. You’re siding with Phil.
Except, no. Because this is what PHIL considers to be an inadequate amount of toilet paper left on the roll, necessitating a roll change as soon as I become aware, by all of the lights and sirens, that we have reached DEF CON LEVEL toilet paper emergency situations:
DOES THIS LOOK LIKE AN EMERGENCY TO YOU?
Anyway, we’ve made no progress on this argument since the last time I told you about it over a year ago, so there’s really no reason for me to include it here, except that I feel like you guys deserve updates on things you’ve taken the time to read. Just a service I like to provide.
So, to sum up:
Update – Phil still ridiculous about toilet paper.
I haven't found a convenient, easy to update method of displaying a list of links to all of the blogs I read, nor am I interested in getting all wrapped up in the politics of who is listed and who is not, so here is a link to a single blog that I do, in fact, read, to be updated randomly and completely at my own whim, for no particular reason or reasons I DON'T FEEL I NEED TO DISCUSS WITH YOU, INTERNET, but you can rest assured that I would not maliciously steer you wrong.
Hello! I'm TJ and this is my blog. The picture is a joke, get it? Because I'm INSIDE the INTERNET?
I'm 30 years old and I live in Arizona with my husband and our two big dogs. I've been married for just over a year, and we have a 7 month old daughter named Penelope. You can do the math. It's okay. We don't mind.
Read my stuff. You'll like it.
I know that at some point, this section of my site will be out of date. I promise you in advance, I'm aware of that.
