Archive for the ‘TJ + Phil’ Category
Monday, July 18th, 2011
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.
*****
Lastly, the toilet paper argument was once again rehashed.
The toilet paper issue, you see, is two-fold.
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.
Posted in Brinkley + Sheldon, cloth diapers, daily BS, Penny, shameless consumerism, TJ + Phil | 51 Comments »
Monday, July 11th, 2011
My mom sent Phil a chocolate Chewbacca on a stick for Easter and it’s sitting in a bowl on our kitchen counter.
I’ve been over and over it in my mind, and the only way I can think to demonstrate to Phil just how LONG I’ve refrained from eating HIS chocolate Chewbacca is to eat it and then, when he notices, demand credit for holding out as long as I did. I’m not getting any praise with it just sitting there.
You’re not getting any praise for this outfit, either.
*****
Last night, Penny and I went to bed, as we do, and waited for Phil to join us. It got later and later and eventually I realized that he was going to be REALLY annoyed in the morning if he didn’t come to bed soon, so I went to find him. He was sacked out on half of the couch (because baby stuff takes up the other half), and it took a ridiculous amount of convincing to get him up and moving to bed. He just kept looking at me and going, “I quit!” and falling back asleep. Totally out of it.
He did get up, though, and let the dogs out and came to bed. I said to him, “Did you remember to let the dogs in?” He said he did, just as Brinkley came lumbering into the room. I’m obviously including that detail for a reason.
Three or so hours later, Penny woke up to eat. I got up to go to the bathroom and realized I only stepped over Brinkley. I scanned the rest of the bedroom – no Sheldon. Came out to the living room, hoping he’d be asleep on the love seat – no Sheldon.
At that point, I immediately freaked out, because Sheldon is known to jump our fence and he’s a black dog and it was night time – a combination for awful disaster. I saw that the back light was still on and ran towards the back door. I spotted a big black lump leaning against the sliding door and was so relieved. I opened the door and was hit in the face with the still almost 100 degree heat and let him in. He almost knocked me over getting to the dog water fountain (yes) and completely drained it, then flopped down on his stomach on the floor while I refilled it for him to drain again.
I stormed into the bedroom and starting railing at Phil, because COME ON. You KNOW he escapes. You KNOW it’s hot out there. He was too asleep to respond in a way that I felt was appropriate, though, so I waited until this morning to demand that he apologize to Sheldon and check on him.
Phil says, “It was an accident. Oops.”
And I say, “It was hot! He could have escaped! He was SO THIRSTY.”
Phil says, “He seems fine.”
And I say, “He was almost dehydrated! He could have gotten VERY SICK. Or? Escaped and gotten hit by a car! There was a TERRIBLE thunderstorm after I let him in.”
Phil says, “Accidents happen, and he’s fine.”
I get that he’s fine and I get that accidents happen, and I kind of get that there’s no reason to dwell, but I feel like I need Phil to mull over each and every possible disaster scenario that could have occurred before I can get over the situation.
Kind of like how when I’m showering, I think about being negligent in my soap removal and then accidentally not drying my soapy arms well and picking up Penny and she slips right out of my slippery arms. I feel like these things need to be acknowledged. As stuff that COULD HAVE HAPPENED.
Basically, Phil is not fretting over things that didn’t happen enough for my comfort.
This is awful! I hate this! Pick me up, you assholes!
*****
I can always tell when my mom has made her once weekly visit to Facebook by the two page list of notifications alerting me to the fact that she has “liked” everything I’ve posted in the last 7 days. Except for the status updates that contain foul language, and a complete refusal to acknowledge any captions on pictures of Penny that contain the F-bomb or the asshole-bomb.
Example: Picture of Penny, captioned: “I hate you, get the fuck out of my face!”
My mom’s comment: She looks so happy! She must be looking at her mama!
She also comments on old status updates, which is especially funny in the case of my brother, who would post something like, “Tired” during his college finals. There’d be a little back and forth between his friends in the comments, then three days of nothing, then my mom posts, “Why?”
It’s weird, because my mom has a completely fine grasp of technology (except for prevention of the ass dial – you have NEVER been pocket dialed as many times as this woman is capable of. If you get a call Saturday morning and hear the inside of my mom’s purse, prepare to spend the next 45 minutes picking up the phone nearly constantly, bellowing, “MOM! MOOOOOOOM! STOOOOOOOP” and hoping she hears the disembodied voice of her child coming from inside of her purse. Things, admittedly, did get a little better when she got a touch screen phone, but mindbogglingly, it STILL HAPPENS reasonably regularly.)
AS I WAS SAYING, she has a completely fine grasp of technology, she just puts her own mom twist on it. Like replying to Facebook statuses as if she’s in a personal conversation with the poster. Or? OR? When I text her pictures of Penny? She calls me to discuss the picture.
******
Penny, right after that whole tummy time business:
Not cool, guys. Not cool.
*****
I wanted to roll a new toon in WoW last weekend, but whenever I try to do it myself, no combination of class and race really appeals to me. While I was feeding Penny, I told Phil to just go ahead and create something for me.
I came back to find a warlock named Lwaxana. Er, no. Delete. I should have known he’d make a warlock, considering he has 75 warlocks himself, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Plus, Lwaxana? No.
He asked for another chance, though, so, fine. I was out of the room for a bit and came back to find myself standing in the human starting area as a paladin named Sumki.
“What the shit is a Sumki?”
“I used Google Translate! I thought you’d get it…”
(Years of Russian come back to me.)
“Sumki? As in, the plural of sumka? Like, purse? Purses?”
“It’s supposed to be bags.”
“… you’re an asshole!“
*****
You know what is a serious boner killer? When you’re in the car and the Proclaimers come on, and you’re listening to I’m Gonna Be, and you think that you and the other person in the car are on the same page.
You think that, at least, until you bellow out the first “DA DA DA!” at the top of your lungs, and he DOES NOT DO the echo back “DA DA DA!”
I swear, nothing has ever made me question my marriage more.
*****
These are your parents, Penny.
Too bad.
Posted in Brinkley + Sheldon, daily BS, Penny, TJ + Phil, Yeah, I play WoW | 37 Comments »
Friday, July 8th, 2011
“Did you read my blog? Did you see how many people’s husbands open soda cans wrong, like you? It’s an epidemic.”
“I don’t open soda cans wrong!”
“You do.”
“The point of opening a soda can is to get the soda out. If I can get the soda out, I haven’t done it wrong.”
“Isn’t the point of toothpaste to get some toothpaste onto the brush?”
“Yes… ”
“Then squeezing it from the middle isn’t wrong. I can get the toothpaste out.”
“Squeezing from the middle is WRONG.”
“And thus, so is the way you open soda cans.”
“It’s DIFFERENT.”
“Nope. I’ve made a valid comparison.”
“You haven’t. It’s not the same.”
“I’ve shut you down with an irrefutable argument.”
“I don’t open soda cans wrong!”
“Point, me. Winner, me.”
“YOU SQUEEZE FROM THE BOTTOM. IT’S DESIGNED TO BE SQUEEZED FROM THE BOTTOM.”
Posted in TJ + Phil | 17 Comments »
Friday, July 8th, 2011
I was thinking today what it must be like to be really good at something you really enjoy. Or maybe not even really good. How about just good enough to acknowledge that you’re good at it. Whichever. I’m pretty sure that the Venn diagram of things I am really good at and things I really enjoy are two distinct circles completely separated by an ocean of apathy and mediocrity.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that you can enjoy things without being good at, and of course there are virtues in being good at things you don’t necessarily enjoy. I just think that maybe being really good at something you really enjoy adds a little bit to life in general.
Also, don’t get me wrong this way, either – I’m not saying I don’t like my life or getting all Eeyore and saying I’m not good at anything. I’m good at plenty of things. And I like plenty of things. It’s just that Column A does not share any items with Column B. I don’t think that affects life negatively. I just think that being good at something I enjoy doing would probably affect life positively. Do you know what I’m saying?
I just wonder what that’s like, that’s all. And I’m not wondering in a sighing, wistful way where you’re supposed to feel bad for me and my miserable, unskilled ways. I’m wondering. Like people wonder about things. The normal way. Like, “Hey. Japan. I bet living there is different.”
*****
Speaking of getting all defensive about people’s assumptions about how I feel about my life, I’ve been spending a lot of time getting all defensive about people’s assumptions about how I feel about my life.
Look, Internet, post-partum depression is a crazy serious thing. Crazy serious. And there should be all kinds of support systems in place for women who are suffering from post-partum depression and all women who have had a baby should be made aware of those support options and we should all know what signs to watch for and we should all know that it’s okay to speak up.
But look. Sometimes I don’t want to preface my irrational rage with, “I don’t have PPD but GET THIS GODDAMN BABY OUT OF MY FACE.” Or, “Look, I’m not depressed, but I need to go in the bedroom, turn off the lights, and not hear any human made sounds for, like, the next 45 hours.”
PPD happens to some women, but it doesn’t happen to all women, and I’m kind of a little sick of having every action and mood change and eyeball twitch viewed through the lens of “lady who just had a baby.” I was prone to random fits of rage and leave-me-the-hell-alone-itis BEFORE Penny came along. Why would it all suddenly be baby hormone related now? Was I supposed to turn into some nurturing ball of sunshine as soon as they lifted that shriek box out of the big ol’ garage door they surgically installed into my belly area, thus anything NON-sunshiney must be some kind of dangerous aberration?
If you spill your coffee on someone and she snaps at you and you say, “Oh, wow, PMS, huh?,” you’re being a LITTLE BIT UNFAIR. The same goes for suggesting my every emotion is a flapping red flag the size of my enormous underpants, surely indicating the onset of PPD. “Your face is really red and you’re screaming a lot of words I didn’t even know existed. I think you need to consider that you might need to be checked for PPD.”
I think YOU need to consider that a tiny person KICKS ME IN THE GUTS all night long, refuses to sleep out of gut-kicking range, and only ever stops long enough for me to fall asleep before delivering another kick, aimed with deadly accuracy right at my surgical garage door. Maybe I am just LEGITIMATELY CHEESED OFF.
I’m going to come kick you in the garage door all damn night and then calmly, so calmly as though I’m afraid you might explode, tell you that you’re probably only mad because you got your hair cut today, and that you should seek help, because it’s not normal to be kind of furious after you didn’t get any sleep because I kicked you in the garage door all night. Stop being ridiculous.
*****
BEFORE YOU SUGGEST THAT I SWADDLE MY BABY, you should know that Penny stopped enjoying being swaddled about a month ago.
AND YOU SHOULD ALSO KNOW that I swaddled her anyway last night.
She cried, but then she slept for almost four hours, had a short wake up for feeding and changing, and slept for another four hours. She laid between us in a tiny No Blankets Land and nary a kick was felt.
All hail the return of the swaddle.
*****
“SWAAAAAAAAAADDLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!!!”
*****
So, you know how they say that once you’re married (or you live with someone), that’s when you really start to notice the little things? I think they even sometimes advise that you live with someone before you get married (some of they advise that – other parts of they do not, and I make no judgement as to which part of they you may be nor note which part of they I am, but I was pregnant at my own wedding, so, you know). Because, as you probably know, it’s really hard to see the little things when you’re just dating – getting all niced up before you see each other and going out to some third location that is not your home or his home. Once you live together, you’re not always niced up and all the little habits come out.
The theory behind saying this is that once you live together, you’ll see all these little things – weird habits or annoying traits or strange methods – and these will be the things that you will have to decide if you can LIVE WITH FOREVER. Something that was cute when you were seeing each other on weekends is suddenly the WORST THING EVER and underpants on the floor are going to drive you to divorce.
Anyway, this is all preamble to say that living with and being married to Phil has shown me something that he does completely wrong. Are we going to get divorced over it? No. Are we going to fight about it? No. Well, not really. I mean, I do tell him that he does it wrong and he disagrees, but it’s not really fighting because he has no evidence to support his case.
It’s not even something that’s going to drive me crazy. It’s just that we’ve been together a little while now, and I’ve had the time to notice this method of his and plenty of time to inform him that he’s doing this thing totally incorrectly, and even more time, now, that is allowing me to tell YOU that Phil does something completely incorrectly.
Phil opens soda cans wrong. Observe – my can and his can.
HE HAS NO FOLLOW THROUGH!
No follow through, you guys! He brings me a can of soda, pre-opened for my enjoyment, and I get a mouthful of can-tabber-thing. I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just saying it’s incorrect. And not good.
On the up side, I can always tell which open soda is his and which is mine. Mine is the one you can drink from, and his is the what the hell.
*****
At the risk of being that parent who might need to maybe dial it back a bit, HOW HILARIOUS IS THIS DIAPER?
It’s pink. It’s fuzzy. It’s dalmatian print.
I laughed when I got this diaper in the mail, I laughed the first time I put it on her, and I laugh every time I go to change her diaper and find it under her pajamas.
Oddly enough, though, it – and another pattern I bought with it that is equally as fuzzy – is the best diaper we own. She wears them overnight. They have bamboo inserts and they don’t leak and keep her feeling dry for hours and hours. They’re squishy and soft on the inside, too. I call them her Luxury Underpants.
Come on, though. IT’S RIDICULOUS.
*****
“I’m not only the Swaddle Club for Babies spokesperson – I’m also a client.”
Posted in cloth diapers, Penny, TJ + Phil | 45 Comments »
Sunday, July 3rd, 2011
“Don’t worry, Penny. Milk Bags is just getting the feeding pillow.”
“HEY. Don’t teach the baby that my name is MILK BAGS.”
“Fine. Here comes the Fleshy Food Pillow, Penny.”
“FLESHY FOOD PILLOW?”
“I’m just going to hand you over to Milk Balloons.”
“…”
“Wait. Wait. I have one more. If you were a super power– I mean, if you were a super hero, your super power would be the– No, wait. If you were a super hero, your super hero name would be THE HUMAN TROUGH!”
“…”
“The Human Trough!”
“…”
“You know? Like The Human Torch? Except, The Human Trough?”
“…”
“Trough?”
“…”
“The Human Trough!”
Posted in TJ + Phil | 7 Comments »
Monday, June 27th, 2011
“What kind of person just pees all over herself and you in her sleep and doesn’t even give you a heads up, even after you go to all the trouble to clean HER up? What, a little ‘Hey, might want to check your shorts, I peed all over them’ is too much for her? Damnit. My underpants are soaked. Someone ELSE has peed MY pants. What kind of person DOES THAT.”
“Hey, Penny… urine trouble!”
“Ugh. That’s terrible. You’re the worst. You’re the most awful person.”
“Am I the… number one most awful?”
“Really? Really? After I’ve been PEED on? Really?”
“I REGRET NOTHING!”
Posted in Penny, TJ + Phil | 14 Comments »
Saturday, June 18th, 2011
“… and you’re so stinky. You’re stinky.”
“Are you singing ‘Sex is on Fire’ to the baby?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“It’s ‘Pooped in your Diaper.’ Totally different thing.”
(SPEAKING OF “SEX IS ON FIRE.” You guys. Nakia. Am I right?)
(Also, I voted for Beverly and Xenia.)
(How pretty was Xenia in that dress?)
(I knew Dia would make it, because she did that super twee cover of Kanye West and America is a sucker for super twee. Like Pomplamoose?)
(I hate Pomplamoose so much.)
(Anyway, knew it would be Dia and Xenia, because the dudes on Team Blake just didn’t match up.)
(ALSO, do you believe Christina picked Frenchie over Raquel? COME ON. Frenchie was ALL out of tune and Raquel is freaking adorable.)
(I’m thinking Team CeeLo is going to be Nakia and Vikki. Even though I wasn’t impressed by Vicci this week. She kind of killed it in the battle round, though, remember?)
(Cee Lo’s sister duo girls who I haven’t bothered to learn the name of are cute, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to get behind a duo. I don’t know. I’m not into it.)
(OH, I just remembered that Curtis Grimes is on Team Cee Lo. Damn. He’s adorable. And I was ready to be annoyed with the cover of “Addicted to Love,” thinking it was going to be a cheap ploy like Dia (calculatedly adorable, you know?), except it was so good! Crap. Ok, I know it won’t happen, but it should be Curtis and Nakia. Not Vicci. “Jolene” was a stupid choice.)
(But it will probably be Vicci. So if it must be, then her and Nakia.)
(Because, DAMN, Nakia!)
(Too bad he’s gay.)
(As if, if he wasn’t gay, we’d suddenly know each other, live near each other, be into each other on many levels, I wouldn’t be married, he’d be single, and we’d get together.)
(I think Team Adam kind of blows. I think he’s trying really hard to convince himself he’s got a good team, but he held out too long in the blind auditions and ended up with crap.)
(I can’t figure out why he seems so enthusiastic about Jeff Jenkins or why he even turned around for him to begin with. Dude is nasal as hell, has been all along.)
(Casey Weston is okay.)
(I figure the only one with a decent shot on Team Adam is Javier, who blew everyone out of the water in the blind audition.)
(But didn’t this week kind of make him seem like a one trick pony, or is that just me?)
(He’s all right, though.)
(Who is that Doogie Howser kid? He shouldn’t have made it past “Creep” in the battle round. That chick was better.)
(Anyway, Nakia!)
(Vote!)
Posted in daily BS, TJ + Phil | 5 Comments »
