Monster feet vs butt.


Failing NaBloPoMo on the first day really takes the pressure off for the rest of the month.

*****

LET ME JUST GET THIS OUT OF THE WAY.

Penny was a duck/chicken (chucken?) for Halloween.

Do you love it? I love it. I love it so much that when we have her 6 month portraits taken this weekend, instead of being suckered into the “Holiday” backdrop they are pushing on me so hard, Penny is being a duck-chicken. A dicken. A 6 month old dicken.

*****

I haven’t done Penny’s 6 month post yet, but here’s a brief synopsis: she yells, she’s pleasantly fat, she can roll back to belly and shriek mightily once she arrives there.

She has a test at Phoenix Children’s Hospital tomorrow, one we fully expect to come up negative, but we like making her miserable, so we’re doing it anyway. You should just have us arrested. We’re terrible parents.

Don’t worry about Penny, though. She’s never had good parents, so she doesn’t know any better.

*****

You know, I haven’t been around here too much lately, and you know what it is? I’m enjoying spending time with my kid, which tells me that I’m finally starting to arrive in the time I’ve been looking forward to.

Noemi talked about this the other day, and I feel the same way – ending breastfeeding has really improved my relationship with Penny. Ending it was the right choice for us for a lot of reasons, and while I definitely don’t speak for everyone, it has really turned out to be extremely beneficial in a lot of different ways. The main one being, of course, that I actually ENJOY PENNY a hell of a lot more than I did previously.

With no struggling to feed her, no watching the clock for the pumping schedule, no washing pump parts, no waking up in the night to deal with any feeding-related activities — well, you know, it’s just better. Phil splits the feedings with me. I can leave the house without Penny and not worry about rushing back. I can leave the house WITH Penny and not wrestle with feeding her in public – like Noemi, nursing was never graceful or easy, positioning-the-baby-wise for me.

So, while I do believe that breast milk is certainly the best choice for a baby if it is available, not breastfeeding has been just about the best thing to happen to me since this damn wiener child was born.

*****

A few days ago, Phil accidentally left the lid of the washer up with our bedsheets sitting inside soaking in fabric softener. He asked me if soaking too long in the fabric softener would ruin the sheets, but I wasn’t sure – mainly because in my entire life I’ve caught the rinse cycle in time to add fabric softener about four times, so I don’t have too much experience in the field of softening.

He put the sheets on the bed and made up the bed for the one time it gets made each week and I didn’t noticed anything until the next day, when the blankets were pleasantly running amok and askew, as is my preferred state of the bed. On my side, right about there my butt usually is, the fitted sheet had a different texture than the rest of the surface. On closer inspection, it was full of tears, kind of like a run in pantyhose.

“So, it looks like the fabric softener did ruin the sheets. It really seems to have damaged the more worn spots – I’m pretty sure we’ll have to throw these out.”

“Oh, that’s where your butt goes. Your butt must have put extra wear on the sheets.”

“No way! My butt didn’t — wait, can that happen?”

(You’ll understand that here, of course, I had a moment of insecurity – see: double pear, Two Butt – and, okay, I had a bit of a gassy pregnancy, but not any more gassy than – okay, maybe SLIGHTLY more gassy than the average person, but could that really RUIN the SHEETS?)

“Yep. Your butt put a weak spot in the sheets.”

“WAIT a second. If you flip the sheet around, this spot is where your disgusting, scaly MONSTER FEET would be.”

“Oh. Huh. You’re right.”

“Ha!”

“But your butt finished them off.”

*****

I’m planning something and it’s kept me pretty busy lately, and I expect it to keep me busy for a while longer yet. I’m pretty excited about it, but as with everything I do and cook, there is still the possibility that it will all blow up in my face or otherwise go terribly wrong, so I’m not quite ready to share all the details here yet. If it appears that all is going to go well with my small test group, I will, of course, let the rest of you know about it. Once danger of explosion has passed.

I hope it works out, though. It’s one of those things that I talked about the last time I got around to writing something here. One of those things that you think is something that only other people do, but it suddenly dawns on you that you could do it to, if you wanted to. So, aside from the silly stuff like getting married and having a baby, this is inarguably one of the “biggest” things I have ever done. And if it goes wrong, it will be the biggest thing I’ve ever fucked up. And if it goes right, I AM A HERO.

Well, not a hero. More likely briefly, but SIGNIFICANTLY AND SINCERELY celebrated. Which is probably as close to hero as I will ever get, unless someone who weighs very little needs to be awkwardly rescued from an extremely and freakishly slow burning building and there’s really just no one else at all around who can handle it.

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Plots, schemes, bun-biting and more.


So, I’ve launched a plot, and I’ve been hatching schemes and other Scooby Doo-esque terms for making plans. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that this is something I can do. Not in the sense that it’s something I’m capable of doing, but more like something I’m allowed to do. Okay, and also a little bit reminding myself – or pep talking myself – that I’m capable.

You know the first time you realize you can do something that previously seemed like it was reserved for other people? Older people, or more adulty people, or just some other kind of people. Like when I bought a car on my own for the first time. It kind of blew my mind that I could walk into a dealership, pick a car, arrange the insurance and the financing and all of that, and drive away in a car. I knew that PLENTY of people bought cars, all the time. But it seemed like something other people did, not something I could do. Both in the sense of something I was ABLE to do and something I was ALLOWED to do. Some people let me walk into their place and drive away in a car. BLEW MY MIND.

So I’ve hatched this plot, because there was something I wanted and out of nowhere, it dawned on me that rather than wait around for one of the specifically ALLOWED people to arrange for this thing I wanted, I could just do it myself. And while I’m [pretty] sure I can pull it off, the fact that I can just DO IT is blowing my mind.

You know that feeling? Am I making sense? It’s like an assumption you have subconsciously, that you don’t really think about, that doing certain things is for OTHER PEOPLE.

OH, like taking a vacation. I’ve never taken a vacation that wasn’t with my parents OR wasn’t specifically to visit family. But Phil and I, someday, could decide to pack up our baby and go some place. ANY place. With no other family there, if we wanted. A non-family, non-visiting vacation. We could just DO that. Go to ANY PLACE. That’s ALLOWED.

But you have to know this feeling, right? I think it’s mostly attached to doing things that we probably consider to be “adult” things to do, for whatever reason, and I’m sure everyone has different things that they consider to be “adult” things. But my plot, it’s not even a specifically adulty thing to do. It’s just a thing that, for some reason, I kind of deep-in-my-mindly assumed was for specific, somehow designated people to handle. And I just suddenly realized that those people had the same, “Hey, I want this, I’m DOING IT” moment that I had a couple of days ago.

Aside from the big stuff – buying a house, bringing home a baby from the hospital, getting married – what kinds of things do you kind of subconsciously put in the “other people, not me” category?

*****

So, this happens now, FINALLY:

Honestly, I told Noemi a while ago that while the first weeks of babyhood seriously blow, blow to the point that you eventually start to insist that it absolutely CANNOT BE DONE and a MISTAKE HAS BEEN MADE, everything starts to slowly chug uphill, rollercoaster-style, once you see the first smile. Truly, it’s just steady improvement from that moment on.

So I have to say, I’m expecting NAPS and I’m expecting less VOMIT and I’m expecting less PUNCHING ME AWAKE now that we’ve got laughing on the regular.

*****

Me: So this cat lives at our house.

Phil: No, he’s not our cat.

Me: Yeah, he doesn’t live IN our house – he lives AT our house.

Phil: He doesn’t live here. He lives under your car.

Me: And you feed him.

Phil: Well, yeah. Not expensive food, though. I buy him the cheap stuff.

Me: And you make sure he has water.

Phil: It’s hot out there.

Me: I saw him sitting on the table out there, on the blankets, yesterday.

Phil: Yeah, I put them there for him.

Me: That cat lives at our house.

*****

If ever a moment of my life should have been video taped, it was just a couple of minutes ago. The dogs were all riled up, horsing around with each other, and the more they wrestle, the more wound up they get. Calming them is a huge pain in the butt. Sheldon leaps around like a deer, bounding around the house, and has NEVER had ANY concept of where any part of his body is in space at any given moment.

So a lot of times, I just pull Penny up onto the couch in my arms and let them wrestle around. I have to hold onto her tightly, because our couch is terrible and even with me and Penny on it, their insane self-flinging bumps the couch and sends it scooting across the living room.

Right when I thought they had settled down – they were somewhere behind me, at least, I don’t know where – I put Penny in a seat and leaned back to stretch, because this baby is turning into a LOAD.

I leaned back over the arm of the couch, kind of into a corner between the couch and the love seat where we have a small end table, arms up above my head, arching my back and getting WAY out there – you know, the kind of stretch where if you don’t stop, you KNOW you’re going to cramp up your entire back, but you don’t stop anyway because it’s too good of a stretch?

Anyway, yeah, I was doing that.

WHEN OUT OF NOWHERE – okay, not accurate – WHEN OUT OF FROM BEHIND THE COUCH, Sheldon, who was not as calmed as I assumed, BIT MY BUN.

Not my BUNS. They were and remain to this moment planted on the couch.

My BUN. In my HAIR.

And my NEVER NAPPING BABY had fallen asleep.

So I am trapped in a stretch, arched over the arm of my couch, and SHELDON HAS ME BY THE HAIR.

I started SCREAM-hissing, “Sheldon! Drop! Sheldon! Drop! SHEEE-HEEEELLL-DON! LET ME GO!”

Anyway, spoiler alert, he let me go.

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This post mentions buttcracks, just like I did repeatedly at The Blathering.


I’ve been away. Not just away at The Blathering, which was this past weekend, but just kind of away in general. There’s been a lot going on for me, in terms of changes and shifting perspectives and I don’t know, some other words that imply that I was sitting on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy for two weeks (DONE, by the way). I got to talk about a lot of what’s been going on with some excellent women this weekend, so since I’ve now SAID it all, I feel like I can move on and start asking you about your in-laws and the assholes present in your general surroundings all over again.

*****

The Blathering basically ruled. I had a good time. I got some really good sleep. I had one of the worst headaches I’ve had in a long, LONG time, but rallied enough to sit around and talk about butts for a while. Thinking about it, I had some of the most over the line, foul, “I can’t believe we’re discussing this”-type conversations I’ve ever had in my life over the weekend. Women are DIRTY.

If you can, I encourage you to go to The Blathering next year. It wasn’t stressful or action-packed. It was just scheduled enough for time to see everyone, but plenty of time to break off and do the things you like to do, which for me usually includes a lot of sitting. Miranda was my partner in spotting a couch wherever there was one to be spotted, and I sat my way up and down South Congress.

If you can’t go to The Blathering next year or maybe just can’t wait until next year, I would encourage you to do this kind of thing with your Internet ladies anyway. I’m crazy impressed with the logistical skills of The Blathering organizers, but you could probably just pick a town and call three or four of your best Internet ladies in to lounge. And eat. You should do it. I am NOT a joiner, and blog-anything is NOT my thing, and I honestly don’t know why I decided this was the time, but I found the whole thing to be crazy beneficial in a lot of ways.

*****

I was in the Austin airport, shopping for souvenirs, and I felt someone standing behind me at the same shelf of doo-dads. Not one for shelf-sharing, I glanced over my shoulder and stepped away, walking back across the store and — OKAY NEVER MIND I CAN’T DRAW THIS OUT IT WAS SEELY BOOTH.

I left the gift shop and ran into Katie and Jen, flapping my hands and delivering my HUGE NEWS. We proceeded immediately to the gift shop, AS YOU DO. After having another peek or nine, I got on the phone. AS YOU DO. I got a text from Stephanie letting me know she was at gate 13, so I started that way to deliver my HUGE NEWS, but ran into Miranda on the way, sitting at a table and eating some ice cream. So I stood next to her and bellowed to my mom and sister, “SEELY BOOTH, YOU GUYS. HE WAS RIGHT BY ME. SEELY BOOOOOOOTH.”

THEN I decided to head down and get Stephanie to bring her to Miranda and I. I only got two steps away before I discovered Mr. Boreanaz sitting DIRECTLY ON THE OTHER SIDE of the sign next to our table.

SPECTACULAR.

So I sat back down and called Stephanie instead, to let her know what was going on by doing my best Chandler Bing impression.

Chandler: Eye app ina ah deem best ool ih ill ood ker.

Joey: HE’S TRAPPED IN AN ATM VESTIBULE WITH JILL GOODACRE!

Jen and Katie and Stephanie all eventually joined Miranda and I and our new pal Angel, and we all had ice cream and Salt Lick BBQ. Eventually we scattered, and then I was joined by Sarah Lena and Kate and Jess, all at various points.

I just spent more time describing the airport than I did The Blathering, but you know what, The Blathering was such a good time that even the airport experience was notable.

SEELY BOOOOOOOTH.

*****

For a long time, when I would brush my teeth at night, I’d wipe my mouth on Phil’s towel when I was done, and I would think, “Hee hee hee, you’re wiping your clean self with my toothpaste spit!,” because I am a hilarious prankster and I also always leave my towel on the floor somewhere around the house.

But after a few days or weeks or actually, probably months of this, I informed him of my stealth spitting and he said, “Uh… you know I use that to wipe my ass, right?”

Listen, no matter how much you try to tell yourself, “But at least it’s a freshly CLEANED butt crack…,” it doesn’t work.

*****

Here’s my baby:

“Um, it’s nice that you’re back and all, but where’s Dad?”

“My lip gloss? Smashbox Fresh Drool. Very exclusive. No offense, you probably can’t afford it.”

*****

OH MAN, THE SWEET PEA IN A POD DRAWING, YOU GUYS!

The winner is Thanks: Management! Hooray! (We went to high school together!)

I will put you in touch with Sweet Pea in a Pod.

EVERYONE ELSE, remember the discount code! TJ15!

*****

I was serious above. You should totally just get together with your Internet people. It’s worth it. It is. You know, there’s a $35 hotel on base, we have two couches and a recliner in which to sit, and I can drive to Target AND the other Target now, so… just putting it out there.

*****

You know what was great about being away for a bit? It wasn’t that I got great sleep (I did), or hung out with awesome people (I did), or had some amazing food (I did). It was how quickly and efficiently I got things done.

When I had somewhere to be? I showered, dressed, did my hair and then did my makeup. All in a row. All in one fell swoop.

But on Thursday, before I left? I was going to go have dinner with Brooke and Brie, and I had to start getting ready AT NOON.

NOON. To meet Brooke at nearly SIX.

Because that’s how long it takes. In the hotel? 45 minutes, start to finish. In my house? FIVE AND A HALF HOURS.

And that’s why I’ve been writing this post since 9am.

*****

So, which Blathering attendees do you want to hear some gossip about? I will make some up ON THE SPOT for you.

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Eyebrows, television friends, someone else’s hair, and THE BEST KIND OF MONEY.


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.

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Diapers! For you! And an accent vlog! For the naggers!


 

If you’ve been around here forever, you know I used to do vlogs all the time. Your sense of continuity and familiarity will be soothed to know that I have become no less awkward with time.

*****

Diapers!

Sweet Pea in a Pod is responsible for the awesome diaper package I am giving away today. The winner will be able to choose boy or girl colors. This is an AWESOME giveaway, so tell your cloth diapering friends about it.

As I mentioned in the video, starting on Sunday, you can use the code TJ15 for a 15% discount at the store (not valid on custom orders or ring slings).

You should know that while I do have an advertisement for Sweet Pea in a Pod in the sidebar of this site, I was not in any way compensated for doing this giveaway. I just really enjoy giving away cloth diapers, and I really like the owners of the shop. Good diapers, good shop, everyone wins.

Well, only one person will win. You know what I mean. We’re all winners in the sense that — look, just enter.

*****

Accent Vlog!

I maintain that I am an accentless individual.

Say the following words:
Aunt, route, wash, oil, theatre, iron, salmon, caramel, fire, water, sure, data, ruin, crayon, toilet, New Orleans, pecan, both, again, probably, spitting image, Alabama, lawyer, coupon, mayonnaise, syrup, pajamas, caught

And answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that curls into a ball when you touch it?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

I dreamed I wrote this post and when I woke up, I was irritated I had to do it over.


I’ve been so tired lately. New medications do that, I know that, and it eventually goes away. But adding to the tiredness – intensifying it, I think – is also an inability to work up a good outrage. I haven’t been able to get a good righteous outrage going in days. Even the most irritating things have elicited no more than an eye roll, or a lazy stabbing of the unfollow/unfriend/un-in-my-face button.

My blogging style is very difficult to maintain if I’m incapable of working up some outrage.

*****

It’s almost time for The Blathering. I need to get my eyebrows done, and I need to get a haircut. I’ve always gotten my eyebrows done at a nail salon or wherever, and I’ve never really made an effort to seek out a hair salon because up until a few years ago, I wore the same hairstyle my whole life. Then I had a nice hairstyle for a while, and then when I would try to get it maintained, it would come out looking like a muffin. So. I basically quit that.

The thing is, I have no idea how to go about getting a decent haircut or getting my eyebrows done correctly. I don’t have especially nice eyebrows. Actually, I don’t have nice eyebrows at all. The weirdly shaped and have no arch and there’s no really good way to make them into anything. I need to find an eyebrow artist. I need someone to make something out of this mess.

The same with my hair. I need a nice haircut. But it can’t be anything that requires work. And I’ve got this phobia – something I probably should have outgrown in the late 90s – of ending up with The Rachel.

Remember when daytime talk shows were doing makeovers left and right, usually of rebellious, slutty teens, and they would always come out after their fixing up in a blazer and with THE RACHEL? I’m afraid of getting The Rachel. The Rachel wouldn’t suit me. I had one perfect hair cut once, and no matter how I describe it, no matter how I ask, no matter how many PICTURES OF MYSELF WITH THAT HAIRCUT I bring, no one can replicate it. It’s always disasterous. And muffiny. So now I’m afraid of The Rachel and I’m afraid of The Muffin.

I don’t want to be A Friend and I don’t want to be a Breakfast Pastry, and I have made it all the way to adulthood without knowing how to find a salon that can do a normal haircut and do something with my weird eyebrows. I don’t even know how to begin to look for one. And the thing is, The Blathering is next week. So, I need to get a haircut and I need to get my eyebrows done, and I will only have one shot at it, because there is not that much time.

I cannot go to The Blathering as a muffin with crazy-ass-brows. Assbrows. I know I just said that.

*****

I started using Pinterest. I’m trying to get into it, but it’s not working for me.

It’s not that I’m trying to act like I’m above doing whatever is popular, therefore I hate Pinterest. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t even hate Pinterest. I just don’t think it’s for me. I think it’s because I’m completely lacking in aspirations. I think you need to be the type of person with aspirations to really get a lot out of Pinterest.

*****

I started watching Grey’s Anatomy for the first time late last week, and I plan to be caught up very soon, because when I sit down to marathon something, I mean business. So, hop in your time machine and crank it back a couple of years so that we’re on the same page. Here are some things I’ve decided about the show:

- I find Meredith Grey kind of unappealing.

- The whole first two seasons where Shepherd and Meredith took turns wanting and not wanting each other – come on, people. Self-respect. Also, I don’t get what’s so great about McDreamy. I mean, okay, he’s good looking and he’s a brain surgeon, and that’s all well and good. But his character development in the beginning was kind of weak if it was meant to inspire such undying love in Meredith. He’s not particularly funny. He doesn’t seem to go out of his way to be particularly thoughtful. I don’t know. I don’t get it.

- More McSteamy in a towel is welcome aaaaany time now.

- Oh, Denny.

- I’ve found myself getting way more invested in patients than any of the actual main cast. I’m frustrated with the whole Grey-Shepherd thing, I think. I don’t like when I don’t understand why something is happening but I’m expected to accept it. I’m expected to accept that Grey and Shepherd have this chemistry and this incredible draw toward each other, and I guess as the seasons have gone on, they’ve become more filled out, but at the start, there just wasn’t enough to either of the characters to make it make sense for me.

- I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY MEREDITH IS SO SAD ALL THE TIME.

- SOMETIMES WHEN SHE SMILES SHE LOOKS LIKE THE JOKER.

- Lots of unbelievable things happened so far in this show. Penis fish. Conjoined twins. Penis piercing caught on an IUD. Lots of stuff. But Izzy not cashing an $8.7 million check? I THROW MY HANDS IN THE AIR.

No, but seriously. I’m enjoying it. Probably the last person in the world to catch on to this show, and like most medical shows, I expect it to start to slide rapidly downhill at any time now, so that by the time I’m caught up to the most current season, I will be bewildered and disgusted.

Marathoning television shows is a very satisfying way to do things, and I look forward to doing it with Penny some day.

*****

I am really impatient to get to the phase of DOING THINGS with Penny. Sure, we could do things with her now – the zoo, pumpkin patch, that kind of stuff – but right now, it would definitely be for us and not so much for her. I want to get to the phase where we can do fun things together, for her benefit. Kid museums and I don’t know, other kid stuff. Or even just in the house stuff. Playing a game or doing some kind of craft, assuming that by the time she is of craft age, I have grown into a person who crafts. Maybe Pinterest can grow me into a person who crafts.

Anyway, people say not to wish away babyhood, because it goes so fast. And I get that, that it goes fast, but I don’t think I’m going to miss it. I mean, I’m experiencing it as it is happening, and that’s enough for me. I’m not a baby person. I have to admit that. I am not a baby person. The baby phase seems like a trial I need to get through to get to the parts of kid-having that I think I will enjoy.

AND IT’S NOT that I’m not enjoying Penny. I do enjoy Penny. I just don’t enjoy the fact that she’s a baby. Which doesn’t sound right, I guess. I’d just like this part to be over so I can get to the good parts, understanding that some people do consider right NOW to be one of the good parts. That’s just not me.

*****

I don’t know. That’s all today, I guess.

Even my text looks tired and apathetic.


I started a new medication recently, and when I am not sleeping, I am mostly thinking about sleeping. And if I am not sleeping or thinking about sleeping, I am clinging to the arms of my chair or to the wall or one time, to the floor, because dizzy spells are almost knocking me down on the regular. I care about very little other than sleep and trying to keep my eyeballs steady.

Other than that, I feel pretty good.

*****

Penny is in a phase. This video was taken in the dark, so you will likely not see much, but you will quickly notice that the picture isn’t the point of this video anyway.

She also has been putting in a lot of serious time at The Office, as well.

That was also a video. If you are reading this and you see no videos, I’m not lying to you. You need to click through, or you need to just not see the videos.

Another phase that I have NOT videoed is the dreaded Four Month Wakeful.

It’s a thing, and it’s terrible.

*****

We just bought our plane tickets to Pennsylvania for Christmas. When do we have to tell the airline people that we will have a lap baby?

I’m already overwhelmed about this trip. Those seats and rows are already so small, and now I will have to share my space with a baby as well. And I’ll have to carry a diaper bag with SO MANY DIAPERS. And bottles. And formula. And what if they try to put her through the scanner or what if they want to give the baby a pat down? I can’t let someone pat down my baby. Christmas would be totally ruined.

Taking cloth diapers on an extended trip that includes a cross country flight is going to be pretty interesting. Or gross. Probably gross. But I’m doing it. I know that you want to helpfully suggest that maybe we could use disposable at least while we are flying, but I’m really not interested in doing that. We might use disposable liners, though, to keep the amount of poop hauled to a minimum.

*****

I thought about doing the accent vlog because a lot of people who are going to The Blathering have done it as a way to kind of get to know each other beforehand, but as you can see above, Penny is having a PHASE and Sheldon also talks (I don’t know if you knew that) and it’s just too loud in here.

Would have been boring, anyway, as I am an accentless individual.

*****

I feel like I should tell you that once I have an adequate supply of cloth diapers that I am pleased with, I have no intention of stopping my purchasing of cloth diapers. I like them, and I will continue to buy them, and I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that I would have 100 or more by the time Penny potty trains (although, apparently, we say “potty LEARN” these days, which I don’t get so much).

Does the number of diapers I have matter to you at all? No. But I want to make sure that you know, if you’re considering cloth, that the way I choose to do it – with too many diapers of all different sorts – should not be considered at ALL an example of what you need to do to cloth diaper.

Cloth diapering can be – and really, IS – much more simple than I make it out to be with my collection of diapers and different diapers for different situations and fitteds and all in twos and separate wash routines for different kinds of diapers. The entry to cloth diapers is MUCH MORE SIMPLE than my example would lead you to believe. So you shouldn’t be intimidated away from cloth because of how I do things. You can email me any time with questions about much easier ways to do things.

*****

Here are some things about television that I hate:

1. When talk show hosts talk over their guests or make them look like idiots for the sake of making a joke. I mean, I get your job is to make jokes and be entertaining, but these are your GUESTS. You should be POLITE. If Gordon Ramsey is trying to teach you how to cook something, just COOK IT.

2. The way that people in movies and on television take forever to answer the phone. If you’re going to answer, answer. I totally would have hung up by then.

3. They also take forever to answer the door! How long is some schmuck supposed to stand out there?

4. AND THEY NEVER SAY GOODBYE WHEN THEY HANG UP THE PHONE.

5. And sometimes two characters are having a conversation, and the scene changes to somewhere else, and they’re at the same point in the conversation. What, did you walk to this new location in silence?

6. I know it’s just PART of how things are, but apartments are unrealistically large for their location and the salary of the characters.

*****

What shows should I be watching this fall? I’m all discombobulated on television. This is my first fall television season with a baby, and I don’t find myself sitting down to watch too often, except for How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory, because Phil and I watch those together.

I like to spend my evening hours in bed these days (I think I was tucked in before 7 last night), but I do have access to multiple DVRs and Hulu, and I am ready to give your recommendations a chance, unless they’re crappy.

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