Thursday, January 12th, 2012
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:
1. Count Yak-ula.
2. She had a yak-cident.
Posted in daily BS, Penny, shameless consumerism | 67 Comments »
Monday, January 9th, 2012
Hey! Penny is eight months old! A while ago! But she’s not nine months old yet, so… victory!
So, my daughter. What a delightful little asshole she is. Let me tell you about her.
Words: None.
Movement: Can still only roll back to belly. No locomotion.
Teeth: Two!
Firsts: Christmas. Plane rides. Waves.
Loves: Riding in the shopping cart, obvs. Collecting adoration from retirees in the Commissary.
We shop a lot, okay?
Food-based likes: Noodles, apples, bananas, puffs, waffles, banana toast, broccoli, chicken noodle soup, chili, whatever you are eating right now what’s that you got there I want it.
Music-based likes: The Rocky Theme, 90s summer hits, anything with the word “Penny” in it, any song that can be altered to be about Penny. Dashboard Confessional.
Hates: Having her nose touched.
Annoying features: The two fisted punch of teething and travel-related sleep disturbances. Weird raspberry/spitting thing.
Weird-ass features: Squawks. Shrieks. Shakes with excitement over just about anything, but mostly approaching food. Bounces while laying on her back or while being held. I don’t know, you’ve got to see this shit to believe it. She’s an odd one, this Penelope.
Finds hilarious: Fake sneezes. When an adult mimics her weird-ass bouncing. Sheldon. Attempts to “eat her belly.” Weird jokes that only she understands.
Finds terrifying: Other babies.
Anyway, Penny hasn’t really made any super developments over her last month. We were really busy with the holidays, of course, and she did great. She was perfectly content to be passed around strangers and was a champion flyer. She cleaned up at Christmas, gift-wise, and loves every single present equally. So she thinks. I have not yet broken out the parachute.
I’ve thought this before, but I think it again this last month – it seems like we’re really figuring this stuff out. She started out this shrieking mystery of unnamed needs, but at this point, we know at a glance what’s up with her. We know when she’s tired, when she wants to eat, how much she’ll probably eat, how to calm her down, how to put her to sleep, how to handle her in public, how to distract her when she’s about to lose her mind, how to make her laugh, how to entertain her. It wasn’t that many months ago that I didn’t think that any of that would ever be possible.
I know that eventually we’ll hit some terrible phases, but at the moment, we continue on the uphill climb that started when she started smiling. Which she still does. All the time.
And she also waves, which is hilarious, because while at first it looked like she was waving “hi” and “bye” appropriately, now it seems she waves to signal that she’s tired or cranky or wound up. She definitely waves, she just doesn’t exactly get when she’s supposed to.
She also recognizes Phil as “daddy,” but hasn’t quite put together yet that I’m “mama.” I don’t really refer to myself that way – you know, “Mama’s here,” or “Mama’s got you,” or “Mama is going to put you in the closet if you don’t can it.” I probably should, but while I talk to her ALL DAY LONG, talking in that way doesn’t really come too naturally to me. Phil’s great at talking to her and playing with her and reading to her. I, on the other hand, basically talk to her all day like she’s a girlfriend come to visit and hang out while I do laundry. She’ll probably call me “Hey.”
Whatevs. That’s fine. We know we’re buds, and that’s what counts.
You know what month eight really was? The month it started boggling us how different she’s become. We can’t believe it. We say, “Remember when she… ” and “Remember how she looked when… ”
It’s not that she’s gotten so big, exactly. It’s more like… was she really ever that SMALL?
Can no longer be counted on to just LEAVE THAT BEAR ALONE FOR TWO SECONDS I JUST NEED TO TAKE ONE PICTU– COME ON!
Posted in Penny | 19 Comments »
Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011
This is the first year that I’ve had a blog, I think, that I haven’t even attempted NaBloPoMo. It is more NaBloDon’t-Po-No-Mo’ for me, I think. I don’t know. I don’t have any excuses and I’m not going to apologize, I just haven’t really made it around these parts too often in the last few weeks. There’s tons to read this month, though. I’ve noticed that a lot of newer bloggers are really putting a lot of effort into NaBloPoMo, while some older bloggers are doing it but REALLY phoning it in.
I’m just saying. I’ve NOTICED.
*****
The power is going to be off for a significant amount of time on Wednesday. That’s pretty much no big for me, except for the fact that neither of our laptops is holding a charge for any length of time, so laptoppery is pretty much out of the question. Penny’s basically battery powered, so I don’t have to worry about her, so I spent a little while the other night loading my Kindle up with all sorts of books. One book wouldn’t be enough, because I like to start several before I decide which one will have my attention for the duration, and then repeat for the next book.
Anyway, I sat on my Kindle.
(“This is why I buy extended warranties. Because of your butt.” — Phil)
There’s a new one coming on Wednesday, so it’s really not totally traumatic, except for the fact that WHAT WILL I DO ON WEDNESDAY? With no power? And a baby?
Phil said, “Well, you could take her to the library.”
AHAHAAA HAHAAAA — wait, you don’t follow me on Twitter, do you? So you don’t know why that’s hilarious? And that the base library is my absolute nemesis forever and ever?
Well, trust me. It is. Up that place’s.
And then I realized I wouldn’t have my Kindle for bed time, which is tragic. Because I’ve been taking a medication that makes me not sleep. At all. And I need something to do while I just lay there, forever.
Phil said, “Well, you could read an actual BOOK.”
“NO. ALL OUR BOOKS ARE STUPID. I READ THEM ALL. I HATE PAPER.”
So you know what I did? I didn’t take my medication last night. And I fell ASLEEP! I was sleeping like I’d been doing it my whole life. It was incredible.
Penny got a shot yesterday, so the incredibleness lasted about 24 minutes. Those things will fuck a baby up, seriously.
This whole section had no real point. I broke my Kindle with my butt.
*****
PICKLE BREAK.
*****
You know, I’m not really scared about putting pictures of Penny on the Internet. I know people can see her. I also take her places, and plenty of people see her there.
I know the fears people have. That a certain kind of person will see the pictures and think thoughts about them. Or save them to a hard drive to think thoughts about them at will. And I don’t like that idea. I don’t like it at all. But the thing is, I don’t feel like I can stop that from happening in life in general.
I have to tell you, all the craziest people I have met? I met them in REAL LIFE. I can keep pictures of Penny off the Internet, but what am I supposed to do in the mall? At a playground? Places where these certain kinds of people may actually GO. They might BE there. To look. And to save those pictures in their minds.
I don’t know. I could be totally naive, but I don’t feel like pictures of Penny online put Penny at anymore physical risk than she is in real life. And I don’t feel that someone looking at her pictures and thinking thoughts is any more likely to happen due to someone coming across my website than it is due to me taking her places where children go, and where people who like children may also go.
This is a weird topic to talk about. It’s okay if you disagree with me.
I DO have a fear about Penny’s pictures online, though. I don’t know if this happens as often as it used to – and oh lawd, back in the early days of blogs, it happened ALL THE TIME – but I am afraid of pictures of Penny being used for deception.
You know, where someone stumbles across a cache of pictures of the same baby and makes a fake blog – always a sob story. Cancer, some rare disease, anything. Or even maybe just a fake life. Whatever. But they portray someone else’s baby as their own.
THAT is my concern with posting Penny on the Internet. That someone will steal her pictures and claim her as her own. Does that actually hurt me in any way? No. But if you’ve been blogging forever, you’ve been burned by one of these people, and you know how it feels. I would hate to have Penny any part of that.
I only post pictures of Penny on THIS blog. I have NO other blogs (aside from Penny’s Tumblr). If you see Penny somewhere else, PENNY HAS BEEN NABBED BY AN INTERNET BABY NABBER. In a non-physical way, because, come on. Try to nab my baby from me in person. Just try it. I will come at you like a fucking spider monkey.
If you ever see my baby ANYWHERE, anywhere at ALL, and you are concerned that it wasn’t me who posted her picture, PLEASE let me know. Even if you’re just not sure. Let me know. I went through a lot of shit for this baby and I won’t have someone else claiming my efforts.
“It’s understandable, of course. I am one fine-ass baby.”
*****
Hey, I don’t really know what kind of toys and stuff to get Penny for Christmas. What do you get an 8 month old for Christmas?
Don’t give me that, “Oh, don’t get her anything, she won’t remember!” or “Just wrap up some of her current toys, she won’t know the difference!” Save that shit for your second, less awesome, less loved children.
Right now, she’s really into stuff like Steve Canada – things that crinkle and what not. But she’s sitting a bit now, and I expect that to improve, so I figure she needs some toys for babies who can sit upright. I have no idea. Are the age ranges on toys generally pretty accurate? Because if so, the toys for Penny’s age look pretty dull. I mean, my baby isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I’d like to give her a little credit. Or at least a little incentive to hone her edge a bit. Because, come on. Peek-a-boo, Penny. This is basic stuff.
We aren’t going apeshit, we do intend to keep things small this year, because you’re right, jerks, she won’t remember. But we will. But I’d like to know what went over well with your kids in the 6-12 month range. Like her jumperoo – she goes apeshit for that thing. I’d like a couple ideas that inspire apeshittery in babies. Every parent wants to be a Christmas hero, right?
Seriously, what do you get babies for Christmas? I already have pajamas for her, and a wooden worm. What are your babies and former babies into?
*****
Normally, I’d write another thousand words here, but have I told you that Penny, the incredible non-napping baby, is on a NAP SCHEDULE? Six months, you guys. It pretty much rules.
Posted in daily BS, Penny | 77 Comments »
Wednesday, September 14th, 2011
You know what I hate? (“Everything!”) (That’s not true, Internet.) I hate when someone puts me in a position where I have to be confrontational, and not only that, a position where I am automatically the bad guy for saying anything. So my choice is either to sit and silently deal with something that is bothering me OR be the asshole, and neither of those is a good option FOR ME.
This usually happens when someone decides, of their own accord, that they’re going to do something nice for you. Except, you never asked them to do this nice thing for you. See, you already think I’m the asshole, but it’s not like it hasn’t happened to you.
Once is no big deal, but sometimes someone gets it in their head that they’re going to do an ongoing nice thing for you. Or they’ve set up some kind of… system or whatever… that will repeat the nice thing for you. I’m saying, maybe they do a nice thing one time, but maybe they do this nice thing OFTEN, either with effort or through some kind of set up that repeats the event without any maintenance, effort or money or anything on their side. I’m trying to give you a wide description here so that you can think of a situation in your own life that fits, so that I get a little sympathy over here on the asshole side of things. So take a second, and work yourself into this mindset.
Anyway, person is doing something nice for you – or something that they think is nice, if that makes sense. Something they have assumed you will appreciate or enjoy. And you didn’t ask for it – not because you didn’t want to impose, but because it’s not something you really appreciate or enjoy. It’s a basically harmless something, though, so maybe you can ignore it for a while, but eventually, it just GETS UNDER YOUR SKIN.
OKAY, MY SKIN. IT IS UNDER MY SKIN.
Why should I have to ignore it? Maybe I would like for it to stop, you know? But you basically HAVE TO IGNORE IT, because the person is being nice. If someone does something with the intention of being nice, you have absolutely no choice but to just accept it FOREVER, unless you want to be the asshole.
“I was just trying to be nice” is basically an inarguable defense. You hear that and you’re the asshole. No matter what.
So it can’t just be a simple matter of asking the person to stop, because they were trying to be nice. To indicate that their unrequested niceness is not 100% appreciated makes you the asshole, no matter what. And who wants to be the asshole? Either because you don’t want other people to think you’re an asshole, or because you don’t want to be perceived as an asshole by the person who was just trying to be nice to you, you know? I mean, you don’t want to HURT FEELINGS. You just want the thing to STOP.
And you know what ends up happening? Resentment gets all built up. Against the person who is just TRYING to be NICE. Because by being nice, they are forcing you to accept their niceness or be a total ASS PANDA, when you’re probably not an ass panda at ALL. By being nice, this person is forcing you to submit to something you DON’T WANT, or to be something that you don’t really think you are.
But you see, no matter what I say here, half the people reading are thinking, “You sound really ungrateful. Someone was just trying to do something nice for you.”
“Hey, do you mind not doing that anymore?”
“Well, I was just TRYING to be NICE.”
“You know, I’d really rather do that myself.”
“Well, I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE.”
“Can you stop stabbing me in the eye?”
“BEING NICE.”
YOU CANNOT WIN when someone is “JUST TRYING TO BE NICE.”
*****
Sometimes I feel like my entire day is one of those problems where you’ve got a goose, and a goose eater, and a pile of whatever geese eat, and for some reason, you can only fit one at a time in your boat, and you want to take them across the river instead of just leaving the whole damn lot to fend for themselves because, come on, they don’t have geese or goose food on the other side of the river?
What I have, though, is not goose-related. I have Penny, I have two dogs, and I have laundry, and sometimes I also need to use the bathroom.
I have to wait until Penny is asleep or at least content someplace secure before I go hang the laundry, because I can’t hang the laundry and carry her, and I’m not strapping her into her wrap for a two minute trip. And I need both dogs to come with me while I hang the laundry, because while I have NO CONCERNS about my dogs and the baby, I don’t leave them alone together, ever, because that is just how it’s done here.
The trouble is, the clothesline is around the corner of the yard, and Sheldon jumps the fence when he feels like no one is looking. We have not yet purchased an electric fence, but it is on our list, so slow your scroll, there, comment jumper. I take the diapers to hang on the line, and I need to wait for Sheldon to do his business, and then somehow convince him to stand next to me while I hang diapers, without knocking me over or stealing any diapers or think that me hanging them out of reach on the line is a FUN CHALLENGE.
And I have to be fast, because as soon as Penny realizes that my eyeballs are not fixated on her, as they should be even as she slumbers, she will LOSE HER GODDAMNED MIND.
I’ve got using the bathroom down to a 36 second science, saving anything elaborate for when Phil comes home, because alone time in the bathroom is a luxury I do not want to squander by sharing it. If Penny is awake and feeling needy (often), I tuck her in the Bumbo and set her on the bathroom floor. If she’s asleep, I leave her where she is, which leaves me with the dogs. Sheldon can usually be convinced to stand in the bathtub, because he’s an idiot, while Brinkley will do anything for a scratch on the head. We need a bigger bathroom.
Construction of Pennysylvania begins next week, and will be a completely baby-proofed safe zone, gated off from the rest of the house, that will keep her and the dogs separate without me having to put her in a cabinet for safe keeping while I just try to go without an audience.
*****
You know what else I hate? (“Everything?”) (Let it rest, Internet.) I hate when something breaks, or doesn’t work the way it should, or is unnecessarily complicated, and you SAY as much, and someone tells you a workaround, as if you hadn’t thought of it. I mean, maybe sometime you HADN’T thought of it, but most times, you’re just saying, “Hey, it should work this way.”
It’s like if you walked into your office and said, “It’s so annoying that Big Main Road that leads to the office is still closed! It’s been forever, this is really an unreasonable amount of time for a road to be closed, especially a large highway such as that!”
And someone says, “Well, you can go the back way. It’s only 10 minutes more.”
And you’re like, “… I’m here. I got here, to the office, where you are speaking to me. I know there’s another way. I used it. TO GET HERE. I’m just saying, I shouldn’t HAVE to.”
Or an example on Twitter. If you don’t use Twitter, let me quickly explain that your timeline can be public, for all to see, or locked, so that only those you allow can see your timeline.
If you come across a locked account and you would like access to follow that person, you send a request for that person to approve or deny.
When someone follows me, I check out their timeline to see if they’re a real person and someone who looks enjoyable to me. If they are, I follow back. Well, that’s how I used to do things, and my new way presents even more problems, but ANYWAY.
When someone who has a private account follows me, I can’t check out their timeline without requesting to be allowed to follow them. You’re forced to follow someone to find out if you even want to follow them.
I understand why some people want to have locked accounts and I’m not going to argue with them. But I think that if YOU, with a locked account, follow ME, it SHOULD COUNT as approval for me to see your Tweets. I shouldn’t have to go through the approval process. You wanted to follow me, so it should be assumed that you’d like me to follow you back so we can talk.
If you mention this issue on Twitter, three things will happen:
1. Some people will agree, because THIS MAKE SENSE.
2. A bunch of people will get all huffy because they don’t read well and assume you’re campaigning against locked accounts in general.
3. Someone will say, “Well, you can just request to follow and then unfollow right away if you don’t like them.”
I KNOW I CAN DO THAT, THREES. I just SHOULDN’T HAVE TO.
I get tons of spam Twitter followers, just like everyone else, and some days are worse than others and my inbox is just flooded with “new follower” messages from Twitter. I’ve started to ignore them. When someone talks to me, I check to see if I’m following them, and if I’m not, I follow back. If I’m not following you back on Twitter, it’s probably because you followed me and then never spoke to me. Your perogative, but I’m just explaining.
Anyway, if you follow me from a locked account and then you talk to me, I can’t see it. Even if you @ me. Because your account is locked. That is why I think that if your account is locked and you follow me, your account should become visible to me. It just makes sense.
Shut up, threes!
“We were just trying to be helpful.”
I fucking hate you, threes.
*****
NOW HIRING: STYLIST
Must demonstrate concern for dignity of baby.
“What… what is going ON here?”
“Is she KIDDING me with this?”
“What the shit IS THIS? I don’t remember buying ANY of this.”
Posted in Brinkley + Sheldon, daily BS, Penny | 76 Comments »
Friday, September 9th, 2011
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?
Posted in Bloggers who aren't me, cloth diapers, daily BS, Penny, shameless consumerism | 98 Comments »
Tuesday, September 6th, 2011
I know I said I’d write about diapers over the weekend, but I didn’t do that. I don’t really have an excuse for myself. Sometimes I tell the Internet I’m going to do something and then I don’t do it. I should feel more ashamed than I do, but I’m incorrigible. I was hanging out with my kid and also Phil. We didn’t do anything crazy. I just didn’t write about the diapers yet. I will. Of course. Because, ha.
The truth is that I also kind of got overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by my diaper collection. Yet as soon as I finish this post, I will go back to working on some other writing, the kind that people pay me for in dollars, not silence, to squirrel away funds in my PayPal account for more diapers. So.
*****
A while back, Swistle mentioned liking this young adult book called The True Meaning of Smekday, and I added it to my “to read” shelf in Goodreads. Then? One day? IT JUST SHOWED UP AT MY HOUSE. Because that is the kind of thing that happens when you’re friends with a lady like Swistle.
(When I was first on bed rest? Swistle sent me some brownies, and not only were they fantastic, she also sent along little plates with them, because she’s thoughtful like that. And you think that’s the end, but no – she left the Target clearance sticker on the plates, because she and I are kindred spirits of the orange sticker – I swear, I have orange-sticker-seeking laser eyeballs when I walk through Target. And she understands that. I feel like Swistle and I are the same people in alternate universes that are entirely the same, except in hers, the me/her can handle five kids, while in mine, the me/her is in a constant state of shrillness over just ONE kid.)
Anyway, Swistle sent me that book and within one chapter, I was totally charmed by it. It’s a cute book, and it’s funny. I feel like some of the jokes might go over the head of the youngest of the YA book reading age range, but not over the heads of adults. There’s a lot of humor that is based on the writing style of the author, which I can appreciate, and I don’t know how to compare myself to a published author without sounding like an asshole, so let’s first all accept that I’m an asshole, and then I’ll go ahead and do it so it’s not a surprise. Anyway, the writing style and tone reminded me, in some places in the book, of my own writing and style and tone, which probably enhances my enjoyment of the book, because I am my own biggest fan. Because I’m an asshole.
I haven’t even gotten to my point yet. So I was reading along in this book and it’s charming and entertaining, but the age of the main character – 11 and a half – takes a huge bite out of the believability for me. So I mentally adjusted her age to 14, and now this book about an alien takeover is much more realistic.
This is just like the other day when Phil started telling me a story about how he was trying to take a shower but the water was too hot because this is Phoenix and the water comes out of the ground hot (which is what leads to a sweaty toilet embrace), and I was waiting for the conclusion to the story, but that was it. This is just like that. I thought there was more of a thing when I started typing this part of the post, but I was wrong. Water comes out of the ground hot, doesn’t get cold. End.
*****
Volunteering for things is really big in the Air Force, probably in all of the military, but I don’t know about that. Just this morning Phil forwarded me the flier of a volunteer opportunity he is going to join – making little beanies and blankets for children in Phoenix Children’s Hospital, where Penny recently stayed.
And I know that this particular opportunity doesn’t apply to most of you, but should you ever get a chance to participate in some kind of children’s hospital volunteer event, I really, really urge you to do it.
When Penny was in the NICU, she was provided with a couple of little hats, hand-knitted by volunteers, which was so sweet. But on top of that, and what still gets me, is that there was this senior citizens volunteer group, and they worked with the NICU people on scrap booking. And Penny had been in the NICU for a day, maybe a day and a half, and this group had asked for her name and got to work. And they made this sign that said PENNY, with cut out letters, matted on several pink and purple pieces of paper, and there were “girly” stickers, like a high heel, and there was a little wooden bird attached – I would look, but I’m not sure where it is right now and I feel like such an asshole about it. Anyway, they hung this little sign that said “PENNY” from her monitor, the one that kept track of her heart rate and O2 sats, that we stared at ALL OF THE TIME. Her name was written on a little white board next to her isolette, with her weight and her nurse’s name, and that was fine, but every kid in that NICU got a scrap booked sign of their name hung up next to their bed.
I guess that sounds kind of lame when I write it out, but that, plus the hats, plus the people who pushed a cart of complimentary hot coffee and other drinks around for families at Phoenix Children’s, plus the ones who brought around games and books and all of that, it really sticks out in my mind. I mean, my kid was in the hospital twice – one 8 day stretch and one 5 day stretch, very sick both times, and I distinctly remember the efforts of these volunteers.
I just think that if you get a chance, you should. I know that the whole point of a volunteer opportunity is to be selfless and do something without reward or thanks or whatever, but I know I personally am a person who is a little more encouraged by results (see above re: asshole), so I’m telling you. It matters to people.
*****
Dear Medela, GTFO.
Hey, so, I returned the rented Medela Symphony we had picked up after Penny came out of the hospital this last time. We got it because she needed to be on high cal formula for a while, and it was easier to keep track of her intake using bottles. So I could pump and add some formula to the expressed milk to bring up the calorie count of that as well, but I’ve never been able to pump too much. So mostly, Penny got formula, plus I would pump enough to make sure that one to two of her bottles each day was breast milk, with the added benefit of keeping up the supply for her eventual, hopeful return to nursing.
And you know what? It just didn’t work out. I’ve never been able to pump too much. Some women and pumps just don’t get along too well, you know? So it’s not like I was building up this enormous freezer supply while doing this. Enough for her to get one bottle a day, most days, as well as maybe put an ounce or two away in the freezer.
And exclusively pumping is so stressful. It’s so by the clock. You can’t just hope she naps and do it then. It’s got to be regular. And sometimes your baby needs you during those times and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re pumping. And if you do wait until she’s asleep, then the time that you would normally use to do things like dishes and laundry and showers and peeing gets taken up by pumping. Plus? That Symphony is no effing joke. Pain. Lots of pain.
I’d been through the whole thing before, the pumping and formula, when Penny was brand new and it took 6 weeks for her to learn how to nurse, and I was glad to be past it, because breastfeeding was just easier. Feeding the baby was no longer a two hour process of bottle, feed, pump, store, and things could get done and everyone was happier.
So I started pumping again with the idea that we’d get back to those easy times, but I realized after only a couple of weeks that it just wasn’t going to work. Going back to that stressful, clock-watching, supply-worrying time was just not on. It was making me resentful and cranky, and it’s just not the relationship that I want to have with Penny with regard to feeding.
So I took it back to the store with a couple of weeks left to go on the rental. I nurse Penny in the morning when she wakes up and in the evening before bed, and I don’t expect that will last too much longer, because both of those nursing sessions are followed up by a hefty bottle. It’s not even enough for two feedings, the supply. It started ticking down when she got sick and too weak to nurse properly, and I just don’t have it in me – I’ll be honest, I just don’t WANT to do what’s necessary to restore and keep it up.
Once those feedings are no longer happening, we’ll dole out the very small freezer stash, one bottle a day, until it’s gone. I’ll stretch out the breast milk as long as I can, but when it’s done – a week? two? Maybe a month? – that’s it.
I’m not saying this because I feel like I owe the Internet an explanation, or because I need your approval. I’m just saying it. There’s a lot of stuff wrapped up into this decision, with guilt and “best for the baby” and “best for our family” and “best for me” and all of that all at once.
But that’s what’s happening, and I am at the same time TOTALLY OKAY and REALLY DISTRESSED about this decision, but rationally know that we’re all going to live and it’s not the end of the world. It’s possible to feel really terrible about the right choice, I guess, but it’s hard to say that I feel TERRIBLE because I know I’m making the right call. But there are also flashes of terrible.
Over the course of Penny’s existence, I’ve talked about breastfeeding here a few times, and there have been two lines offered up in the comments that really helped me to get to where I am right now, not in terms of abandoning breastfeeding but more about how I got to be okay with it.
1. Formula is food, not rat poison.
2. Breastfeeding never, ever has to be an all or nothing thing, either in terms of exclusivity or duration. Some is GREAT.
If you were the one who told me either of those things, feel free to credit yourself, because I repeat them to myself and expect to repeat them to others, a lot.
*****
HOW TO CAPTURE A WILD INTERNET
1. Set up one of those weird wooden box balanced on a stick with a string tied to it contraptions.
2. Bait the trap.
3. Yell, “HEY INTERNET! This baby is in a Bumbo on an elevated surface and there’s no adult in the frame of the picture so she is obviously COMPLETELY UNSUPERVISED even though that doesn’t make sense because then who is taking the picture but sense doesn’t matter because that UNSUPERVISED BABY is in a Bumbo on an ELEVATED SURFACE!”
4. Wait for the Internet to run into your trap with pointed sticks and those torches you always see angry mobs carrying.
5. Pull string, trapping the wild Internet.
6. Enjoy your wild Internet.
Posted in cloth diapers, daily BS, Penny | 46 Comments »
Friday, September 2nd, 2011
Does anyone else remember that old Nickelodeon commercial with the song that had the line, “or when you’ve had enough of doing grown up stuff?” Do you remember any more of it?
Please note that I am only interested in this one specific commercial that has been running through my head for days, and not interested in getting into a Nickelodeon nostalgia fest. Not that I’m against a good nostalgia fest. It’s just that we don’t need one here.
It starts out innocently enough, with someone being all, “Hey, speaking of Nickelodeon, what was that show with the hat?” (Today’s Special.) And someone answers, and then they’re all, “Hey, remember Snick? Wasn’t Snick great? I used to want a big orange couch.” And someone else will bring up the merits of TGIF on ABC, and the time Steve Urkel crossed over onto Step by Step to give Al a valuable lesson about something. Being a nerd or parachuting or whatever.
And that’s fine, while we’re all discussing TV or whatever, but then someone pops up to say, “Hey, remember slap bracelets?” And tells the story about how his school banned slap bracelets, as if EVERYONE’S SCHOOL EVER did not ban slap bracelets (except for yours, commenter who is rushing to the comments section to tell me that I’m wrong. I know that your school didn’t ban them. Don’t worry. I know. You don’t need to tell me.) And someone else has to say what was banned at their school. Jellies or whatever.
“HEY! JELLIES! REMEMBER HYPERCOLOR SHIRTS?”
And, see, now you’ve done it. Now the comments turn into a long string of “Hey, remember _________?” And it’s stuff we all remember. And even that is kind of fine, because people are talking about their favorite things, telling little anecdotes and what not. Fine. But it just goes downhill from there. Soon, the comments are just one-liners. “Hey, remember Popples?” Then, they turn into lists.
Teddy Ruxpin
Petster
He Man
Okaaay… even when the lists start, a couple people still pop up here and there to say, “Oh, I had forgotten all about that!” or, “I’ve been trying to remember what that was called for YEARS!”
But that only lasts so long before people are Googling lists of “crap from when we were kids” and then just pasting entire lists into the comments with no further information. Okay. Yes. All of those things existed at one point. Got it. What a nice reminder.
Except? It’s NO LONGER A NICE REMINDER. Do you know why? Because this EXACT CONVERSATION has been happening on websites and in blog comments and on forums SINCE THE DAWN OF THE INTERNET.
It is a standard Internet conversation, and there’s nothing wrong with it, but we’ve all had it eighty times, and if you feel like you need to have it again, there are about 900 other places you can DO THAT, RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT. Right NOW, I just want to know, do you REMEMBER THE LYRICS IN THAT ONE VERY SPECIFIC COMMERCIAL?
*****
I have pictures of the burger diaper on Penny’s butt but I think I am going to save them for a diaper post. Which I will probably be making this weekend some time. I tell you this now so that if you have any pressing questions that have not been answered on any of the eight thousand identical cloth diaper posts over the last few years, you can email me or contact me any other of a number of ways to ask before I write the post so that I may incorporate that information and ALSO so that those of you who are mortally offended by coming across a post that does not apply to you or your current interests are warned to STEER CLEAR, because if there’s anything I strive to avoid, it’s forcing you to read things that don’t apply to you or interest you in any way.
But I’m also pretty much done apologizing for the whole diaper thing. I like them. I like shopping for them. I like trying all different kinds. I like trying to snag super pretty, one of a kind diapers when they’re stocked in work-at-home-mom shops each week. If you don’t, that’s fine. I promise to use the word “diaper” a lot of times in the title of the post so you catch on before you have to read too many words. But that is all the consideration I am prepared to give.
Also? This is coming to my house today or tomorrow:
Macadamia by tangerine.baby
There is a whole story of heartbreak and redemption that goes along with the purchase of that diaper, but I am not going to tell you because I said I’d talk about diapers this weekend, and the people who just CAN’T STAND IT when I talk about stuff like diapers and babies because they hate diapers and babies are too far into this entry now to abandon it and it just wouldn’t be fair to them.
*****
Hey, did you know that Penny can time travel? She went all the way back to Easter, 1977 and someone snapped a picture.
I’m kidding, my baby can’t time travel. My husband, though, has apparently perfected cloning in secret. Or has produced Penny on his own, splitting off a small piece of himself in an amoeba-like fashion, without need nor want of my participation.
Vast improvements have been made in v2.0 based upon your feedback, but unfortunately we were unable to address the smell issues at this time.
Posted in cloth diapers, daily BS, Penny | 34 Comments »
