Tag Archives: terrible parents and adorable babies who don’t know any better

150 WHATS?

150 what?

150 days since I last posted? No! You might think so, but I actually posted on Monday!

150 days until the next time I post after this time? That’s possible!

150 words in this post? That’s unlikely.

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150 lipsticks in these MUJI drawers that finally arrived that I will tell you all about in definitely less than 150 days because I’m in love with them and I’m convinced they’re the solution to my makeup being all over my Safety Bathroom counter (I had had it all nicely organized in the two ridiculously pathetic teeny tiny not actually even drawer-drawers in the counter itself, but I can’t work like that, I need to see everything, so within a couple of days of getting it all nicely stuffed away, it was all everywhere all over again, but now it WON’T BE because it’s in CLEAR DRAWERS, which are definitely the trend in the moderately-sized-makeup-collection world (with IKEA ALEX drawers obviously being the top choice in the mega-collection sector), but it’s a trend for a reason, because people with collections need to SEE THEIR STUFF, I am SAYING)? Anyway, no. There aren’t 150 of anything in there.

NO! None of that stuff.

ACTUALLY, Penelope is 150 weeks old today. I didn’t calculate that. You sign up for all these things when you’re first pregnant and they follow you forever.

So Penny is getting really close to three years old now, that’s next month, but I haven’t been updating too much recently, and I figured if I just suddenly sprang that on you, “HEY, PENELOPE IS THREE!,” you might be shocked at the passing of time or maybe might even have forgotten that I had a daughter in the glow of my MUJI drawers or maybe these new Sigma brushes I was finally pestilence-free enough to touch, but not yet enough to use, it seems the age of approaching-three carries with it deadly accuracy for coughing directly into my eyeballs and up my nostrils and also licking Cheetos before offering them to me as a snack:

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Have not yet worked out a brush storage solution.

You can tell which brushes are my new ones because they’re the ones that look like I actually practice what I screech about regular brush washing. It’s okay. I’m excited about all the things I totally promised you I was going to post about, too. (I didn’t forget any of them: the skincare stuff I use, the foundation hunt I went on, the new brushes, the Hourglass powder, the Makeup Geek shadows, and some other stuff I’ve picked up here and there.) It’s totally understandable if you forgot all about Penny in the whirlwind of the entirely too much shopping I did in the start of the year. I left her in an elevator in my rush to Sephora once. That is not true. That’s why I’m easing you up to her birthday with this update on Penelope at 150 weeks old!

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At 150 weeks old, Penelope is pretty average size. She’s not very big or very small. We think she’s huge, of course, but she’s not. Since she’s a former “failure to thrive” baby, though, she is always going to look like a giantess to me. I remember after we got her out of the hospital after that first time with the failure to thrive diagnosis (which was actually due to a whole other thing) and she was creeping up on 11 lbs as a 4.5 month old baby, I proudly said to her pediatrician who I really liked at the time, “Isn’t she HUGE?,” and the doctor says to me, “Oh, honey… no.”

ASIDE: When I’m King, probably the ninth or tenth order of business is going to be RENAMING THAT AWFUL “failure to thrive” PHRASE FOR THE LOVE OF SHIT, maybe to something like, “Parents Trying Their Very Very Hardest But Baby Not Making With Growth” or “Parents Obviously Working Asses Off at Trying to Be Parents, Child Already Showing Propensity for Not Going Along with Plans” or “PARENTS VERY CLEARLY GOOD PEOPLE WHO ARE DOING NO WRONG AND REALLY TRYING VERY HARD AND SOMEONE GET THE MOTHER A TISSUE AND A CHAIR AND EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE FINE WE WILL HANDLE THIS TOGETHER” syndrome.

Anyway, I don’t know exactly how big she is, but she’s almost three and she comfortably wears 3T clothing, so I guess about average. That seems about right to me. At her last well check, she was hovering right in the 40th percentiles for height and weight, but setting that aside, she looks good. All her bendy parts bend and her straight parts are straight. She does all the running and jumping with both feet, stacks things and kicks them, and does everything well enough that I haven’t even thought to glance at a milestone chart since she was just turning two, probably. No reason to even think about it. That’s been nice, considering Early Intervention was at our house at this point a couple of years ago. No need to even save that paperwork anymore.

I realize that none of what happened leading up to Penelope’s birth or what happened while I was in labor or right after her birth or her own health issues for her first two years are going to have any affect on her life going forward. Rationally, I know that. We completely closed the books on her kidney issues back in September – we don’t even have to go to the emergency room for a high fever anymore. Well, of course we do for a spectacularly high fever like anyone else would, but we used to have to – anyway, it was a thing. The last thing, and now we don’t have to do that, and I think now I for real really realize that EVERYTHING is done. Technically before now, but right now, at 150 weeks, done DONE. She’s here, full size, no heart issues, no breathing issues, no kidney issues, and just a scar left from surgery that even almost already totally faded away. And everything happened and resolved in just 150 weeks! That’s hardly any time at all (yes it is, it’s forever).

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If you meet Penelope at 150 weeks, the first thing she will say to you, almost definitely, is “Wanna see my cool trick?” The cool trick is almost always putting her head on the ground and one leg in the air. Unless you’ve seen that one. If you’ve seen that one, the cool trick is totally improvised on the spot. I don’t know what it might be. She might throw something at you. Definitely ask her to show you the one with her leg in the air again, it’s the safest.

She really likes Toy Story (the first one and the second one, she might like the third one but I’ve banned it when I’m in the playroom because I think it’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense) and Monsters Inc. She also likes Handy Manny and Trotro. But her absolute favorite thing to do is to stream the iPad to the television (Phil and I don’t actually know how she does this – we know it can be done, it’s just that she takes the iPad and does it herself, we’ve never arranged this for her) and watch video after video of this woman unboxing and playing with various PlayDoh and Barbie toys. She somehow locates a playlist from the suggested videos on YouTube, sets it to go on the television, and then goes about her own normal playing in the playroom accompanied by videos of an adult playing on the television. Phil likes video games. I only watch Korean television. We’ve all got our things.

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One of my very favorite things about Penelope right now is the way she talks. She’s a pretty decent talker, as I’ve mentioned before, but she has her mispronunciations like any toddler. And like any parent, I’m pretty attached to them and I’ll be sad to see them go. It’s not things like “emergery” for “emergency” that are my very favorite, though. No, these are the ones I’m working my hardest to mimic in order to preserve:

  • pooth taste
  • poilet taper
  • beep death

Of course when I go to write them down, I can’t think of more, but those are some of Pen’s most common types of mispronunciation. Other kinds don’t really stick around too long. She gets very frustrated when she doesn’t say a word correctly and will specifically request help, “I can’t say word, help me say word.” It’s kind of shitty, adorable toddler-speak is supposed to be part of the deal, but I’m hanging on to poilet taper as long as possible.

My other very favorite thing about her is that she is SO into whatever Phil and I are into. She wants to be with us and around us and do what we’re doing and make us laugh and make us happy and she mimics us and acts like us and does things that she thinks we’ll like. None of that is revolutionary or unique to Penny or something that I think my super special kid does that yours doesn’t. It’s just something that’s really great. She loves to sit with Phil and press the jump button while he plays video games. She says, “Mama, can we go in your Safety Bathroom and do makeup?” and it is the genuinely VERY BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO HER EVER when I say yes and I wonder why I don’t say yes more. Ugh, why don’t I say yes more? I should.

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At 150 weeks old, Penelope does whatever the hell she wants. I mean, we tell her what to do, and she hears us, but then she doesn’t do it, or she keeps on not doing it, or keeps on doing what we told her to stop doing. Three is really soon, and Phil and I have turned to each other with slow motion horror face and realized three is not going to be any better than two, it’s actually louder and throwier and screamier and people in public can actually hear what she’s saying to us when she’s being kind of awful. And I know those of you with kids who have already gone from two to three are like, I knew it, or I told you so, or I wanted to tell you so, or I’m about to go to the comments because I actually want to tell you so some more, but look, we went through two and it was a challenge and you kind of think, it’s okay, three is coming, and it will be different, and I guess our minds didn’t really ALLOW us to think it might be different BAD, but you know what guys, I think it’s going to be different BAD.

Not bad like my CHILD is bad, because she’s not. SHE’S NOT. She’s fabulous. Look at these pictures. SAY POILET TAPER OUT LOUD. JUST ONE TIME. Penelope is fabulous. But toddlers, man. They will make your (my) shoulders curl down and then your (my) neck bend until your ears just settle right into the little shoulder cave you (I) made and just consider moving in there. Just move into the shoulder cave and live there. For a while. A long while.

Oh gosh. PENELOPE IS A HUNDRED AND FIFTY WEEKS OLD. Can you BELIEVE everything that has even happened? CAN YOU EVEN.

Here, ignore the rest of us in this picture.

IGNOREUS

 

It was noticed and it deserves underpants.

There will come a day when Penelope’s issues are too Penelope-specific and sensitive to be talked about on the Internet, and probably by that day, I’ll just be beaming my thoughts directly into your heads to be downloaded in batches once a week or so or whatever. I hope so. That would be great. But right now is not that time, and her issues, which are actually my issues, because Penny Badger don’t give a shit, are so standardly two-and-a-half year old that I’m just going to throw a whole bunch of them out here right now in hopes that those of you that have made it through to two-and-three-quarters and beyond can point me in the right direction on some of this stuff because we are just FLAILING trying to settle on some kind of sensical methods.

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1. I think I mentioned this the other day, but whenever Phil and I talk to each other, she yells, “STOP STOP!” until attention is focused back on her. This also happens during the day when it’s just me and her, and she’ll yell, “MAMA, TURN ROUND. LOOKA ME. TALKA ME.” This is especially unpleasant if I’m working, because she’ll try to force her hands under mine on the keyboard and has erased some stuff before.

What I’m trying: So far, I’ve been trying the same thing that I do when she tries to do something and within half a second, screams, “I CAN’T DO IT!” and runs away having a shrieking tantrum. I said to her over and over, every day, “Do you need help? I can help you. Do you think it would be easier to ask Mama or Daddy for help instead of getting upset and throwing a fit?” And after seriously weeks upon weeks of that, one day, OUT OF NOWHERE, the heavens opened up and Penelope walked over to me and said, “Mama, I need help, can you please open my room?” Just the day before, she would have walked to her room, seen that the door monkey was on, and come screaming down the hall, “MY WOOM IS WOCKED!” and thrown herself on the ground crying. It’s still hit or miss on if she’s going to choose the screaming or the asking for help (mostly depending on how tired she is), but when she picks asking over tantrums, we praise her and throw treats into the air and give out high fives like they’re coming back into to and then going right back out of style.

So, with the interrupting, I tell walk her through the proper way to ask for attention several times a day. I tell her that when she has something to say, she should say, “Excuse me, please,” and wait until we have a moment to talk to her. I’ve told her that when people are talking to each other, she needs to wait for her turn. I’ve told her that when one conversation is finished, she can have our full attention for her conversation. I’ve told her it’s not good manners to interrupt, especially if you just want to show off that cool trick with your butt again.

I don’t know if it’s that she can’t put together that “excuse me” can be used for both rude noises and interruptions, or that it’s not sinking in at all, or that she just doesn’t want to do it properly, but this is not working. I know that she’s two, I know that this could be a phase, I know all of that, but as her parent, I still have a sort of responsibility to teach her not to be a total social knob. So, what’s the best way to handle this? Is there a way to keep a two year old from constantly demanding that all the focus be on her? Is there a way to phrase the concept that if you let us know that you have something to say, we will get to you as soon as we finish what we’re saying in a way that she’ll understand? Or should we just keep talking over her right now? Is that the most effective course of action at the moment? Because it is getting LOUD IN HERE.

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2. TIME OUTS. We’ve been doing time outs pretty successfully for a long while now. She does something wrong, she gets a warning. She keeps doing it, she goes to time out. Up until recently, she only stayed in her room (since we have a floor bed, her room is zero fun – there are no toys, games, etc) for a couple of minutes, until she was ready to apologize. She understands apologizing pretty well – she even puts on a faux gentle voice and strokes my arm. It’s kind of creepy. Most times, the threat of time out was enough of a warning to get her to stop doing whatever she was doing. Time outs are used for only a couple of things in this house – safety issues and not listening. Which is to say, constantly. But it was working really well.

Recently, though, it’s not going so great. She’ll be doing something she knows she’s not supposed to do, or that she was just warned to stop doing, or that she was specifically instructed not to do, and she will keep doing it right through warnings, right through an adult marching over to her, right up until she is grabbed up and hauled away to time out. Then, once she is in the air and being carried off down the hall, she starts saying, “I WANT TO SAY SORRY! I WANT TO SAY SORRY!” As soon as she is in her bedroom, she presses her face up against the crack the door monkey leaves and yells, “I WEADY TO POWOGIZE!” So she’s figured out that she can do whatever she wants for as long as she wants or until she gets caught, because all she has to do is apologize as soon as she’s thrown into time out, and it’s back to burninating the countryside.

A couple of weeks ago, she BIT me. She hasn’t bitten me in I don’t know how long. She never had a real biting phase. But she BIT ME SO HARD, and I saw red because it hurt. I picked her up and I put her in her room and the whole while, she’s yelling apologies. This was at the end of a ridiculous day of behavior from her and Phil was already on his way home, so I just left her in there while I cleaned up the play room. She kept yelling at me about how she wanted to help clean, and I kept yelling back, “YOU BIT ME!” I may have been holding a slight grudge. After everything was picked up and I was looking at less physical evidence of her bent for destruction, I went to collect her from her room and I asked, “Are you ready to apologize?” She came over to me, stroked me arm, and said in her fake soft voice, “I sowwy I hit you, Mama,” then ran past me down the hall. SHE BIT ME. NOT HIT ME. I reminded her 87 times, yet still, mechanical apology, escape.

So now how do we work time outs? She’s got time outs set in her head that she sits there til someone comes to get her, then says what have becomes apparently meaningless words and runs off. Should we set timers instead? Do we still require an apology? Do we need to reexplain apologies? What do you do for discipline for 2/2.5 year olds? Is there something other than time out that’s more effective for different types of things? Like breaking known house rules, ones WE KNOW SHE KNOWS (being rough/mean with the dogs, coloring on not paper, going out the back door) vs stuff like not listening?

crapkingdom

Threw all these THROW pillows outside on the patio, parents made me bring them back.
When it’s MY kingdom, I’ll tell you what.

3. LASTLY. What are the best toddler underpants? I got a couple of packs of Hanes or whatever they were at Target, but after going through the dryer, the elastic got a little snug at the waist so they’re hard for her to get up and down. Maybe ones with a wider band of elastic at the top rather than a thinner one? I’m totally going to put underpants in her stocking. I mean, Santa is. Because that kid bit me and stuff like that doesn’t going unnoticed.

Rage balls, Makeup Monday: Starting a Collection, and being in.

Maria has started doing Makeup Monday for the month of May, and you can look to this post on her blog for more explanation, but since I have makeup to talk about and a No Buy, No No Blog going on, it aligns nicely with my goals, so I decided to hop on board with one of the questions that came up a couple of times in the last post and sometimes on Twitter, or anywhere, really, when talk of a makeup collection gets going, and that question – we’re still in the same sentence, I think – that question is this: How does a person get started making (getting? building? having? gathering?) such a collection?

But first I have to say, I did not even think I would even get to do a post today at all, and I guess for most people I am not even really doing a post today at all, because I think the Internet is closed for most of the country at this point, or the people who have the good channels or DVR are watching all of that stuff, because it’s 7pm in Arizona, which is pretty much No One’s Here o’clock, Internet Standard Time. I’ve been laying in bed for the longest time because I’ve had terrible stomach cramps all day, and there’s maybe a two percent chance they’re related to the stomach cramps Phil had yesterday, considering we eat mostly the same food and go the same places, live in the same house and are exposed to all of the same things, but I’m 98% certain it’s a rage ball in my stomach, and if it is a rage ball, then I’m 100% certain it’s Penelope-related.

  •  Evidence One: Every morning, she snuggles up close to me, on the love seat, so that she’s practically up IN my love seat cushion, even though it’s clearly a two person sofa, and — actually, you know what?
  • Evidence Two: Once she’s snuggled up, she puts her left foot on me. And I subtly push her foot off of me. And she will be drinking her milk, or looking at the dogs, or watching television, or just otherwise occupied, and she just puts her foot right back where it was. Like it was comfortable there, and she’s just putting it back, no big. So I move it again. And she puts it back. So I move it. And she puts it back. Only by then, I can SEE HER SMILING. And she might hook her foot over my arm, or put her bare foot flat against my forearm, or whatever, anything. So I shove her, gently-ish, to her own cushion, as it should be, on a two cushion couch. And she will snake her left foot down the couch and TOUCH ME WITH HER FOOT. Until I am yelling, at a two year old, “GET YOUR FREAKING FOOT OFF OF ME. STOP IT. STOP TOUCHING ME WITH YOUR FOOT. STOOOPPPP IIIIIIIITTTTTTT!”
  • Evidence Three: Speaking of snakes (I did, up there, you can go back and check), she refused to eat her lunch today because it was snake, even though she knew FULL WELL it was steak. SHE KNEW. I knew she knew. SHE KNEW I KNEW SHE KNEW. She’s always snake-punking me. (There is a video here. You might not see it in whatever crappy substitute for Google Reader you’ve been forced into.)

  • Evidence Four: The numerous time outs today specifically for throwing things while yelling, “No THROWING!” as she heaved the item across the room.
  • Evidence Five and Six: These two potatoes she removed from the fridge, bit, and then left places.

    There’s a buttmunch loose in this house. I’ve got the evidence RIGHT HERE.

You: That’s how two year olds are!
I know I just told you.

You: Have you tried —
We are trying parenting and waiting for her to age. Those are the methods we are going with.

I just – I KNOW. I know other kids are like this. This isn’t the other kid blog, it’s my blog and my rage ball, and I’m telling you, just because other kids behave this way doesn’t make it any less of a justified rage ball. She touches me with her foot WITH MALICE AFORETHOUGHT. “All two year olds are crazy” does not make me feel any less like laying face down in the carpet come 2:30pm. She learned how to open the fridge and used her new found knowledge to bite my potatoes. Potatoes are my favorite. What did she think was going to be different about the second one? She didn’t think anything. She’s two. There isn’t any thinking. There’s a desire to bite a potato, and then there’s biting the potato. And then the potato adventure is through. No thought involved. No thought for Mama who has to have a pre-bitten potato for lunch.

I KNOW IT’S BARELY BITTEN. IT’S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. WE’RE A CIVILIZED PEOPLE, HERE.

I know all the sciencey stuff. Exploring her world! Checking shit out! Learning that this potato tastes just like that potato! Not learning that a decent human being RETURNS THE POTATOES WHEN DONE BITING THEM. I watched Mr. Rogers with her today, the one where he narrates while the film shows the crayon factory? That was always my favorite, I’m not unique in that, and holy shit, her mind was BLOWN. I know it’s a miraculous time and all of that, but so was pregnancy, and that was still a fucking shit show. I’m feeling all defensive because you get so many explanations. Oh, she’s two. Oh, terrible twos! Just learning about her world! This is an important time for them! No, no, I get it. I do. But if you are using those words like a sponge to wipe away at my frowny rage face I will just tell you now, there is a frownier, ragier face underneath, because one, gross, sponge. Two, foot. Three and four, my potatoes.

So anyway, my stomach hurts really bad. Two percent chance it’s what Phil had, 98% chance Penelope has put something in my food to destroy me from within. I just felt really blergh all day, so I didn’t think I’d get a chance to do my Makeup Monday post at all, but I didn’t want to miss out on helping Maria get this off the ground (seeing as how having it steaming along benefits my No Buy, No No Blog goals as well, after all), so since she expressed interest in seeing everyone’s collections and she went with lip stuff for her post, I gathered up all my lip stuff and posted this on Twitter with the Makeup Monday hashtag.

Penelope very much wanted her Lipsmacker included. She likes it applied directly to tongue.

That is, I believe, my entire current collection of lip products. Some are part of the No Buy, No No Blog project and some are just in my regular rotation. There are probably a couple of things that can be pruned out, but since I enjoy the researching/shopping/picking aspect of makeup as much as the having/using aspect of makeup like a lot of other kinds of hobbies, I don’t really end up with a whole lot that doesn’t work out for me. All of it is current, or at least most of it is, and should be still available for purchase or relatively easy to find, so names and swatches of anything you might be interested in seeing more of can be handled tomorrow. Which is today, probably, since the Internet is closed for most of you.

The question, though. Of how to start a makeup collection. Obviously I have one, but when people would ask that question, I would immediately think, “I don’t know, you’re going to have to ask someone else. I can’t help you, I have no idea.” Because, honestly, what do I know? I just buy things. But then, to anyone on the outside, who isn’t familiar with makeup at all, that probably sounds really daunting. That’s like me asking a knitter how to get started, and getting the answer, “Oh, I just knit.”

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I’m fairly… enthusiastic… about the things I like. Doctor Who, makeup, Korean television dramas. If I like something, I want everyone to like it. I don’t see the value in liking something before everyone else does, or in being the first one there, or in being “in the know” while everyone else is still on the outside, because I don’t see the value in loving something alone. When I love something like those things I listed, I love it. I don’t want to love it alone, I want to share it. There’s no prize in exclusivity for me – the more, the more better. The more people who share my interests, the more people I can discuss them with. The wider my circles expand. The more ways I can relate to people who were already my friends. When I am excited about something, I don’t want to turn my back and hunch over it to hoard it. I want to turn around and yell for everyone to COME OVER HERE AND LOOK AT THIS. And I do. A lot. Which, again, if you follow me on Twitter, you are well aware of.

When there is something that looks cool and you want to get in on it, there are several ways to do it. You could check a book out of the library. You could search online. You could jump in and just start doing it. Or you could find a friend who is into whatever it is you want to be into and ask for help. Those are all valid ways to explore a new interest or hobby, right? And people who were interested in makeup but had no idea where to start – that’s what some people were doing. Asking me. Some people want to know how to start a makeup collection, they see that I have a makeup collection, so they asked me. And what have I done up til now? Throw up my hands, say, “Oh, I can’t help you, I just do it.” Like a knitter saying, “I just knit.” Or if you wanted to learn how to ski, and you asked someone who skis how to get started, and they said to you, “I don’t know, you just ski.” It doesn’t make any sense. There are ways to get started. So I thought of some.

Some Ways to Start a Makeup Collection When You Don’t Know How to Start a Makeup Collection at All so You Have to Start From Somewhere: a List by Temerity Jane

∞ If you have any skincare concerns at all (very dry skin, aging skin (I’M NOT BEING INSULTING, YOU JUDGE FOR YOURSELF), very oily skin), a goo idea might be to go to a department store counter like Clinique known for good skin care systems, especially at a time when they are running a gift with purchase special. The counter lady will help you select some skin care stuff, they will maybe help you pick some makeup if you like, and you’ll get usually a little makeup bag with some free with purchase makeup products in it – which ones will depend on the promotion.

∞ OR? You can just pick a department store counter and ask for a full makeover. You’ll have to commit to buying some products at the end, but you can ask them to show you how to do what they’re doing, you can tell them what kind of “look” you want, and you’ll have all the colors chosen for you so you won’t have to worry about picking something terrible on your own.

∞ A brand like e.l.f. (carried at Target or available online, their site is always running a sale) is great for figuring out what types of products you like. Like do you prefer powder eye shadows, or cream? Or do you like pencil eyeliner, or liquid? With almost every single product under $5, most under $3, you can cheaply figure out your preferences and then step up to better brands.

∞ Ok, you know where you should start if you don’t have anything at all? Mascara. If you want to just start with something to break the makeup ice, you should buy some mascara. If you want a one item makeup collection, it should be mascara. If you want to buy two things, it should maybe be mascara and blush. Or mascara and a tinted lip balm. Mascara, blush, and a nice tinted lip balm. That’s a good way to start a collection, with those three things.

Continuation of the above point: I will be more specific now, but you and I both know that everyone is different and someone may recommend three different options in the comments, and then you will have to go your own way (YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAAAAAY (go your own waaay)): Cover Girl’s Clump Crusher, a blush of your choosing (Physican’s Formula has some foolproof ones and CVS regularly does excellent sales), and Revlon Just Bitten Kissable Balm Stain.

Lastly, you can follow me on Twitter, because I am on a No Buy, No No Blog, and all day long, I point out things I would like to buy, and things I think other people should buy, usually on sale, or on sites like HauteLook. If you buy all of the things I would like to be buying, you will certainly have a collection. Quite quickly. I don’t think this is the best option. I think you’d like it, though.

Anyway. That’s it. Those are some ways that I think you could build a makeup collection if you don’t have one, and don’t know where to start. I hope it was helpful. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed closed off to the question before. That was… closed off of me. It was probably my rage ball talking. In the future, I will remember that I appear to be just as enthusiastic about makeup as I am about Doctor Who, cloth diapers, and Korean dramas, and I shouldn’t be such a knob when people want to be in on it.

Seriously. When people want to be in on what you’re in on, let them in. It’s fun when we’re all in. Unless it’s a secret. If someone tells you a secret, don’t tell. Unless it’s your spouse. You’re allowed to tell them. Don’t tell me secrets and say, “But don’t tell Phil.” Because in my head I’m already telling Phil. Unless it’s about a surprise for Phil. You can tell me those things, that’s okay, I won’t tell Phil. This is so exciting, Phil won’t even know what hit him!


Any resemblance to any person living, dead, or ridiculous when the word “you” is used is a figment of your imagination and not the intent of Temerity Jane.

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.