Blog post from the future

So in about 20 years or so I anticipate reading a blog post by my daughter that is something to the effect of:

This is the kind of mother I have.  As a child, instead of fixing my damn crazy hair, she grabbed the camera to take a picture of it.  She makes a mean batch of cupcakes though.  

Porn for me

I am not sure how I came across this food blog but it has provided me with hours of drooling enjoyment.  Though I can often delude myself into thinking I could be crafty (the bag of ribbons and hair bow supplies sitting in the spare bedroom would be testament to that), I can actually bake a bit.  I like sweets but not a lot of them so I hate to bake and then waste anything.  So I started bringing cupcakes to playdates and book club.  I haven't settled on my favorite cake type but the salted caramel frosting recipe is heaven.  It takes a bit of work but after I brought them to a playdate once a mom told me she had been fantasizing about making a bowl of the frosting to eat.  I made them last night for movie night at a friend's house and again, big hit.  

Now I'm thinking of making some to use to entice the men into the new cult that I'm starting.  It's called the "Yearning for Sanity" or YFS ranch.  Women are allowed to have a lot of husbands  (all of legal age of course, we all know teenage boys are of little use to us except you - Mary Kay Letourneau and there's something wrong with you) and the husbands are responsible for all the cooking and cleaning and getting up in the middle of the night with the children.  Oh and televisions in the compound will only have channels like Oxygen (so we can watch Snapped) and Lifetime.  

What's the baby doing?

Whenever my mother calls she says "what's the baby doing?"  Usually I say, "I'm not sure, I haven't seen her for hours but I'm sure she's probably around here somewhere."  Or I tell her the truth, which is about as frightening - "licking the window/my shoes/the dog's paw."  The other day however, she was playing with her doll.  The doll we have because the day we brought the baby home from the hospital the dog began his quest to eat her.  Literally.  Mr. Hardass Dog Trainer told us to buy a doll to desensitize him.  Our dog is what we call street smart.  Took him 6 years to figure out he could just tell us when he needed to go out and poop instead of pooping in our hallway but he can tell when the dishwasher is almost full and we are going to run it (which he hates) and he starts barking.  So the doll was not an acceptable (or tasty) substitute for a real baby and we put it away for the baby.  And the baby seems to really like the doll, she chews on the doll's head and drags her around by the arm and occasionally says "hi" to her.  So when my mom asked what the baby was doing and I told her playing with her doll and my mom asked "what's the doll's name?"   I said "we just call her baby."  At which point my mother began her obsession with the doll having a name.  In about 3 subsequent conversations with my mother she has asked "do you have a name for the doll yet?"  Like it's some major family project we've been working on.  Yesterday I guess she'd had enough and called to say "I think you should name the doll Margaret."  

Judgmental much?

Though I've found a pretty good support network of moms, I think that moms are probably the most judgmental lot.  I admit, when I saw the clip of Leah Remini on Rachael Ray because her almost 4 year old still drinks a bottle I thought "what the fuck?"  Mostly because she not only drinks a bottle but drinks like 8 of them a night.  But whatever, now that I have my own child I'm sort of in the "do whatever works for you as long as it doesn't infringe upon someone else's sanity or safety." 

But what I really love is people who clearly do not have children making judgments.  I know I was one them, gotta say the whole kid on a leash thing seemed awful to me but reading some blogs and now having a child on the verge of walking I would have to lean in favor of the leash over having my child squashed by a car or never leaving the house.  

But recently I saw this.  And I thought, ok, clearly that guy doesn't have kids.  Or he has one of those upgraded models who does not spend their entire shopping trip licking every accessible area of the cart.

Lawn mowers are not intended to be disposable

My husband is a serial killer of lawn mowers.  When we were dating we lived in different cities and I had my own house and yard and lawn mower.  And every week I did the lawn myself.  I'm kind of high strung so I used it as another opportunity to work out so I actually power mowed and tried to finish as quickly as possible to get my heart rate up.  Anyway, when my husband (then boyfriend) would come to visit he decided to be manly and do the lawn.  Which I appreciated until he broke the lawnmower.  Inexplicably.  With him it's always "I don't know, I was just mowing and it stopped." Pieces were missing, it was all banged up, and it was dead.  So I bought a new one.  And then we got married.  Right after we got back from our honeymoon he was mowing and came in the house again and said "mower's dead."  This time he had mowed the starter cord off the mower.  Not a single person I've told that story to can figure out how.  And I have friends who are engineers.  After our probably biggest fight where I asked him "how fucking stupid are you?" he was able to get the mower repaired.  Then a year later we moved and the first day we were in the new house he decides to mow the lawn.  I am alerted to this fact not by the sound of the lawn mower but of the sight of smoke billowing out of it as it was on fire.  Now we are on lawn mower number three (in 5 years).  The other day he was mowing and comes in the house and says....wait for it....."the lawn mower is dead."   

This time he tracks down some guy on Craig's list who has a lawn mower repair service and was able to fix the lawn mower.  What was wrong with it you ask?  Oh there was oil all over the engine.  My helpful advice of "it's not like salad dressing you know, you're not supposed to cover it in oil, it goes in a specific place" was not really received well.  

An open letter

Dear Fisher Price,

We love the waterfall soother we put in the baby's crib, we really do.  But since we purchased it to be soothing to the baby (as the name implies) we'd like to point out a less than soothing feature.  You know when you have those nights where your baby completely loses her shit just because you have the audacity to put her in her crib and expect her to sleep?  And you have to go back in her room and calm her down which is kind of annoying because you're in the middle of reading a story about how Wesley Snipes is going to prison because he was stupid enough to think you can screw with the IRS?  Well, after you get the baby calmed down and on the verge of sleep and then the swinging monkey in the waterfall soother starts squeaking really loudly and the baby's head jerks up all bright eyed to see "WHAT WAS THAT?"  That's not really very soothing.  For anyone involved.  So maybe a little more R & D is in order to make sure the monkey makes a very quiet swing on his vine, not just after the first use but after like the 800th use and $1300 in batteries have been expended.

Thanks.

Where did the year go?

My daughter is nearing 11 months.  The other day I was thinking about those first days at home with her and it seems so long ago.  My mom was here with us for the first three weeks and about a week into it I remember her asking me if things were how I thought they would be.  I told her it was much harder than I thought it would be.  I've been reading some blogs of women who have new babies and I think that's the universal feeling.  You're exhausted and sometimes the baby cries for no reason and you don't know what to do.  

But with all the exhaustion and crying (from both of us) I really did love those first weeks.  I didn't think about house work or cooking or working out and I spent every afternoon cuddled up with the baby on the couch.  

And now my little munchkin is often too busy for a cuddle, crawling off to eat out of the dog's dish or chew on my flip flops.  I envy those moms in their first few weeks but I'm happy I (almost) get a full night's sleep and there's not so much crying around the house now (except for the dog whose food has been pilfered).  So fear not new moms, those first days will pass but before you know it you'll be almost wanting them back!

Mommy can't go to Target month

Um, it went ok for about two weeks.  Then I needed to buy a birthday present for a one year old and I ended up with some extra stuff (bath towel for the baby, shorts for the baby).  Then we went to IKEA for picture frames - which incidentally are some freaky size so there just a tad too big.  Then I decided I could make baby hair bows so I went to Michael's and bought all the supplies (which are sitting in the bag in the spare bedroom).  Then we had to go back to Michael's and look at picture frames (see IKEA issue above) and I ended up buying some cake decorating supplies because I need to practice making the monkey birthday cake before the actual day.  

But on Oprah last week they issued a challenge to families to consume less.  And the challenge was only for one week.  What was I thinking going a whole month without Target?  Do I think I am better than Oprah?  No, no I do not.  WWOD people.  Oprah would not issue a moratorium on Target for a whole month because that is lunacy.  Of course Oprah is a billionaire.  

Speechless

I was shopping online, trying to find a cloth swim diaper for the baby and found this site.  And then noticed the babies modeling the diapers seemed to have really hairy stomachs and Tom Jones bulges in their diapers.  Then I read the description.  See for yourself.   I know we'll all be old someday but when I get to the point where I regularly poop my pants, you can just go ahead and banish me from the swimming pool.

Are you guys busy Saturday night?

The AT & T guys were here today to provide us with new phone, internet, and tv service because we finally had it with Time Warner.  You can only screw us for two years or so before we shop around.  

Anyway, the whole online registration thing for the internet was having problems so one of the installers called the support line and they were talking me through it.  I glanced up from typing in my info. to see that the installers were both sitting on the floor next to the baby.  And one of them was reading Pat the Bunny to her.  When Time Warner installed the cable the guy's pants were falling off and he called about two weeks later to ask if he had left his tools at our house.  

The what machine?

When I was moving to Texas my mom drove with me and the dog on the move down.  Somewhere in Oklahoma we made a stop for the bathroom, giant sodas, Mike and Ikes, and to allow my dog to go berserk and bark and honk the car horn.  I asked the cashier where the restrooms were located and what I heard was "over there by the ass machine."  The mental picture I got was of one of those old exercise machines that had a wide band that you put on your butt and you turned it on and it basically jiggled your ass.  When I was about 10 my great aunt lived in an apartment that had a clubhouse with one of those machines.  It also had a machine that had what looked like table legs that rotated around, you sat on that one to work out your ass.  I thought perhaps these machines were making a comeback, deep in the heart of Oklahoma where the asses need some attention.  Since the cashier had also pointed in the general direction of the ass machine and bathrooms I figured I'd just go that way and eventually stumble upon the bathrooms.  I quickly saw the bathrooms which were over by the ice machine.   For future reference, the truck stop employees get pissy if you sit on the ice machine and ask how long it takes for your ass to get smaller.

Poor puppy

The other day  I was checking email and the baby was quietly (red flag) looking at her Dogs book.  I looked closely and saw that she had this in her hands, the wet dog no longer shake, shake, shakes.   Today I found part of what appears to be a paw.  I know this is totally my fault for letting her have a pop-up type book but 10 minutes of freedom is worth a few dismembered literary dogs.

Earthquake

My brother lives in St. Louis, this morning he sent us this email, which is hilarious because he does not talk like this.  When he writes he seems to channel an 80 year old man:

This morning (4:30 a.m.) I awoke with the whole house rumbling and knew exactly what was happening.  The USGS are saying that it is a 5.5.  I'm ok and will continue my day to day routines and chores.  Confucius once said "Carry on my wayward son" so I will.  I can provide detailed reports upon request to this e-mail address.   

This was my mother's reply:

Confucius or Kansas? Lay your weary head to rest; don't you cry no more.

Baby names

My mom is always curious about my friends and their kids, one day I was telling her about some of my book club friends and said one was having another baby.  So she asked me what the woman's son's name is.

Me: Markku

Mom: That's interesting

Me:  Her husband is Finnish

Mom: With what?

Me: Huh?

Mom: You said he's finished

Me: No he's FINNISH, as in from Finland.

Mom: Oh that makes more sense.

Snarkiness is hereditary

Proof is this email from my mother:

One more thing.  How do those polygamy girls in Texas get their hair like that?  It looks like a lot of work.  To be so pompadoury.  Their dresses are a whole lot of cuteness too.  

Enough with the smarty pants little boys

First, precocious little Kenton Stufflebeam finds a mistake at the Smithsonian , then a very precise little german boy corrects NASA's asteroid figures.  Don't these boys have sisters to torment?  

Now should my daughter find an inaccuracy on signage when we make one of our many educational family field trips, say to the wax museum, I will kindly inform her "yes dear, I know that Posh and Becks didn't actually wear those outfits together but we don't correct grown ups.  Whatever grown ups say is right, now you just read your comic book about the flat earth and how evolution is pure silliness and go fetch mommy a floaty pen from the gift shop."

Ordinary

Yesterday was an ordinary day and yet it was pure joy for the baby.  Why do we have to outgrow the age where going to the park and swinging on a swing is the best thing in life?

Why I don't miss my job

The short version - my company was acquired by a private equity firm and 10% of the workforce was laid off (including me).  Before the layoff I had debated just volunteering for it as did my boss and a few of my colleagues.  Most of us had been around a while and got a decent severance package.  I finally decided that I didn't have the guts to volunteer but that if I did get laid off, I wouldn't be too upset.   

I have a lot of friends who still work there and send me updates about how things are going - hint - haven't received an email yet that didn't include "suck."  Shortly after the layoff, the new management installed ping-pong tables in the break rooms.  Ostensibly to improve morale. Which is at the point that most people suspected that cameras were also installed and anyone who used the ping-pong table would be put on the next layoff list.  

The other day I discovered the website passiveaggressivenotes.com and spent a ridiculous amount of time reading all the notes.  So I decided one of my former colleagues (a layoff volunteer) would enjoy it.  

Me: Good thing I don't have a job, because I'd just be spending all day looking at this site.

Him:  If I had a job I would spend my time creating these notes and putting them up by the ping-pong tables.

Ok, I don't miss the job but I do miss my co-workers.

Snack envy

Husband: Hey, where'd she get THAT (pointing to baby's arrowroot cookie while holding a rocky road ice cream bar with the other hand)?

Me: Let me get this straight, you are jealous of the baby's snacks?

Forest Kindergarten

Today's Wall Street Journal has a front page story about Waldkindergartens or "forest kindergarten."  It's supposed to be getting back to what Kindergarten's creator intended and is the rage in Germany.  Parents drop their kids off in a parking lot and they skip off into the woods with their teacher to learn about toads and climb trees.  The day profiled in the story it was 40 degrees.

Sounds like hell to me.  Who wants to be cold and damp and tromp around in the mud every day?  And I'm an outdoorsy person but crap, central heat was invented for a reason.  

Now beach kindergarten, there's a concept I could get behind.

Food tv

My husband watches the food channel a lot.  Wait, let me clarify, my husband has the food channel on quite a bit while he interjects every 2 minutes or so to point at the television and say to me "how come we never have THAT?"  My standard answer to that is "because I don't love you and I never want you to have anything nutritious or delicious."  

The other day he had it on and someone was making a chocolate pudding pie.  And he got it in his head that he really wanted it.  Now, I don't particularly like pudding and don't eat it unless I've had surgery or something (so in other words, once).  So I'm not all that excited to not only make pudding but make pudding from scratch that requires 10 minutes of constant whisking.  10 minutes of constant whisking better produce an item that I would want to eat for my last meal, not something I would eat only because I have no teeth (apologies to babies everywhere, I wouldn't even feed you pudding).

The most fertile place on earth, or so it seems.

I moved here about 2 days after I found out my 3rd IVF attempt was successful.  Hoping to meet people, I joined a book club of moms that was just forming.  Turns out the group of women are awesome, everyone had small children and most all of them are professional educated women and we seemed to all have a lot in common.  Except of course fertility.  Of the 8 women in the group, when we started just over a year ago 2 were pregnant with their second child (their older child was no older than 2).  One got pregnant and delivered her 2nd child in January, another is having her 2nd in a few weeks and yet another just announced she is pregnant (her older child is 18 mos old).  Another one - who got pregnant 2 months after she got married on like the first try will start trying again in July after her child turns one, I can guess how that will go.

I also joined a meetup group for stay at home moms and the the other day at a playdate there was a discussion about getting pregnant (since 2 moms there are pregnant with their 2nd) and virtually everyone there got pregnant with almost no trying.  There was only one other mom who had fertility issues and got pregnant with IUI.  

I admit when I was going through primary infertility I could not really understand secondary infertility.  Now I totally get it.  While I know how unbelievably lucky I am to have my daughter, I really want another baby (see cuteness in picture above).  And thinking about what it will take to get another one is overwhelming.  We have three frozen embryos so essentially one possible frozen transfer cycle available to us.  It's just thinking about the what comes next if that doesn't work - how far are we willing to go, how much money are we willing to spend this time?  

I try and imagine what it would be like to plan when I wanted to get pregnant and have it easily happen and can't really wrap my head around that.  I wonder if all my fertile friends realize how big of a deal it is?

Baby signs

I have a friend who is a speech pathologist and a proponent of teaching babies some signs for communicating.  So I've been doing some basic signs with the baby - things like eat, drink, more, get mommy a martini, you know, the important stuff.  I'm trying to get my husband to do it as well and had to go into a long explanation of why we do it, one of the reasons being that she will hopefully experience less frustration in trying to communicate her needs to us.  

The other day he's hanging out with the baby and asks me "what's the sign for coaster?" Because one of the leading causes of baby tantrums is the inability to communicate the need for a coaster?

Marital discord

The husband and I only have big blowout fights rarely (mostly recently fueled by my lack of sleep and hormonal fluctuations and usually ending in my empty threats that I'm feeling "stabby").  With us it's more of a constant nit-pick.  Hey, it's our dynamic and it seems to work.  To wit, our recent disagreements:

• How to pronounce Vladimir Nabakov's last name.  The husband insisted the "B" is silent.  Uh, nuh huh.
• Whether fajitas served without tortillas are actually fajitas.
• If the dog's rope toy is an appropriate toy for the baby.
• And the daily argument - whether a particular item in the fridge needs to be discarded because it is even remotely close to the expiration date.  More on this particular insane personality quirk (of his) later.

Neighbors, part deux

Before we lived here, deep in the heart of Texas, we lived in the Midwest.  In a nice city neighborhood.  Where everybody did their own thing and there weren't any neighborhood covenants dictating what color you could paint your house.  But of course your neighbors could also have a fridge on their porch and a sink in their yard and you had no recourse.  

So now we live in the suburbs with the neighborhood association in control.   Which has its good points, one being that people seem more friendly and welcoming.  Though it's usually to band together to complain about the barking dog or the child molester across the street (yes, literally across the street).  

The neighborhood association started a Yahoo Group to disseminate what I assume they thought would be important notices.  95% of the messages are: lost/found dog/cat/ferret, candle/scrapbook/southern living/tupperware parties, anybody know a dentist/lawyer/accountant, etc.  And then, a jewel among the crap.  A home waxing party.  You read that right.  Someone is offering waxes for their neighbors in their house.  Now I'm not sure if this is someone with actual waxing experience or licensing but even so, do you want a bikini wax from your neighbor?  Brazilian was on her list of services.  So was something called a "Kelly Clarkson" which was a chest wax.  

Keeping track of the neighbors

We feel the need to pass judgment on pretty much everything our neighbors do, as I'm pretty sure they do to us  - because me outside hosing off the dog's ass TWICE last week because he pooped then sat down in it probably didn't escape everyone's notice.  So yesterday I noticed the neighbors behind us didn't have on their air conditioner (it was 85 degrees and kind of humid).  

Me: "I can't believe they don't have their a/c on"

Husband: "I can't believe they left a perfectly good package of lysol cleansing wipes on their patio table OPEN, you know they're drying out."  

Cleanliness is not next to godliness, it's next to looniness.

April

April is officially "stop spending money on stupid stuff" month at our house.  Or in other words, "mommy can't go to Target" month.  

Baby games

On the phone with my mom:

Mom: What kind of games do you play with the baby?  Does she like hide and seek?

Me:  She totally sucks at hide and seek, both the hiding and the seeking.

Mom: Shut up, I meant peek-a-boo.

Not so discerning

You'd think that since I have limited free time I'd be fairly particular about how I spend it.  The fact that I watched the Kardashians E True Hollywood story TWICE this weekend would pretty much crystallize my level of pickiness when it comes to tv.

Baby sleep

Now I know why there are thousands of books on baby sleep.  I have never been so consumed with the topic of sleep or so fixated on my lack of sleep.  I think I was fairly realistic in my expectations of parenthood.  But I seriously thought that my baby would sleep through the night (in my head that means 10-12 uninterrupted hours) around the 3-4 month mark.  She just turned 10 months and has accomplished that feat more than a handful of times.  It's not horrible, she's usually up just once per night but her now normal wake up time is 5:30.  

I am not ready to be productive at 5:30.  Not unless I've had 10 hours of sleep.  

I've checked snopes for confirmation that there are babies out there that sleep all night and sleep to a normal wake up hour in the morning but as of now, I'm still convinced this is urban legend.  Notice it's always a friend of a friend who has that baby that started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks.

Walk in tub

There's a local place that has been having a media blitz lately.  They sell those walk in tubs.  They are pandering to those people who are nostalgic for the good old Hee Haw days.  The spokesman, let's call him Jim Bob, draws back the shower curtain of one of these marvelous tubs and who does he find?  A Minnie Pearl look-alike (as Minnie herself is dead, bless her heart).  The best part of this commercial is their tag line - "Call before you fall, 'cause we love y'all."  

Are we even remotely compatible?

I'm kind of in the "some germs are good" camp.  My husband is bordering on Howard Hughes'ish behavior.  I counted no fewer than 5 little bottles of hand sanitizer on his nightstand.  We have it in each car, and nearly every room of the house.  

Yesterday he came home from taking the dog to the groomer and he was carrying a big bottle of water (oh yes, he compulsively buys certain things too hand sanitizer - duh, but also bottled water).  

Me:  "Why did you buy yet another bottle of water?  We have 50 of them in the garage."

Him:  "The dog licked my water mug on the way to the groomer."

Me :   "And???"

I need resume advice not folksy expressions

Part of my severance package with my former employer includes a career counselor.  So I figured I might as well take advantage of the services and get my resume up to date.  I sent my resume to my "coach" and this was the response I got back:

"I think it is fine, as far as it goes, but I feel you are hiding your light under a barrel."  

What's the point?

Is the point of betting the moral victory of winning or the actual prize?  Because my husband wanted to be me money that Target carries Fire Ant killer.  Why exactly would I wager money with someone with whom I share money?  

Joe is livin in a dreamworld

This was a message left for me today.

"Hi Suzanne, this is Joe over at JP Morgan Chase in ___ Ranch, I was just wondering when would be a good time for you to stop by the bank and review our interest rates and see if you are getting the best rates for your checking and savings."  

My response:

"Hey Joe, thanks for calling.  I love it when I get random calls requesting that I stop on by the bank to check interest rates.  Not as much as when the guys roaming through my neighborhood knock on the door and try and get me to buy some meat they've got in their truck, but hey, you know what the Stones say, right?  So Joe, I'll tell you that a good time to stop by would be after you get and pay for a baby sitter because I have one of those not very advanced babies who doesn't know math, so the whole interest rate discussion is just going to bore and confuse her.   And since I have a babysitter, you don't mind if I stop by the gym before I come to the bank do you? Because pregnancy did a number on my ass, if you can still call it that since it's hanging down to my thighs now.   Then I'll probably go ahead and stop by a salon and get my hair colored and highlighted so I can venture forth in public without a baseball cap to conceal the gray hair and numerous ill-fated attempts at home color.  And highlighting.  Then you know what would be great? If I could stop by the outlet mall and get some new pants, I would refer you to the ass problem mentioned earlier if you question my need for new pants.   The last time I attempted to buy pants the baby crawled out of the dressing room and I had to chase her in my underwear.  Ok back off Joe, I know I'm still wearing maternity underwear but it's comfortable.  Now my baby comes by her math skills honestly as I am not a number cruncher myself but I'm willing to guess if you put pen to paper,  your babysitting outlay for me is going to put you in the hole, even after I transfer all my pennies to get the fabulous interest rates you are teasing me with.  But feel free to call me back when you procure the services of Super Nanny." 

Naptime

I used to have one of those kids who you just put in bed and they happily drift off to sleep without any fuss or noise.  Then she turned 9 months old and a roving band of gypsies stole her and replaced her with a howler monkey.  And so naptime now goes something like this (and joyfully we still do 2 naps):

12:00 - 12:02 

We wave goodnight to all the pictures of animals on the walls

12:02 - 12:04  

I put the baby in bed, turn on the baby aquarium, and point out that the bunny   lovey is right there.  Baby is sitting quietly playing with bunny.

12:04 - 12:10   

Baby is turning aquarium off and on.

12:10 - 12:13    

Baby is chewing on crib.

12:13 - 12:16    

Baby is kicking the back of the crib which is a solid piece of wood (good move picking that crib mommy).

12:16 - 12:17    

Baby takes off her pants.

12:17 -12:25

Baby is standing up politely yelling for someone to come get her.

12:25 - 12:30

Time for polite requests is over, baby now screaming bloody murder.

12:31

Baby collapses in heap and sleeps pantsless.

12:32

Mommy is drowning her sorrows in her 4th Diet Dr. Pepper for the day and a Reese's Peanut Butter egg she found shoved behind a box of rice in the pantry.