I write this entry remotely, saving it to a word document to post later. I write it, in part, with my friend Cindy in mind as I write from Vermont, her home state. The apparent home of maple syrup, penuche fudge, fresh ice cream, and faux antiques. Wisconsin, I believe, is the home of cheese but Vermonters may beg to differ
I’m angry. Mostly at myself.
Doug’s college friend sent Ellie a beach towel. Embroidered. The cheek! How can I return it? But thoughtful, and different from the tide of onesies. “Thank you,” I wrote, and then a bit more. The phone rings and it’s an invitation to come stay in Vermont, at the family summer house, at the tail end of their vacation. Say yes, I told myself, and it didn’t take much. Why not? I’m home full time, Ellie’s portable, Doug should see his friends. Why not?
“Yes” I said.
We packed, we came, we’re here.
I hate it.
Not them. It. This Place. Vermont. I hate Vermont. I hate visiting in general, and today, Saturday, I hate Vermont in particular.
Monday, I hated Maine.
Back in college, I hated the Cape.
Mid twenties, I hated Newport.
I just never ever fit in. I always felt a beat behind, awkward in a sea of laid back, roller blading, biking to breakfast, jeep driving, snowboarding, kashi crunching, let’s just hang out school of likeminded fish.
At first I thought I was insecure. “I hate visiting because I’m socially awkward.” But as I age, I realize that I’ve always been fairly convivial, so in retrospect I think that it’s likely that I mistook someone else’s poor conversation skills as a indicator of my own lack of social graces. Although sure, I still pause occasionally and question myself and there’s some internal angst pre and post every conversation that I somehow screwed up.
Then I thought I was inflexible. As in I like to be surrounded by my own things, I like routines. Then I accepted the fact that no shit, who doesn’t – so that wasn’t it.
I stopped going away. I hid behind money at first – I wasn’t of a socio economic group that had friends with “houses”, I was “: uncomfortable” and really, too broke. I had rent, car payments, insurance, etc. who had money to go away? Then I hid behind being unmarried…as in “I’m single and I live alone, what exactly do I need to “get away” from?”
This weekend I nailed what my real issue is.
I hate grime.
I hate that it’s de rigueur to stay in an old farmhouse, old cape house, old cottage. I hate the whole scene. Waking up in a damp musty bedroom with discarded quilts from the 70s. Stumbling to breakfast, humid from a nights sleep in a strange bed, walking into a room where there’s inevitably a farmhouse table littered with crumbs, a half heel of bread still in the bag, newspaper discarded willy nilly, rings from coffee mugs or mixed drink glasses, or maybe just a breakfast bowl and some blowhard that you couldn’t stand last night sitting around in his sweat shorts wanting to chit chat about how you slept.
I hate the fact that the floors are gritty with sand and gravel from treks into the woods, beach, yard – wherever. I hate vacation home furniture, the furniture that the sweat of a thousand backs has been rubbed on after a day at the lake, or after skiing. I that you can press your nail into the top of a dresser and it leaves a crescent. I hate other peoples bathing suits draped over the shower, or worse, the shower curtain itself, with brown spots at the hem. I hate the painted shelves in the bathroom, the cracked corners accumulating dust and hair. I hate black flies.
I also hate "away from home" grilling. I mean, isn’t it enough that you have to go to some strange grocery store, search for it, shop for it, tote it back, unpack it, and take it out of the packaging. Now we all have to go outside, start a fire, and watch it cook? What’s the POINT?? Have we never heard of a stove? Hello. We’ve moved indoors people, it’s called evolution. Step away from the fire pit.
I worked hard, to make money, to buy nice things, that I surround myself with.
I just don’t see the appeal in leaving it.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Envy
Since I've had Ellie I've been embarrassed. Not by my shape, not by the state of my house, not by my abilities as a mother...
but by her carriage.
And I can't let it go.
Before Ellie was born, we never registered. Bad luck, bad karma, bad idea. And once it came to 30 weeks, and we knew she'd make it, we thought - oh, we need to push them ourselves and see which we like. We'll wait and get one after.
I bookmarked all the nouveau standards...the Peg, The MaClaren, possibly the Chicco. We ruled out the Bugaboo as exorbitant. Sure we saw the Graco but frankly, it was annoyingly "puffy and plastic-y" looking. All big and corpulent, typical chunky gas guzzling SUV sized carriage - with a bunch of bullshit options. I wanted sleek, I wanted stylish, I wanted the yuppified, glorified carriage that would show that I was a yoga going, whole foods shopping, red wine drinking college educated mom. We have a pact - it's none of that dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and princess tiara stuff for us. Our kid was going to grow up with Baby Einstein toys, and wooden blocks, and finger puppets. We were going to hold firm against Pooh, The Disney Princesses and anything made in primary colors unless manufactured by Fisher Price or Sassy. Dora would be ok because she was both interactive, and bilingual. But SpongeBob could pound sand.
The problem was - and is - I'm too practical.
My sister - generously - gave me her deluxe travel system. It had the car seat, the stroller, the lay down bassinet that converted to a seat, the awning intact, cup holders, key holders, attachments, a net. She vacuumed it, scrubbed it - then gave me a tutorial on how to use it. Frankly, it was mint save for wear and tear, and far less then you would expect given the amount of use it got.
When she got it, 5 years ago, it was the first year that Graco made it. It was so well made, and so top of the line that to this day, it's the best selling travel system in the US.
And it was sharp. In a yellow and green plaid pattern. Very stylish for it's time. So sharp in fact that over 2 months ago, two Babie R Us employees discoursed long and loudly over the fact that it was both pristine, and unusually well cared for. That Graco just doesn't make 'em, even these few years later, like THAT anymore.
And therein lies the rub.
You know how you can always tell what year someone got their tattoo?
"Road Runner on your left shoulder, Playboy Bunny on the inside of your thigh, Tasmanian devil on your arm - it's the 80's right? Barbed wire on your bicep, tribal art around your belly button, yin/yang centered above your thong - welcome to the 90's. Tattoo on your neck, mural on your leg - I saw that on Miami Ink."
Well, it's the same way with colors and strollers. Brown is the new pink. Pink is the new green. If I had an avocado fridge and a burnt sienna sofa I'd be channeling 1977.
The plaid screams of 2002.
Oh sure, it's nice. And it's the best little carriage.
But I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed because it's old. And heavy. And clunky.
I think people think we are poor. I think they think I'm a bad mother. I think they think I'm not smart enough, or that we are not financially secure enough to have something new aka "the best". I'm so embarrassed that I covered the carseat with a designer (but on sale) blue paisley carseat cover. For a moment all was well. Until I looked down. At my sweet baby. In her makeshift "quick trip" carriage, a cobbled together affair comprised of a snap and go and with the above mentioned carseat. I'm afraid that I'm being judged, and that I won't make any new mom friends. That the "new mom"s will pick the OTHER "new mom"s with better carriages and Ellie and I will be left alone at the Sing A Long with nary a soul to giggle with. I feel a sense of smugness exuding from the "new moms" as they reach in to adjust baby Madeline's nuk binkie, clipped to her gap jumper with its rosebud clip, while they say "Oh, and how old is your..., I'm sorry, is it a boy or a girl?" all the while peering into our pumpkin seat with disdain at Ellie - sweetly nestled in her fuzzy "I love Mummy" sleeper, against the plush brushed cotton of her paisley carseat cover, sucking on her bright, round hospital issue industrial soother.
I feel like I want to say
"Listen lady, this was a conscious choice. She was a preemie and needed to lay flat. She did. For Free. In comfort. Now she likes to sit quasi upright b/c of her reflux but she's still under 12lbs, so the older, less upright carseat works better. Plus it's July. We are only going to be able to walk outside 4 more months. She's only going to be in the infant seat a year. Yes, we can afford $400, we can afford $800, we can actually afford $1200, cash, now - and Doug wouldn't notice. The point is - why? Why on god's green earth am I going to out and spend $400-$800 on a deluxe travel system when the whole things going to be gone in a years time anyway?? What I have now was FREE. Free. It's renewable, it's recyclable. It was her cousin's, who loves her. It's fine."
"And as far as her outfit? She's in a sleeper. She was SLEEPING! We woke up with Daddy at 6am and we left the house as a family at 7. Because THAT'S what's important. Every morning Daddy gets to have his family wish him off for the day. Not sleeping in or treating him like a pariah who has to dress in another room so as not to wake the baby. I didn't change her because it's cool on the lake at 7am and besides, she just ate. I'm going to give her a bellyache so she looks pretty? You're only seeing her in her sleeper at 10, because we walked, then sat and had a bubba, then we talked to the geese and the old man who walks everyday. Then I had coffee and read the paper while Ellie slept. Because we aren't in a hurry. We don't have to run any where or do anything because my FIRST priority during the day - is her. Yes, my stroller is white trash. The only thing missing is a bungie cord to keep things in securely. So what? I'll just wait and get a GREAT stroller for when she actually can hold her NECK up! Yes, my baby has an ugly binky. Um hmm. She has a hospital issue, $1.99, doesn't leave marks around her lips binky. So fucking what. She likes it."
I see all the other first timers out at the StollerStriders class with my bookmarked options, pumping their resistance bands. I feel left out. I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed that my first class with them is Tuesday and I'm coming with a tatty stroller and a towel instead of a pretty "Mommy and Me" play mat.
But I also, in my heart, have my own sense of rightousness. My baby, whose weight I don't know, whose carriage is tacky... my baby is happy. She's eating, she's playing. She's clean, she coos, she's read to, she's held. My baby tracks with her eyes and stares into the mirror. People love holding her, love visiting her. I am a good mother. I'm a great mother. No, we don't have a pink rolled up play mat with a green strap but we have PLENTY of towels. That can double as spit rags, and changing pads, and a blankie, and wash just like ***snap***that! We aren't going to need a mansion to house our things because we are going to MAKE DO! Doug isn't going to have to work until he's 70 or until a heartattack to pay for my excesses.
sigh.
Maybe someday Ellie will learn from me to respect the power of money, to save when you can spend, to use what's usable, to respect the gifts that are generously given to us. If I compromise now, and give in to the stroller, what else will I give in to.
but by her carriage.
And I can't let it go.
Before Ellie was born, we never registered. Bad luck, bad karma, bad idea. And once it came to 30 weeks, and we knew she'd make it, we thought - oh, we need to push them ourselves and see which we like. We'll wait and get one after.
I bookmarked all the nouveau standards...the Peg, The MaClaren, possibly the Chicco. We ruled out the Bugaboo as exorbitant. Sure we saw the Graco but frankly, it was annoyingly "puffy and plastic-y" looking. All big and corpulent, typical chunky gas guzzling SUV sized carriage - with a bunch of bullshit options. I wanted sleek, I wanted stylish, I wanted the yuppified, glorified carriage that would show that I was a yoga going, whole foods shopping, red wine drinking college educated mom. We have a pact - it's none of that dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and princess tiara stuff for us. Our kid was going to grow up with Baby Einstein toys, and wooden blocks, and finger puppets. We were going to hold firm against Pooh, The Disney Princesses and anything made in primary colors unless manufactured by Fisher Price or Sassy. Dora would be ok because she was both interactive, and bilingual. But SpongeBob could pound sand.
The problem was - and is - I'm too practical.
My sister - generously - gave me her deluxe travel system. It had the car seat, the stroller, the lay down bassinet that converted to a seat, the awning intact, cup holders, key holders, attachments, a net. She vacuumed it, scrubbed it - then gave me a tutorial on how to use it. Frankly, it was mint save for wear and tear, and far less then you would expect given the amount of use it got.
When she got it, 5 years ago, it was the first year that Graco made it. It was so well made, and so top of the line that to this day, it's the best selling travel system in the US.
And it was sharp. In a yellow and green plaid pattern. Very stylish for it's time. So sharp in fact that over 2 months ago, two Babie R Us employees discoursed long and loudly over the fact that it was both pristine, and unusually well cared for. That Graco just doesn't make 'em, even these few years later, like THAT anymore.
And therein lies the rub.
You know how you can always tell what year someone got their tattoo?
"Road Runner on your left shoulder, Playboy Bunny on the inside of your thigh, Tasmanian devil on your arm - it's the 80's right? Barbed wire on your bicep, tribal art around your belly button, yin/yang centered above your thong - welcome to the 90's. Tattoo on your neck, mural on your leg - I saw that on Miami Ink."
Well, it's the same way with colors and strollers. Brown is the new pink. Pink is the new green. If I had an avocado fridge and a burnt sienna sofa I'd be channeling 1977.
The plaid screams of 2002.
Oh sure, it's nice. And it's the best little carriage.
But I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed because it's old. And heavy. And clunky.
I think people think we are poor. I think they think I'm a bad mother. I think they think I'm not smart enough, or that we are not financially secure enough to have something new aka "the best". I'm so embarrassed that I covered the carseat with a designer (but on sale) blue paisley carseat cover. For a moment all was well. Until I looked down. At my sweet baby. In her makeshift "quick trip" carriage, a cobbled together affair comprised of a snap and go and with the above mentioned carseat. I'm afraid that I'm being judged, and that I won't make any new mom friends. That the "new mom"s will pick the OTHER "new mom"s with better carriages and Ellie and I will be left alone at the Sing A Long with nary a soul to giggle with. I feel a sense of smugness exuding from the "new moms" as they reach in to adjust baby Madeline's nuk binkie, clipped to her gap jumper with its rosebud clip, while they say "Oh, and how old is your..., I'm sorry, is it a boy or a girl?" all the while peering into our pumpkin seat with disdain at Ellie - sweetly nestled in her fuzzy "I love Mummy" sleeper, against the plush brushed cotton of her paisley carseat cover, sucking on her bright, round hospital issue industrial soother.
I feel like I want to say
"Listen lady, this was a conscious choice. She was a preemie and needed to lay flat. She did. For Free. In comfort. Now she likes to sit quasi upright b/c of her reflux but she's still under 12lbs, so the older, less upright carseat works better. Plus it's July. We are only going to be able to walk outside 4 more months. She's only going to be in the infant seat a year. Yes, we can afford $400, we can afford $800, we can actually afford $1200, cash, now - and Doug wouldn't notice. The point is - why? Why on god's green earth am I going to out and spend $400-$800 on a deluxe travel system when the whole things going to be gone in a years time anyway?? What I have now was FREE. Free. It's renewable, it's recyclable. It was her cousin's, who loves her. It's fine."
"And as far as her outfit? She's in a sleeper. She was SLEEPING! We woke up with Daddy at 6am and we left the house as a family at 7. Because THAT'S what's important. Every morning Daddy gets to have his family wish him off for the day. Not sleeping in or treating him like a pariah who has to dress in another room so as not to wake the baby. I didn't change her because it's cool on the lake at 7am and besides, she just ate. I'm going to give her a bellyache so she looks pretty? You're only seeing her in her sleeper at 10, because we walked, then sat and had a bubba, then we talked to the geese and the old man who walks everyday. Then I had coffee and read the paper while Ellie slept. Because we aren't in a hurry. We don't have to run any where or do anything because my FIRST priority during the day - is her. Yes, my stroller is white trash. The only thing missing is a bungie cord to keep things in securely. So what? I'll just wait and get a GREAT stroller for when she actually can hold her NECK up! Yes, my baby has an ugly binky. Um hmm. She has a hospital issue, $1.99, doesn't leave marks around her lips binky. So fucking what. She likes it."
I see all the other first timers out at the StollerStriders class with my bookmarked options, pumping their resistance bands. I feel left out. I'm embarrassed. I'm embarrassed that my first class with them is Tuesday and I'm coming with a tatty stroller and a towel instead of a pretty "Mommy and Me" play mat.
But I also, in my heart, have my own sense of rightousness. My baby, whose weight I don't know, whose carriage is tacky... my baby is happy. She's eating, she's playing. She's clean, she coos, she's read to, she's held. My baby tracks with her eyes and stares into the mirror. People love holding her, love visiting her. I am a good mother. I'm a great mother. No, we don't have a pink rolled up play mat with a green strap but we have PLENTY of towels. That can double as spit rags, and changing pads, and a blankie, and wash just like ***snap***that! We aren't going to need a mansion to house our things because we are going to MAKE DO! Doug isn't going to have to work until he's 70 or until a heartattack to pay for my excesses.
sigh.
Maybe someday Ellie will learn from me to respect the power of money, to save when you can spend, to use what's usable, to respect the gifts that are generously given to us. If I compromise now, and give in to the stroller, what else will I give in to.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
My Funny Valentine
In bed last night, I feel Doug shimmying out of his shorts.
"What's up?", I whisper in the dark.
"I'm not preparing for battle." his disembodied voice replies. "I'm just hot"
This morning at 6am.
"How come you never seem tired" I say.
Deadpans: "Oh, that's just because I sleep on the drive home."
Last night watching the news.
Headline "Boat runs over whale." I look at him, he at me.
I start "Now, if the whale...
"...ran over the boat," he continued, "Now that would be news."
PERFECT for me, no?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
The Perils of Pottery Barn
Have you ever seen the movie The Devil Wears Prada?
There's the biting scene where Meryl Streep gives Anne Hathaway a dressing down for inadvertently calling some fashion items "stuff". The gist of the scene is that "Andy" is wearing a sweater which "Miranda" mocks, saying the item was selected "for her" in 2002 based on a convoluted, but sensible, turn of events.
My point? Sigh. Go to any apartment or house of a friend of a certain age, and you will see vastly similar decor. We think we like it independent of each other, or of suggestion. "I've always loved yellow" one says, or "Green is my favorite color." Um hmm. Sure. It's just a coincidence that every OTHER one of our friends also loves yellow. That same shade of Tuscan Yellow, or that Buttercream shade as seen at Restoration Hardware.
NO, I'm original.
Sure.
Page 6. Pottery Barn.
Whats my point? Nothing really. Except that in our subconscious quest for the clean lines and airy look of Pottery Barn, we stumbled into ownership of 3 sets of cream sheets. One cotton, one jersey, one flannel. (Well, so all 3 are technically cotton but you get what I mean.) I had two sets for my full size bed, Doug one set for his queen. They are comingled, and which pillow case belongs with which is cause for a compulsives speculation.
ACT ONE
The role of The Wife is being played by Deb, Doug is featured as the husband.
Scene: Tuesday. Note on Table.
Dear Husband,
(paper lists two items)
Please move cord to basement
Please bring sheets upstairs and leave on (or make) bed.
Love, Wife. (Flowers and hearts and XO on note)
Wife arrives Home exhausted. Husband brought up, folded and put away said laundry, as well as made one of the two said beds. With the cream sheets. Wife thanks Husband. Husband and Wife Sleep.
Scene: Thursday.
Brother and quasi-SIL to arrive at midnight. Wife making guest bed (queen)..late. Tired. Wife removes sheets from linen closet. Fitted sheet....hmmm, fitted sheet at different angle...hmm, hmmm. Confused. Back to closet. New sheet. Fitted, hmmm. New sheet at a different angle. Hmm Hmm. Sheets strewn on floor. Wife back in closet. Rooting, rooting. Cream pillowcase, check, cream second pillowcase check. Sheet? Sheet? Hmm.
Gets Maroon sheets. Calls to Husband.
"Can you believe this. I'm on my third set of sheets. None of them fit"
Husband: Try the maroon.
Wife: I'm getting them now.
Fitted sheet, stretch, oomph, shove, push, plump pillows, oversheet. coverlet - WHEW! Finished. Now bend, bend, fold strewn. 15 minutes total elapsed timed. TIRED.
Wife walking into babies room. "I just can't figure out where the other sheets went.
Husband: "I think I may have used them on this bed."
Wife reaches over to look under coverlet. The fitted sheet drapes gently down to the floor.
"Oh"
So the simple fact, all these words later is that I blame Pottery Barn for being tired.
I also spent $60...on new brown bamboo sheets.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Moo Moo
I went to TJMaxx for a new Duvet Cover. Well I was there I passed a BCBG dress, retailing for $118, discounted to $40. Cute little cap sleeve bubble-esque frock. Green and cream, with that asian inspired pattern of big leaves that Crate and Barrell loves. Cute cute.
Hey, I read Star, I see Lindsay Lohen. The Bubble Dress is back. Forget Twiggy, you can be fat now and still "rock" the look (as the kids say). Nevermind that I look like my Aunt Donata circa 1974.
I try it on. I look big. I am big. I'm 20lbs heavier. But I glimpse the promise of what the dress could be. A walk in Newburyport. A Mommy & Me Music Class. A drink in Fanuel Hall. Holding matching baby. It's cute. In a mu mu retro way.
I walk to the salesgal and various sundry in line try-er on-ers.
Look at all.
"Does this look like a mumu?"
resounding "YES"
"Can I wear it anyway"
for the most part "yes"
The salesgirl says "It looks too big"
I say "I'm not sure. I'm afraid to go smaller" pause, then I add, somewhat defensively because Ellie is not with me and I feel like I need to justify my swinging arm flab... "I just had a baby and I'm not really sure what size I am"
Salesgirl "Oh you did, when?"
Me: "Well, I mean, not "just",. She's 10 weeks old."
Salesgirl "Good for you. That's the way to do it. Take it off slow."
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
One, Two, Two Little Lines
So my sister and I both A-DORED this little Seseme Street vignette when we were kids about Two Little Girls in a Little Doll House. Then my sister found it on youtube last September. She sent it to me and I was dying! Meanwhile I knew we were trying to get pregnant. Weeks passed and I discovered I was pregnant. For fun, I decided to rewrite the lyrics of our "clip" to send to my sister and announce our pregnancy.
I lost the Word attachment - and ended up telling her on her cell phone anyway.
GUESS WHAT THOUGH! I just found it. I emailed it to myself from work on one of the last days. Sigh. You need to be watching the video to hear the music, then read the lyrics OVER it to make it work but it still made me sigh. Seems so long ago.
One, two
Two single people
One, two
Two lives together
Two single people
Two lives together
Two happy people in a little yellow house
One, two
Two little tests
One, Two
Two Little lines
Two little tests
Two Little lines
Two happy people in a little yellow house
Two happy people – what will they see
Waiting exxxxx - spectantly
They had two lines – One and Two
I can count them, why don’t you?
One, two
Two nervous wrecks
One, two
What to expect?
Two nervous wrecks
What to expect?
All happy now in a little yellow house
What’s that? Noise pitched high
One, two
Two little cries
Two little cries …one massive pee … off to sleep ...happy as can be!!
I lost the Word attachment - and ended up telling her on her cell phone anyway.
GUESS WHAT THOUGH! I just found it. I emailed it to myself from work on one of the last days. Sigh. You need to be watching the video to hear the music, then read the lyrics OVER it to make it work but it still made me sigh. Seems so long ago.
One, two
Two single people
One, two
Two lives together
Two single people
Two lives together
Two happy people in a little yellow house
One, two
Two little tests
One, Two
Two Little lines
Two little tests
Two Little lines
Two happy people in a little yellow house
Two happy people – what will they see
Waiting exxxxx - spectantly
They had two lines – One and Two
I can count them, why don’t you?
One, two
Two nervous wrecks
One, two
What to expect?
Two nervous wrecks
What to expect?
All happy now in a little yellow house
What’s that? Noise pitched high
One, two
Two little cries
Two little cries …one massive pee … off to sleep ...happy as can be!!
Pajama Party
So last night my sister took Ellie for her first overnight sleepover. It's actually the first babysitting time too, unless you include the 2 times I went out to the store when Jan then Crazy Anna were here. (Not that Jan is any less crazy then Anna, mind you, but Anna had the moniker first and the SSD checks to prove it...)
So away Michelle went, with Ellie buckled into Julia's OLD infant seat, and Julia buckled beside her in her toddler seat. (Michelle does a very good job of focusing the attention equally between the two, which I feel a gentle chiding reprimand that I do not. I mean to, I think I am just distracted. But she's right.) Regardless, away they went.
One would think that Doug and I would go on a date, go run an errand, go somewhere, no? NO. Are you kidding? We had take out Thai food, a beer apiece, then retired to the upstairs office for bookkeeping (us) web browsing (him) and microorganization (me).
Doug thought Michelle took her to give us time alone, I thought Michelle took her so I could get things done. Because, I think, if I get things done, then we can spend time alone.
Doug thought we should get in bed early and cuddle. I thought, "Sure. Let's cuddle. So you can eat Thai, check email, then fall asleep" whereas I can "Eat Thai, get as much done before you tell me it's time for "us" to go to bed, fall asleep and wake up and work the entire day"
Doug: What are you going to do today when your sister has Ellie? Take a nap? Get a pedicure?
Deb: In her head: No, I'm actually going to sit down at the computer and pay bills. Then I'm going to check to see if your aunt replied to our invite for August, if your friend's wife read the July plans email. Then I'm going to see if the guy in Waltham with the craigslist Fisher Price aquarium is close to Michelle to pick up the baby's crib soother. After that I'm going to update my blog. As soon as I bang out an entry, I'll strip both beds, do all the laundry, and put away the baby clothes from yesterdays laundry. Then I'm going to drag the new cannister vac upstairs to vacuum the office. After that I',m going to collect your shirts and place them in the dry cleaner bag, after I take out the collar stays. Then I'll walk through the upstairs and collect all the water cups to bring downstairs, and receipts to schred. I'll shred, then take the water glasses et al back downstairs. Switch laundry. Look longingly at the coffe pot. Wish for food.
Then I'll load my car with the OLD old printer, vacuum, and knickknacks for salvation army. I'll come upstairs, check hair and add makeup. Go back down, grab the banking, the return receipts, the dry cleaning - and leave. I'll drive for coffee, getting OUT of the car because I can. I'm going to the shitty coffee place b/c it's next to CVS and we need formula. Then I'll go to Salvation Army. Drop OFF the stuff, turn around and go to the dry cleaner. After that, I have a 12 noon appt. Which I'll make. Then I'll go to the grocery store for dry groceries and meat, then the farm stand for fruit. After I drop THOSE off, I'll go to Everett, to Babies R Us, to return gifts.
I also want to go to TJ Maxx to find a cotton blanket (b/c you don't like the fleece). What else? Oh, at some point in time I need to eat. And to pick that baby up. So no, I think a pedicure is unlikely.
Deb: Outloud: I don't think I'll have time for a pedicure but I'd love one.
So away Michelle went, with Ellie buckled into Julia's OLD infant seat, and Julia buckled beside her in her toddler seat. (Michelle does a very good job of focusing the attention equally between the two, which I feel a gentle chiding reprimand that I do not. I mean to, I think I am just distracted. But she's right.) Regardless, away they went.
One would think that Doug and I would go on a date, go run an errand, go somewhere, no? NO. Are you kidding? We had take out Thai food, a beer apiece, then retired to the upstairs office for bookkeeping (us) web browsing (him) and microorganization (me).
Doug thought Michelle took her to give us time alone, I thought Michelle took her so I could get things done. Because, I think, if I get things done, then we can spend time alone.
Doug thought we should get in bed early and cuddle. I thought, "Sure. Let's cuddle. So you can eat Thai, check email, then fall asleep" whereas I can "Eat Thai, get as much done before you tell me it's time for "us" to go to bed, fall asleep and wake up and work the entire day"
Doug: What are you going to do today when your sister has Ellie? Take a nap? Get a pedicure?
Deb: In her head: No, I'm actually going to sit down at the computer and pay bills. Then I'm going to check to see if your aunt replied to our invite for August, if your friend's wife read the July plans email. Then I'm going to see if the guy in Waltham with the craigslist Fisher Price aquarium is close to Michelle to pick up the baby's crib soother. After that I'm going to update my blog. As soon as I bang out an entry, I'll strip both beds, do all the laundry, and put away the baby clothes from yesterdays laundry. Then I'm going to drag the new cannister vac upstairs to vacuum the office. After that I',m going to collect your shirts and place them in the dry cleaner bag, after I take out the collar stays. Then I'll walk through the upstairs and collect all the water cups to bring downstairs, and receipts to schred. I'll shred, then take the water glasses et al back downstairs. Switch laundry. Look longingly at the coffe pot. Wish for food.
Then I'll load my car with the OLD old printer, vacuum, and knickknacks for salvation army. I'll come upstairs, check hair and add makeup. Go back down, grab the banking, the return receipts, the dry cleaning - and leave. I'll drive for coffee, getting OUT of the car because I can. I'm going to the shitty coffee place b/c it's next to CVS and we need formula. Then I'll go to Salvation Army. Drop OFF the stuff, turn around and go to the dry cleaner. After that, I have a 12 noon appt. Which I'll make. Then I'll go to the grocery store for dry groceries and meat, then the farm stand for fruit. After I drop THOSE off, I'll go to Everett, to Babies R Us, to return gifts.
I also want to go to TJ Maxx to find a cotton blanket (b/c you don't like the fleece). What else? Oh, at some point in time I need to eat. And to pick that baby up. So no, I think a pedicure is unlikely.
Deb: Outloud: I don't think I'll have time for a pedicure but I'd love one.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Shalom in the Home
I actually watched an episode of Shalom in the Home today.
EPISODE TITLE:“The Gordons”–Premiered Monday, April 17 at 10/9c
Ro and her husband Roy are struggling to keep their second marriage together. Ro’s obsessive cleaning and fiery temper are destabilizing their blended family – Roy and the kids have checked out, and the family is rapidly drifting apart. Shmuley quickly discovers how Ro’s painful childhood has left her full of anxiety and anger. Will Ro eventually realize that it’s better to have a happy house than a perfectly clean one?
I was feeding the little miss and got enraptured. I certainly didn't feel a sense of kinship, I think Ro "the heroine" as it were, was a bit Liza Minneli and irrational. But I definitely could see her motivation. Essentially, the need to create order and structure within chaos. That there is a right way, and a wrong way, and that things look nice - and stay nice - because you take care of them. Rabbi Shmuley says that "Chaos in childhood creates the need to assert order in adulthood." Hmmm. All I know is that I am constantly creating mental lists of things to do, and that once they aredone, ALL done, then I will relax and feel better.
Interestingly enough, Doug presented me with a parallel item of interest yesterday as well. A lifestyle article in the WSJ on Sunday that talked about why we neglect our homes. In the authors words "Some of it is pure laziness. And some of it may be that, unlike the car, the task of maintaining a house is just too big. We can't get our arms around it. So we don't even try."
What fascinates me is that 1 tv show, and 1 article together, presented on the same day, sum up the major source of conflict in our relationship.
Deb: Pay today so you can play tomorrow. Make hay while the sun shines.
Doug: If it isn't broke, don't fix it. The squeaky wheel (will)get(s)the grease.
It's hard to respect his position.
One just wants to say "If you know the goddamn wheel is going to squeak eventually, why not just oil it now."
EPISODE TITLE:“The Gordons”–Premiered Monday, April 17 at 10/9c
Ro and her husband Roy are struggling to keep their second marriage together. Ro’s obsessive cleaning and fiery temper are destabilizing their blended family – Roy and the kids have checked out, and the family is rapidly drifting apart. Shmuley quickly discovers how Ro’s painful childhood has left her full of anxiety and anger. Will Ro eventually realize that it’s better to have a happy house than a perfectly clean one?
I was feeding the little miss and got enraptured. I certainly didn't feel a sense of kinship, I think Ro "the heroine" as it were, was a bit Liza Minneli and irrational. But I definitely could see her motivation. Essentially, the need to create order and structure within chaos. That there is a right way, and a wrong way, and that things look nice - and stay nice - because you take care of them. Rabbi Shmuley says that "Chaos in childhood creates the need to assert order in adulthood." Hmmm. All I know is that I am constantly creating mental lists of things to do, and that once they aredone, ALL done, then I will relax and feel better.
Interestingly enough, Doug presented me with a parallel item of interest yesterday as well. A lifestyle article in the WSJ on Sunday that talked about why we neglect our homes. In the authors words "Some of it is pure laziness. And some of it may be that, unlike the car, the task of maintaining a house is just too big. We can't get our arms around it. So we don't even try."
What fascinates me is that 1 tv show, and 1 article together, presented on the same day, sum up the major source of conflict in our relationship.
Deb: Pay today so you can play tomorrow. Make hay while the sun shines.
Doug: If it isn't broke, don't fix it. The squeaky wheel (will)get(s)the grease.
It's hard to respect his position.
One just wants to say "If you know the goddamn wheel is going to squeak eventually, why not just oil it now."
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Cue the Lee Greenwood song...
Babies 1st holiday..
Theme Dress, yep.
Matchy matchy socks, uh huh
somber thoughtful introspective reflective pose, yep.
Mommy NAILED it.
ahem, I made the flag myself...
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Shot to the Heart
Happy almost 4th of July. I'm going to try to post once a week and record some, well, record, of where we are in little Miss Butler's life. I'm bitter that so much time has past. I have reams of blog entries in my head. Especially the ones about Breastfeeding, Daddy's advice, and Grandma's Holding. But those will have to wait. Someday I may even enter her baby book entries. Wouldn't that be a kick. I hope ebloggers not going anywhere anytime soon....
So today Miss Ellie is 9 weeks and 1 day. She weighs 10.3 lbs, is 22 1/2 inches long and her head is 15 plus inches around. You're thinking "Wow, what a great Mommy to track all that!" and I'm thinking "Aha, I just read that off the pediatrician report" (Which is ANOTHER blog entry in my head, about our 4'11" pediatrician who is, conservatively, 30 years old..ish)
Regardless, Miss Ellie got her first round of shots yesterday, and may I say, I think she did fabulous. No fever, minimal fussing, slept a little extra, and stayed awake a little extra today. Other then that, she really is a direct and to the point little gal. She looks at you kind of soberly and meows only when necessary. Folks say "Oh what a good baby" to which I ineviably reply "Oh yeah sure, she's so mellow and quiet. We'll find out in 3 years that these were the soft markers for autism."
NOT funny.
But funny, no?
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