When Precocious Mommy Acts Benefit the Whole

So we are in the bathroom this morning, mutually getting ready. Doug's on his way out, I'm rinsing with Crest mouth waterever for 12 hours of bacteria killing bliss. He's in his suit, I'm in a towel.

"I'm leaving in a few seconds" he from the doorway.
I nod. I was trying to get downstairs with him to make coffee but it's looking unlikely.

"hmUh hum hu" I grunt at his receding back.

He turns back into the doorway and looks at me quizically.
"hmUh hum hu" I grunt again - but this time I make the sign with my right hand. Forefinger and pinky up, middle and ring down, thumb extended, palm towards him.

"Oh" he smiles at me. Then he makes the same sign and shakes it vertically towards me, forward and back. I love you too. He says the "Too" aloud.
We both smile. He walks away, and I spit. Then I see him in the doorway again. Making the same hand sign...

"...and apparently, I'm also ready to rock."

What I Did Today

Woke Up
Washed Dishes
Filled coffee water reserve
Fed Ellie
Dressed Ellie
Turned over washloads
Set off fire-alarm

Clearly I'm an Underachiever

What I did before bed tonight...
http://www.free-iqtest.net/

Obviously we're all a bunch of deadsbeats

So there's this social networking site online. Called meetup. Basically it's any one person organizing a group of likeminded people to share events, activities, thoughts around a common interest. The one I belong to - loosely - is a moms group. The site remembers what you are interested in and forwards you a notice when a similar group in your area opens up.

So today, I checked email and saw the following:
Surrounding Boston Cities Working Mom's Meetup

Oh how great, I thought. A new group for working moms, that's a good idea. I know my friend Kim doesn't know a lot of moms, etc etc. I was very pro-group. Until I read the description.

Meet friendly local working moms to talk about your kids and have fun! Mom's groups are a great way to meet other mom's and give your child/ren the chance to meet new friends, but most of them are geared towards mom's that do not work. This group will schedule weekend activities so that working mom's can participate and get the chance to meet other working mom's in the area. The group welcomes working mom's with children of all ages!

See, not to be a jerk - but you never see SAHM's posting exclusive groups like this. All the groups I see say "All Welcome". Meanwhile, what's up with the "moms who do not work" comment? Try staying home full time, missy, and you tell me who's not working.

I cried because I had too many shoes...

Hmm, a footnote to my earlier blog about Hand Me Down Shoes.
Get it???
A FOOTnote.

I kill me.

You know, I think I am glad that Grandma buys seconds of things. Grandpa smokes. And it bugs me. It's mean to speak of but things that go to them, things that sit in their home, their car, even bags of clothes for an overnight stay, come home with a faint trace of smoke on them. Then I rewash everything, and bitch about brushing off the dog hair.

So really, I rethought it. I'm lucky. And I'm glad the things I bought aren't being used. I'm sure I'd be uptight about their condition, stains, rips, any tiny imperfection.

And I'm pretty sure that my MIL had my number all along.

Don't Give Me Your Hand-Me-Down Shoe's

The Guess Who
Don't give me no hand me down shoes
Don't give me no hand me down love
Don't give me no hand me down world
I got one already

I'm doing my laundry today, back from my "big trip". My mother-in-law placed a bunch of things in a RiteAid bag. At the bottom of the bag, I found a receipt. For $6.99 for a local secondhand baby store. The line item said portacrib.

I'm not aggravated. I'm not mad. But I'd like to note why this put me in a less then better mood. Some might say bitter versus better if they were so alliteratively inclined.

See, here's the thing. And I'll tell you, I ADORE this woman. But here's the thing.
Whether it was really was portacrib, or it might have been a booster seat, or a clean shopper, or a jungle gym - well, no matter what it was, we have it. Likely we have two. Because I realized, with Ellie, that in order to go to NY and see them, I'd need duplicates or at least a travel version of these things. So I bought them. And now she's buying them.

Now don't give me a lecture on how happy I should be to have a great MIL who cares. Believe me, I know. And I say, daily, how lucky I am. And don't tell me that it's her way of feeling connected, I know that too. I know Grandma wants to feel like every other Grandma, and I know she likes baby things surrounding her. I get it.

But let me tell you a little bit about the duplication of things. And thank god this is my blog because I'm about to be culturally unacceptable.

1. My used items have been carefully selected for style as well as function. They are nice. They look nice, they smell nice, and they are gender specific. Am I being an asshole? Certainly. But I happen to enjoy seeing Ellie surrounded by nice things. Chances are, when I come to visit, I'm not going to use a used blue stroller, a used faded blue clean shopper. When I am out with Ellie, we are both representing a standard. My internal standard. It's not enough for me that Ellie is loved. I happen to like the fact that she looks loved. Carefully and expensively.

2. The argument "Oh but this is easier for you" is completely invalid for us. It's not easier. Besides the above stated reasons, often I combine a trip to NY with another trip. So I have to pack it all, or at least some of it, anyway. Then that some sits in my car taking up space.

3. The argument "Oh but it was all really cheap" is somewhat offensive due to the sheer irony of it. Maybe all the duplicates of my duplicates were cheap, but my originals actually weren't. The items we bought cost, if not money, time. And effort. I picked them out carefully, I researched them, I either drove to get, ebayed and shipped or had amazon deliver them. So now I have a bunch of stuff that I bought that cost me both time and money, that are being underused overall. That I still need regardless because their place isn't the only place we visit.

I mean, I both logically and emotionally understand the second portacrib, and yes, that IS easier. And I understand wanting books, toys, games at Grandmas. I do.

I think I'm just frustrated that these are limited use items in a home that is already overcrowded. That they work hard for their money, and it's not plentiful, and that they are investing it into baby items that will be so significantly underutilized that it wasn't worth the gas to get to the store, nevermind the cost paid.

I think too that there is an element of "fat American" to it. That we don't recycle, reuse. That the answer is to "buy more, get more, need more, own more more". So even though her items are second hand, does one child need four cribs?

Operating Under The Influence

ring ring ring...ring ring ring

wait

ring ring ring...ring ring ring

"Hi. This is ***. Leave a message"

hmm. I know you are in the car, I know you are coming to me. I know you are bad with directions. I know you don't know the area. I know we said we'd touch base. I know you have a cell. What I don't know is why you aren't picking up.

time passes, this time it's the reverse. My phone rings.

ring ring ring...ring ring ring

"Hello" I say.
"Um hi, we're here."
"Oh good! I just called you."
"Oh did you? I turned my phone off. I don't like using it while I'm driving."

I understand that. What I don't understand is why you don't hand your husband, in the passenger seat, the phone. I presume, unless somehow you got hold of a drivers ed car , that only one of you is actually operating the vehicle.

Ah.
The elderly.

It's Worth The Trip (but not necessarily worth reading)

Last Sunday, Doug and I decided to "Get Up, Go Out Early and Get Things Done".

Does it go without saying- Is it abundantly clear to anyone who knows us - that this was NOT Doug's idea?

After the usual 10 minutes of getting dressed and being ready, then the next 25 walking back and forth, up and down looking for all the going out accouterments phone, glasses, sunglasses, travel mug, Ellie's binky, blanket, bottle, Target receipts, Costco credit, coupons we were quasi ready to go...and stressed, and aggravated. Mostly due to Doug being hungry. Because he's a big damn baby. I mean, because he skipped breakfast in anticipation of the going out inducement of pastry. i.e. Do you want breakfast now or do you just want to get going and we can get "out" food. Specifically an apple turnover.

"Out food," he says, "but I want coffee now."
"In" coffee, "out" food.

So as we walk out the door, I look at the travel mug Doug has prepped for me disappointedly. I know it's full of stale, standing, bitter Keurig (Green Mountain Our Blend) coffee. Environmental impact aside, the Keurig is one of the best things we own. I try to justify our ownership of it by citing all the styrofoam containers that I save, the gas not spent idling at the drivethrough and the $2 not spent at Dunkins. Still, I cringe every time a Kcup hits the trash. And it's not the EXACT same as Dunkins

Doug see's me look at my mug.
"Your bummed about your coffee"
"No, I'm fine" I casually reassure him.
"Just throw it away. We'll get you an 'out' coffee"
WHAT??? And waste a kcup and hot water and a Splenda???
"Seriously, this is fine."

Out the door we go.

As we drive through town, Doug is casually chatting. I'm distracted. My thoughts consumed by an "out" coffee. Should I? Shouldn't I? Is it wasteful? Is it wrong? This is the coffee I have everyday, why don't I want it today?"
"What's up?" he asks.
"Oh I was just thinking about what errands we need to run" I lie.
He nods, he believes me.

We pull in to the coffee shop.
"What do you want," he asks.
"Um, a raspberry twist please." and he starts to get out.
I must have made a noise because he looks back in the car.
"What?"
I hesitate.
"You want a coffee," he says.
"Oh I really really do" I reply. Embarrassed. "Please, if you don't mind."
He laughs
"A regular" I ask.
"Sure"

In he goes and then out he comes.
Coffees in hand.
ummmm, I'm salivating.
I open the lid, and sip.

Blech.

I peer over the lid at my hubby,
"What's this?"
Him: "It's a regular. Milk and sugar."
Me: "Huh? Did you order it that way? A regular?
Him: "Yes, I did."
Me: confused "You did?"
Him: exasperated "Yes,I did"
Me: "Ok, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to understand. You walked in and said 'I'll have a regular coffee' and this is what they gave you?"
Him: annoyed. "Yes. I just said that. I walked in and asked for a coffee with milk and sugar." "A regular," he enunciates.
"That's not a regular," I retort. "A regular is cream and sugar."
Him: "No it isn't. A regular is milk and sugar. Besides, you have milk and sugar at home."
Me: "I know that. That's because we don't have cream at home."
Him: "Are you sure? I thought a regular was milk and sugar."

I sigh. I know this man. I love this man. We have been together for almost 3 years. We drink coffee. A lot of it.
Sigh.
I pick up my cell phone. I press speaker.
I dial my dad's wife.
"If I ordered a regular coffee, " I start, immediately after she answers, "how would it come?"
"cream and sugar" she replies, bemused but game.
"ok, thanks" I hang up.
I dial my quasi brother in law.
"Hey. Quick question," I lead with, "If I ordered a regular coffee, how would it come?"
"Cream and 2 sugars" he answers. then he amends. "or maybe it's one. But at Dunkin Donuts the sugars are big."
"Thanks" I hang up.
I call my mother's house. Her husband answers."Listen, " I said. "We are trying to figure something out." I ask him, I ask my mother. I ask my sister when she calls later. Do I really need to go?
"See" I crow triumphantly.
He waves my words away with a sweeping gesture. "You're all nuts" he says.

I don't know why I found it so funny. Truly. It just cracked me up. Such a simple thing. But so characteristic of my sweety befuddled husband. It strikes me as the perfect story to illustrate how one can be oblivious and brilliant at the same time.

chuckle chuckle.

So his mother calls. She'll appreciate this. So I ask her first thing. I put her on speaker: "Hey. What's in a regular coffee? Like if you order it at a coffee shop?"

And without waiting a beat she responds.

"Milk and sugar"
"What?" I said.
"Well, I don't know what a regular is there, but here in NY if you ordedr a regular, it's milk and sugar."

Harumph.


sidebar:
A funny addendum to this story was that several days after I was in CT at my good friend Cindy's. I tried telling her the story, complete with phone calls and hand gestures, but clearly with 3 children onhand, something was lost. I know this because the next morning shec sent her dear husband out for coffee and specified to him, as succintly and literal as could be, that mine was to be a regyular. Milk and Sugar.

Lyrics for Ellie

Que Sera Sera
Jay Livingston and Ray Evans

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

the devil makes work for idle hands

So I'm on the phone with my good friend Heather and I'm trying to simultaneously iron, talk to her and keep Ellie occupied until she relents, and naps, so I can pack.

"So, I can't believe...hang on, here Ellie, here's your Binky...that she said that to you. What did you say...Ellie honey, c'mere. Let me see that. No no no - that's a magazine. Here. Here's your book....REALLY? So how did she respond? Are you going to go back?"

Heather finishes her story, then chuckles.
"I have a confession to make"
"What's that" I say.
"This is going to make me sound like the worst mother in the world"
"Fabulous. I'm listening."
"Well, the other day Collin found his penis."
I laugh
"No wait" she said. That's not it." She pauses dramatically.
"Yes" I'm hooked, "go on"
"He loves it. Just pulling and tugging....I figured, hey, it was keeping him quite...so I just let him play with it."

Keeping Customer Service Busy

My actual "comment" via the web submission link to Customer Service at www.johnfrieda.com

Greetings to you. Recently I purchased the Brilliant Brunette Satin Shine "finishing creme". While I like the end result of the product, and the price point, I have to say that I needed to discard it owing to the scent ~ it is overpowering and perfumey...which I find odd in a hair product. Given that our hair is on our head (Captain Obvious here) the perfume smell is inescapable! It both competes with any other fragrence and, unfortunately, doesn't "fade" as a perfume would.

I'm not sure what the target demographic is for this product, but I am 38.9 (and counting!) and it's too "old" a scent for me. It's too strong, and too reminiscent of a old fashioned "hair pomade". I can't imagine that the smell (I'm not saying scent anymore, it smells) appeals to younger buyers and I can't imagine older buyers being "progressive" enough in their haircare regime to use finishing creme. Who are you after with this otherwise great but foul smelling product???!!!!

So while I grant you have an entire team of marketers and researchers, and that my feedback is likely only going to generate, at best, a coupon, at worst, a nice email - I just want to let you know (in case the "smell" factor is ever revisited) that because of one tiny flaw, your otherwise fabulous product has been ejected from my beauty supply.

Best to you, your ex-customer Deb!

Tell me again now, why is the bed called "Queen" sized?

God, other mother's are just so stupid. "I can't get my baby to sleep, I can't get her to nap."

They talk about tubbies before bed, reducing stimulation. Book reading, NPR in the backround, dim lights.

Asinine.

Shesh. It's so simple.

First, you tire them out all day. You play, let them walk, do tummy time. Then, at night, you give them a warm, full, bottle. Maybe a binky and a lovey. You place them in their cribs and you walk away.

Then, sometime around 5am.
When your bitter and exhausted because you hear crying in the next room.
You go in,
and pick them gently up,
cradle them in your arms,
carry them into your room,

and they hog the bed.
So what's the issue, people?

Oh This Old Thing?

I was in Costco today and someone said to me, for the umpteenth time..."Oh enjoy her. These are the best years. It's never going to be like this again".

May I just say the following?
SHUT UP PEOPLE.

My god. Really. Do I want to hear your bitter perspective? Do I need you to tell me that someday my child is going to grow up to hate me? That it's going to be nothing but worry and work from this day forward. And that no matter what, some day she'll leave me.

Really.

Do you walk up to a bride and say "Love him all you can today because you are only going to get sick of him"?

Do you go to a housewarming and say "Wow, you should take pictures. It's never going to look this nice again"?

Do you walk up to someone at the gym and say "My god you look so good. It must suck that from this day forward you are still going to age, then die"?

Do you go to a Communion and say "Well I guess this is the only time your little girl's truly going to be able to wear white walking down the aisle"?

For fucks sake people, ENOUGH already. Please let me enjoy my child. Today. Without your reminding me that it's all going to end.

And apparently badly.

May the wind be always at your back...

It's windy out. So windy and rainy that I'm afraid the tree in front of the house will blow over, crash through the roof and crush Ellie in her crib.

I wonder how thick the roof is.I wonder if i should put on clothes so the EMTs don't laugh at my naked body when they come to take us away. I wonder if I sleep in her room, if I can keep her safe. I wonder if children age you because you never sleep again.

I have to go now. I have to get up. I have to go and look out the front window, and wait for the strongest wind, and see if the tree looks menacing.

I *Heart* my Bottle