The other day I had this exchange with one of the moms from Abby's pre school that I have been thinking about all week. Somehow we got on the subject of age and she said to me, " Don't tell me you are still in your 20s!".
Hmmm.
I know that I am often the youngest mom on the playground, and sometimes that makes me uncomfortable. For the most part, it has become my identity, and I am ok with that. Some of the older moms love me because I can identify with them but also explain who Gnarls Barkley is. The only real trouble I have is when I try to talk about what happened last night on Laguna Beach (not that I, ahem, watch that or anything). I get a lot of knowing looks that seem to say, "Oh, sweet stupid youth." I also get a lot of parenting advice because apparently I have not reached the magic age of reason that helps me be able to parent effectively. (Man I hate that! There is this one mom at the park, Whitney's mom, who tries to tell me how to do stuff. What the fuck, I have 2 kids, my oldest is older than her one and we have all survived. I can't be doing everything wrong. Can you tell we had a run in with her today?)
I guess I like being the youngest mom around here who does not have any dramatic back story about having a kid at 18, then having 3 more after she put herself through med school and found Prince Charming. I am comfortable in that I was happily married when Abby was conceived (ok, we were married for about 2 weeks, but hey they were happy weeks). I am comfortable with the "career" I had teaching before I had Abby. And I love staying home and being the youngest mom on the playground. Something about this was weird though. I am approaching my 29th birthday, and for as much fun as I have made of Tim for hyperventilating over turning 30 this year, I am now feeling a bit itchy about being 29. What happens when I am not the youngest mom on the playground? Who do I become then?
As I have been pondering this throughout our trip to the Art Institute today, I came across a blurb in the "Weekend Planner" in today's Trib. There are auditions this weekend for the next cast of MTV's Real World. They are looking for interesting people between the ages of 18 and 25. When did I leave the "interesting" demographic? Why are you uninteresting after 25? What happens? Did I miss something while I was giving birth at age 25? Why am I "too old" to be on a show that I religiously TiVo and try to get into every season? (This past one was just annoying with those whiny kids complaining about how the hurricanes were ruining "their experience"and talking shit, not even good shit, about eachother and just being mean. And that one girl, the anorexic, screaming "Kiss my ass" anytime anyone told her to eat a cheeseburger got really old)
Let me get this straight, I am too old to be on the Real World, but too young to be taken seriously in it?
Friday, September 22, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
Pomposity
I have this friend who lives way beyond her means as the wife of a doctor banking on the fact that "In 2 years he is going to be making $367,000 a year." The figure changes everytime we talk about it, but the line is always the same. This is how she justifies a lot of poor financial decisions (like credit card debt, Cole Hahn shoes, and an interest only mortgage). What she does not see in her gravy train husband is that he is kind of an ass. The best word to describe him is pompous. He is going into a field of medicine based soley on the salary, and of course he knows everything there is to know about medicine. He totally gets off on introducing himself as Dr. Soandso, and is a shell of the fun loving cool guy he used to be.
Today we had lunch with Dr. and Mrs. Materialism and their kids.
It was actually quite nice, the kids were good, the food was fine, the conversation was as good as to be expected.
Until he looked at me and said, "Would you call me pompous?"
Oh shit, does he know that I do it all the time? Did their neighbors who I used to be friends with rat me out? Did I even call him pompous to them? Does he have some medical technology that makes him able to read my mind and he could hear me thinking that all through lunch? Am I waiting too long to answer. Here is all I could come up with:
"Not to your face."
I then blubbered all over myself trying to tell the truth (yes, if I were to look up pompous in the dictionary, your picture would be there next to it) without hurting his feelings. I told him he was a doctor, he knows a lot about a lot of things. He has an expensive education. He should know stuff. My husband is cocky. We all have our faults.
But here is the thing about the pompous, they don't care about your answer, anytime anyone else is talking that is just filler for when they get to talk again.
In all I think I gave a fairly diplomatic answer, without lying blatantly and telling him that he was down to earth or anything crazy like that.
I also breathed a huge sigh of relief when he told me that Mrs. Materialism's mom had said that he was pompous and it wasn't their horrible Alpha Parent neighbors (who I used to be friends with) ratting me out for talking shit.
Today we had lunch with Dr. and Mrs. Materialism and their kids.
It was actually quite nice, the kids were good, the food was fine, the conversation was as good as to be expected.
Until he looked at me and said, "Would you call me pompous?"
Oh shit, does he know that I do it all the time? Did their neighbors who I used to be friends with rat me out? Did I even call him pompous to them? Does he have some medical technology that makes him able to read my mind and he could hear me thinking that all through lunch? Am I waiting too long to answer. Here is all I could come up with:
"Not to your face."
I then blubbered all over myself trying to tell the truth (yes, if I were to look up pompous in the dictionary, your picture would be there next to it) without hurting his feelings. I told him he was a doctor, he knows a lot about a lot of things. He has an expensive education. He should know stuff. My husband is cocky. We all have our faults.
But here is the thing about the pompous, they don't care about your answer, anytime anyone else is talking that is just filler for when they get to talk again.
In all I think I gave a fairly diplomatic answer, without lying blatantly and telling him that he was down to earth or anything crazy like that.
I also breathed a huge sigh of relief when he told me that Mrs. Materialism's mom had said that he was pompous and it wasn't their horrible Alpha Parent neighbors (who I used to be friends with) ratting me out for talking shit.
The Agony and The Ecstasy
So for the past few weeks I have been talking about going to the Renegade Craft Fair in Buck Town. As the weekend drew nearer I kept trying to psych Tim up for this adventure. I love him, but he still thinks that he will be shot or his car will get stolen if he travels into the great city of Chicago. Also the whole "craft fair" thing really isn't his thing, he also has a bit of a phobia of people with a lot of tattoos and art, but because he loves me he was willing to go.
So we start our Sunday morning as we usually do, Tim and Abby go to the bakery for donuts while Eleanor and I snuggle and get the paper (doesn't that sound divine). We eat our donuts, (a strawberry for Abby, cream filled for Tim, plain for the baby and I) and read the paper. The baby goes down for her nap, we frolic a bit and start to get ready so we can leave when the babe gets up. Everything is going along swimmingly. We all pile into Tim's car (El Diablo, his pride and joy) and off we go into the city.
As we are driving I decide I just can't take it any more and tell Abby that I am turning off Kids Stuff (damn you Sirius 116) and I replace it with her "favorite" Gnarles Barkley. Things were quiet in the back seat so I turn and look to see the face of an unhappy 3 year old. I ask if she wanted (fucking) Kids Stuff back on (really, a station devoted to annoying kids music, did you have to Sirius?) to which she grumbled something inaudible and I just turned it on. We are getting closer to our exit, passing Addison, Fullerton, I am getting more and more excited to buy cool things and get my ladies interested in what goes on in the city. We hit the North Ave exit, Tim starts to get antsy about the homeless man at the end of the off ramp, and Abby starts whining and crying, I turn around, she is the awful shade of yellowy green and is begging for water. Then all of a sudden her strawberry donut and sippy cup of milk makes a reappearance down the front of her shirt, onto her car seat onto Tim's back seat. All that was missing was the head spinning and we had Linda Blair in the back seat of El Diablo.
In the 45 seconds it took to pull into the gas station on the corner Abby's pallor improved and the mess of "ralph" oozed into every crack and crevice of the back seat. Tim and I hit the panic button and I took over getting her out of the car and getting her vomit-y clothes off. Yes, I am the mom who had her 3 year old girl stripped down to her Barbie undies at the BP Station on the corner of North Ave and Wood St. I tried to get her to kind of hide behind the door, but she wanted no part of that as there was so much to see at this particular gas station (the guys selling the "velvet art" were beyond fascination). We got things cleaned up as best we could with baby wipes and a brown paper bag, and headed back home with the windows down (note to parents, don't let them eat the strawberry donut, it does not smell as good the second time around).
Now here is the thing about when your child pukes, there is no little fairy that is going to clean it up. It is your responsibility to get elbow deep in whatever it is that they have eaten. It is your responsibility to not add more vomit to the pile. It is also your responsibility to calm and soothe your kid after what is kind of a traumatic event. Do the joys of parenting ever end?
The only one in the car who wasn't bummed about all this was Abby because after listening to us call Nora "Ralph" for months due to her unfortunate spitting up issues, she was "Ralph" that day. And once she exorcised the demon of the strawberry donut, she was beyond fine. Tim was a mildly perturbed about his car (ok, that is an understatement, but he handled it well for the children) and I was sad that I was going to miss the last day of a once a year cool fest that I had finally talked my family into going to.
So we get home I feed Nora lunch and try not to pout too much as Tim shampoos, scrubs, and buffs stomach acid and curdled milk out of his interior. At one point he had the entire backseat out of his car, that was when I walked away. I tried to keep Abby quiet, but she was not having it. We put Nora down for a nap and settled in to play yet another game of Candy Land. Abby had no sooner finished her visit with Mr. Mint that Tim came down stairs, gave me a bunch of cash and my car keys and said, "You need a break, go to your thing down town and bring back dinner".
What?! Where is my husband and what have you done with him?
Not being a fool I was out the door so fast their heads were spinning. I made it down there with little trouble, retracing my steps from earlier, only this time I was, ALONE. Truly, completely, unadulterated aloneness is something that I don't even get in the shower. I hit the RCF with a vengeance. I grabbed all the little trinkets I wanted and still got home in time for dinner.
While I was out my Tony called and asked me if I wanted to see a movie last night. Feeling a bit guilty about abandoning Tim for the afternoon, I was almost reluctant, but not really. So not only did I get to go on an alone outing I also got to see a movie in current release in an actual theater. (I know you are dying of jealousy right, I got to have almost 6 whole hours of aldutness that didn't involve my kids).
Now I know that I complain about my husband A LOT, and for the most part he is kind of (really) a pain, but he has been a hero lately. From taking on his mom last week (another blog entirely), to encouraging me to go be me for a few hours without any prompting on my part and then letting me go an a date with his best friend, he has been who I need him to be lately. He'll do anything to stay out of couples therapy.
So we start our Sunday morning as we usually do, Tim and Abby go to the bakery for donuts while Eleanor and I snuggle and get the paper (doesn't that sound divine). We eat our donuts, (a strawberry for Abby, cream filled for Tim, plain for the baby and I) and read the paper. The baby goes down for her nap, we frolic a bit and start to get ready so we can leave when the babe gets up. Everything is going along swimmingly. We all pile into Tim's car (El Diablo, his pride and joy) and off we go into the city.
As we are driving I decide I just can't take it any more and tell Abby that I am turning off Kids Stuff (damn you Sirius 116) and I replace it with her "favorite" Gnarles Barkley. Things were quiet in the back seat so I turn and look to see the face of an unhappy 3 year old. I ask if she wanted (fucking) Kids Stuff back on (really, a station devoted to annoying kids music, did you have to Sirius?) to which she grumbled something inaudible and I just turned it on. We are getting closer to our exit, passing Addison, Fullerton, I am getting more and more excited to buy cool things and get my ladies interested in what goes on in the city. We hit the North Ave exit, Tim starts to get antsy about the homeless man at the end of the off ramp, and Abby starts whining and crying, I turn around, she is the awful shade of yellowy green and is begging for water. Then all of a sudden her strawberry donut and sippy cup of milk makes a reappearance down the front of her shirt, onto her car seat onto Tim's back seat. All that was missing was the head spinning and we had Linda Blair in the back seat of El Diablo.
In the 45 seconds it took to pull into the gas station on the corner Abby's pallor improved and the mess of "ralph" oozed into every crack and crevice of the back seat. Tim and I hit the panic button and I took over getting her out of the car and getting her vomit-y clothes off. Yes, I am the mom who had her 3 year old girl stripped down to her Barbie undies at the BP Station on the corner of North Ave and Wood St. I tried to get her to kind of hide behind the door, but she wanted no part of that as there was so much to see at this particular gas station (the guys selling the "velvet art" were beyond fascination). We got things cleaned up as best we could with baby wipes and a brown paper bag, and headed back home with the windows down (note to parents, don't let them eat the strawberry donut, it does not smell as good the second time around).
Now here is the thing about when your child pukes, there is no little fairy that is going to clean it up. It is your responsibility to get elbow deep in whatever it is that they have eaten. It is your responsibility to not add more vomit to the pile. It is also your responsibility to calm and soothe your kid after what is kind of a traumatic event. Do the joys of parenting ever end?
The only one in the car who wasn't bummed about all this was Abby because after listening to us call Nora "Ralph" for months due to her unfortunate spitting up issues, she was "Ralph" that day. And once she exorcised the demon of the strawberry donut, she was beyond fine. Tim was a mildly perturbed about his car (ok, that is an understatement, but he handled it well for the children) and I was sad that I was going to miss the last day of a once a year cool fest that I had finally talked my family into going to.
So we get home I feed Nora lunch and try not to pout too much as Tim shampoos, scrubs, and buffs stomach acid and curdled milk out of his interior. At one point he had the entire backseat out of his car, that was when I walked away. I tried to keep Abby quiet, but she was not having it. We put Nora down for a nap and settled in to play yet another game of Candy Land. Abby had no sooner finished her visit with Mr. Mint that Tim came down stairs, gave me a bunch of cash and my car keys and said, "You need a break, go to your thing down town and bring back dinner".
What?! Where is my husband and what have you done with him?
Not being a fool I was out the door so fast their heads were spinning. I made it down there with little trouble, retracing my steps from earlier, only this time I was, ALONE. Truly, completely, unadulterated aloneness is something that I don't even get in the shower. I hit the RCF with a vengeance. I grabbed all the little trinkets I wanted and still got home in time for dinner.
While I was out my Tony called and asked me if I wanted to see a movie last night. Feeling a bit guilty about abandoning Tim for the afternoon, I was almost reluctant, but not really. So not only did I get to go on an alone outing I also got to see a movie in current release in an actual theater. (I know you are dying of jealousy right, I got to have almost 6 whole hours of aldutness that didn't involve my kids).
Now I know that I complain about my husband A LOT, and for the most part he is kind of (really) a pain, but he has been a hero lately. From taking on his mom last week (another blog entirely), to encouraging me to go be me for a few hours without any prompting on my part and then letting me go an a date with his best friend, he has been who I need him to be lately. He'll do anything to stay out of couples therapy.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
House Cleaning
If I had a few more hours in my day here are the things I would be blogging about at length:
Nora is on a schedule! Too bad tat we can never leave the house again ever since she has to have her naps at exactly the same time everyday or her schedule is wack-o for the next 3 days. How did I get such anal retentive kids?
Charles and Alpana got married! I am still anxiously awaiting the details since they were in New York fo rthe main event, but I have gotten several hilarious text messages about it.
Can we talk about Anna Nicole Simth's son dying? And that she just had a baby?
Amanda's friend Laura has completely changed my life by reminding me about decoupage. Abby now wants to decopauge the entier house, and I don't really mind.
Tim and I had a row the other night about his parents. It was a whole big saga, and I (of course) was forced to take the high road because Tim was refusing to stand up to them on my behalf. I was pissed, he was pissed, and in the end he did the right thing. Thus reinstating my faith in him as a human being and a husband.
We had a fantastic evening out for our dear Tony's birthday outing on Saturday night. As always it is nice to be out, but it is also always funny being around Tony's friends. We are the only ones really who have kids and it is such a novelty.
We met this hilarious girl who had Xavier Roberts' signature tattooed on her tush which I still think is one of the greatest tattoos ever.
Since today is Tony's actual birfday I have to happily go make some enchiladas and put the finishing touches on his gift....
Nora is on a schedule! Too bad tat we can never leave the house again ever since she has to have her naps at exactly the same time everyday or her schedule is wack-o for the next 3 days. How did I get such anal retentive kids?
Charles and Alpana got married! I am still anxiously awaiting the details since they were in New York fo rthe main event, but I have gotten several hilarious text messages about it.
Can we talk about Anna Nicole Simth's son dying? And that she just had a baby?
Amanda's friend Laura has completely changed my life by reminding me about decoupage. Abby now wants to decopauge the entier house, and I don't really mind.
Tim and I had a row the other night about his parents. It was a whole big saga, and I (of course) was forced to take the high road because Tim was refusing to stand up to them on my behalf. I was pissed, he was pissed, and in the end he did the right thing. Thus reinstating my faith in him as a human being and a husband.
We had a fantastic evening out for our dear Tony's birthday outing on Saturday night. As always it is nice to be out, but it is also always funny being around Tony's friends. We are the only ones really who have kids and it is such a novelty.
We met this hilarious girl who had Xavier Roberts' signature tattooed on her tush which I still think is one of the greatest tattoos ever.
Since today is Tony's actual birfday I have to happily go make some enchiladas and put the finishing touches on his gift....
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Love Bites
Yesterday Nora bit me.
I mean she REALLY bit me. I bled, there is bruising, it was bad. I didn't shout no, or flick her cheek as some say to do because it was my fault, I was jiggling her around while feeding her (thanks a lot for making my phone ring and making me get up and causing her to bite me, dear sister, I owe you one!).
This is the first truly painful bite I have experienced, and I think I am scarred. Every now and again she will bite me while she latches, and it hasn't really bothered me until lately. She has been really easily distracted when I feed her, and she hasn't seemed all that interested unless it is at night when the house is quiet. I think the reason that she is waking up twice every night is because she wants to nurse, and kind of needs to because she can't during the day. And it is not that she can't it is just that she kind of won't. I usually nurse her first thing in the morning, which is fine, then after her am nap which is kind of touch and go. She would prefer to be playing with Abby then, but kind of wants to be feeding. I am toying with the idea of supplementing with formula, but something is making me not just bite the bullet and do it. Until this biting incident I was planning on waiting it out for 2 more months so that I could supplement with whole milk and call it a day, but now I don't know.
Why am I so opposed to formula? In truth it is probably better for her than my milk, but it smells and it is expensive and I fear that if I start giving her formula then it will be really easy to just wean her altogether which I realize is the ultimate goal but not now. But why not now? What is wrong with me?
Part of it is that I feel like I nursed Abby for a year and I should be able to do it again, but is that realistic with two? I can't pump so I am totally tethered to the darling to some extent, which doesn't bother me, but it isn't the easiest thing in the world. I guess I feel like she gets shafted on so many levels that this is just one more, but it is one I can control, right?
What should I do?
I mean she REALLY bit me. I bled, there is bruising, it was bad. I didn't shout no, or flick her cheek as some say to do because it was my fault, I was jiggling her around while feeding her (thanks a lot for making my phone ring and making me get up and causing her to bite me, dear sister, I owe you one!).
This is the first truly painful bite I have experienced, and I think I am scarred. Every now and again she will bite me while she latches, and it hasn't really bothered me until lately. She has been really easily distracted when I feed her, and she hasn't seemed all that interested unless it is at night when the house is quiet. I think the reason that she is waking up twice every night is because she wants to nurse, and kind of needs to because she can't during the day. And it is not that she can't it is just that she kind of won't. I usually nurse her first thing in the morning, which is fine, then after her am nap which is kind of touch and go. She would prefer to be playing with Abby then, but kind of wants to be feeding. I am toying with the idea of supplementing with formula, but something is making me not just bite the bullet and do it. Until this biting incident I was planning on waiting it out for 2 more months so that I could supplement with whole milk and call it a day, but now I don't know.
Why am I so opposed to formula? In truth it is probably better for her than my milk, but it smells and it is expensive and I fear that if I start giving her formula then it will be really easy to just wean her altogether which I realize is the ultimate goal but not now. But why not now? What is wrong with me?
Part of it is that I feel like I nursed Abby for a year and I should be able to do it again, but is that realistic with two? I can't pump so I am totally tethered to the darling to some extent, which doesn't bother me, but it isn't the easiest thing in the world. I guess I feel like she gets shafted on so many levels that this is just one more, but it is one I can control, right?
What should I do?
Monday, September 04, 2006
Lurkers, Holla!
So in the past few weeks I have been meaning to sit down and blog about a lot of things. To come up with a list at this point in time is hard due to the fact that as we were sitting down to a late late late dinner with Abby Tim asked the age old questions "Should I open a bottle of wine?"
Anyway, I want to talk about the VMAs, my night out with Amanda and Charles, my niece C-Dog's first birthday and our trip to Detroit Rock City, our up coming vacay to a tropical location to celebrate my dad's big 6-0, my dance recital, Abby's pre school, as well as the fact that in one week Nora got 2 teeth and started crawling (a post that is now pointless because she is trying to stand up now). But I am not going to talk about those things because the 3 people who read this were either present for/have heard about/already read Amanda's blog about these events.
So instead let me just say hi to the people who have said to me in the past month, "Oh, I read about that on your blog"- Dear Charles (no not you, the other one) who is back in Taiwan where he is (hopefully) showing off the pictures of our Mafia style dinner at Cafe Lucci; the other (and original) Charles, who just likes that I reference him a lot; Karen, who may think she is a better aunt to MY darling Clementine, but we all know that blood is thicker than water (bitch); Tony who lives here so I don't see why he wants to read about living here; and Courtney, who doesn't have a link (that I am priviledged to, at least)but who does have a cute little bun of a baby. The rest of my lurkers (ok, the 2 of you) leave a comment, lets be friends (or relatives).
Thank you for being my lurkers, it is a tough job, but someone has gotta do it! (O.k., not really, but you know...)
Anyway, I want to talk about the VMAs, my night out with Amanda and Charles, my niece C-Dog's first birthday and our trip to Detroit Rock City, our up coming vacay to a tropical location to celebrate my dad's big 6-0, my dance recital, Abby's pre school, as well as the fact that in one week Nora got 2 teeth and started crawling (a post that is now pointless because she is trying to stand up now). But I am not going to talk about those things because the 3 people who read this were either present for/have heard about/already read Amanda's blog about these events.
So instead let me just say hi to the people who have said to me in the past month, "Oh, I read about that on your blog"- Dear Charles (no not you, the other one) who is back in Taiwan where he is (hopefully) showing off the pictures of our Mafia style dinner at Cafe Lucci; the other (and original) Charles, who just likes that I reference him a lot; Karen, who may think she is a better aunt to MY darling Clementine, but we all know that blood is thicker than water (bitch); Tony who lives here so I don't see why he wants to read about living here; and Courtney, who doesn't have a link (that I am priviledged to, at least)but who does have a cute little bun of a baby. The rest of my lurkers (ok, the 2 of you) leave a comment, lets be friends (or relatives).
Thank you for being my lurkers, it is a tough job, but someone has gotta do it! (O.k., not really, but you know...)
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