Author Archives: BananaWheels

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About BananaWheels

Sometimes I blog about parenthood. Sometimes I blog about toilets. And sometimes the two are the same.

Why my husband will never guest post on my blog

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Back in November when I was ruining the Internet with my daily blog posts, I came up with a real gem for a potential topic – a post about hoods. Specifically, how much I love to wear hoods.

I wrote a few sentences about how I wear a hood almost every day at some point, and noted that my prime hood-wearing hours are 8-10 pm and 6-8 am.

It was pret-ty fascinating stuff, clearly. Hard to believe it didn’t make the cut.

At the time, my husband was itching to do a guest post for me, but I was reluctant to put him in the driver’s seat. This is a professional operation, pal – you can’t be any geek off the street. Gotta be handy with the keyboard, if you know what I mean. Earn your keep!

Bloggers, MOUNT UP.

So instead I gave him a drawing assignment. If he did well, he would lose the training wheels and earn the right to write.

Specifically, I tasked him with drawing a picture to accompany the conflict portion of my post, which is – I have trouble finding hoods that fit me properly. JAW-DROPPING, I KNOW. Many hoods stop short and don’t fully cover my head, because apparently I have the neck length of a baby giraffe.

Pretty interesting, no?……………………….? Wake up – I’m almost done.

Anyway, I was just going back through my garbage drafts folder, and stumbled upon the picture that my husband drew:

Amyinhood

Apparently this is what my husband thinks I look like.

He drew me as a zombie, because he is 12, but that still doesn’t explain why I look like a 50-year-old man. Thanks, dear, but NO POST FOR YOU.

Welcome to the PTA, sucker

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I done did it now. I joined the PTA as a Board member. I’m in charge of all PTA communications including their website. I know, right? Me – in charge of a website? Have you seen mah clunky blog and third grade technological skillz?

Fortunately things are off to a great start. Today marked my first attempt at distributing a mass email using the PTA’s snazzy platform. I only effed up once, forcing me to then re-send the same email four hours later with a neat message pointing out my error and necessary correction to 400+ people.

I cannot adequately explain the painfulness of this type of error for me. It hurts my insides. It’s also far too reminiscent of my early career days, which then gives me flashbacks to my mid-20’s, which trust me – no one should have to endure.

On the upside, I’m guessing they won’t ask me to take over as PTA President anytime soon.

What else is new, Amy? asked no one. Well, my headaches have finally left the building. Amen.

Also, my mom came to visit last week. She cleaned out my hall closet and was disturbed to discover that I am a mild severe hoarder of bags. IMG_20140115_144914_120

She made me throw away 90% of them. Of course I just know that tomorrow will be the day I’ll wish I still had that large Pottery Barn bag I had kept since 2002.

That’s about it for now. Honestly I’m just blogging as a means to distract myself from thinking about that damn PTA email. What about cats? Does anyone want to talk about cats? Or Justin Bieber? I see he’s gotten himself into trouble with the po-po. Ok, fine I’ll go find something else to do – but shoot me a text if you want to talk about cats or the Biebs, ok? Mmkay.

If it quacks like a duck

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I would like to retract my previous post in which I lamented the awkwardness of a massage, as today I had an experience 10 times more bizarre – a chiropractor.

I’m still not entirely sure what happened during my 1 hour visit, but I do know that at one point he attached a machine that quacks like a duck to my ass. I repeat – I had a machine touching my buttocks (clothed, fortunately), and that machine quacked like a duck. The guy also had a stuffed gorilla in his office, a couple posters of lizards on the walls, and perhaps most alarming of all – he was wearing dark socks under a pair of Teva sandals. WHERE DO I REPORT THESE CRIMES?

I want to believe in alternative forms of medicine. I do. But this guy stretched just a tad too far beyond my comfort zone. I went to him in the event he could help with my headaches, and because he was recommended to me by a friend who is extremely intelligent and trustworthy. He practices ‘gentle low force’ techniques so I wasn’t as paranoid that he would crack my neck in two.

I have never been to a chiropractor before, but do they all use tools that look like they were made in an 8th grade shop class? Weird little hammers, laser lights, spring-loaded thingamajobbies. Not to mention the ass quacker. I even let him give me some homeopathic droplets of something, which in hindsight might’ve been a rufi because I was in a wicked haze for a couple hours afterward. I’m just glad I made it out alive.

I’m still processing the whole experience, but I don’t think I’ll go back. Unless of course my headaches never return, and then QUACK QUACK.

Not just any mall, A Mall for America

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Alas my holidays weren’t all headaches and gloom. I had quality time with family, friends, and a trip to the theme park at Minnesota’s prestigious Mall of America. Because everyone knows that the best place to go when you have a headache is the largest, most over-crowded mall during the holiday break. My decision-making skills are impeccable.

But the malltropolis served its purpose – a cabin fever break for my daughter, niece and nephew, who had fun on the rides. Meanwhile I struggled to entertain and contain my antsy 2-year-old, so I opted to rent a stroller. Because everyone knows that the best way to avoid germs during cold and flu season is to use a communal stroller.

Lowlight of the megamall experience: I had to leave the American Girl store because it smelled like feet. Talk about a national tragedy. People travel hundreds of miles and pay hundreds of dollars for those fancy dolls, only to find a store that reeks of feet. Fortunately I am not one of those people – my daughter only has a Target knock-off version – so I found it rather amusing. I’m not kidding – the air in that store was so ripe I could practically taste it. Was it human feet, or do the dolls actually have a foot fungus problem? Regardless, this might be where my headache originated. Lawsuit!

Highlight of the mall experience: As I waited for the kids to get off a ride, I found myself sitting across from none other than Dr. Kerry Weaver from the show ER. And because apparently I am a crazy stalker, I took her picture (in my defense, I didn’t take her photo the first or the second time I saw her. Only the third time, when overcome by boredom and paparazzo insanity). She’s not wearing her scrubs, but she’s the one on the left checking her phone.

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I would’ve introduced myself, but I didn’t want to interrupt in case she was texting Dr. Carter or Dr. Kovac about an urgent patient case. However had I known my blossoming headache was going to explode, I would’ve asked her for a diagnosis STAT.

In summary, do NOT go to the Mall of America if you have an aversion to crowds, germs or the pungent aroma of feet. DO go to the Mall of America if you would like Emmy-winning medical care from the cast of ER.

This old gal shall rise again. Maybe.

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I started this post yesterday, and it had a very different tone. But today, for the first time in two weeks, I woke up without a headache. HALLELUJAH LET THE SUN SHINE IN. I won’t bore you with the details, but the aforementioned headache was the plague of my holiday season. It lasted all day, every day, and resulted in a trip to the ER, a CT scan, many Vicodin, a shot in the butt with mega ibuprofen, and prescription muscle relaxers. Nothing really worked completely, so I’ve just been living each day trying not to OD.

Part of my anxiety about this headache stemmed from the fact that I had a similar headache four years ago, which turned out to be the result of an arterial dissection in my neck. In case you’re not familiar, which I wasn’t, a dissection is basically a tear in your artery which can lead to a stroke or worse. It sucks and I don’t recommend it.

Fortunately this time around the CT scan did not show a dissection, but unfortunately none of my drugs were alleviating the pain for long. So I have been a grumpy cat (ME-OW) for the past two weeks, assuming I was on the verge of death (I blame WebMD and Google for this part).

Then last night I let a strange man caress my body in the form of a professional massage. I’m not a huge fan of strangers touching my nekkid skin, plus I think a neck massage caused my last dissection – so I tend to steer clear. But I was desperate and I knew my back and shoulders were a mess.

Turns out Mr. Wonderful might’ve had the midas touch. It felt great and I was only mildly uncomfortable with his groping hands rubbing me down. Seriously – aren’t massages kind of awkward, or is that just me? What if you get gassy on the table? Or what if your masseuse notices that you are wearing maternity underwear, even though you haven’t been pregnant for more than 2 years? All hypothetical, of course.

Anyhoo, today is a new day and, knock on wood, Mama might be back in business. Just in time, because tomorrow I turn 39 and I do not want that headache to stain the final year of what has otherwise been a pretty fabulous decade. I’d like to finish strong before it all comes crashing down when I turn 40.

One thing is for sure – if this headache is in fact gone, I will be paying strange men to touch me A LOT this year. And in the interest of continued pampering for my aging self, I got a facial tonight, and on Friday I will indulge in the Grand Poobah – A Haircut. Nothing like a good trim to put the spring back in my step. Bring it, 39. On second thought, don’t bring it. Just sit there and be uneventful and let me do all the bringing.

*Update: my headache returned after I wrote this post, but I still reserve the right to pay strange men to touch me this year.

Home for the holidaze

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I have been heads down hammering away at my Christmas shopping for the past two weeks. I told myself it would all be done by December 4th, so naturally here we are on December 14th and I am not yet finished. But I intend to complete the Purchasing Phase of my shopping this weekend so I can then move on to the Disappointment Phase.

Like last year, when my daughter asked Santa for a princess castle. Just a castle! So of course Santa researched the options for days and got her a lovely wooden castle with matching dolls.

She played with it once. ONCE.

The most action that castle has seen was the day I used as a background for a Creepy Baby photo shoot:

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I think we can all agree that alone was worth the investment.

I’m also trying to keep up with holiday festivities. We tried to see Santa last weekend but the wait was two hours. Wha?! I do not have the patience for that action. Apparently the neighbor kid Skype’d with Santa. Initially I thought it sounded stale and dumb, but now I think her parents might be brilliant.

We are not wedded to many holiday traditions, but I’ll admit we have an Elf on the Shelf. Please don’t stone me. I didn’t realize what I was signing up for when I bought it two years ago. I do not have the memory or commitment to be a successful Elf parent, as evidenced by the fact that our Elf didn’t arrive until December 10th, and I think I gave her a concussion this morning when I threw her across the room in a last minute attempt to move her before my daughter turned the corner. “Look Mom, she’s sleeping!” Yes, dear. She is.

We also have an advent calendar. The other day we noticed my daughter has already opened nearly every candy cane in it. How odd! Then when she thought no one was watching, we saw her lick her fingers, wipe them on several candy canes, and stick her fingers back in her mouth to savor the sticky goodness. Ahh kids. Nothing is sacred when sugar is involved.

Other than that it’s just the usual miscellaneous December activities – toy drive, food drive, stocking drive, school fundraiser, preschool fundraiser, preschool party, Girl Scouts, two kindergarten field trips. WHY DOES IT ALL HAVE TO HAPPEN THIS MONTH? Can’t we space this stuff out throughout the other 11 months?

But I do love watching my kids experience the holidays. The other day my husband was explaining to my daughter that different people have different traditions.

“What’s a tradition?” she asked.

“It’s something people do every year as part of their celebration. Like how Mommy’s family eats lefse at the holidays.”

“Oh. Like shaving your eyebrows. Is that a tradition?”

My husband doesn’t shave his eyebrows and we have no idea where it came from, but I liked it so much we might need to start doing it every year. It would make our holiday cards way more interesting.

The obligatory NaBloPoMo recap

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You have to write a recap of your NaBloPoMo experience in order to get paid for doing it, right? Mama really needs to get that paycheck before Christmas, so let’s get to it.*

I did NaBloPoMo for the following reasons:

1) To force myself to write more regularly and not get so hung up by my usual downfalls like overthinking, procrastinating, self-doubt and laziness.

2) Because I like adventure and taking risks.

That second one is a lie. Here is what I learned:

1) November is a terrible month to commit to writing every single day. Did you know that Thanksgiving almost always falls during November? And that public schools are not in session at all during the holiday week?? You can’t even try to bring your kid for just a little bit so you can get some writing done. They lock the doors. It’s an outrage.

So the timing was not particularly conducive to the fact that I had both of my kids home all last week, there was a huge eating holiday during which I was very busy eating all of the things, and my parents were in town. February is much better for me – please consider moving it next year.

2) Forcing myself to write something – anything – every day was both good and bad for me. I am not very organized or disciplined in my approach to blogging. Shocking, I know – take a moment to catch your breath. I tend to write when the mood strikes. And sometimes it doesn’t strike for weeks at a stretch.

To help overcome this problem, at the start of November I actually wrote out an editorial calendar with a different post topic for every day of the month. I cannot tell you how impressed I was with myself for this achievement.

Unfortunately I then proceeded to actually write only 2 of those 28 post ideas. Instead of following my own very clear plan, I opted to randomly veer off course ALMOST EVERY DAY and instead write 20-200 word posts about riveting things like donuts, nachos and puzzles. I’m sorry, internet.

However the exercise of making an editorial calendar and writing down post ideas was surprisingly productive and useful. Even though I didn’t use most of them, I now have 26 ideas sitting in my brain, waiting for their moment to shine. Many of them will probably die there, but hey – a few might make it out. And that potentially makes it easier for me to write more regularly in the future. Potentially. Maybe. (probably not)

So to recap my recap, a) I remain disorganized but will take baby steps to improvement, b) I am bad at following writing plans or prompts, and c) I ate too much last week.

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*Before I spread false information and raise hopes, I am updating this post to clarify that this was a lame attempt at a joke – there is no payment for completing NaBloPoMo. But there is a sense of victory, which is priceless.**

**I do not have the priceless feeling because I failed to write one day and therefore did not technically complete NaBloPoMo, but I still feel a sense of partial victory, which I would say has an approximate value of $7.50.

The fire – it’s been caught

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I saw Catching Fire today. Afterward I was texting back and forth with my 13-year-old niece, who has already seen the movie twice, and she was all, “I loved it,” and I was like, “OMG Katniss Fever,” and then she was like, “I wanna c it again,” so I was like “I will totes see it with you at xmas!” and she was like, “Awesome!!!!”

As much as I am dreading the teenage years in many ways, I do look forward to having the same sophisticated taste in movies as my children someday.

Jiggidy jiggidy jigsaw

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It’s Thanksgiving weekend, also known in my family as ‘let’s do all the puzzles until we can’t see straight anymore.’

puzzle

There’s nothing like the feeling of finding that final edge piece. Amirite? Can I get a whatwhat? Is there an echo in here? I don’t know what’s happening anymore but I totally thought this was the last day of the month, and therefore the last day of NaBloPoMo, but NO! – there is one more. Longest month ever.