“Amy, do you have a centerpiece?”
“Do you have nice napkins and table linens?”
“How are you going to prepare the turkey?”
“Do you have a turkey??”
“What time do you want us to come over?”
Seriously what is the urgency here, people? It’s only Wednesday.
I told my parents this story at lunch today, and it reminded me how much I like it. Hello, NaBloPoMo post #23.
Last summer my family attended a going away party for my former boss at a local park. As we were preparing to leave, my 5-year-old had an urgent need to pee. So my husband raced her up to the restrooms while I got the car and drove to meet them.
The toilets in the men’s room at this busy urban park, at the end of a weekend without being cleaned, were beyond disgusting. So my husband decided that instead of letting my daughter sit on one, he would hold her over it while she went – sort of like a urinating hovercraft. She climbed up onto his knees, hung her bum over the toilet, and let loose. I was not there to witness it, but I am told the bathroom gymnastics looked something like this:
Unfortunately the angle was not quite right, and instead of peeing into the toilet, my daughter proceeded to urinate all over my husband. And once the flood waters were underway, there was really no way to stop her. So he had no choice but to stand there and get peed on for what was probably the longest 45 seconds of his life.
In an even more delightful twist, my daughter managed to pee squarely onto the crotch of my husband’s pants. I believe the science community calls this phenomenon “urinary transference.” I’m not a scientist and cannot be held responsible for the accuracy of this statement.
By the time my daughter was done relieving herself, it looked, and smelled, like my husband had just had an epic potty accident.
Adding insult to injury, my boss came walking into the bathroom just as my husband was rushing to get the hell out. My husband used my daughter as a shield to hide his man-sized potty stain, abruptly said “Hi, Bye,” and jumped into my waiting getaway car, leaving my daughter on the curb to fend for herself.
By the time I got the full story out of both of them, I was in tears. To this day, my daughter thinks it is one of the funniest experiences of her life. My husband is still recovering.
Moral of the story: Female urination is all about angles and math and that’s why we sit down when we go. I am not a mathematician or a urologist and cannot be held responsible for the accuracy of this statement.
I am a big fan of Ilana at the blog Mommy Shorts, including a recent photo series she kicked off which is designed to show the beauty in every mother’s morning, even if we can’t see it ourselves. You can see her latest installment here.
About the same time I read Ilana’s first post on this topic, my own photographer friend Erika was going to be in town (do I sound sophisticated when I say I have a ‘photographer friend’?). She is actually a lawyer too, but she is doing more and more photography and I am so happy for her that she is pursuing this passion.
I was excited to see her for more than just an hour or two. She spent the night and we had time to catch up and laugh and have meaningful conversations the way you can do with an old cherished friend. She also took photos of my kids – nothing fancy, just pictures of them romping around in their pj’s and our normal Tuesday morning routine.
I do not have any professional photos of my family since my second daughter was born. I have a million cell phone photos, but they are often blurry and random. I feel a bit guilty about that, because I had nice photos of my first kid taken at least twice. So I knew I would appreciate even just one or two good shots of my daughters.
I had no idea how they would turn out – in part because I was busy stressing about what the hell to put in my daughter’s lunchbox for most of it – but I love the photos more than I expected. My house is messy, my furniture is mismatched, and I spent about 5 minutes grooming all 3 of us. After Erika left I was actually sort of annoyed with myself for not putting more thought or effort into the whole thing, seeing as it was an opportunity for free nice photos and I didn’t even wear clean pants or brush my daughter’s hair. I did, however, shower – so that’s something.
But that’s part of why I love them. Because they look like what I will remember from these crazy, exhausting mornings that are so full of life and chaos – days when my oldest child tapes paper all over my living room floor to make a ‘cake walk’ and then rubs her spit on the windows, while my youngest crawls into a box, wears her sister’s shoes, and drops bits of her beloved play-doh everywhere she goes.
I feel grateful that I have such a talented friend who was able to make lasting memories out of an otherwise ho-hum Tuesday. But I’m also sharing the photos here because I think it’s a worthwhile reminder for any mother – similar to the purpose of the Mommy Shorts series – that the everyday moments can be beautiful too (especially when you have someone talented behind the camera).
Spit-shining the windows, as one does.
You can see the rest of Erika’s photo shoot and give her mad props for her skills here. (seriously check out the amazing pregnant lady yoga photos in the post before mine. WUT is happening there. Not possible.)
I was once again staring blankly at a wall searching for a post topic, when the lovely Dyanne invited me to do her 10 Things of Thankful blog hop. Tis the season for thankfulness, so I’m jumping on the bandwagon.
1. I’m thankful that no one noticed that I failed to blog yesterday. If you did notice, I want you to stare directly into this bright light, imagine you are on a sunny beach, and you will forget all about my NaBloPoMo lapse when I snap my fingers in 3,2,1.
1. Zzzzz’s. The reason I failed to blog yesterday is that I fell asleep on the couch with my laptop. He is such a cuddler. I also managed to squeeze in a 20 minute nap. Both were divine. I love sleep, and I am grateful for every ounce I can scrape together.
2. Good health. The past two weeks I’ve had a few family friends lose loved ones due to illness. It has made me so grateful for the relatively good health of my loved ones. Of course I’m the neurotic type who hates to type something like that, for fear it will all change now, but regardless – I’m thankful for what it’s been up until now.
3. My parents are in town. Hallelujah! I love my parents. Not to mention, two nights ago they babysat, yesterday my mom took my daughter on an outing, and last night they brought us dinner. Excuse me while I go research show times for Catching Fire – Mama’s got a free babysitter in town, and movies to see.
4. I’m thankful that I live somewhere that I can see mountains, water, and lush green trees on a daily basis. I swear some days it sustains me.
5. I’m thankful for anything that makes me laugh. If I could laugh and sleep at the same time? Heaven. In the interest of sharing pop culture chuckles, this Onion review of Catching Fire is a good one.
6. My husband. Because he told me I should put him on the list. But also because I actually want to put him on the list. (he is a major source of the aforementioned laughs I cherish, among other things)
7. Vitamin D. About the time I was struggling with both outside fog and brain fog, I read this post by The Bloggess and thought maybe I should go to the doctor and see if I’m anemic or something because I seriously could not shake the foggy head. Turns out I have a big Vitamin D deficiency, so now I’m on prescription vitamins until I go back for a retest.
Coincidentally the real fog did also lift and the sun has been shining brightly around here. Even though it’s colder than a witch’s tit (does anyone actually understand this expression?), I am still grateful for the sun and Vitamin D influx.
8. I’m thankful that my daughters have each other. Some days they can’t stop hitting and screaming for more than 5 minutes, but then there are mornings like this one where all they want to do is hold hands, and I melt.
9. Bing Crosby. I have not been feeling the Christmas spirit at all this year. And for some reason it seems like everyone is starting the festivities way too early. Can’t we get through Thanksgiving first? But I broke down and turned on my favorite Christmas music yesterday and that did the trick – Bing, bang, BOOM. Bring on the twinkly lights (after I eat my turkey).
10. I’m thankful for the chance to re-imagine what I want to do with my life. This break from my career has given me the mental space to rethink what I might want to be when I grow up. My sister and I kick around business ideas. I am looking into possible freelance jobs that would allow me to work from home. I am scouring my brain for something I can invent and take on Shark Tank, allowing me to make millions and retire by 45. Who knows – maybe I will end up doing exactly what I did before, but I am grateful for the time to reassess what I want and what is possible in life.
Along those lines, my sister got this book for my dad recently and I loved the message:
I’m not normally a big fan of giftie books, but this one is sweet and uplifting and made me teary and cheery.
Hear, hear!
1) I could not find finger glue for my blingers, so I settled for some of this lotion:
I bet the O’Keeffe family did not have bloggers in mind when they made cream “for people who work with their hands.”
2) My mom ordered a basket from Pottery Barn, and when she opened the box there was a small, withered lizard carcass in it. She didn’t even have to pay extra for it!
3) Tonight we had our first ever parent/teacher conference. We saw a bunch of my daughter’s kindergarten work, including this:
Is it too early to call Harvard?
I am barely making the Thursday cutoff. Blogging on fumes, as they say in Nerdland: Population 1. So I’ll keep this short and sweet. This is my first grade picture:
That haircut was the source of serious drama. I hated it so bad that I wore a hood all day, every day – including at school – for several weeks. Ask my mom – she’ll vouch. I can still remember the sweatshirt – it was a red hoodie, and that thing must’ve stunk by the time I finally took it off.
In hindsight, it makes me realize that perhaps this hair incident was just preparing me to make wise haircut decisions in the future. Or not. Definitely not.
OR perhaps it was destiny’s way of aligning me with my future husband, who looked like this in his first grade photo:
BAM! Twinsies.
That’s the last of the childhood photos I have in my possession, so I will stop torturing the internet with my bad haircut stories.
I don’t usually do Wordless Wednesdays but I’m going to take the opportunity for a word break.
It’s tough to beat the magic of donuts.
My oldest likes donuts with filling, so she can squeeze them and make them “poop.” It’s fun to be 5.
I asked my husband to help me brainstorm post ideas tonight and he suggested I write something about our new printer. I would like to state for the record that I will never again solicit his advice for a blog post idea.
Instead I flipped through photos on my phone for inspiration and found this one:
A couple weeks ago I asked my daughter if she wanted me to make her some nachos and in response she asked me, “What are nachos?” I felt like I had failed her.
Needless to say I took the opportunity to give her a critical life lesson in the art of nacho-making and nacho-eating – two very different but equally important skill sets.
After a lengthy discussion about the meat vs. no meat options, I explained that you can add things like black olives (duh), onions (meh), jalapenos (no), tomatoes (yes) and of course the dipping/sauce trifecta of salsa, sour cream and guacamole. I try to pretend like I’m healthy sometimes and abstain from the sour cream, but every now and then you just need to indulge in that fatty goodness. I mean – you’re already eating NACHOS. Who are you trying to fool?
My daughter opted to play it safe and just went with cheese for her inaugural nacho session. While her limited topping choices gave the appearance of a novice, I have to say the girl had the nacho noshing skills of a pro. She instinctively knew how to maneuver around that plate to find only the cheesiest chips, leaving the naked crusty dry chips for me. Mama was so proud.
Lately I have had a ton of life lesson conversations with my kid – where babies come from, how to deal with being teased, the importance of being kind, the words to that annoying Taylor Swift song…no, the other one – kindergarten is bringing out eeeevery topic and question for discussion.
So I was delighted to tackle an easy one for a change. It’s going to take multiple nacho lessons to make sure she has it down, but fortunately I have the experience, drive and appetite to coach her through it.
No matter how deeply I dug today, I could not for the life of me find the will to write a blog post. No thoughts. No desire. No nothing.
So I was excited this afternoon when a friend told me about a free creative writing workshop tonight at a nearby library. The speaker was a local author who has written a memoir and was giving a talk about how to write ‘your personal narrative.’ I don’t necessarily want to write a book – I am far too lazy, among other things – but I figured it could still be motivating. Or at the very least, a change of scenery.
But lots of rain led to bad traffic, which led to my husband being late, which led to me being late, which led to the workshop being standing room only by the time I got there, with no room for me. Boooooo.
It’s not like I had been planning to attend for days, but I was still bummed. Not to mention for some reason it was totally demotivating to see ALL of those other wannabe writers pouring out of that room. So many storytellers! It’s not possible they can all find an interested audience! Don’t quit your day jobs!
Cue the downward spiral of negativity in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1: What the hell am I even doing here? What am I trying to accomplish with this silly blog anyway? Find a different hobby! Get a job! Get a life!
So I took my pity party back home, grabbed my laptop before my kids could see me and start screaming, and hightailed it to a nearby coffee shop in a half-assed attempt to write some words. And then I just felt like a cliché – “Hello, I am a blogger, and I am here to do some blogging, so may I please have some peace, quiet, a decaf latte and somewhere to hang my trendy hat?”
Gaahhhhh. Head meet table.
But then I slapped myself upside the head and remembered this recent SNL skit, which features a stellar motivational speaker. Her uplifting words reminded me to stop being such a “lady baby” and believe in myself. And also to punctuate my conversations with more hip thrusts and sound effects, because the world needs more of that.
This concludes my mid-NaBloPoMo crisis. No more whining. Onward! [insert tiger roar]
*My headline is my favorite quote from the skit, but I reserve the right to change it if I start to get a bunch of porn comments on this post.
Today I arranged a playdate for my oldest daughter with one of her beloved friends from preschool, who goes to a different kindergarten. I have realized lately that if my daughter is going to maintain friendships outside of school, it is incumbent upon me to make it happen. She doesn’t chat with her pals on the phone or Facebook yet, so it’s not exactly like she can do it herself.
Orchestrating playdates is kind of a pain in the tush – I struggle enough making and keeping my own friends – but my kid loves her peeps and I don’t want her to lose touch with them. So I have been on a mission to do right by her and play the role of Pee Wee Social Chair.
I offered to host this playdate for three hours, including lunch. These girls play well together and are great at keeping busy, plus my husband and daughter had two science-y projects they wanted to do, so I figured it would be a snap. Time would fly. No problem-o.
Sometimes I am so wrong.
Things started off OK, but the wild card I failed to anticipate was that our neighbor, and her sister, both came over to visit at one point. So for at least an hour there were 5 little girls, who all seemingly drank a Red Bull for breakfast, in need of entertainment and/or management in order to avoid infighting and total destruction.
My husband and I spent three hours running around, playing board games, supervising horse play, tending to injuries from horse play, and pulling out every craft supply we own, including paint – NO NOT THE PAINT.
We also flushed the toilet several times because apparently there is a rule in the Universal Playdate Playbook that says you must never flush your own waste – even if you go #2 – when you are at a friend’s house. Seriously is this a common thing or does my child just befriend wild animals? I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to flush for her playdate pals. No thank you. (in all fairness I’m sure she reciprocates at their house, so we’re even)
My daughter had a fabulous time, but my husband and I were counting the minutes until it was over. I am exhausted. I’m also starting to think maybe friends are overrated.
Banana Wheels 