Hello all. Dixie here. Due to Stella recently giving birth to her first child, she has taken some time away from blogging to focus on her new mothering duties. Now, it would be rather unfair to you, the fans, to just leave you hanging while she figures out the new mommy thing. So, Stella has lined up some guest bloggers to entertain you while she is temporarily away from the blogging scene. (Actually, I think I'm the only one so far- so if you'd like to contribute, email obviousninjablog@gmail.com . For more information on being a guest blogger see the previous post, "Calling All Writers")
First, some background on who I am. I am Dixie, Stella's younger cousin. I am single and I live alone, so naturally I have a lot of time to watch TV. During my many hours of TV watching this summer (yes, I am fully aware of how lame I am), I have recently come across a show called "Naked and Afraid".
For those of you who don't know what this show is, it is a survival show. People volunteer for this show to prove their survival skills. One man and one woman, who have never met, are dropped off in some extremely remote wilderness completely naked! They are each allowed to bring one man made item with them, many choose something like a fire starter or a machete (obviously). Once they are in the jungle, or wherever it is they are dropped off, they have only each other and their one item each to survive for three weeks.
I can understand why someone might want to prove they have what it takes to survive with practically nothing, but come on, must they be naked?
I have discussed this issue with others who also watch the show and some say that more people will be interested in watching the show if people are naked. To this I say, everything interesting is blurred out anyway so it's not like you see anything. So that theory is out the window.
Someone else said that being naked makes withstanding the elements tougher. I can agree with that one to an extent. There was a guy on one episode who got so sunburned he couldn't move. Obviously, if he'd had clothes they would have protected his skin from the sun; however, I argue a pair of tightie whities would not have helped him. And then he wouldn't be naked.
I don't think that a simple pair of underwear and perhaps a sports bra for the woman would be that beneficial to their survival. It would provide minimal protection from the sun, and would not help keep them warm. I would not think any less of a survivalist if they survived while wearing only underwear as opposed to being completely naked. I mean, let's be honest, that's just gross and unnecessary.
Ladies, I know how good if feels to get home after a long day of work and take that bra off, but nobody needs those babies flopping around 24-7. And while I have never been a guy, I would suspect that they don't need their junk openly flopping around either. Plus, being completely naked leaves you vulnerable to anything crawling in and up any crack and crevasse you didn't even know you had!
Bottom line is that there is absolutely no reason for the people in that show to be completely naked. No reason.
Thank you.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
The Mommy Wars
I'm finding out that being a mom is going to be a lot like all the other things in life where people have varied opinions about everything and feel that because they have been through a similar experience (or not), they are entitled to judge and/or give you unsolicited advice (see the previous post "Are You Trying" for further illuminating examples).
I'm learning that because someone else had a kid, they are pretty much going to tell you something about you having a kid and how it will go for you.
Case in point, for some reason as my due date gets closer I have been asked many times by a lot of moms a variation of "So, you'll get an epidural, right?" Or, I'm just plain told "I assume you'll have an epidural." I don't know why this comes up so much or why people care, but it does and they do.
When I say "Well, we'll see how it goes, but I'm going to try for a natural birth," there is an immediate reaction. I've had everything from laughter (I'm not kidding, two people have laughed in my face), to "Oh, well good luck, you're going to need it."
Or just a pitying look that says "Oh you dumb, naive girl. Just wait, you don't know what you're talking about." So much judgement for a topic I didn't even bring up!
My second favorite mom-to-be/new mom topic is working out. Apparently, we are to have "no excuses" about working out when we're pregnant, and even fewer than no excuses about getting our bodies back after the baby. I recently stumbled upon a "No Excuses Pregnancy Workout" on Pinterest (I know, it's my fault for being on Pinterest) that included:
-Run or Walk 1/2 Mile
-12 Bicep Curls
-12 Dips
-12 Shoulder Presses
-12 Lateral Raises
-Run or Walk 1/2 mile
-20 Lunges (R/L = 1)
-20 Calf Raises
-20 Plie Squats
-30-40 Second Wall Sit
*Repeat 2 Times
The background picture is a pregnant woman kick boxing and not making any excuses. So fierce.
WHAT?!?!?!
Who is the person that made this up? Who are the people who do this? Maybe I could do this if I wasn't pregnant. Maybe. I don't go to CrossFit though, so I don't know my limits or how hard I can work EVERY DAY, NO EXCUSES!
I'm not saying that I'm a couch potato, and exercise is important during pregnancy, but holy cow, does it have to be such a beat down?
Look, if you're into working out and that's your thing, cool. Do all the stuff on that list. What really bothers me is the title.
Does "No Excuses" imply that if you can't do this- all of this- then you're somehow not good at being pregnant? Hello, you're pregnant, that's not an excuse, it's a reality. Maybe you can't do 20 Plie Squats three times because you're throwing up all the time...and no one knows what a Plie Squat is.
These are just two examples of the land mine of topics that other moms are apparently allowed to freely judge you over. Others include, but are not limited to:
-Breastfeeding vs. Formula
-Hospital vs. Home Birth vs. Birthing Center
-Doctor vs. Midwife
-Childcare (I had a well intentioned but completely unsolicited or necessary email from a friend begging me not to put my child in day care...ever)
-Baby wearing
-Clothe vs. Disposable diapers
I could go on.
I was talking to a friend the other night about this topic, ranting about why women feel they get to do this to other women. Specifically, other moms. Don't they know how hard this is? Didn't they just do this? And then, my wise friend said, "Stella, it's not about your choice, it's about the choice they already made. They want to feel like they made the right one, and if you're doing something different than them, maybe it makes them defensive."
So wise. So, so wise. I was going with "they're all a-holes," but I think that's my hormones talking.
I know I'm going to have to get over this as it is the tip of the iceberg. There will be lots more topics ahead ("When did you let your daughter have earrings/a Facebook account/a cell phone/shave her legs/go to the mall with her friends/date?", "What colleges did your kid get in to?"...)
I'm also going to have to remember not to be a judgey mom myself when someone tells me they put their two-year-old on an all vegan diet. I will try not to judge that...openly.
In short, I'm going to have to be kinder to other moms and at the same time get thicker skin and wear it like armor as I jump into the craziness of motherhood. In the end, it's not about them anyway, it's about my kid, our family and just trying to keep everyone alive and relatively happy.
I'll have to remember what another very wise mom friend told me recently: "Welcome to the Mommy Wars, little one. Do not engage the crazies."
I'm learning that because someone else had a kid, they are pretty much going to tell you something about you having a kid and how it will go for you.
Case in point, for some reason as my due date gets closer I have been asked many times by a lot of moms a variation of "So, you'll get an epidural, right?" Or, I'm just plain told "I assume you'll have an epidural." I don't know why this comes up so much or why people care, but it does and they do.
When I say "Well, we'll see how it goes, but I'm going to try for a natural birth," there is an immediate reaction. I've had everything from laughter (I'm not kidding, two people have laughed in my face), to "Oh, well good luck, you're going to need it."
Or just a pitying look that says "Oh you dumb, naive girl. Just wait, you don't know what you're talking about." So much judgement for a topic I didn't even bring up!
My second favorite mom-to-be/new mom topic is working out. Apparently, we are to have "no excuses" about working out when we're pregnant, and even fewer than no excuses about getting our bodies back after the baby. I recently stumbled upon a "No Excuses Pregnancy Workout" on Pinterest (I know, it's my fault for being on Pinterest) that included:
-Run or Walk 1/2 Mile
-12 Bicep Curls
-12 Dips
-12 Shoulder Presses
-12 Lateral Raises
-Run or Walk 1/2 mile
-20 Lunges (R/L = 1)
-20 Calf Raises
-20 Plie Squats
-30-40 Second Wall Sit
*Repeat 2 Times
The background picture is a pregnant woman kick boxing and not making any excuses. So fierce.
WHAT?!?!?!
Who is the person that made this up? Who are the people who do this? Maybe I could do this if I wasn't pregnant. Maybe. I don't go to CrossFit though, so I don't know my limits or how hard I can work EVERY DAY, NO EXCUSES!
I'm not saying that I'm a couch potato, and exercise is important during pregnancy, but holy cow, does it have to be such a beat down?
Look, if you're into working out and that's your thing, cool. Do all the stuff on that list. What really bothers me is the title.
Does "No Excuses" imply that if you can't do this- all of this- then you're somehow not good at being pregnant? Hello, you're pregnant, that's not an excuse, it's a reality. Maybe you can't do 20 Plie Squats three times because you're throwing up all the time...and no one knows what a Plie Squat is.
These are just two examples of the land mine of topics that other moms are apparently allowed to freely judge you over. Others include, but are not limited to:
-Breastfeeding vs. Formula
-Hospital vs. Home Birth vs. Birthing Center
-Doctor vs. Midwife
-Childcare (I had a well intentioned but completely unsolicited or necessary email from a friend begging me not to put my child in day care...ever)
-Baby wearing
-Clothe vs. Disposable diapers
I could go on.
I was talking to a friend the other night about this topic, ranting about why women feel they get to do this to other women. Specifically, other moms. Don't they know how hard this is? Didn't they just do this? And then, my wise friend said, "Stella, it's not about your choice, it's about the choice they already made. They want to feel like they made the right one, and if you're doing something different than them, maybe it makes them defensive."
So wise. So, so wise. I was going with "they're all a-holes," but I think that's my hormones talking.
I know I'm going to have to get over this as it is the tip of the iceberg. There will be lots more topics ahead ("When did you let your daughter have earrings/a Facebook account/a cell phone/shave her legs/go to the mall with her friends/date?", "What colleges did your kid get in to?"...)
I'm also going to have to remember not to be a judgey mom myself when someone tells me they put their two-year-old on an all vegan diet. I will try not to judge that...openly.
In short, I'm going to have to be kinder to other moms and at the same time get thicker skin and wear it like armor as I jump into the craziness of motherhood. In the end, it's not about them anyway, it's about my kid, our family and just trying to keep everyone alive and relatively happy.
I'll have to remember what another very wise mom friend told me recently: "Welcome to the Mommy Wars, little one. Do not engage the crazies."
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
A very close call
Fruit is pretty much the best. Especially while I've been pregnant, I've eaten fruit like I'm a Spider Monkey. It comes in phases; there were some weeks when I ate four or five grapefruits, then pounds of blueberries, then entire watermelons. Recently, it's been plums and peaches, and they've been glorious. Until a few days ago.
Before I tell you what happened though, first you have to know that both Brad and Pippy do not share my fruit enthusiasm. Pippy is very selective about the fruit she eats. She never, ever eats fruit by just biting into it; she'll only eat fruit that either she has cut herself or that she has actually seen someone else cut. I don't understand this, and she can't explain it, but that's how it is.
Brad grew up with strawberry Poptarts as a main fruit source in his young life. He doesn't really trust "food" that comes from "outside." Case in point, there was a pear tree that grew in his backyard when he was little. Not only did he and his brothers not recognize the fruit as edible, they used them as ammunition and hurled them as hard as they possibly could at each other.
I once asked him if they ever ate a single pear from that tree and he said "No, we just said 'Get out of here weird things from this tree!' and then chunked them over the fence." Perfect.
To this day he's suspicious of lots of food, saying that it all probably has bugs in it.
They are both clearly ridiculous. Or so I thought.
Two days ago I was happily munching on a plum. I didn't cut it up because that's silly. As I took a big bite Brad said, "Why are you eating that plum like an animal?"
As he said it, part of the pit broke away, and there, inside the pit WAS A BUG!
OMG, OMG, OMG THERE WAS A BUG IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PLUM AND IT WAS ALIVE!
AHHHHH!
I have never even heard of this! How could there be a bug inside a plum pit? Just living there? What does it drink? How does it live?
I'm not talking about a little bug either, it was almost as big as the whole pit. It was like a worm bug, and I'm pretty sure it had fangs:
Okay, so that looks more like a longhorn vampire bug, but I wasn't really studying it as I was trying not to eat it. Just know that it was terrifying.
Immediately, I spit the plum out and thrust it at Brad without saying a word. Then, I ran away and thought about not throwing up for a while.
When I recovered, I found Brad hard at work Googling the bug (because in a crisis, Brad will get to the bottom of things!). Apparently, it is a bug that lives in plums and eats the pit. So there you go.
Honestly, I didn't really want to know much more, other than it wasn't poisonous and I wasn't going to die, so I can't tell you much else about the Plum Bugs. Just...you know, watch out for them.
The whole experience has forced me to rethink my fruit philosophy. Are Pippy and Brad right? Should I cut up all my fruit from now on since apparently bugs in your fruit is a legitimate fear? I don't know. I just don't know what to believe anymore.
Which is why I've been sticking to ice cream for the last two days. Cherry Garcia. All the fruit, none of the bugs.
Before I tell you what happened though, first you have to know that both Brad and Pippy do not share my fruit enthusiasm. Pippy is very selective about the fruit she eats. She never, ever eats fruit by just biting into it; she'll only eat fruit that either she has cut herself or that she has actually seen someone else cut. I don't understand this, and she can't explain it, but that's how it is.
Brad grew up with strawberry Poptarts as a main fruit source in his young life. He doesn't really trust "food" that comes from "outside." Case in point, there was a pear tree that grew in his backyard when he was little. Not only did he and his brothers not recognize the fruit as edible, they used them as ammunition and hurled them as hard as they possibly could at each other.
I once asked him if they ever ate a single pear from that tree and he said "No, we just said 'Get out of here weird things from this tree!' and then chunked them over the fence." Perfect.
To this day he's suspicious of lots of food, saying that it all probably has bugs in it.
They are both clearly ridiculous. Or so I thought.
Two days ago I was happily munching on a plum. I didn't cut it up because that's silly. As I took a big bite Brad said, "Why are you eating that plum like an animal?"
As he said it, part of the pit broke away, and there, inside the pit WAS A BUG!
OMG, OMG, OMG THERE WAS A BUG IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PLUM AND IT WAS ALIVE!
AHHHHH!
I have never even heard of this! How could there be a bug inside a plum pit? Just living there? What does it drink? How does it live?
I'm not talking about a little bug either, it was almost as big as the whole pit. It was like a worm bug, and I'm pretty sure it had fangs:
Okay, so that looks more like a longhorn vampire bug, but I wasn't really studying it as I was trying not to eat it. Just know that it was terrifying.
Immediately, I spit the plum out and thrust it at Brad without saying a word. Then, I ran away and thought about not throwing up for a while.
When I recovered, I found Brad hard at work Googling the bug (because in a crisis, Brad will get to the bottom of things!). Apparently, it is a bug that lives in plums and eats the pit. So there you go.
Honestly, I didn't really want to know much more, other than it wasn't poisonous and I wasn't going to die, so I can't tell you much else about the Plum Bugs. Just...you know, watch out for them.
The whole experience has forced me to rethink my fruit philosophy. Are Pippy and Brad right? Should I cut up all my fruit from now on since apparently bugs in your fruit is a legitimate fear? I don't know. I just don't know what to believe anymore.
Which is why I've been sticking to ice cream for the last two days. Cherry Garcia. All the fruit, none of the bugs.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Calling all writers!
So the Baby Ninja will be here very soon, and I'm thinking that I might not have time to blog for a while once that happens. OR I'll have really funny, delusional posts written at 2 AM on two hours of sleep. No one can predict how these things will work.
In the meantime, I'm enlisting YOUR help! If you'd like to make a contribution to the blog to help keep it going during the temporary baby preoccupation, I'd love to publish your posts.
Here are the only rules:
1. It can be a work of anything you want- story that happened to you, fictional short story, poem, witty observation on life, a picture you drew of your cat, it's up to you- but you must have created it and agree that I can post it on the blog (no copyright issues please, I just couldn't deal with that and an infant).
2. I will read everything prior to posting it, and may edit slightly for length or clarity.
3. I reserve the right not to post your submission for any reason without explanation. Sorry dudes.
4. This is just for fun, no one is making any money off of this thing (trust me), so if you submit, please do it because you like to write and you're helping a Ninja out not because you expect to get paid*. Sorry again.
If you're good with those rules, then bring it!
Just send your submission(s) to obviousninjablog@gmail.com You can send one post or 100, totes up to you. Also, please let me know how you'd like to be credited- with your real name or a pseudonym.
I'm taking submissions now and will create a little stockpile so that in the weeks ahead I can post them as needed. I'll try to sprinkle in a few posts of my own here and there, and I'll keep writing until the big event.
Okay, that's all for now! I expect at least five submissions because I know there are at least five of you out there per my Google blog analytics page. You know who you are, don't make me hunt you down.
Thanks and hooray you!!
*If, in the off chance BJ Novak ever comes through and I get my book deal, I will not include your posts in my best selling blog compilation. Maybe I'll mention you to Terry Gross in my "Fresh Air" interview though.
In the meantime, I'm enlisting YOUR help! If you'd like to make a contribution to the blog to help keep it going during the temporary baby preoccupation, I'd love to publish your posts.
Here are the only rules:
1. It can be a work of anything you want- story that happened to you, fictional short story, poem, witty observation on life, a picture you drew of your cat, it's up to you- but you must have created it and agree that I can post it on the blog (no copyright issues please, I just couldn't deal with that and an infant).
2. I will read everything prior to posting it, and may edit slightly for length or clarity.
3. I reserve the right not to post your submission for any reason without explanation. Sorry dudes.
4. This is just for fun, no one is making any money off of this thing (trust me), so if you submit, please do it because you like to write and you're helping a Ninja out not because you expect to get paid*. Sorry again.
If you're good with those rules, then bring it!
Just send your submission(s) to obviousninjablog@gmail.com You can send one post or 100, totes up to you. Also, please let me know how you'd like to be credited- with your real name or a pseudonym.
I'm taking submissions now and will create a little stockpile so that in the weeks ahead I can post them as needed. I'll try to sprinkle in a few posts of my own here and there, and I'll keep writing until the big event.
Okay, that's all for now! I expect at least five submissions because I know there are at least five of you out there per my Google blog analytics page. You know who you are, don't make me hunt you down.
Thanks and hooray you!!
*If, in the off chance BJ Novak ever comes through and I get my book deal, I will not include your posts in my best selling blog compilation. Maybe I'll mention you to Terry Gross in my "Fresh Air" interview though.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Life's Too Short
My cousin, Dixie, was in town keeping me company while Brad was away. We did lots of fun things, but mostly we cooked and ate what we cooked and talked about what we were going to cook and eat next.
Anyway, while all this cooking was going on we took turns being the chef (or chief) and sous chef (or Sioux Chief) depending on whose specialty we were concocting. When I was chefing, I would ask her to bring me this spice or that spice from the pantry, and every time when we were done with it, she'd ask "So where does this one go?"
"In the spice rack," was always my answer, and she'd come back looking confused.
After about three or four of these episodes I said, "Dixie, why do you keep asking me where they go? They all go in the spice rack."
"I know," she said, "but where in the spice rack do they go? I've been trying to remember where I got them, but there's no system."
Wha? Wasn't my system obvious?
It had literally never dawned on me to organize my spice rack. Why on Earth would anyone, unless they are an actual chef, need their spices organized?
"Dixie, there is no system; just put them on the rack. Life's too short."
This prompted me to think of other things I've decided I refuse to do or not do moving forward.
This is not a list of things like "To go to bed mad" or "Not to say I love you" or "To worry about what other people think." Yes, those are all valid things that life is to short for, but these are real, actual things that I feel either take away valuable time or valuable pleasure from my life.
So, for your approval:
1. To organize your spice rack (unless you love organizing then knock yourself out)
2. Not to push the button
There's a button on our refrigerator that says "Ice Plus" and has a little frost symbol by it. For over a year I have thought about that button every time I've gotten ice, but I have not pushed it. Maybe because I didn't know what it would do or I thought maybe I'd get in trouble (by whom? Brad? No. I'm the boss of him.) But yesterday, I pushed the button. I still don't know what it does, but our ice seems a little shinier, and I'm so happy I pushed it!
3. To find the manual
I realize that in situations such as the one above, I could probably find out somehow what The Button does, but I'm not going to do that. A. I don't know where the manual is or if we even have it anymore and B. I'm satisfied that nothing bad happened with the ice and that I didn't get in trouble by anyone. I will just continue to speculate and know that our ice is just a little better thanks to me.
4. To eat bad cheese
Not like rotten cheese, no one should do that. I'm talking about bad cheese. Like American cheese. I hate that the worst most processed cheese is called "American" cheese too. Like it it the epitome of America and our values? What? No! No, I say to you American cheese, I won't eat you. In fact, in my mind you are Un-American cheese.
5. To eat at Chili's
Unless I am in a desperate situation, like I have no other way of eating food, Chili's is never, ever an option. Just, no. I've had enough battered chicken with soft corn on the cob that is exactly like all the other battered chicken and soft corn on the cob I've ever had there for a lifetime.
6. To pair socks
Yes, there will always be one missing. No, I will never find it. So I just buy a bunch of the exact same socks, throw them all in a drawer and grab two when I need them. Done.
7. To ignore babies
I don't get it when people don't smile and play with cute babies in front of them at the grocery store. There is a cute baby in front of you in a shopping cart looking at you with his/her cute little eyes. LOOK back and him/her and smile! There are only so many babies in the world, and one of them is looking at you! Play with the kid for two seconds.
8. To make the bed
Unless I know for sure someone is coming to my house, I do not make the bed. Pretty much ever. Why? I'm just going to throw those pillows on the floor again in about 15 hours and start the whole process over. If someone happens to drop by, they just don't go in our room. Or if they do, they're a dear friend or a paramedic, neither of whom will care that the bed is unmade.
9. To listen to Top 40
At one point in American history, I believe Top 40 was pretty good (Elvis and The Beatles come to mind), but I'm sorry, music is in a terrible state. Everything is synthesized and auto-tuned, and frankly just sucks. Even if it doesn't suck, it gets played 10 times an hour and then you end up hating it in about a week. Plus, now it's not like we need the radio to tell us what music we like. There is a whole world of musical experiences thanks to iTunes, YouTube, Satellite Radio and the interwebs. Therefore, Top 40 no longer has a place in my life- and I officially don't know what the kids are listening to these days.
I wish I could come up with one more so that there would be 10, but apparently, everything else in my life is necessary, so I'll stop there before I get frustrated. Because hey...
Anyway, while all this cooking was going on we took turns being the chef (or chief) and sous chef (or Sioux Chief) depending on whose specialty we were concocting. When I was chefing, I would ask her to bring me this spice or that spice from the pantry, and every time when we were done with it, she'd ask "So where does this one go?"
"In the spice rack," was always my answer, and she'd come back looking confused.
After about three or four of these episodes I said, "Dixie, why do you keep asking me where they go? They all go in the spice rack."
"I know," she said, "but where in the spice rack do they go? I've been trying to remember where I got them, but there's no system."
Wha? Wasn't my system obvious?
It had literally never dawned on me to organize my spice rack. Why on Earth would anyone, unless they are an actual chef, need their spices organized?
"Dixie, there is no system; just put them on the rack. Life's too short."
This prompted me to think of other things I've decided I refuse to do or not do moving forward.
This is not a list of things like "To go to bed mad" or "Not to say I love you" or "To worry about what other people think." Yes, those are all valid things that life is to short for, but these are real, actual things that I feel either take away valuable time or valuable pleasure from my life.
So, for your approval:
Life's Too Short...
1. To organize your spice rack (unless you love organizing then knock yourself out)
2. Not to push the button
There's a button on our refrigerator that says "Ice Plus" and has a little frost symbol by it. For over a year I have thought about that button every time I've gotten ice, but I have not pushed it. Maybe because I didn't know what it would do or I thought maybe I'd get in trouble (by whom? Brad? No. I'm the boss of him.) But yesterday, I pushed the button. I still don't know what it does, but our ice seems a little shinier, and I'm so happy I pushed it!
3. To find the manual
I realize that in situations such as the one above, I could probably find out somehow what The Button does, but I'm not going to do that. A. I don't know where the manual is or if we even have it anymore and B. I'm satisfied that nothing bad happened with the ice and that I didn't get in trouble by anyone. I will just continue to speculate and know that our ice is just a little better thanks to me.
4. To eat bad cheese
Not like rotten cheese, no one should do that. I'm talking about bad cheese. Like American cheese. I hate that the worst most processed cheese is called "American" cheese too. Like it it the epitome of America and our values? What? No! No, I say to you American cheese, I won't eat you. In fact, in my mind you are Un-American cheese.
5. To eat at Chili's
Unless I am in a desperate situation, like I have no other way of eating food, Chili's is never, ever an option. Just, no. I've had enough battered chicken with soft corn on the cob that is exactly like all the other battered chicken and soft corn on the cob I've ever had there for a lifetime.
6. To pair socks
Yes, there will always be one missing. No, I will never find it. So I just buy a bunch of the exact same socks, throw them all in a drawer and grab two when I need them. Done.
7. To ignore babies
I don't get it when people don't smile and play with cute babies in front of them at the grocery store. There is a cute baby in front of you in a shopping cart looking at you with his/her cute little eyes. LOOK back and him/her and smile! There are only so many babies in the world, and one of them is looking at you! Play with the kid for two seconds.
8. To make the bed
Unless I know for sure someone is coming to my house, I do not make the bed. Pretty much ever. Why? I'm just going to throw those pillows on the floor again in about 15 hours and start the whole process over. If someone happens to drop by, they just don't go in our room. Or if they do, they're a dear friend or a paramedic, neither of whom will care that the bed is unmade.
9. To listen to Top 40
At one point in American history, I believe Top 40 was pretty good (Elvis and The Beatles come to mind), but I'm sorry, music is in a terrible state. Everything is synthesized and auto-tuned, and frankly just sucks. Even if it doesn't suck, it gets played 10 times an hour and then you end up hating it in about a week. Plus, now it's not like we need the radio to tell us what music we like. There is a whole world of musical experiences thanks to iTunes, YouTube, Satellite Radio and the interwebs. Therefore, Top 40 no longer has a place in my life- and I officially don't know what the kids are listening to these days.
I wish I could come up with one more so that there would be 10, but apparently, everything else in my life is necessary, so I'll stop there before I get frustrated. Because hey...
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Monsters aren't real...unless your father is out of town.
Brad's out of town. On the one hand this is good because I have not had to suffocate him with my pillow to stop his snoring. So, I'm sleeping better. On the other hand, falling asleep is much harder due to all the monsters and ghosts that have shown up since he left.
I'm still pretty sure that the upstairs guest bedroom is haunted despite having had a few house guests recently who did not feel any hauntingness. However, now it's not just the guest room; it's the whole house. Starting at about 10:00 PM.
Every night I tell myself that there is nothing to be afraid of in my house. To prove this, I force myself to walk into every room, even the haunted ones, and do a little spin around and check all the closets for Evil Beings. So far, none have appeared.
Pippy's husband asked me what I would do if I did find something in one of the rooms (I picture it being a Gollum looking creature, hunched in the middle of the floor licking its sharp little fingers...and then it would hiss at me).
This is exactly what I would do:
I would slam the door and immediately start saying a prayer out loud to scare it and let it know that I have Jesus in my heart. I would then run down the stairs and let the dogs out of their room (nothing haunting happens until the dogs go to bed), and the three of us would run out the front door and over to a neighbor's house.
Screw the cats, they're too hard to wrangle and Evil Beings would probably leave them alone any way. Especially Itsy because she's so mean.
Anyway, once at the neighbor's we'd call a priest or preacher or rabbi or whomever we could find at that hour- and also the police- and then they'd come to my house and get rid of the Being. I would then stay at a very nice hotel (because I deserve it after what I've been through) with the dogs (and cats if there was time) until Brad got home. Then we'd sell our house and move far, far away.
I know. That's crazy! I can't run- I'm way too pregnant! I'd have to waddle quickly.
Sigh.
I tell myself that when the baby comes I've got to stop this and be a real grown up. I can't be scared of things- I'm the MOM! The Mom isn't scared of anything, she's the one who tells the kid that there is no such thing as monsters (or Evil Beings, ghosts, vampires, weird gray mists that waft under doors, shadows of trees that turn into werewolves who lurk outside your bedroom window, etc.). None of those are real. Don't be afraid of them.
What I should be afraid of are murders, rapists and robbers. Those guys are real. They are people I should actually be protecting my child against. But I could just shoot them. The undead are unshootable.
Ugh! I've got to get it together, I know! There's not a lot of time left to be a crazy person who believes in these things. Maybe when the baby's born I'll just automatically stop this and be like a mother lion protecting her cub. Demons beware! Vampires, go away! Banshees be banished (and no, that was not just for alliteration, I am actually really afraid of banshees)! The lioness is on the prowl!
Or maybe Brad can just take fewer trips and I can drink wine to calm my nerves again.
I'm still pretty sure that the upstairs guest bedroom is haunted despite having had a few house guests recently who did not feel any hauntingness. However, now it's not just the guest room; it's the whole house. Starting at about 10:00 PM.
Every night I tell myself that there is nothing to be afraid of in my house. To prove this, I force myself to walk into every room, even the haunted ones, and do a little spin around and check all the closets for Evil Beings. So far, none have appeared.
Pippy's husband asked me what I would do if I did find something in one of the rooms (I picture it being a Gollum looking creature, hunched in the middle of the floor licking its sharp little fingers...and then it would hiss at me).
This is exactly what I would do:
I would slam the door and immediately start saying a prayer out loud to scare it and let it know that I have Jesus in my heart. I would then run down the stairs and let the dogs out of their room (nothing haunting happens until the dogs go to bed), and the three of us would run out the front door and over to a neighbor's house.
Screw the cats, they're too hard to wrangle and Evil Beings would probably leave them alone any way. Especially Itsy because she's so mean.
Anyway, once at the neighbor's we'd call a priest or preacher or rabbi or whomever we could find at that hour- and also the police- and then they'd come to my house and get rid of the Being. I would then stay at a very nice hotel (because I deserve it after what I've been through) with the dogs (and cats if there was time) until Brad got home. Then we'd sell our house and move far, far away.
I know. That's crazy! I can't run- I'm way too pregnant! I'd have to waddle quickly.
Sigh.
I tell myself that when the baby comes I've got to stop this and be a real grown up. I can't be scared of things- I'm the MOM! The Mom isn't scared of anything, she's the one who tells the kid that there is no such thing as monsters (or Evil Beings, ghosts, vampires, weird gray mists that waft under doors, shadows of trees that turn into werewolves who lurk outside your bedroom window, etc.). None of those are real. Don't be afraid of them.
What I should be afraid of are murders, rapists and robbers. Those guys are real. They are people I should actually be protecting my child against. But I could just shoot them. The undead are unshootable.
Ugh! I've got to get it together, I know! There's not a lot of time left to be a crazy person who believes in these things. Maybe when the baby's born I'll just automatically stop this and be like a mother lion protecting her cub. Demons beware! Vampires, go away! Banshees be banished (and no, that was not just for alliteration, I am actually really afraid of banshees)! The lioness is on the prowl!
Or maybe Brad can just take fewer trips and I can drink wine to calm my nerves again.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
The Music in My Heart...is kind of bad
Everyone gets songs stuck in their head. Well, I'm assuming that. Maybe really smart, disciplined people don't get songs stuck in there head; maybe they will them out. Or maybe they get a Bach concerto stuck in their head. I get terrible songs by Pink and Bruno Mars stuck in my head.
It's not just that though, I recently realized that I pretty much have a running soundtrack in my head throughout the day depending on what I'm doing.
For example, if I mail a letter, I then have "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart stuck in my head, except I've changed the words to "Forever Stamp" because it works perfectly: "Forever Stamp, Forever Stamp, Foooor-eeeee-ver Staaaaamp."
I bought Brad a book about being a dad called "Be Prepared," (which he has not read and which has not helped him prepare in any way), and every time I see it, I sing "Be Prepared" from Disney's "The Lion King." You know the one- Scar sings it:
All that was from memory. I did not Google any of that.
Pippy said that she does this sometimes too. In the morning she sings a song about the days of the week that changes depending on the day it is: "Today is Tuesday, today is Tuesday. Tuesday wash day, Monday sooooup are you hungry brother? We wish the same to you!" It is a terrible, nonsensical song from camp, and I can never remember what happens on what day. I do not sing this song in the morning.
When I wake up, I sing the theme song to the 90's cartoon "Winnie the Pooh" that goes "Gotta get up, gotta get go'n, gonna meet a friend of mine! He's round and he's fuzzy, I love him because he is POOH BEAR, WINNIE THE POOH BEAR!"
I sing the whole thing, even the scary part about "when we're alone and there's nobody home, it's nice to be able to count on a friend, like POOH BEAR!" Yes, that is in my head six days a week.
Only on Monday does it change to my Monday song, "Manic Monday", by The Bangles. Which, let's just talk about this song for one second.
So, she's obviously in this relationship with a deadbeat boyfriend who does not care for her wellbeing. Why isn't he working? Why does he only want to get down on Sunday night? He could at least be supportive of her career if he's not going to work, especially when she has to work to feed the both of them and employment's down. He should know that she just wants to watch TV, go to bed early and be depressed like everyone else on Sunday evenings.
I digress.
There are also songs for various situations involving the animals:
-"Stay, American Puppy" by Dave Matthews Band
-"If you are a kitty and your name is Saber, come on and give a meow" based loosely on the Rod Stewart song, "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?"
-"Leave it, leave it- drop that ball Molly leave it!" of course by the incomparable Michael Jackson.
I know. It's weird. Does anyone else experience this? Maybe I don't have enough to think about so I have to fill the void with meaningless song. Or maybe I have too much to think about and this is an avoidance tactic.
Either way, it's probably not a big deal. Maybe I should just "try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you...oooo!" (JCSS, 1973. Obviously.)
It's not just that though, I recently realized that I pretty much have a running soundtrack in my head throughout the day depending on what I'm doing.
For example, if I mail a letter, I then have "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart stuck in my head, except I've changed the words to "Forever Stamp" because it works perfectly: "Forever Stamp, Forever Stamp, Foooor-eeeee-ver Staaaaamp."
I bought Brad a book about being a dad called "Be Prepared," (which he has not read and which has not helped him prepare in any way), and every time I see it, I sing "Be Prepared" from Disney's "The Lion King." You know the one- Scar sings it:
"Be prepared for sensational news! A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer." (Hyena, played by Whoopi Goldberg) "But where do we feature?" (Scar) "Just listen to teacher! I know it sounds sorted but you'll be rewarded when at last I'm given my dues!"
All that was from memory. I did not Google any of that.
Pippy said that she does this sometimes too. In the morning she sings a song about the days of the week that changes depending on the day it is: "Today is Tuesday, today is Tuesday. Tuesday wash day, Monday sooooup are you hungry brother? We wish the same to you!" It is a terrible, nonsensical song from camp, and I can never remember what happens on what day. I do not sing this song in the morning.
When I wake up, I sing the theme song to the 90's cartoon "Winnie the Pooh" that goes "Gotta get up, gotta get go'n, gonna meet a friend of mine! He's round and he's fuzzy, I love him because he is POOH BEAR, WINNIE THE POOH BEAR!"
I sing the whole thing, even the scary part about "when we're alone and there's nobody home, it's nice to be able to count on a friend, like POOH BEAR!" Yes, that is in my head six days a week.
Only on Monday does it change to my Monday song, "Manic Monday", by The Bangles. Which, let's just talk about this song for one second.
So, she's obviously in this relationship with a deadbeat boyfriend who does not care for her wellbeing. Why isn't he working? Why does he only want to get down on Sunday night? He could at least be supportive of her career if he's not going to work, especially when she has to work to feed the both of them and employment's down. He should know that she just wants to watch TV, go to bed early and be depressed like everyone else on Sunday evenings.
I digress.
There are also songs for various situations involving the animals:
-"Stay, American Puppy" by Dave Matthews Band
-"If you are a kitty and your name is Saber, come on and give a meow" based loosely on the Rod Stewart song, "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?"
-"Leave it, leave it- drop that ball Molly leave it!" of course by the incomparable Michael Jackson.
I know. It's weird. Does anyone else experience this? Maybe I don't have enough to think about so I have to fill the void with meaningless song. Or maybe I have too much to think about and this is an avoidance tactic.
Either way, it's probably not a big deal. Maybe I should just "try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you...oooo!" (JCSS, 1973. Obviously.)
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