The icing on the cake

Duuudes,

The problem with the cake was that I forgot to frost in between the layers. There was no creamy frosting oasis amongst the sweet, sweet cake. Just more cake. So I brought out the extra can of frosting and we dipped. Yummy!

The blanket above is the Woven Moments one I was talking about. It came out great, didn't it? And it's thick, too. I just sent them a picture of Dallas and 7 weeks later the blanket came in the mail. Brian loved it, naturally. And since in the picture Dallas is sitting on the family room rug, and we keep the blanket in the family room, it matches perfectly. It's the circle of life, if life were color coordinated.

Mary is also pictured above, just cause. I have never changed the name of the file that I keep her pictures in on the computer. It's still called "MJ", her in utero name, short for Mary James, The Baby of Uncertain Gender. Just as Annie was AJ for the months preceding her debut. Mary still isn't cruising. Mostly, she can't even lift her tummy off the ground when she crawls. "Git that belly offa the ground yew yellow-bellied maggot!", I goad, to no avail. But girl can MOVE. And she finds trouble. One minute playing with parent-sanctioned baby toy, the next mouthing Henry's kong. Nice. For all her early personality flaws, Annie was not a trouble-seeking baby so this new vigilance is taking some getting used to.

Because I am slow, February is when my New Year's resolutions are going to take effect. Of course I want to lose weight. Will that be easier once I stop breastfeeding (the great myth of breastfeeding having been the weight that supposedly just falls off)? Or will this take a concerted effort to stop eating potato chips? And I want to blog more, cause I like to. And my e-mailing has really been falling off. And this JOB thing. Great, now I'm depressed.

Dallas Update

I think I may have become a pessimist because I was so certain that we'd hear bad news regarding Dallas' biopsy but it wasn't so bad. Well, the tummy tumor is malignant but the vet said it is the kind of malignancy that won't grow. The tumor could come back in the same spot but if it does (and there is a 40% chance it will), it can be removed again. So, yay!

And Dallas is acting more sprightly than she has in awhile, now that those big lumps are gone. A aurprising, good thing for the new year. She keeps referring to herself as a cancer survivor now so, whatever.

My sister is getting a third dog, God bless her. Her house is already total choas (2 dogs, 1 cat, 2 guinea pigs, fish, 2 kids) but her husband heard of a dog that had been kept by its owner in really crappy conditions for all 8 years of his life. He was removed from the home and has heart worm and but my sister decided to take him to make his golden years happy. And they will be, lucky dog. His name is MJ after Michael Jordan but my niece just informed me via e-mail that they will change his name to Huckleberry. As you do.

I made a crucial error on Brian's birthday cake, one that toally defeated the purpose of making a round cake rather than a sheet cake. Look at the photo above. Can you see my mistake???

Get well soon, Big D

I know. Totally lame, I am. But I was busy with playing Santa and then home to Chicago for New Year's and the cat ate it and I got a flat tire and blah blah blah.

So Happy New Year, y'all!

It was good to be home. I miss my family and friends and I miss Lake Michigan. It probably wasn't a good idea to ever move away from the Lake. It was my anchor growing up. No wonder I feel so rudderless here. How am I supposed to have a sense of direction when my absolute East doesn't exist?

As you can see, it's game, set and match on the girly shite with Annie. Sigh. I even let her buy The Little Mermaid yesterday at Target with the money her Grandma and Pop-Pop gave her for Christmas. Later, Brian and I had to call her Ariel. I know when I'm beaten. But I am signing her up for Spring soccer this week; the dark side shouldn't go unchecked, after all.

I still had trouble making amends with all the STUFF my girls got for Christmas. It makes my stomach hurt a little to think about it. There's the things that Santa brought, of course. Then between the 2 of us, Brian and I have 10 siblings. Plus the grandparents. Just so much stuff. I think that's why I might be overreacting a wee bit when Annie asks for ANYthing these days. I just never want her to take receiving gifts for granted. But she's only THREE, says the devil's advocate that rents in my brain. She doesn't know from spoiled. The whole thing left me feeling unsettled and I am still trying to work out why.

Dallas had surgery the day after we returned home. She had had these fatty growths for almost as long as I've known her. They might appear, disappear and reappear over a period of time, but none ever grew to be too large until recently. Three pretty big ones came and didn't leave plus one hard one, lime-sized, on her tummy that we really didn't like the looks of. The vet ended up removing 6 sizable lumps and biopsied the tummy one. I already kind of know that it's malignant, though we won't find out for sure for another week or so. I don't say that lightly, but part of loving Dallas so much has always been trying to brace myself for eventually losing her. She's a big dog and twelve years old and I can do the math. Since we had everything removed though, I think we bought (and paid dearly for, money being no object with regards to our beloved D)her a couple more really good years. OH, Plus? We got her teeth cleaned and it's a miracle...she has like no breath at all! Her breath used to smell like the inside of Nickerson's Fish Market but now it's the carbon monoxide of breath, totally odorless. But poor dear is all staples and bald spots.

Timely, then that I got Brian a woven blanket with Dallas' image on it for his birthday, which is tomorrow. Well, Dallas and I went in on it. It looks pretty good, though the picture I submitted was a little dark, in retrospect. Tomorrow I will make him a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting because that's what he wants and he obviously doesn't know any better because anyone who knows anything knows that white cake wtih chocolate butter cream icing is really the finer cake.

Slapstick

Yesterday I slipped on a banana peel. I know! How ridiculous is that? I had stepped out of my car after parking in front of Linens N Things and was preparing to open the back seat to get Mary out. Suddenly my foot slid out from under me so I was doing like a half splits. A banana split, if you will. Shut up. I looked down expecting to see a patch of ice, even though the temperature outside was in the 50's. But, no, it was a banana peel. Classic. I chuckled my way through shopping but saved my big laugh for home, in private.

The Babysitter Cometh

We finally gots us an outside babysitter! Once Brian's niece went to college (a full year and a half ago) we were really strapped for sitters and consequently, didn't go out. Ever. Anywhere.

We managed to hook up with the daughter of our old next door neighbor. She is a junior, will have her license in 25 days, and looks to be just awesome with kids. I like her because she jumped right in to play with Annie the other night. Oh, and she assured us that she doesn't go out much because either her friends don't want to do anything, or they want to drink which does not interest her. Are y'all jealous yet?

But wait! There's more! She has already told her mother that she does not want to go away to college so we are talking at least 5 more years of availability here, people. And, come summer, she wants to get a job at Annie's "school". But we will have already staked our claim to her by the time other parents come sniffing around.

I never thought finding a sitter would be so hard. I see why it is though. While I was babysitting at 13 (making a whole one dollar an hour), I must have been a horrendous sitter. I always liked kids but I am fairly certain I wouldn't have picked up after us and if anything bad had happened, I don't know if I was qualified to handle it. In short: I wouldn't want me or anyone like me to sit my kids. Once when I was sitting the Smiths, they were so bad that I called up my dad and had him act like he was Santa and threaten them with coal. Another time, I was babysitting for a neighbor's grandchildren. After they fell asleep I remembered that they had a daughter that died and I got it in my head that she died in their house. Then I heard noises coming from the room the baby was sleeping in and no one bothered to tell me that they had a cat rattling around upstairs and I had to call my sister to come over and keep me company.

I used my first Santa threats on Annie yesterday. She is going through a bad phase of collapsing and whining every time she doesn't get her way. By 10 a.m. yesterday morning she had had three such collapses and I played the Santa card. These collapses make me INSANE. She comes off as such a spoiled child when she does it, and that's one thing I simply can't abide by. And she is starting to act bratty in stores when I tell her she can't have something. How did that happen? I have been so careful to not get her everything she asks for and yet she acts as though she'll die if she can't have something. It makes my blood absolutely boil.

Oh, hey, don't take your kid to see Happy Feet. Out local rag attributed its PG rating to "minor peril" but the movie was scary! And dark. And NOT funny. The animation was at times quite breathtaking but it is not a movie for the very young. Plus (middle age lady alert), when did movies get so LOUD?? Good lord, my teeth were shaking. Even in parts of the movie that weren't scary, the music builds to such a crescendo at such high decibals that my heart was pounding. Turn it DOWN, ya whippersnappers!

Annie usually loves the movies, too. She perches her popcorn on her lap and methodically plows through it, only pausing for an occassional wave of the hand that indicates she is ready for her beverage to be brought to her lips. Heh-can't imagine why she's spoiled! I could tell the movie was making her uneasy, though she held it together. Until we went to the bathroom in the theatre afterwards and the freakin' hand driers sounded like goddamn freight trains and then she sort of broke down a little on the way out. I promised her that next time we'd go to a more gentle movie. A friend suggested Charlotte's Web but I know what happens at the end and no thank you.

Cleaning House

Hey, how's about a playlist? Is it a sad comment on my life that I even have a playlist called
"Cleaning House"? Sigh. Hey, I also have ones called,
"Walking Dance Party" and "Sitting Out Back". So, not only do I clean, but I walk. And sit! Oh, man, now I'm depressed. Anyhoo-here's the stuff I clean to:


Graduate-Third Eye Blind
Friend of the Devil-Grateful Dead
How to Save a Life-The Fray
Sarah Silverman-Every Damn Day
Crash Into Me-Dave Matthews Band
The Remedy-Jason Mraz
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing-Jack Johnson
Right By Your Side-The Eurythmics
Switch-Will Smith
Walking on Broken Glass-Annie Lennox
Do Right-Jimmie's Chicken Shack
Oh-Dave Matthews Band
Catch My Disease-Ben Lee
Hangin' Around-Counting Crows
21 Things I Want in a Lover-Alanis Morrisette
The Impression that I Get-The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones
Stan-Eminem
Peaceful World-(yeah-right after Eminem! I'm multifaceted, don'cha know)Mellencamp
Heart of a Miracle-The BoDeans
JellyMan Kelly-James Taylor
Holiday from Real-Jack's Mannequin

I'm off for a walk-or mayhaps a sit.

There may be hope yet...

Where's your pink now leetle girl??

Acknowledgements

Happy
Thanksgiving!

Since I don't eat turkey and the food at my in-laws can be most generously described as bland, Thanksgiving has become less and less about gorging myself and more and more about truly thankful for all that I have.The older I get, the less I take for granted. Today I am thankful for:

-My family. That is, the one Brian and I made. I am thankful for our health, our opportunities, and our love.

-My family. That is, the one my mom and dad made. My brothers and sisters are just so very...how you say...awesome and without them, I'd be lost. And my mom is still my #1 person to call when I need to feel better, and in spite of her own nearly constant sorrow she always manages to help.

-My friends. Some keep me sane, some keep me laughing and most do both. I hope that I give to them as much as I get, which is lots.

-My health.

-Pizza.

-The milk of human kindness

-My love of animals-there's a reason that pet owners live longer. Unless that pet is Henry (see photo)

-Second chances

-Not having to fight in a war. I often have to remind myself that we are at war. It's not right that I am so untouched by it but there you have it. Yet there are people, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, fighting...in some god-awful country away from there families fighting and they are so brave to have volunteered for this unfathomable, stupid war.

-Summer

-Winter (how else would I know to be thankful for Summer??)

-Target. It's everywhere I want to be.

-Joy

Don't watch 30 Rock

Don't watch the TV show 30 Rock. Don't watch it because it is smart and funny and doesn't miss a beat and has a hint of heart and thus and therefore and henceforth will not last beyond this season. Or maybe next, if the stars are aligned.

Signed,

A fan of Arrested Development
and Freaks and Geeks

P.S. Rachel Dratch you got screwed. So sorry that I love the show anyway.

P.P.S. The character in the picture above slays me. He is so odd and perky I want to alternately trip him and then pick him up off of the floor and give him cocoa.

Jack Benny

Yesterday was my birthday. It was strange because even though I really don't mind getting older, I was depressed for much of the day. I kept waiting for something to happen, some sign that the day was different that every other day. I admit it, I was feeling sorry for myself. Homesick again and just a little blue. But things got better.

For starters, 2 of my awesome sisters sent Target gift cards. Now, even though I have a love affair with Target that is passionate and lasting, it wasn't so much the cash value and shopping potential as much as it was the thought. How needy am I? We normally don't do gifts among my siblings and it was an out of the blue surprise.

Later we took the girls to the playground and had a ball. Mary rode on the baby swing for the first time and lurved it. God, she and Annie are such the tale of two babies, Annie screamed on those swings until...well, it was only this summer that Annie would go on swings. But Mary laughed and laughed and I was laughing, too at the insane looking baby with the enourmous, pointy jacket hood and the crazy cackle.

After the playground we went to the liquor store and got my summer beer, Tequiza. Upon our arrival home, Brian's brother called and said yes, they would come over and play with Annie (Mary still can't keep her eyes open past 6) so we could go out for dinner. This was a great treat.

We have had a terrible time finding a sitter ever since G had the nerve to go to college. I thought I found one in Annie's afternoon "teacher" until I realized that she doesn't particularly like children. Some days when I pick Annie up she'll just balls-out say, "Thank GOD, another one is being picked up". Last week I saw her totally make a little girl cry unnecessarily, and then yell at the poor girl, "knock it off!". When Annie and I left the room I asked her if Miss Yellypants had ever screamed at her and Annie very matter-of-factly said, "I don't do anything bad" which is just so true and amusing that she is aware of this. And yes, I told the director that this broad is NOT good for the school knowing that for 8 bucks an hour (for aides) they aren't going to get the cream of the crop but still.

ANYway yes, we went out to my most favorite restaurant and the food was incredible and we realized that we could not even begin to recall the last time that just the two of us went out and vowed to start dating again in spite of our poverty. I think we have our old next door neighbor on the hook for sitting now. Awesome. She is a sweetie, just got her license and used to take care of Dallas for us. So.

I ended up having a really nice birthday, taking the circuitous route to gratitude and happiness that I tend to favor these days.

You oughta see my pictures & other musings

Cool!! Not sure if it's the new Beta Blogger or if it's because I am using laptop but I can now add photos where I couldn't before.

I have been travelling the web ring of Crazy Hip Moms (see my links) and am a little overwhelmed by the amount of blogs out there. So many are so good, but who has the time to read them all?? I will bookmark those that I really dig. What shocks me is that some blogs are part of like ten rings. Is it true? Is everyone blogging?

Today I am being a real bon bon SAHM. Mary is having a long nap. I knew she would because she cried from 6 a.m. until I went and got her in her crib at 7 and when she wakes up early, her morning nap always kicks ass. So I am online and watching Regis and Kelly. Decadent! I did my morning job search and I don't know if it's because it's the end of the year or what but the jobs are drying up before my eyes. I can't even find resume worthy jobs. It' s very discouraging. I have to make a certain amount of money because daycare costs are going to be so killer, plus I need benefits since Brian's job is so very starty-uppy. But I don't want the kind of high-stress job I had before because that's not where I'm at right now. I won't travel, won't commute far.

So for now I am neither here-nor-there. I can't fully enjoy this temporary SAHM position because I feel like a pretender; an imposter, and a poor one at that.

I am getting Christmas shopping done though. How sick is that? I am pretty much finished shopping for Annie and Mary. Ostensibly, I started to take advantage of a great deal that Amazon was offering. But then yesterday I was out running errands and I got Brian's Niece G her present at Target. And then I got this inkling of panic like Oh my gosh-I have so much shopping to do! Ridiculous, right? But this is how we are being trained-to start spending money and decorating as soon as the last Halloween pumpkin is smashed. The girls and I strolled over to Mrs. M's the other day-she was outside putting up her lights. Then she gave us a sneak preview of her Christmas village. Now, Mrs. M.'s Christmas village is not a few buildings on a coffee table. It takes up the whole front end of her family room and has a working train, skaters that skate, skiers caught mid-jump and on and on. I am not really the collect-y crafty type but this thing is really breathtaking. At least in December it is. In November, I could only enjoy it through Annie's wide-open eyes.

Sometimes I'll hear or see something and think, "Hot damn! The milk of human kindness knocks me on my ass". Or bottom, if you prefer. I was looking at Mrs. M's creche and she showed me this pretty pewter angel "flying" above it. As it turns out, our brand new neighbor had run into Mrs. M. on the anniversary of her adult daughter's death. After, she showed up at Mrs. M's with this angel, inscribed with some killer words about how if you hold something in your hands, you will hold it forever in your heart. And Mrs. M. is reading it aloud and I am trying. hard. not to cry because what new neighbor knew and what I know is that losing a child is a horror greater than what we can imagine, regardless of their age. And new neighbor was so moved by her sympathy to get this so-perfect angel.

The milk of human kindness is also why I'll continue to entertain playdates with the twins and their mom even though the twins are really hard. When I was on bedrest with Mary in my belly, the twins' mom, whom we only chatted with in passing at daycare, left a note in my mailbox with her phone number offering to do anything to help. I was feeling so lonely and homesick for my family at the time, and it was so full of milky kindness (oh, ew) to have someone make such a gesture of caring. So even though her kids are tough and she and I don't have much in common, I would always want to be friends with someone capable of such kindness. Plus, Henry bit boy twin's face the other night and she was WAY cool about it, and she's not even a dog person. But "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Henry?" is a post for another day.

How funny would it be to get like a hardcore glamour shot done of myself and include it with our Christmas card?? And then not include pictures of the kids? Hm. I'll have to think about this. Well, the kids' pictures would be on the card, as is our tradition. I think this'll be out 7th year of superimposing our faces where they don't belong-I'll attach one here, from the year that Annie was a wee bird. I am sure no one appreciates it as much as I do, but there's something to be said for entertaining one's self.

My sister reports that the Chicago Lite FM station has already switched to all Christmas all the time. Fa la la la la, la la la Blargh.

What Brady am I?

Well...this kind of hurts.

You Are Bobby Brainy

Ultra competitive, you will do almost anything to win. From pull ups to pool sharking, you're very talented.And while everyone is aware of your victories, they still (affectionately) consider you to be a little brat!

What Brady Are You?

Stinky pink

This afternoon, as I watched Annie perform her umpteenth interpretive dance with vocal accompaniment, it occurred to me that I might not want to bank on her getting a basketball scholarship. Something strange has happened to her recently. Annie has become a pink girl.

For approximately half of her life, Annie has specified what kind of clothes she wants to wear each morning and those clothes had (see the past tense? It's foreshadowing) to be "cool". Annie's idea of cool, and I honestly do NOT know where she got this, was t-shirts with writing on them, shorts, or sweat pants. And I was fine with this. I grew up a tomboy and could really get behind the idea of a mini-me. So we stocked up on t-shirts and sweats and called it a wardrobe.

Then about 2 months ago a switch happened. And it was a complete, sudden switch. Cool was out, pretty was in. The only bits that could be salvaged from her old wardrobe had to have something "pretty" somewhere (a heart, bow, or the color pink). Along with the switch came a lot of princess talk. Suddenly, Annie wants to be a princess. And her bootie shaking dance moves have been replaced by a 3-year old's perception of what a ballerina might dance like. Is this what daycare is doing to her??? She sure as heck isn't getting it from me.

Attending her Halloween parade shed some light on the problem. My little black cat was awash in a sea of princesses. I thought I was going to vomit taffeta.

But Annie is conciliatory-she knows not to discuss the whole princess thing too much in front of me as I have told her that I am not a fan of princesses. She'll even allow that when she grows up first she'll be a basketball player, later, a princess. But the career of a pro ball player is short. That leaves a lot of years to deal with my daughter, the princess.

When did little girl things become so PINK? The clothes, the toys. Pink, pink, pink as far as the eye can see. I really can't wonder why my little roughian has been sucked in.

Why are primary colors the domain of boys while little girls are left with the weaker pastels? What exactly is there to admire in being a princess...what qualities does, say, a Cinderella have that I might want my wee bird to emulate beyond being pretty and liking the hot guy? I am stymied.

I suppose this is my first test in accepting my kids for who they are. And I'm not exactly passing with flying colors.

Dear Mr. President,

Nonny nonny boo boo.

Sincerely,

Kangamag

The week that was

The best thing I heard this week was that for a period of time my friend's son's imaginary friend was William Howard Taft, our county's 27th president. That's awesome just on it's own but it does get better. Since Taft was our most corpulent prez, there was always a concern about making enough room for Taft, say at restaurants or in the car. How great is that?

I haven't been able to impress upon Annie the importance of Halloween with regards to free candy. This year she has again cut trick or treating way short. I think the parade and party at school wear her out. Next year I think we'll have a couple of dry runs to help her learn how to pace herself. The parade at school was bedlam, it exhausted me just watching it. When I picked Annie up that afternoon, Kayleigh, my little informant, let me know that Annie cried after the parade. I guess it was too much to see Daddy, Mary and me at the parade and then to have us gone, poor dear.

My favorite Halloween costumes are the superhero ones with the built-in muscles. I mean, YEAH! It's Halloween! Go on with your little buff selves.

Over the past year, Brian and I have watched exactly two movies. Both sucked and I am bitter. Capital S Sucked. Must Love Dogs. Chee criminy, how does that even get made?? John Cusack, you changed, man. But at least you haven't become a MONSTER like your sister Joan, featured in the other crapulent movie of my year; Friends with Money. Oh, calm down, I love Joan Cusack for all the right reasons but damn, girl looks like witchipoo! I hate movies where I can't find one character to cheer for, admire or at the very least relate to.

It occurs to me that I am reading 4 books right now. Okay, 3. I finished Shang-a-Lang this week. Shang-a-Lang is the autobiography of Les McKeown, the lead singer of The Bay City Rollers. I love dishy, trashy autobiographies. This one however, was just plain depressing. Would you believe that Les wasn't friends with any other Roller? Not even dear little Woody. The book was really Scottish too with it's woudnae and couldnaes. Apparently, I don't do well with the Scottish.

I have the latest John Irving in paperback in Mary's room to read while I nurse her before naps and bed. She has started grabbing at the pages now that she distracts more easily and today I realized I hadn't picked it up in over a week.

In my bathroom (oh shut UP, you read on the potty, too) I have Julie and Julia. This is the book about the woman who cooked all of The Art of French Cooking in her apartment. I gave it to my mom last Christmas and the last time she visited she lent it to me.

Next to my bed is the latest Janet Evanovich hardcover. I am having trouble with this one. Every summer, I buy the latest Stephanie Plum (the main character in the Evanovich book) paperback as soon as it comes out. Reading it is a part of my summer kickoff ritual. So, this summer I read Eleven on Top and had earmarked Twelve Sharp for next summer. Then Jules Berg sent me the Twelve Sharp in hardcover. Very thoughtful, she knows I read them and turned me on to them in the first place. But it's just all wrong. These are pretty fluffy books, the only mysteries I read, and they don't fit into my fall. So, I may have to squirrel this away until June.

I am off to watch Shopgirl on Tivo. Please Steve Martin, don't let me down.

She says talks to animals...they call her out by her name

I know it's weird, but I have always had pets that talk.

I think this started with my brother Bill who's imagination was, is and always will be huge and endless. For unexplicable reasons, he started calling our cat Midnight, Muchas Buchas (aka Muchas Buchas Puddinhead) and along with this silly nickname, she got a voice. It was kind of Morris-like but more feminine. And when your cat gets a voice, well, you have no choice but to talk to her.

Next, our puppy Samantha came with a voice. With the evolution of our talking animals, more personality traits came into play. For instance, Samantha was a photography student who preferred being pet with bare feet to being scratched with the hands. She was also exceptionally nerdy and needy. In high school my friend Kerry came over and we walked into the TV room where Sam was sitting. Sam had manners and greeted Kerry. Later, I reminded myself that perhaps Kerry hadn't known that it was Sam who was greeting her...that perhaps she thought that I was re-greeting in an effort to be an extree warm hostess. It is to larf.

I was reminded of this when the twins and their mom came over to play a couple of weeks ago. The mom was petting Dallas and Dallas (this time with Brian's, er, assistance) directed, "scratch my tummy" and I immediately jumped in with, "Uh, that was Dallas, by the way, NOT Brian". I mean, you can't just assume, right? I knew the mom was cool, or at least adaptable, when she directed a response right to Dallas. Nothing bothers me more than people who won't speak to my pets directly. It's rude, it is.

Although my speaking with animals is as normal a part of my life as wearing socks, I have become a little self-conscious about it because I have warped Annie to the point where she wants me to create a voice for everything, so maybe we are waiting at the pediatricians and her foot might say to mine, "Hi mommy!" and I don't want to be all, "hey kid, be cool" because it's best if she doesn't know we are too weird for public consumption, and yet I can't exactly have an all out mommy-and-baby foot conversation in front of the public at large, can I?

I knew that O would be my friend for life the first time we visited her and not only did her Jack Russell have a voice, she was also an alcoholic (martinis) with a smoker's rasp. When our then babies first sat down together, I felt as though I found family as Annie and Max, though only a few months old, had clear, defined voices and personalities to match. Sometimes it's the little things that choose your friends for you.

Sick sick sick

I have lots to write but have been stricken (yes, stricken!) with a flu that may or may not be mono which I believed only kissy teenagers got because I like things to be simple that way.

So, just a thought for now. The 300 millionth person has been born. Just the other day Brian and I were watching the CBS Sunday morning news and they talked about the 200 millionth person and how when he was born Life magazine came and did a special piece on him and everything. Well, come to find out that this guy was born a mere 3 days after I was. I could have been in Life! And I was born early...so, okay, not 3 days early but still! Life magazine!!

It's the ibuprofan talking.

Wasted words

I know it's anal retentive but there are certain groupings of words that are very common in conversation that need not exist. Hrm, maybe not anal retentive, but minimalistic.

In the past few years I have noticed the increasing popularity of beginning sentences with this: Not for nothing. As in, "Not for nothing, but your shoes are untied". What does this mean? If it's not for nothing, is it for something? And since you are saying it, can't I just assume that you are telling me for some reason? How come no one says, "For something, your shoes are untied". Is this from The Sopranos because I don't watch the Sopranos and like to think that everything I don't quite comprehend might originate there.

This next peeve usually appears at the end of a sentence: whatnot. To me it's a pretty lazy petering out of a sentence, the speaker being too tired to really finish strong, he or she wraps it up vaguely, letting the listener fill in the blanks. "After I had a 104 degree tempreature for 5 days, I finally insisted that the doctor precribe some antibiotics or whatnot." Whatnot is interchangeable with the old standby: what have you. That one may be more vexing, though, as it is clearly a question that there is no answer for.

How about people who start there statements with the word listen. To people who do this, I say, "Listen, I am having this conversation with you, you can safely assume that even though I might be bored I am at the very least listening". Big on soap operas as in: Listen, Eden or Listen Colton.

Another unnecessary waste of vocals is: I'm just saying. Yes, we know you are just saying. Your lips move and words come out and that is you just saying.

Oh! oh! How about this one, popular among the realiteratti, specifically of the MTV variety: yo. I am not referring to the attention getting YO! That bothers me not at all. What I am puzzled by is yo as the suffix to entire sentences, yo. What is this (yo)?? WHY is this (yo)?? I plain don't get it, yo.

And since we were talking about reality TV, let me finish with this related irritant: The Reality TV Defense for Shite-y Behavior: I'm the type of person that will tell you what I think about you. Why is that okay? Does that make you a good person? No, it makes you a bitch. I don't want to know if you hate me, thanks. Or if you think I smell, am fat, dumb, slow,mean or whatnot. Yo.

A rookie mom’s year’s worth of lessons

I was cleaning out my inbox tonight and came across the letter that I wrote to Annie on her first birthday. I was happy to see it. We are currently mired in fixing Mary's sleep issues and her debut at daycare is likely to happen sooner than later and I needed this to remind me that each crisis passes, and quickly.

Here is goes:

A rookie mom’s year’s worth of lessons

What I want is not important. What I want to do, where I want to go, and when I want to leave has become irrelevant. I am on Annie time now-she’ll let me know when it’s okay. There’s a word for this-patience. I had heard of it before but never knew its meaning until now.

This to shall pass. And this. And that other thing, too. Every new phase that feels like the end of the world ends just as I have learned to adjust to it. What I’ve learned from this is there is no reason to panic-the current disaster will give way to something new.

Um-that passes too. The perfect series of days comes where you think you have graduated from the hardest trials of babydom. Her nose is not runny, she doesn’t scream at bath time and everything you do is like the funniest thing…ever. Complacency sets in. For five minutes. Until the hellbeast returns and makes you long for bedtime.

Though it seemed as though you were trying to split up your dad and me I kind of see now how you might could maybe have brought us closer together. We definitely are learning how to act like a team now-one picks up when the other has run out of steam. Also? You look at your dad like he hung the moon (it’s okay, everyone at our house looks at him this way) and help me see new ways to appreciate him constantly.

I learned that a baby’s smile is the best thing since…since…a fat cat’s snuggle. Oh how you light up when you see your brother-and he in turn lights up right back atcha. You squeal for the people you love best (always preferring the company of men, you little such and such) and they pull everything from their bag of tricks to get you to smile even more. And me? I practically run from my car to the door of Little Learner at the end of the day because when you see me you will smile goofily and happily and widely and make me feel like a won the lottery.

Family means more when you have your own family. I now gaze at my own mother who has made me nuts the past few years, with admiration. How did she do this six times over? How did we have clean clothes, home cooked meals, hugs, and bedtime books when she must not have had time to sit? And how did she do it all maintaining friendships, hobbies, and social work? And my sisters…what good mothers they are…how could I not notice? My brothers-one of whom I swear adores her as much as I do…the other who will, once she’s older and less of a mystery. And my Dad who wanted us to have everything and whose quiet adoration of us set a standard that I hope to live up to.

American Pie is a great song to sing when you are losing your mind. See, we had a deal during the worst days of the colic. You WILL stop crying by the time I get through the final verse of American Pie. The length of time of American Pie roughly equals the length of time that a person can carry a screaming, tomato-faced baby. If this hasn’t been proven scientifically, it should be. And an addendum to this: If you don’t stop crying by the time I finish, I will start crying. Then I’ll start from the top.

It’s hard to be the baby. Seriously. Who would want to be a baby? You crap your pants. No one understands you. Much of your food consists of a liquid that smells like burnt rubber. You can’t GET anywhere. And when you can, the places you most want to go are off-limits. Why wouldn’t you be hell on wheels? Even when I want to send you to live with Uncle Jerry, I understand that your life is no picnic.

A Top 8 List

What...you think lists are a copout? Oh, she believes this actually counts as an entry? Slackass, you think to yourself.

Relax, you.

This is my list of top eight songs people have written for their own or someone else's kid. And when I say people, I mean men and women. Har-I say that, and only Old Friend M will get it, but it's from a brochure written and distributed by a man that used to bartend at the diviest dive on campus. It was about how a 250 pound bartender (him) stayed in such great shape. Throughout the pamphlet, every time he used the word people, he'd follow it with men and women leaving us all to wonder what in the world else would be meant by the word people??? Men and snakes? Smoked meats and women? The mind it does wonder.

Anyway, here's my list.

1. Gracie-Ben Folds
Oh, this is the best. He captures little girls of a certain age just dead on. The first line, "You can't fool me I saw you when you came out" sets it up perfectly and the rest? Knocks it down. My favorite part goes:

With your cards to your chest
Walking on your toes
What you got in the box
Only Gracie knows

I had a thought while I was compiling this list. I started thinking that maybe 10 songs was too ambitious and about how I might fill in some spots (later I pared the list down to eight). To me, the most obvious song for this list is one that I don't really love, Stevie Wonder's Isn't She Lovely. I mean, in spite of the fight he and I are in because of the very existence of I Just Called to Say I Love You, I do loves me some Stevie. Just not so much the grating repetitiveness of the song for his kid. But, I was running through it in my mind anyway, seeing if maybe I might like it now and I got to the line, "Less than one minute old" and I thought of how silly that sounds, as if he gave a quick how do you do to the baby and then jetted off to whip out a song. Where'd Stevie go? Oh, he's he's just GOT to rhyme wonderful with one minute old.

Don't mind me.

2.) Little Miss Magic-Jimmy Buffet
Constantly amazed by the blades of the fan on the ceiling
The clever little looks she gives me can't help but be appealing

3.) Sweet Baby James-James Taylor
To me, this one is a classic lullabye. It was written for JT's nephew. I used to sing this to Annie when she was colicky, crowding in Sweet Baby Annie at the chorus. You know, to keep her interest. I have known this song for as long as I can remember.

For reasons I can't explain, I also used to sing Copacabana to Annie and I now sing it to Mary. It makes me larf to sing, "Your name is Mary, you were a showgirl. But that was 30 years ago when they used to have a show. Now it's a disco, but not for Mary". Ah, good times.

4.) Oh-Dave Matthews
I'm cheating. This sounds like it was written for an old friend rather than a child. But when I worked for publisher B I had a Mac that had iMovies so I downloaded a bunch of pictures of Annie to it and added this music so that this song always reminds me of her, of being at work but thinking about her.

I love you oh so well
Like a kid loves candy and fresh snow
I love you oh so well
Enough to fll up heaven, overflow, and fill hell

5.) Beautiful Boy-John Lennon
Contains the single best 2 pieces of advice ever smooshed into a couplet:

Before you cross the street, take my hand
Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans

6.) Raina-Peter Himmelman
When I met O's friend and her daughter Raina I was all, "Like the song, right?" but she hadn't heard of the song. Even though I tried to impress upon her that she really should, I didn't want to be annoying about it even though that was my inclination. I doubt she sought it out. Jerk.

There's so little in this world that's true
I have boundless dreams for you

7.) Just the Two of Us- Will Smith
I'm such a honkey but I just love Will Smith's music. People used to tell Brian that he'd like this song when it was just him and Ryan together. It's very cute and I imagine that this kid will smile to himself quite a bit over it when he's older.

Five years old, bringin comedy
Everytime I look at you I think man, a little me
Just like me Wait an see gonna be tall
Makes me laugh cause you got your dads ears an all

8.) Bedtime Girl- Ralph's World
Kids' music is so much better now than when I was little. Growing up, we had this album of Thumbelina for kids and I can remember this maudlin song all about, "When the weeping willows stop weeping, when the bluebirds stop being blue". And we had the 45 of "It's a Small World after All" I mean, if ever a tune made a kid want to slit their wrists more, I don't know it. So, at an early age, I'd sit in my older sisters' rooms listening to their Beach Boys, Beatles and America records. Now, though, there is so much children's music, and so much is so very listenable for kids and adults. Anyway, Ralph's World is really just Ralph Covert who has a very alternative sensibility that he brings to his kids' songs. Bedtime Girl is a very sweet, hooky updated lullabye.

How's about a smile from a bedtime girl
Sweetest little monster in the world
Hush-a-bye hug friom my little angel
Sail away upon your pillow

See? I didn't just list the songs, I said a little sumphim' sumphim' about them. If I know you and you want me to burn any of these for you, lemme know. I'm good that way.