yucky car faces

I learned how to swear from the best.

A sailor in the U.S. Navy. A captain with the Buffalo Fire Department. Grandpa Gizmo.

One day, when I was about two years old, I was at my grandparents’ house. They lived just down the street and it was Christmastime. Grandpa was doing what dads love to do most – hang the lights. Except Grandpa was incredibly gifted with his combination of swears and the gusto with which he enunciated them. This time, he tried to be careful because I was toddling around.

The lights did what Christmas lights do – were tangled in an ungodly fuckery. Carefully, under his breath, he muttered “fucking lights.”

I’m not sure how many of you have spent time around toddlers, but no matter how deeply you hide it, how quietly you whisper it, the child is going to hear the worst of the worst and only that.

“John, you need to watch it,” my Gran said, pointing at me. “Naw, she’s fine,” he incorrectly stated.

In 5…4…3..2..1…”fucking lights! Fucking lights!” I gleefully chanted and danced around, doing whatever I was doing but now singing what would become my favorite word in the whole world.

Fast forward 35 years….I am driving with Jack on our way to pick up cupcakes for Eric’s 40th birthday. The insane part of me decided I would take Jack with me after I picked him up from daycare – you know, during drive time on a Friday afternoon. By the mall.

I was stuck behind a city bus and finally made it into the left lane. I got about 50 feet when the oh-so-brilliant drivers in front of me all hit their brakes.

My reptile brain took over, completely forgetting where I was and who I was with.

“FUCK YOUR FUCKING FACES!” I yelled, almost at the top of my lungs.

Jack let out a howl. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, baby! I’m not mad at you! Oh God, I’m so sorry! It’s ok! It’s ok!”

We were less than a mile from the cupcake shop. He stopped crying but he was repeating something over and over that I couldn’t quite make out at first.

In the sweetest, quietest voice I heard “fucking faces. Fucking faces.”

“Oh buddy! No, no, Mommy said a really bad thing. Those cars were being so unsafe and I got mad but I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry but please stop saying that.”

Nope. Just over and over and over, reminding me that if you’re an asshole before you become a parent, chances are you will be an asshole parent.

I got him out of the car seat and he was still softly murmuring it as we went inside, but luckily I had the distraction technique of picking out cupcakes and he quieted down. He also sampled some red velvet ice cream and perked right up.

As we headed back home, he started up again, but this time I couldn’t exactly figure out what he was saying.

“Mama, yucky car faces,” he finally clearly explained.

THANK GOD. Yes, let’s go with this.

“Yeah, yucky car faces. They weren’t being safe, were they?”

“Why, mama?”

Buddy, I have no idea.

little bits

Did you know you are supposed to a little bit of something every day so it doesn’t turn into a big, fat hairy deal? This is what I’m told by a woman I pay to evaluate my mental status.

Cleaning. Exercise. Meditation. Work.

Turns out, these are all easier if you do some every day.

Who knew?

possibly gifted

Oh hi! Where the hell have I been? Traveling, visiting a bunch of barf bags, LITERALLY, but I’m going to save that story for next time.

I never gave much of a reason for the title of this blog, “Possibly Gifted.” Knowing me in real life is very apparent but indulge me for a moment.

My parents sent me to a private Catholic high school so I needed to get my academic record to transfer. When I was in fourth grade my teacher wrote that I was ‘possibly gifted’ and for the longest time, I was confused by it. Was it a compliment? An admonishment? It seemed a little backhanded?

The part that has always, and continues to, strike me is the ‘possibly’ part. Is she above average intelligence? Does she need remedial help? Her last name starts with Z and I’m sick of filling out these goddamn evaluations?

So as I clomp through life I think about this probably on a weekly basis. It was never more apparent to me than the other day as I was doing some spring cleaning.

I don’t know what happened, but I’m much more thorough when I clean now. Oh wait, yes I do: Prozac happened. (That’s a story for the time after the barf bag story.) So when I was cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast on Sunday, *I decided to wipe down the fronts of all the cabinets. Then that turned into cleaning out the refrigerator.

*Eric let Jack have peanut butter off a spoon as they were standing in the kitchen and Jack wiped it all over everything.

I decided it would be easier to take all the contents out of the drawers first and wash them out. We have a split sink (I DON’T WANT TO EVEN GET INTO IT) so it was hard to fit them in and try to wash and rinse them but I managed ok. As I was putting the bottom drawer back in, it kept ramming into the back and it wouldn’t close all the way.

I kept trying to get the drawer on the track and lift and lower and nothing. So I removed the bin. And I looked at the other bin. And realized I had mixed them up. They fit like a glove. Cool, problem solved.

Look at this mother fucker shine

The shelves were boring. I just took the stuff out and wiped them off. I only had to discard one yogurt container that was a middle school science experiment while we were in Buffalo. Brilliant.

Halfway through the door shelves, Jack woke up from his nap so I had to go rescue him and give him lunch. As I resumed putting the shelves back in the door, the first one at the very bottom collapsed and all the stuff on it fell on the floor.

“FUCK YOU I HOPE YOU DIE!” I yelled, reasonably, at inanimate objects. Then Jack started yelling and half-crying. Cool. Way to be a role model.

I assured Jack I was yelling at the fridge (totally normal) and got him calmed down. I tried that damn shelf about a dozen times. How does a drawer come out but not go back in?

Eric came back from the store to me sitting on the floor trying to jam the shelf back in, the fridge alarm beeping in my face, and Jack throwing food on the floor.

“I can’t get the shelf back in and I don’t know why not. Can you do it please?”

If I’ve learned anything in eight years together it’s that Eric is better at life than me and much calmer. So sometimes I just default to him.

After 3.2 seconds of examination he turned around and said “What about those drawers?” and pointed to the ones on the counter. There are two kinds. SURELY I hadn’t tried to put the wrong ones in the wrong spot AGAIN…

The lesson here is that if you want someone to strategize your communications, I’m your woman. If you need a smidgen of common sense to get out of a wet paper bag, might I introduce you to Eric?

 

 

 

lessons I can’t stop learning

If I write posts that are this dumb and vapid, it’s only because I’m avoiding real stuff. So here’s a kicky little post about dumb things I keep doing! HAHAHA everything is horrible.

Something about insanity being the process of doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same result isn’t quite how this goes. I usually try a thing, go to a different thing, go back to original thing, then cycle around the original thing thinking it’s new. It’s more like a goldfish-type amnesia. And some of them appear every few months.

This is not an all-inclusive list because, if you have any inkling about me or know me, this is a drop in the bucket.

1. Beauty blenders are way better. What’s a beauty blender? It’s a silicon egg that you use to put on makeup, like liquid foundations but also other stuff. I’m not amazing at makeup but I know some stuff. I took advantage of the Sephora and Bare Escentuals employees and made them show me how to properly apply the basics. One time a very persuasive lady showed me how to line my lips and then sold me way too many products for me to keep up with but I guess now I know how to do it? lipstick just takes too much effort for me. Anyway, using a brush for liquid foundation is fine, but I noticed it leaves actual streaks on my face from the bristles, no matter how soft. The beauty blender doesn’t and it helps you get into all your crows feet and the creases by your nose. Also, a sub-lesson, you have to moisten the blender before you use it, even with powder. And they’re pretty cheap. Brushes can be CRAZY expensive.
2. Not drinking alcohol will help me lose fat faster. Shocking, right? I actually didn’t realize that it’s not about just the empty calories in alcohol. Your body has to work extra hard to metabolize the alcohol so it doesn’t burn anything else. This article from Girls Gone Strong explains it really well. I was like, oh bummer. A few years ago I started doing metabolic workouts from Jill Coleman (and I LOVE them) but was still having wine a lot. I managed to lose weight but really slowly which now makes me laugh because I must have been working out HARD. Idiot. Now that we have this fancy scale I can see actual data and sure enough, every morning post wine my water goes way up because of inflammation and stuff. Shaking my head.
3. Dark hair + dry shampoo is a mess. I have a love/hate with dry shampoo. I wish I had appreciated its existence sooner because I could have saved a lot of time and good hair days with it. But also I will get caught up in “meh, I’ll just use the dry shampoo” and forego a shower and then two more days later you’re on Marco Polo showing your friend how disgusting your hair is. And there are definitely superior kinds. Sure, you can buy some from the grocery store brands but they almost NEVER blend for me. And I used one that legit smelled like a Port-O-Potty the day of my mom’s birthday party. That was pretty funny, honestly. Oh, I’m gonna keep using them but I hate paying more than like $15 so I have to deal with that old-timey Colonial wig look. Spray on roots, massage into scalp, brush through, repeat 40 TIMES and maybe end up with a bun and headband. The effort it takes most days I should have just gotten in the damn shower.
4. Getting up early to work is better but awful. Clearly this is not what I should be doing this morning but I am looking at my other to-do list and I don’t wanna. Yesterday I hammered out some good stuff and then immediately got a migraine that took all my different kinds of prescriptions to kill. I was up so early I had time to get AND diffuse a migraine before Jack woke up. It occurred to me later in the day that I was starting to get it the night before so it had a good six hours to brew before I got up. Anyway, there is never time during the day for dedicated, consistent work time. The child doesn’t nap at the same time every day or for the same amount of time. The dog will bark and wake him up. The gas company shows up to replace a meter. The end of the day is earmarked for amazing things like cleaning up after dinner and I’m just mentally done. Early wins in productivity. I hate it’s damn face though.
5. Grocery lists are amazing if you put everything on them. I am not a good improvisor at the grocery store. I end up buying too many snacks or incomplete meals. I will also forget something, even if I buy it all the time. Jack has bananas with breakfast and if I don’t put it on the list, even though he has them nearly every day, I will forget. It’s incredible. Normally I’m a paper and pen gal but if I have Jack with me he tries to mangle the list so I am trying out different apps for lists.  Cozi was ok. Out of Milk is fine. Then he wants to play with my phone and my hand will hit the screen and go to some dumb page in the app and I’m constantly stopping to find the list again and check it. The other lesson is shopping with children is annoying. (He will also probably throw half his crackers on the floor.)

I’m falling asleep sitting up and I can hear the child fussing and I’m pretty done with this for the morning. Reminder that this site is free and you have free will.

K, bye.

 

Unsolicited – the only kind of parenting advice

I originally wrote this as an email to a dear friend when she was pregnant because I felt like a lot of the “parenting advice” was absolute shit and the writer was only taking into account their own experiences. When they say “your kid will” what they mean is “My kid did” and, surprise, every kid is different. So this is really only my experience with Jack and my dumb body. It has been slightly edited for clarity and my friend’s privacy. Enjoy. 

First thing’s first – everything is a shitshow. I say that sincerely but also without alarm and fear-mongering. Most mom articles are written as “YOU” but the author really means “I”. “YOU will feel awful” really means “I felt awful” and you might not have that experience at all and that’s ok. Also, don’t read mom articles. They are generally garbage.

Most of what I’ve experienced revolves around this: do whatever you are comfortable with. Let yourself be “crazy” for as long as you want. Everyone LOVES to shit on new moms and it’s exhausting. Just make your own life as easy as possible and forget the rest.

“Dumb new moms choose these diapers but REAL moms use these.” Fuck that. We used Honest Company diaper bundles until very recently because it was comforting to have a huge supply of diapers and wipes at home and not run to the store all the time. That said, you can get diaper subscriptions from a bunch of places. I’ve used Luvs, Huggies, and Pampers as well and I think Pampers was the only one I didn’t care for. But maybe you will. Does the baby have his butt covered? That’s all you need. Cloth diaper moms are on their own.

Baby wipes – for fuck’s sake I hate them. A joke I say to myself is “Baby wipes? More like baby smears!” Because some of them are better than others. And fuck the end of the package when there are only a few left and you’re holding a kicking leg and there is shit and you can’t pull the last few out because the package is really light. I have a Huggies plastic dispenser that I try to keep a bunch of refills in so it’s weighed down.

Laundry – I didn’t know why laundry would quadruple with just one tiny person and their tiny clothes. Barf, it’s the barf. On you, on the baby, on towels, probably not on your partner because life isn’t fair. You can use any free and clear detergent and we just wash everything in it. I rarely wash Jack’s stuff separately.

Bottles and feeding – dear God buy an ARMY of bottles. If you breastfeed or use formula just buy a fucking mess of them of any brand. I only had like four of any kind and the constant washing made me mental. (“JACK, don’t chew on the hearth!”) Is a real thing I just had to say.) If you use formula, try to use the generic kinds early so you don’t get stuck buying the expensive kind. Until Jack could eat solids and I could give him things with more fiber, I had to stick with Enfamil because other kinds made him constipated. A lot of things will now revolve around baby’s bowels. Sorry, man. Oh, also wide-neck bottles would be way more helpful too because I was always spilling the formula powder because the necks were narrow.

I kept taking selfies with tubs of formula until we used the final one because I was SO HAPPY to be done with it

Strollers – we have three. It’s unnecessary. The first one I bought was when he was a month old and my mom was visiting and I had this insane vision that I was just going to wear him in a wrap but I couldn’t because of my c-section, at least that early. So I bought a stroller from Babies R Us that was fine. Then we got a jogging stroller to use for long walks that we bought off Eric’s coworker and it really was much better on the road. Both take up my entire trunk. We bought an umbrella stroller because we were supposed to go to Nashville and didn’t want to take the other two. If you aren’t going further than a couple times around the block for walks then the umbrella is FINE and it’s $20 most places. So now we have three strollers plus two baby carriers…

Baby carriers – even trickier. I registered for a Baby K’Tan soft wrap that was pre-looped and cut because most of them are one giant piece of cloth that you have to wrap literally twenty some-odd times. I’m not kidding. I’m not smart enough for that shit. We sort of used it the first few months around the house but he would get too hot in it. It was good to have before we could do sleep training and he would just nap on me. I also bought an Ergo Baby with infant insert and that one was amazing. I used to wear him while getting groceries when he was too small for the baby seat in the carts. You can also do side and back carriers when they get bigger. Recommend.

I can’t stop laughing. CHEEKS

 

Swaddles – Jack HATED swaddling and it was not fun for us. Some babies are fine but he was always trying to escape. Once he was able to roll over (around 3 months?) we put him in a sleep sack and it was way better. We used Miracle Blanket and they come in a bunch of sizes. Some have the wraps on them plus the sleep sack so you can transition them from swaddle to one arm out to both arms out. Jack was big and the regular swaddles were too small pretty fast. Sleep Sacks.

Day one – hand out of the swaddle like a punk

Sleep training – the most important thing I learned is that you can’t even start sleep training until they are out of the swaddle which is when they can roll over which is around 3 months or so. Until then just do your best to rock them, sing, dance, bounce and whatever calms him down to sleep. Also, I paid for a personalized sleep plan from The Baby Sleep Site. It was $150 and totally worth it. I was too tired to read every fucking chapter of the baby books to figure it out. Plus it was customized for us. The hardest part was getting Eric to follow the fucking rules (which he still doesn’t do which is another rant for another day.)

Feeding – they tell you to feed the baby 2-3 ounces every 3 hours. That’s fine except when you have a baby who is bigger than the average weight of 7 pounds and a bit. Jack was 9 lbs 4 oz. I thought I was losing my MIND the first four weeks because I would feed, change diaper, burp and he would SCREAM. A better guideline is 2.5 ounces PER POUND for a 24-hour period. So once he got over the first week and back up to his birth weight (which also sucked because my supply never really came in so we went to formula almost immediately) I would multiply his weight by 2.5 then divide by the number of feedings for the 24 hour period. And also, bigger babies will sleep through the night earlier because their little bellies can hold more milk so they don’t wake up as much. Once I figured out that Jack was just hungry it made a huge difference.

Breastfeeding or Formula – Or both. For whatever reason my supply barely came in. I would feed Jack and try to pump for almost a half hour and get one ounce from one side then half an ounce from the other. It was miserable and I would read about women pumping like 40 ounces a day. Fuckers. A pediatric nurse was the first person to give me formula and say “it’s fine. He needs to eat. Nothing is wrong with you.” She literally saved us both. I wish I had a pump before I delivered because I also got a blockage on one side and it hurt like a MOTHER and pumping was the only relief. Jack had trouble latching and it kind of mangled the nipple so he couldn’t feed properly and then blocked then drama. Warm wash clothes sort of worked but you have to get it out of the ducts for real relief.

Cool? That’s like a sample of parenting bullshit mcgarbage that we did and I’m sure it’s way different for LOTS of people. But we can only speak from our own experiences, tailor, and move on. That’s actually advice for most things.

K, bye.

Flesh wound

Super quick Sunday night tip: if you want to make a fancy fucking mess with no added nutritional benefit and lose a piece of finger, get a spiralizer.

Not only did I scrape my knuckle on every turn, but even the thick spiral blade was too thin for curly fries and the “strings” just pissed off Jack and caused a tantrum.

Then as I was putting away the other two blades in the holder after I cleaned sweet potato off of and out of a million cracks and crevices of this damn machine, I cut my finger to the point where I should have at least super glued it shut because it was a lil deep.

So, pretty cool. Make a huge mess. Give your kid something new to have a fit about. Lose some blood and flesh. Super.

Now here’s a picture of a bag from the diaper pail that ripped because why not?

New Orleans, part 3 – Buffalove

Aside from sleeping, walking, and eating, we had a good time. It was nice to be with friends who you can talk to about dumb little things then switch to the heavy stuff that you should probably save for therapy. But that’s why I keep them around – cost savings.

It’s also a little hard to not feel less-than around them. I was with a nurse practitioner for women’s health, a nurse practitioner for neonatal surgery, and a social worker.

I’m so glad to be around such ass-kicker women all the time now. I should have written this for International Women’s Day but I was busy fighting with Jack about throwing tantrums and food and really anything he could get his tiny hands on.

*Aside, a notice just popped up on my screen that said “Daylight Savings Starts Tomorrow” and out loud, to myself, I said “Yeah, fuck you” because CAN WE BE DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT??*

Their abilities and general awesomeness really helps keep me sane and grounded. Get some friends like that.

Our little group wandering around The Big Easy all grew up near Buffalo, NY. You know, the part way away from New York City, practically Canada but hates Canadian license plates in the Wegmans’ parking lots, and throw each other through folding tables during football season.

A thing that happens when you’re traveling seems to be the inevitable moment when you see another Buffalonian in the wild. We saw two. Everyone got excited.

The first man was wearing a Bills hat and waiting in line for the restaurant where we were having dinner the night before the race. He either left the line and didn’t come into the restaurant or took his hat off, which means we are as dumb as Lois Lane when Clark Kent takes off his glasses to become Superman. We couldn’t find him to make him uncomfortable with our glee. Sad for him.

We walked by the second guy on our way to another dinner, maybe? We did so much walking and eating it’s really a blur now. But anyway, this guy had on a blue Sabres pullover. As we crossed in the intersection I said “Go Sabres” and he kind of startled and replied “Go Sabres” but here’s the thing: we both said it with zero enthusiasm and dead eyes so I knew he was a real fan. (We’re having a tough decade.)

A couple months ago I saw a man in the grocery store wearing a Bills sweatshirt and it was right after they *finally* made the playoffs so I shook his hand and made him mildly uncomfortable, because that’s what I do. Years ago, when I was living in Albuquerque, I was in Target and walked around a corner and a guy was wearing a Bills hat. I was wearing a Sabres hat. He yelled “GO BUFFALO!” and gave me an excellent high five. The woman he was with was slightly mortified but I got the sense that happened a lot.

So, people from Buffalo are my kind of people. Crazy and salty and passionate. It’s just so fucking cold.

The last day of the trip we were down to just two of us so we took another lap around the  area where Cafe Du Monde is and my friend took a bunch of good pictures for her photography class.  I also brought home some obligatory pralines and HOLY HELL I wish I had bought like ten pounds of these sweet potato ones because they were by far the best.

There needed to be a beer with some live music so we found a little spot that had a trio playing and I had an excellent porter.

I was going to get a sad ass salad but at the last minute my friend said “Oh, do you maybe want some nachos?” like she hasn’t known me for like 20 years. DO I?! And they were way better than salad.

I also had grand plans to put my hands in the river, my feet back up on the banks...but we didn’t actually go to the water and it seemed like a gross thing to do in reality. So I just looked up to the Gord above and said, “Hey man, thanks.”

So it was a good trip. Sorry it wasn’t a crazy drunk-fest but I’m fucking 36 and apparently that is old age now and I can’t do normal things without recking myself and nearly ruining an annual trip.

K, bye.

New Orleans, part 2

Part one ended with your lovable, dumbass heroine injuring her back at the gate. I’ve done this before. A few years ago I was working out and doing these weighted jumping jacks and pulled it BAD. I was supposed to watch my friend’s daughter for a week and had to cancel. So not only did I hurt physically but I felt like such a jerk.

It wasn’t a terrible pull this time. However, sitting on a cramped airplane for a total of four hours without the ability to ice probably didn’t help. Every time I stood up for the rest of the afternoon my back locked and it took a few minutes to straighten up. I thought the weekend was shot. Luckily, I was with two nurse practioners and they pumped me full of ibuprofen and got me a lot of ice. I helped my self with several Sazeracs.

I arrived in New Orleans midday on a Friday. I don’t know what the regular party scene is like there but as we walked along Bourbon Street to find some lunch, there was an overwhelming hot garbage and vomit stench. SEVERAL bar employees were power washing their sidewalks. I was not prepared. Also too many frat boys. Check minus. Lots of old people though, check neutral.

Since I wasn’t running a marathon that weekend I could eat and drink whatever I wanted. I honestly don’t remember the name of the place we went to for lunch that afternoon but what I got for a po boy was fried shrimp on a plain baguette. I was very disappointed.

After that we had MANY awesome meals. I had a debris sandwich at Mother’s and a redemption seafood po boy and a bunch of amazing small plates at Peche. Normally I HATE small plates but these were so good I had to make roasted Brussel sprouts for dinner tonight because I’ve been thinking at the ones from Peche since that dinner. I have free time.

You shouldn’t judge something without experiencing it. I never had oysters before but I was ADAMANT they were disgusting. Anna LOVES oysters and was excited no one else did so she could eat the whole order herself. I promised her I would try ONE before we left because hypocrisy bothers me.

This is a photo timeline of my experience and final judgement of oysters.

photos by Anna Lau

Why, WHAT, is the point of oysters!? You don’t chew them. You cover them in horseradish (not a terrible thing.) You have to slurp them. All of these things make my skin crawl a bit just thinking about them again. Bleh. Judgement stands.

The other activity I enjoyed the most was naps. I am TIRED. I know you’re bored of hearing about how tiresome parenting can be but holy shit. I don’t even know what happened today but I think the child is getting molars and he was INSANE so I didn’t get anything done. It was swell. But anyway, having a huge hotel bed to myself that I could pass out in was so worth the trip alone. I shared a room with the other mom (Anna) and we were totally in simpatico about sleep.

K, bye for now.

New Orleans, part 1

I am already back from my trip to New Orleans for the Rock ‘n Roll Marathon and it was great. Cheering on others who are doing crazy physical feats of strength while you nap and eat is super fun. I also finally got to meet my friend’s friend and we have known she existed for 20 years and only just met her and of course she is fabulous.

It was a low-key trip for me but I can pack a lot of ridiculousness into a short three days so it’s going to take me a few posts to get through it.

When I was preparing to come, I researched different parking garages and most of them seemed roughly the same cost. Eric, however, was INSISTENT that I just park at the airport because the garage is adjacent to the terminal and who needs to deal with hassle?

As a former frequent business traveler, I was appalled. I always thought offsite lots were way cheaper and it’s just a shuttle ride away. I decided the night before to just park onsite.

A sign I saw on the way in said “upper level, $9/day” and I thought “oh shit, perfect!” so I parked in Garage 1, level Brown, row D. Please note my very-deliberate use of “A SIGN,” as it is important to the end of the trip. Foreshadowing!

TSA pre-check was really long, longer than the actual security line. Is there a point to special access when EVERYONE does it and it no longer becomes special or expedient? So as everyone is waiting a woman with short, spiky hair got to the agent finally and the agent said LOUDLY “oh no, this is TSA pre-check you need to get back in line over there” and pointed AAAAAAAALL the way to the end of the regular security line. I’m confident everyone felt a little gleeful.

I assume the backscatter machines are now pretty standard in U.S. airports and I’m fairly used to them now. After I was cleared by the agent, I inexplicably gave him a small curtsey. I swear there is a zero percent chance I get through any day without being weird.

You know how you’re only allowed one carry on and one personal item? A woman was wearing two sun hats on top of each other. That’s all I have to say about that.

As I sit here and look at my cracked and bleeding cuticles, I think of the beautiful mean woman. She was aesthetic perfection: slick blond ponytail, stiletto heels, skinny black pants, and a pink leather jacket. Of course she boarded into first class. Her face looked so cruel though. As the owner of a resting bitch face, I can empathize but she looked like she would buy your company and then sell all the parts to the girls who were mean to you in middle school. I loved her.

My demographic of people who adore me are the sub six, plus 60 crowd – little kids and old people – so therefore I also adore them. There were two older couples across from me at the gate and the women walked away and the men made AMAZING small talk. My favorite part was the homeowners’ insurance rate hike scandal of 2018. All State wants an additional $150 per month for a condo. Heads up.

After 9/11, the airlines started introducing bag fees to make up for lost revenue. So what did everyone do? Bring their bags onboard. They did this to themselves and BY THE WAY have MORE than made up for that revenue. Our gate agent dad asked us to check our bags twice nicely. There was a more chill vibe each time he addressed us.

As more people showed up at the gate, he took on a “Come on down to see our discount mattresses” vibe. “Do I want to check this bag? Of course I do!” I get annoyed at the Southwest employees who try to be too funny but this guy stole my heart.

People are far too comfortable making phone calls on speakerphone in public now. I realize the irony of a blogger ridiculing someone about privacy but the woman next to me at the gate had a FaceTime chat in public about a kid’s barf in specific detail- hotdogs and French fries, to be exact.

She also looks like someone I went to college with so excuse me while I do a little light research.

As I stood up to grab my carry-on bag when my boarding group was called, I pulled my lower back.

FUCK.

to be continued…

packing fomo

In a quick eight hours I have to be up and headed to the airport for a long weekend trip with two dear, dear friends. I believe the kids call them “ride or die” now?

It will be only three nights and almost four whole days away and naturally I am fighting every urge to pack a bunch of shit I will never use.

When I traveled a lot for big kid jobs, I would always overpack. One, because I always underestimated how tired (and early on, how drunk) I would be and bring workout clothes that NEVER got used. It was basically a whole extra wardrobe.

Then I would bring items that I was just nervous to be without my own of, like a hair dryer. Seeing me in real life you would probably ask “Umm, she does stuff to her hair?” because it’s always kind of short and flat.

Shoes are always an issue too because they feel so light but take up a shitload of room and then end up being heavier than I expected. I always want to bring sneakers, a pair of sandals, flat casual, and one cute wedge shoe. No. Unnecessary this time.

My friends are going to run in half marathon/10k races and I am going to watch. I am going to sleep. I am going to do all sorts of things without anyone needing me for basic bodily functions. Will I miss the child? Absolutely- I do already. BUT I want to have a break from the hard work of parenting. The nutrition. The discipline. The constant teaching. The safety aspects. The cleaning and clothing and reading *Gerald Giraffe 48 times a day.

I have not slept in a year since I went away to another dear friend’s wedding. Every time I go to sleep at home there is a pensive, anxious feeling that lurks because I either expect him to wake me through the adjoining wall or I am mentally going through a never-ending to-do list.

There is an unintentional condescending tone that comes with talking about parenting, I think. Everyone says you have no idea what it’s like until you are one and I used to want to smack teeth when people said that but then I got here. And I had no idea. And at the end of the day I’m dazed and tired and have no idea what happened.

This has escalated quickly. I was going to make fun of how dumb I am for dragging a bunch of stuff around that I never use and now I feel like I have an anvil on my shoulders. I did this to myself. Kind of like when I’m almost asleep and decide to have a panic attack about my mortality. It’s swell.

So I’ll go upstairs and take a shower and put a few pairs of pants and shirts in my elephant bag and try to use those little drugstore plastic bottles for the liquids and hope TSA doesn’t throw away anything expensive because the agent is salty about failing out of the police academy. (I do use a few expensive makeup things that are a life saver IT COSMETICS HOLLA.)

And nothing about the weekend will really matter what shoes or pants I’m wearing but having fun with my two longest friends on the planet. And I’ll deal with parenthood another time. K, bye.

*Gerald Giraffe is the main character in a delightful book called “Giraffes Can’t Dance” and if you MUST read a book 48 times a day, this one is great. For real. The other night I was doing dishes and Eric was reading in the living room and I was going word-for-word with him then I just recited the rest of it. We laughed.