Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

Random Weekend Bits.

Logan's been off work for the holiday since Friday. We'd decided to devote the entire long weekend to FUN FOR THE KIDS!

We decided this since the last 3 weekends have been devoted to 'Keeping Our Yard From Overtaking The House', which is un-fun from anyone's point of view really.

Not that we've actually done anything but clean up the stupid yard. No flowers, no tomatoes, no new top soil. Just weeding the 30 year weeds. The same ones I've seen every year since we moved into this house.

My gardening knowledge is extremely limited. Last year I made a pretty valiant attempt to domesticate our yard. I bought real plants and I worked very hard to grow them. Then there were the bugs...and the bugs left me utterly clueless and so they ate quite a bit of my garden. Then there was another predator. Logan.

Still Lazy

I've been running lately. It's been 4 weeks of running and still I spend the entire time saying 'inspirational' things to myself like, "THIS SUCKS SO MUCH ASS" or "I feel like I might be dying." or "People do this for 'fun'?"

I'm running 8 to 10 miles a week (don't laugh....I am NOT a runner, this is huge for me) and still, I am lazy.

Yes, it's true. I'm running 4-5 times a week and I'm still lazy. I am lazy because I only want to commit 30 minutes to working out. However, I drink a lot of beer (though I have cut way back....thank you Financial Misery!) and in order to burn the most calories in the shortest amount of time....I must run.

It's Like Motherhood Without The Kids.

In those warm moments after Max was born and the drugs were wearing off, I looked down at my fuzzy little baby and said, lovingly, "In just 3 years and 6 months you'll be at preschool two mornings a week and your sister will be in school all day and I'll get to be alone for 2.5 hours twice a week."

That isn't really true. I waited until he was about five days old to begin fantasizing about being alone for a few hours while he was off being enriched by others who are a lot nicer than I. In the middle of the night while I fed him I'd whisper...."Someday, not far from now.....you'll go to school! And mommy will sit in coffee shops reading wonderful books and she'll go to yoga class and she'll go to the market all alone...and I think all that free time will make her a much nicer mommy."

When Madison started preschool, I had a feeling of joy so great I felt a little guilty for running from the school while the other mothers sniffed at the door and made sure little Johnny was going to be okay. I distinctly remember thinking, "Things are going to start happening to me now." The feeling of freedom was only slightly tempered with the fact that I was lugging an infant car seat with me as I skipped away from the school.

But this year I won't have a car seat on my arm when I drop Max off at school, and I have big plans.

The Stop Complaining Light Is Coming On.

People sometimes say, 'I don't want to judge....but.....' and they proceed to judge someone or something. Whenever I hear that combination of words the hair on my neck stands up and I wish they'd just openly judge things without the disclaimer because if you don't want to judge then just don't.

If you do want to judge someone else, then just do it and be a bitch about it because judging others is kind of bitchy. Which is fine. Being bitchy sometimes is fine. Honestly, I can not really be your friend if you aren't openly bitchy at least some of the time, because then I just think you're far too nice to be my friend.

Similarly, I hate when people say, 'I hate to complain....but.....' and they proceed to complain.

So, I'm just going to complain. I'm not going to apologize for it. I'm not going to preface it with a lot of bull shit reminders of how truly blessed I am and how things could be so much worse. So don't email me with your tale of woe and tell me how I am the most negative person you've ever read and I should just be Fucking Happy my life isn't a whole lot shittier.

You were probably not shit upon in the last week, and I hate to judge you...but until you have fecal matter not of your own creating on your person, you can just shut the hell up and go back and be thankful for all the bounteous gifts the lord has given you.

Another Facet Of This Life I Lead: Overpriced 'Lifestyle' Dolls

Last summer we went to Chicago and while there visited American Girl Place. It was a lot like my clearest vision of hell and Madison loved every single minute of it. Which is odd, since she has never shown an interest in dolls. Oh, that's right....merchandising!

Wendy brings us American Girls Gone Wild

Death By Peanut Sauce

When I think of horrific ways to die a few things come to mind. Falling from a skyscraper? Pretty shitty way to die. Drowning in my own vomit after a night of drug abuse? Yes, indeed. Terrible way to die.

Drowning in general seems like one of the worst ways to die. Being aware of the life being slowly squeezed from your body, seems awfully horrific. Huh, that reminds me a little of a particularly bad month or so of parenting.

I can honestly think of no worse way to die than drowning, but I would gladly volunteer to die by drowning myself in peanut sauce. Peanut sauce makes me mourn for the millions of people in this world who are allergic to peanut butter.

Shame on you God, shame on you for preventing people from enjoying the peanut-y goodness of Spicy Peanut Sauce.

Related, sort of, is Peanut Butter Jelly Time*.

Between my Peanut Sauce issues and my daughter's inability to consume anything but Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches (sometimes she breaks out with Nutella and Peanut Butter) it's always Peanut Butter Jelly Time in this house. (Oddly, Max is obsessed with bananas also....not judging)

*I originally saw this here, but she also emailed it to me not so long ago.

Really.

This really is a freeway exit quite close to my home.

Let's be honest here shall we?

I am giving you this flimsy excuse for a blog entry because I'm trying to come up with a way to say, "Wow this is all so fucking shitty right now." and still make you laugh.

The thing is it's not all that shitty...it just feels that way right now. I don't know, it might be because of the failed attempt at using the potty this morning which resulted in fecal matter in places that fecal matter does not belong. In essence I am feeling shit upon and today I was literally shit upon and it's all just a culmination of all the shit happening right now.

Yes, perhaps I'll have an easier time sharing at another time.

Until then enjoy the beaver.

Noisy Toy Tutorial

Perhaps you are not yet familiar with the noisy baby toys. The toys which operate on the principle that Chaos! and Noise! and Lights! equal 'Learning'.

These toys torture my sensibilities and seem to magically appear in our home at Christmas or at Birthdays when people who don't have children gift us with them.

Here's a helpful tutorial for secretly quieting those loud toys.

Sexcort

I've mentioned Logan and his automobile before. He hates his car and has endured owning it for the last 12 years. It was never our intention to have this car for 12 years, but then we thought we only had to raise these kids until they were done drinking from bottles and that turned out to be untrue too.

(Please note the unfortunate siding choice on my neighbor's home, yellow with brown. Why? Who says, 'Oh, wow! Brown and yellow together! Our house will look like the insides of a rest stop toilet!' Apparently grandmotherly lesbian types think that, but I still don't get it.)

Soon? Or Really Soon? Or Now?

The 'Check Engine Soon' light came on last week and I think the car was being polite (even though later he did call me a whining bitch) and might have said something a little more accurate. Since 'Soon' is a very relative term which implies I have a little time to make arrangements.

Preschool Prozac

First of all, I really have to send out a big thank you to whomever has been lacing Max's drinking water with Prozac. It really seems to have taken effect in the last five days and I'm suddenly remembering who he is.

I'm only exaggerating a little when I tell you that last week I was thinking about running away from home and leaving a scathing letter for Max to read so he'd know how it was all his fault I had to leave.

You Can't Fight Biology

Madison's been telling me a little boy in her class has been picking on her, teasing her. Now honestly, I have learned to temper my blinding Mother Bear instincts, unless there are tears.

If there are tears then I want to tear the rotten child apart limb by limb and serve him over noodles with a lovely merlot for dinner. If I sense pain from my daughter then biology takes over and I can't be held accountable for my actions.

Happy Birthday You Big Waste Of Time!

My Blog Birthday or Blog-iversary passed without any fanfare at all.

Well except that drunken night I spent at home with Logan recalling all 'those really funny things I said' over the last year. Then he bought me a pinata and we beat the hell out of it.

I would point you back to my old site with the original posting from the actual birth of my blog at some point toward the end of April...but my God I thought I was entertaining and I wasn't. So let's not relive it.

In honor of my Blog-iversary I thought I'd talk about things I decided long ago I wouldn't talk about:

Best Baby Sweater Ever.

I am a slow knitter. A very, very slow knitter. I have a virtual graveyard of unfinished knitting projects in my bedroom. There's the maternity sweater I started a few months before I even started trying to get pregnant with Max. It's still not done but the days of getting pregnant are long gone. The good news is, I have a difficult time getting the correct gauge. So the sweater will fit me, though slightly loose, if I ever finish the sleeves and sew it up.

I mentioned before the baby sweater I was frantically knitting for this really cute (and I'm not just saying that) baby.

This week my friends baby turned 18, so I thought the sweater would make a great graduation gift. It might be a little small but that's cool. At least I finished it and it wasn't abandoned for the Knitting Graveyard.

Word.

Thursday night Logan was grouchy. It seems coming home from work for 2 hours to have dinner and give the kids a bath (I love how he does that) and then heading back to work to finish a project makes a person grumpy! I decided to make some church signs to cheer him up a bit. It started with this one.

Then I got all tingly everywhere and I spent the next 5 hours creating and emailing church signs. I made a lot but I'll only share a few like this and this. And well, I have to share this one because of the upcoming holiday.

Then I began using the signs to continue the arguments from earlier in the evening, like this and this via the church signs.

The next day I began using the church signs to communicate the most mundane details of our lives with my spouse, rather than simply sending an email or placing a phone call.

I'm finding this method of communication to be quite effective. I also love that I seem to believe that all church signs are God talking...and also, I seem to assume God will always be on my side in any argument.

Sorry...but not really.

Me "Max, please apologize to Madison for attempting to gouge her eyeball out with that stick-like tool."

Max "Sorry....Stinky Head!!!"

Which reminds me of quite a few recent forced apologies.

Well...that was weird.

I hopped into my car today and the 'Service Engine Soon' light came on.

Then, as I whined into the phone to Pants about how we have to get the car in for service. And am I going to be stranded if I drive this car around? And you'll have to pick me up if we get stranded....

Suddenly the 'My God, Stop Whining' light came on.

Then, the 'Service Me You Whining Bitch' light came on.

Finally, the 'Look Here I Know You're Looking At Mini Vans So The Last Six Months Of This Lease Are Going To Be Hard On The Both Of Us....Get Used To It' light came on.

Who says Japanese cars don't have a sense of humor? [uncomfortable laughter] ha ha ha

Renewing My Vows

Each year at this time, I renew my vows with Cropped Pants. We get along really well, Cropped Pants understands my body and the flaws I prefer to keep covered while not being unseasonably covered up in woolen pants.

We've had a pretty win-win relationship for 3 years now. We did have a huge argument when Cropped Pants tried to convince me he could pull off swimwear, but he realized pretty quickly he'd crossed the line.

Three years ago I said farewell to Shorts and Shorts told me: 'Good riddance you style-less dolt! There are plenty of women with small asses and normal legs. Women who actually care about being stylish and comfortable in the heat and humidity of summer. Good bye....YOU!'

That's Service.

We went to dinner with friends on Saturday night but first we stopped at a new eatery in town for a drink. It seemed a lovely place and since it was the first Saturday night they'd been open....they were very attentive.

Three different bartenders tended to my every need. 'How's your beer?' 'Is it good?' 'Too cold?' 'Too warm?' 'How are you?'

I had to draw the line at the full body massage but not before I got a manicure, pedicure and a scalp massage. It seemed they'd simply do anything to make sure my drink was the best I'd ever had in the city of Royal Oak.

Then, as we left 6 different people eagerly said, "Bye! Thanks for coming! Have a nice night!"

This Would Be The Worst Mother's Day Card Ever.

Last night, I read the grocery store circulars before I fell asleep. Yes, it's true, this is what my shopping life has been reduced to in the year 2004. Instead of catalogs at bedtime, I look through 5 grocery store circulars and I nudge Logan when I see a sale on chicken breasts. I also let out exasperated sighs when they try to tell me, a savvy consumer, that 2/$5 on Triscuits is a 'Sale!' Not when the market down the street is selling them at 2/$3. These grocers don't realize who they're dealing with. A woman who has no place to spend money but the grocery store.

Lay-Z

When I used to work retail, I'd joke: "This job would be great....without the customers."

But, really, without customers I wouldn't have had a job.

As a stay at home mother, I often think: "This job would be the best job ever.....without the kids."

And again, without the kids...I would not be a stay at home mother. Without children, my title would be 'Wife Who Is Too Lazy To Work'.

But really that title wouldn't phase me, I'd happily be the type of woman who spends her week having lunch and doing yoga and reading and keeping house. I realize how shallow it is of me to say that, but essentially I am lazy.

My Own Job

If I'd read this before I had children I would not have understood it at all. I would have thought this was some run down mother who didn't know how to keep it together.

I've said for quite a few years now: I love my children, I just don't necessarily love the day to day work of raising them. When I complain about that simple fact, the simple fact that raising a child is not fun all the time. It's not always profound and awe inspiring. In fact, most of it is anything but miraculous. When I have said this in the past I have actually been asked, in a mean spirited way meant to cause me personal grief, "Why did you even have children?"

Here's a tip: Never say that to anyone who has a uterus.

Silent But Deadly

Today we spent a few hours farting at Cranbrook. I'm not kidding, we spent 3 hours where we covered every square inch of the Institute of Science in toxic gas caused by the lunch Pants decided to eat at the Coney before we arrived.

If you're ever out with Pants, it would be wise to forbid him to order the Chili Fries. Especially if you plan on being out in public for the next 3 hours. I didn't tell him not to order the Chili Fries because I was busy trying to keep myself from squeezing the cheeks off an adorable baby at the table next to us. The more I tried not to do it, the more he stared at me and smiled and laughed and he was just begging me to grab those cheeks and mount them on a plaque above the sofa in my living room where I could squeeze them anytime I felt like it.

Back to the museum. As we strolled and Logan left deposits, people would pass through the clouds and would wave their hands furiously in front of their faces and try to run....but there was no escaping. There's never any escaping the Chili Fries.

In the Bat Zone the fumes nearly took out an entire colony of exotic bats saved from extinction in the Amazon. Small children yelled, "Mommy? Why does Stellaluna smell like poop?"

Again, Chili Fries=No.

Logan flies into 'Wis-Kahn-Sin' tomorrow morning for business. He complains about these trips, these press checks where he's called at all hours to head over to the printer's factory and check the output of the presses (thus the name "Press Check"). I think it says something about my current position in life that staying in a hotel with a bed all to myself and a television all to myself and all the magazines I could possibly read uninterrupted doesn't at all sound hellish. Even if it is in Milwaukee. Even if it does involve 2 am trips to the printer to be anally retentive about the cyan vs blue ratio on this piece of advertising.

It really sounds perfect to me and my God that seems so horribly sad to me.