How to recognize them: They watch your every move as a parent. They don’t care what seems to work for you and your child. They feel their experiences are the absolute end all be all of parenting and that’s how it should be. No one else’s opinion matters. They are right. You are clearly wrong.
Frequently heard saying: “You shouldn’t feed your baby so much. You don’t want her to be fat.”
“She’s not hungry. She just wants to suck on something.”
“You can’t just shove a bottle in her mouth every time she fusses.”
Why they bug: Nothing burns my ass more than people who criticize, ignore and sometimes outright undermine my parental judgments and orders. I'm the one with the permanent scars from giving birth. That makes me the boss, not you. Watch me shove a bottle in her mouth when she cries. She IS hungry, asshole. That’s the only time she cries. If she just wanted to suck or chew, she’d take a pacifier. But she spits it out because nothing comes out of it. She’s a growing baby. You can’t just starve her. You never even bothered to ask how much she eats in a given day. My pediatrician is not concerned about her weight. He is a well-educated medical expert. If he doesn’t care, neither should you. She's eating breastmilk, not Big Macs. And why should I take your advice when all your five year old eats is hot dog rolls?
Their retort: “Well, I guess you know best…”
My response: You bet your fat stupid ass I know best what is right for my child. Shut up and worry about your own kids.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
A Sappy Open Letter To My Daughter On Her Second Birthday
Dear Anastasia,
I can’t believe you are two years old today. It’s not possible. It feels like your father and I brought you home from the hospital 20 years ago. I’m getting gray hair and bags under my eyes from not sleeping. Your mommy is aging rapidly thanks to you and your sister.
All joking aside, you’ve been the light of my world for these last two years. I never really imagined myself to be the mommy type but you have made it enjoyable.
You were an early talker and a late walker. This would have been fine except you were a really late walker and needed physical therapy for your weak joints and low muscle tone. Watching your strength develop and taking your first steps has been amazing. You are now running and climbing and doing everything a two year old is supposed to be doing, including getting away from me on the playground and getting hurt, leading to bumps on your head and more even gray hair on mine.
Something new comes out of your mouth everyday that makes me laugh. I love that you talked early because you never have a problem telling me exactly what you want (rather than running away from me to go get it). I hope you carry that on throughout your life and you’re never afraid to say what you want or what is on your mind. Today you were carrying your toy car around rather than riding it. When I asked what you were doing, you looked right at me sighed and said, “It’s heavy.” I’m still not convinced that you can’t read. I know sometimes you have your books memorized, but I’m almost positive that you sometimes recognize the words as well.
You have been the best big sister you could possibly be. I have to admit, I was a little scared that you would be jealous of your sister or be mean to her. So far, so good. Please don’t make a liar out of me. Your sister will need you to watch out for her. And I have a feeling she will watch out for you too. Be nice to her. Share your toys. Share clothes. And don’t steal each other’s boyfriends. It’s so important to me that you like each other and get along forever. I know you’ll fight sometimes. But please make up quickly.
You have changed me so much. I’m much more laid back now. I don’t get stressed as easily. My priorities have shifted. You and your sister are the most important things in my life.
This next year will bring us potty training. I’m a little worried about that one but you are already showing signs that you are interested and ready. I’m just not so sure that I am.
I can’t wait to see who you will become. You have such a strong personality already. Don’t be a brat. I love you to the moon and back. You mean the world to me.
Love,
Your Mommy
I can’t believe you are two years old today. It’s not possible. It feels like your father and I brought you home from the hospital 20 years ago. I’m getting gray hair and bags under my eyes from not sleeping. Your mommy is aging rapidly thanks to you and your sister.
All joking aside, you’ve been the light of my world for these last two years. I never really imagined myself to be the mommy type but you have made it enjoyable.
You were an early talker and a late walker. This would have been fine except you were a really late walker and needed physical therapy for your weak joints and low muscle tone. Watching your strength develop and taking your first steps has been amazing. You are now running and climbing and doing everything a two year old is supposed to be doing, including getting away from me on the playground and getting hurt, leading to bumps on your head and more even gray hair on mine.
Something new comes out of your mouth everyday that makes me laugh. I love that you talked early because you never have a problem telling me exactly what you want (rather than running away from me to go get it). I hope you carry that on throughout your life and you’re never afraid to say what you want or what is on your mind. Today you were carrying your toy car around rather than riding it. When I asked what you were doing, you looked right at me sighed and said, “It’s heavy.” I’m still not convinced that you can’t read. I know sometimes you have your books memorized, but I’m almost positive that you sometimes recognize the words as well.
You have been the best big sister you could possibly be. I have to admit, I was a little scared that you would be jealous of your sister or be mean to her. So far, so good. Please don’t make a liar out of me. Your sister will need you to watch out for her. And I have a feeling she will watch out for you too. Be nice to her. Share your toys. Share clothes. And don’t steal each other’s boyfriends. It’s so important to me that you like each other and get along forever. I know you’ll fight sometimes. But please make up quickly.
You have changed me so much. I’m much more laid back now. I don’t get stressed as easily. My priorities have shifted. You and your sister are the most important things in my life.
This next year will bring us potty training. I’m a little worried about that one but you are already showing signs that you are interested and ready. I’m just not so sure that I am.
I can’t wait to see who you will become. You have such a strong personality already. Don’t be a brat. I love you to the moon and back. You mean the world to me.
Love,
Your Mommy
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Sunny Days Sweeping The Clouds Away (A Sesame Place Review)
If you’ve ever met my daughter Stasi, you would know that she is obsessed with Sesame Street, much like John Hinkley Jr. was obsessed with Jodi Foster. Fortunately, we live only slightly over an hour away from Sesame Place. We decided to take her there as her first amusement park trip.
Stasi, who is not quite two, can be a little unpredictable in public. At times, she can be a bit whiney and bratty. Other times, she is bubbly, excited and cute. And sometimes she is a little bit of both. We committed to only a few hours because we weren’t quite sure how she was going to deal.
When we got there, we decided to spring an extra three dollars for VIP parking. This was probably not necessary as there is regular parking for $15 just across the street that was not all that much farther away. We noticed right away that the landscaping was trimmed and planted in the shape of Sesame Street characters. Very cool!
I had already purchased our tickets online before entering. The cost to get into Sesame Place is $53 for everyone over the age of two. The pass is good for two days that don’t necessarily have to be consecutive. I found a discount via AAA. There are also other various coupons available online and through other businesses. We brought a backpack, which contained juice for Stasi. Next time, we will likely bring water as well. After a guard searched the pack and we hit the somewhat crowded bathrooms outside of the gates, we went in.
We were directed by the greeter who took our tickets to a stand that was giving bags to the kids to trick or treat at various points in the park. There were clues that lead to each stand but we didn’t really pay attention to them. Rather, we just collected the candy as we saw the stands. The greeter neglected to tell us where we could get a map of where everything was. We spent the first couple hours orienting ourselves to the layout of the park.
It’s not a huge park. Half of it seems to be water rides, which we have little interest in. It was a hot day, despite already being fall. Many, but not all, of the water rides were still running. Instead, we tried to focus on some of the Halloween activities. We also walked through a small section of the park that is a replica of the Sesame Street set. I intended to get pictures of Stasi sitting on the infamous doorstep, but never got around to it. We were either too busy trying to figure out where things were or tired and ready to leave.
I took Stasi into The Count’s Halloween maze and got lost. Amid the twists and turns, there was a talking Jack O’lantern named Merlin who interacted with the crowd. After watching him for a little from the back of a group of people, we continued. I erroneously thought the curtained exit was another dead end. Knowing that we were limited on time, and that Stasi had decided that she no longer wanted to walk, leaving me to carry her, I panicked a little. Then I followed some other people around until they left. When we came out, The Count was waiting at the end. We got in line to get Stasi’s picture taken with him. She did not look at the camera, though. We found a few other characters in our travels, too. She didn't look at the camera with them, either.
We noticed that people abandon their strollers and other belongings at the rides, shows and at the Dine With Me hall. I was a little leary of this at first but everyone does it. I kept all of my important belongings in my pocket (money, camera, etc.) but no one messed with my backpack anyway. I found this to be kind of amazing. There are also lockers available for other cynics. I do suggest putting a ribbon and a tag with your contact info on your stroller just in case someone mistakenly takes the wrong one.
We made reservations prior to our visit to have lunch with the characters. This was a great opportunity for Stasi to get to meet the characters without spending time in line. The characters all came to the tables, except for Elmo. You had to go to him for a picture, which cost $20. I look like hell in that picture. Stasi also does not look as happy as she really was. We had a hard time dragging her away from him really. The lunch was a buffet. It was okay, similar to what you would expect at a high school cafeteria. There were hotdogs, chicken, mac and cheese, among other things along with cookies for dessert. The food wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t horrible, either. The cost of dining is $25 per adult. Children ages two and up are at a lower cost but I’m not sure what it was as Stasi was free. The characters also performed some songs. It was entertaining and worth it overall, given the cost of food at amusement parks.
Next, we found maps at the information stand near the gate and less crowded bathrooms near one of the water rides that was not in use. Then we were off to Elmo’s World Live. They suggest getting there a half hour before show time. We waited in line for a while and it was fairly crowded. In line, they showed episodes of Elmo’s world for the kids. We were finally seated on bleachers in a small auditorium for Elmo’s Halloween themed show. Stasi seemed to love it. When it was time to leave, she said, “Bye Elmo’s World! See you later, Elmo’s World!”
We left and it was finally time for some rides. We made the carousel our first priority. At first, she cried. But once it started moving, she started to laugh and really enjoyed herself. We decided to hit the rides in the Elmo’s World section next. She went on The Flying Fish with Paul because stuff that goes around in a circle tends to make me sick. Then we hit teacups and finally the flying birdcages.
We hit two of the shops. Because Paul couldn’t make up his mind and left it for Stasi to decide, we bought her both a stuffed Oscar and a stuffed Snuffalufagus. I also bought her a sweatshirt and a Big Bird onesie for my other daughter who was too little to make the trip.
We also wanted to get drinks for the ride home. The food places are all indoors so we decided to hit a snack stand instead. As we approached the first one, the vendor told us that the stand was closed. We got in line at another stand nearby, which had a long line. By the time it was our turn the first stand had reopened. The vendor really shouldn’t take his break inside the stand. They should at least send someone to relieve him. We were hot, tired and frustrated. And that was not a good way to end our day. Still, aside of having to wait to be seated for the show, that was really my only complaint. We got these gigantic character cups (which I believe are refillable at a discount). I noticed while we were waiting in line that the soft pretzels are shaped like Elmo’s head.
In an effort to hit all the rides before Stasi pooped out on us, we skipped the parade. Sesame Place will be retiring this version of the parade by the end of this season with plans to revamp it in 2011. I’m hoping we get to go again before the end of October to use the second part of our pass.
Stasi, who is not quite two, can be a little unpredictable in public. At times, she can be a bit whiney and bratty. Other times, she is bubbly, excited and cute. And sometimes she is a little bit of both. We committed to only a few hours because we weren’t quite sure how she was going to deal.
When we got there, we decided to spring an extra three dollars for VIP parking. This was probably not necessary as there is regular parking for $15 just across the street that was not all that much farther away. We noticed right away that the landscaping was trimmed and planted in the shape of Sesame Street characters. Very cool!
I had already purchased our tickets online before entering. The cost to get into Sesame Place is $53 for everyone over the age of two. The pass is good for two days that don’t necessarily have to be consecutive. I found a discount via AAA. There are also other various coupons available online and through other businesses. We brought a backpack, which contained juice for Stasi. Next time, we will likely bring water as well. After a guard searched the pack and we hit the somewhat crowded bathrooms outside of the gates, we went in.
We were directed by the greeter who took our tickets to a stand that was giving bags to the kids to trick or treat at various points in the park. There were clues that lead to each stand but we didn’t really pay attention to them. Rather, we just collected the candy as we saw the stands. The greeter neglected to tell us where we could get a map of where everything was. We spent the first couple hours orienting ourselves to the layout of the park.
It’s not a huge park. Half of it seems to be water rides, which we have little interest in. It was a hot day, despite already being fall. Many, but not all, of the water rides were still running. Instead, we tried to focus on some of the Halloween activities. We also walked through a small section of the park that is a replica of the Sesame Street set. I intended to get pictures of Stasi sitting on the infamous doorstep, but never got around to it. We were either too busy trying to figure out where things were or tired and ready to leave.
I took Stasi into The Count’s Halloween maze and got lost. Amid the twists and turns, there was a talking Jack O’lantern named Merlin who interacted with the crowd. After watching him for a little from the back of a group of people, we continued. I erroneously thought the curtained exit was another dead end. Knowing that we were limited on time, and that Stasi had decided that she no longer wanted to walk, leaving me to carry her, I panicked a little. Then I followed some other people around until they left. When we came out, The Count was waiting at the end. We got in line to get Stasi’s picture taken with him. She did not look at the camera, though. We found a few other characters in our travels, too. She didn't look at the camera with them, either.
We noticed that people abandon their strollers and other belongings at the rides, shows and at the Dine With Me hall. I was a little leary of this at first but everyone does it. I kept all of my important belongings in my pocket (money, camera, etc.) but no one messed with my backpack anyway. I found this to be kind of amazing. There are also lockers available for other cynics. I do suggest putting a ribbon and a tag with your contact info on your stroller just in case someone mistakenly takes the wrong one.
We made reservations prior to our visit to have lunch with the characters. This was a great opportunity for Stasi to get to meet the characters without spending time in line. The characters all came to the tables, except for Elmo. You had to go to him for a picture, which cost $20. I look like hell in that picture. Stasi also does not look as happy as she really was. We had a hard time dragging her away from him really. The lunch was a buffet. It was okay, similar to what you would expect at a high school cafeteria. There were hotdogs, chicken, mac and cheese, among other things along with cookies for dessert. The food wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t horrible, either. The cost of dining is $25 per adult. Children ages two and up are at a lower cost but I’m not sure what it was as Stasi was free. The characters also performed some songs. It was entertaining and worth it overall, given the cost of food at amusement parks.
Next, we found maps at the information stand near the gate and less crowded bathrooms near one of the water rides that was not in use. Then we were off to Elmo’s World Live. They suggest getting there a half hour before show time. We waited in line for a while and it was fairly crowded. In line, they showed episodes of Elmo’s world for the kids. We were finally seated on bleachers in a small auditorium for Elmo’s Halloween themed show. Stasi seemed to love it. When it was time to leave, she said, “Bye Elmo’s World! See you later, Elmo’s World!”
We left and it was finally time for some rides. We made the carousel our first priority. At first, she cried. But once it started moving, she started to laugh and really enjoyed herself. We decided to hit the rides in the Elmo’s World section next. She went on The Flying Fish with Paul because stuff that goes around in a circle tends to make me sick. Then we hit teacups and finally the flying birdcages.
We hit two of the shops. Because Paul couldn’t make up his mind and left it for Stasi to decide, we bought her both a stuffed Oscar and a stuffed Snuffalufagus. I also bought her a sweatshirt and a Big Bird onesie for my other daughter who was too little to make the trip.
We also wanted to get drinks for the ride home. The food places are all indoors so we decided to hit a snack stand instead. As we approached the first one, the vendor told us that the stand was closed. We got in line at another stand nearby, which had a long line. By the time it was our turn the first stand had reopened. The vendor really shouldn’t take his break inside the stand. They should at least send someone to relieve him. We were hot, tired and frustrated. And that was not a good way to end our day. Still, aside of having to wait to be seated for the show, that was really my only complaint. We got these gigantic character cups (which I believe are refillable at a discount). I noticed while we were waiting in line that the soft pretzels are shaped like Elmo’s head.
In an effort to hit all the rides before Stasi pooped out on us, we skipped the parade. Sesame Place will be retiring this version of the parade by the end of this season with plans to revamp it in 2011. I’m hoping we get to go again before the end of October to use the second part of our pass.
Monday, September 20, 2010
What I've Learned These Last Two Years
As I close in on the second year of being a mother, I’m surprised at what I’ve learned so far. Everyday brings a new lesson. I won’t pretend to know everything about motherhood. I’m still a novice at this. But these are the lessons that immediately come to mind.
1. If your kid won’t eat vegetables, hide them. You can put spinach in smoothies and vegetables on pizza. Kids also don’t know the difference between beef hot dogs and tofu hot dogs. It’s hardly fair fooling them but it works.
2. Pump. Breast milk is the best thing for babies. But some babies don’t latch. And nursing in public can be awkward, especially when you’ve got big knockers. So take the time and pump rather than feeding your baby formula. The baby will still get all the nutritional benefits of the milk. Your significant other can also feed the baby this way while you pump. You will still bond with your child because babies are so dependant on their parents for every little thing anyway. And it’s free. It's best to try to get eight 20 minute pumping sessions in everyday if pumping exclusively.
3. Buy a diaper changer like this one.
They are small and convenient. They fit in your purse and hold what you need.
4. Sleep advice. I could write an entire blog on how to get a baby to sleep at night but I’m afraid I will jinx myself if I do. First, give the baby a bottle before bedtime, whether it’s formula or breast milk. If you are nursing, give up caffeine completely. Use a special blanket to condition the baby. It will trigger the thought process on it being time to sleep. I prefer Halo Sleepsacks because they are impossible to break out of due to their zippers. And try to keep your room temperature low.
5. No butt scootching! It might be cute. And you might think it’s okay because at least your baby is getting around her own little world. But it may take months of physical therapy to correct when your child’s balance is off or her desire to walk is thwarted by a lack of a need. She will figure that there’s no reason to stand up since she can see the top of the coffee table. And why bother crawling or walking when you can carry things in your hand without falling? It takes a long time to break bad habits. Nip it in the bud and do not allow your child to scootch.
6. Real moms don't wear lipstick. I used to never leave the house without lipstick. Now, I find that I put it in my purse or pocket for after kissing the baby good-bye. I also find that I frequently forget to put it on. Sure, the makeup trends of nude lips did not help. But I think it’s mostly because I do not want to leave my daughter looking like Oscar Wilde’s grave.
7. Their falls, bumps and bruises will upset you more than them. I’ve had play dates ruined because little feet have gotten ahead of her and caused her to go way too fast. This has lead to a meltdown which was all mine rather than hers. Scratched glasses, bumps on the head, holding and rocking while she screams, “No mommy! Put me down!” soothe me somewhat. Seeing her run around and forget helps me even more. It's best to not even react. They're much more resilliant than you think.
8. TV is not so bad. The American Academy of Pediatrics can shove their suggestion of no TV for children under the age of two. I believe that TV has taught my daughter how to talk, recognize letters and numbers and possibly even read before the age of two. I think it’s more important to be careful of what she is watching rather than how much she is watching. It’s Sesame Street, not the Sopranos*. She’s not obese. In fact, she’s always been in the lower weight percentiles. And she loves to go outside to run around and take stroller walks. This may change when she is older, but for now I will continue to let her watch Sid The Science Kid. Someday, I hope to hear her sing, “I love my mom! My mom is cool!”
*We do not watch Cailou, however. That kid whines too much and it is strictly forbidden in my house.
9. If you have a daughter, you will find glitter in the strangest places. In the fridge, the bathtub, your hair. No one knows where it comes from. It just magically appears when you have little girls in your house.
10. Men will catch fire if a baby spits up on them. Or pees. Or (God forbid) poops. Or so it seems by my husband’s reaction when these things happen.
1. If your kid won’t eat vegetables, hide them. You can put spinach in smoothies and vegetables on pizza. Kids also don’t know the difference between beef hot dogs and tofu hot dogs. It’s hardly fair fooling them but it works.
2. Pump. Breast milk is the best thing for babies. But some babies don’t latch. And nursing in public can be awkward, especially when you’ve got big knockers. So take the time and pump rather than feeding your baby formula. The baby will still get all the nutritional benefits of the milk. Your significant other can also feed the baby this way while you pump. You will still bond with your child because babies are so dependant on their parents for every little thing anyway. And it’s free. It's best to try to get eight 20 minute pumping sessions in everyday if pumping exclusively.
3. Buy a diaper changer like this one.
They are small and convenient. They fit in your purse and hold what you need.
4. Sleep advice. I could write an entire blog on how to get a baby to sleep at night but I’m afraid I will jinx myself if I do. First, give the baby a bottle before bedtime, whether it’s formula or breast milk. If you are nursing, give up caffeine completely. Use a special blanket to condition the baby. It will trigger the thought process on it being time to sleep. I prefer Halo Sleepsacks because they are impossible to break out of due to their zippers. And try to keep your room temperature low.
5. No butt scootching! It might be cute. And you might think it’s okay because at least your baby is getting around her own little world. But it may take months of physical therapy to correct when your child’s balance is off or her desire to walk is thwarted by a lack of a need. She will figure that there’s no reason to stand up since she can see the top of the coffee table. And why bother crawling or walking when you can carry things in your hand without falling? It takes a long time to break bad habits. Nip it in the bud and do not allow your child to scootch.
6. Real moms don't wear lipstick. I used to never leave the house without lipstick. Now, I find that I put it in my purse or pocket for after kissing the baby good-bye. I also find that I frequently forget to put it on. Sure, the makeup trends of nude lips did not help. But I think it’s mostly because I do not want to leave my daughter looking like Oscar Wilde’s grave.
7. Their falls, bumps and bruises will upset you more than them. I’ve had play dates ruined because little feet have gotten ahead of her and caused her to go way too fast. This has lead to a meltdown which was all mine rather than hers. Scratched glasses, bumps on the head, holding and rocking while she screams, “No mommy! Put me down!” soothe me somewhat. Seeing her run around and forget helps me even more. It's best to not even react. They're much more resilliant than you think.
8. TV is not so bad. The American Academy of Pediatrics can shove their suggestion of no TV for children under the age of two. I believe that TV has taught my daughter how to talk, recognize letters and numbers and possibly even read before the age of two. I think it’s more important to be careful of what she is watching rather than how much she is watching. It’s Sesame Street, not the Sopranos*. She’s not obese. In fact, she’s always been in the lower weight percentiles. And she loves to go outside to run around and take stroller walks. This may change when she is older, but for now I will continue to let her watch Sid The Science Kid. Someday, I hope to hear her sing, “I love my mom! My mom is cool!”
*We do not watch Cailou, however. That kid whines too much and it is strictly forbidden in my house.
9. If you have a daughter, you will find glitter in the strangest places. In the fridge, the bathtub, your hair. No one knows where it comes from. It just magically appears when you have little girls in your house.
10. Men will catch fire if a baby spits up on them. Or pees. Or (God forbid) poops. Or so it seems by my husband’s reaction when these things happen.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Creep Of The Week: People Who Bring Their Sick Kids Around Me And My Family
How to recognize them: They’re carrying coughing and whining kids around that have snot coming out of their noses. The kids are carrying toys that are extremely attractive to your child. And it’s covered with snot, slobber and germs galore.
Frequently heard saying: “They’re not contagious. Not to be gross or anything but their noses are running clear. That means the infection is gone. I would NEVER bring sick kids around a new baby.”
Why they bug: That doesn’t mean that your kid isn’t covered with germs that are going to get the rest of the world sick, brain trust. What is so important that you can’t keep your annoying brats home? You know I have a newborn baby. My toddler is now drooling, sniffling and not eating because you just HAD to take your grimy little little monsters out. And I have a sore throat, too. I'm breastfeeding so there isn't much that I can take for that right now. I swear to God if my baby gets sick I am going to grab you by the testicles and twist, you fucking douche. I'd punch you, but my hands have been rubbed raw from washing them so much.
Their retort: "Oh, it’s just a little cold. They’ll get over it. It’s not like kids sleep through the night anyway."
My response: Well, maybe not YOUR kids don't sleep through the night but mine do…unless they’re sick. And all I want to do is sleep but I can’t because I have a baby that needs care and a cranky toddler who doesn’t feel good. I hope you get sick and run out of tissues and toilet paper, asshole.
Frequently heard saying: “They’re not contagious. Not to be gross or anything but their noses are running clear. That means the infection is gone. I would NEVER bring sick kids around a new baby.”
Why they bug: That doesn’t mean that your kid isn’t covered with germs that are going to get the rest of the world sick, brain trust. What is so important that you can’t keep your annoying brats home? You know I have a newborn baby. My toddler is now drooling, sniffling and not eating because you just HAD to take your grimy little little monsters out. And I have a sore throat, too. I'm breastfeeding so there isn't much that I can take for that right now. I swear to God if my baby gets sick I am going to grab you by the testicles and twist, you fucking douche. I'd punch you, but my hands have been rubbed raw from washing them so much.
Their retort: "Oh, it’s just a little cold. They’ll get over it. It’s not like kids sleep through the night anyway."
My response: Well, maybe not YOUR kids don't sleep through the night but mine do…unless they’re sick. And all I want to do is sleep but I can’t because I have a baby that needs care and a cranky toddler who doesn’t feel good. I hope you get sick and run out of tissues and toilet paper, asshole.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Healthcare Professionals Who Lack Compassion
How to recognize them: Typically nurses, they make you clean your own blood off the floor in your hospital room after you’ve had major surgery. They toss your baby around with little regards to her lack of neck control while taking a blood sample. They squabble with other nurses in front of you about having to take a lunch break. They don’t smile. They have no sense of humor and generally lack patience with you for needing their services in the first place.
Frequently heard saying: “Can you bend over and wipe that up? I’ll hold the garbage can open for you. Yes, I know it hurts, sweetie. Oh, you missed a drop over by your foot.”
“The angrier your baby gets, the easier it will be for the blood to come out. That’s it. Keep screaming!”
“You need to take your lunch break now! Look at what you’ve done to her arm putting that IV in! We’re going to have to call the lab in to get the blood sample. Look at all this blood that you got all over the place. Hopefully, the patient will be able to clean this up before the anesthesiologist gets here and paralyzes her.”
“How dare you take three steps into the hallway to hand your husband a book to read to your screaming toddler! This is a nazi death camp, er, I mean, waiting room! You can’t leave while holding a number! You must give it back now and go to the end of the line. We’re currently serving #67. I know you were #82 and will not be called for a long time. But now you must take #120 instead.”
“Do you realize your doctor’s instructions say that this needs to be done in the morning? Are you aware that it is now 11:40 AM? I hope we’re not too late!”
Why they bug: Some people love what they do for work and other people go into a field for the sake of job security. There is always a need for healthcare professionals and jobs can be somewhat easy to find compared to other fields. But if you’re an asshole, you really shouldn’t work with people, let alone in a field where the client’s emotions and stress levels run high. Not to mention, you are in a position where one mistake can cause someone a great deal of physical pain. I should not have to clean my own blood off the floor after major surgery. I should not audibly gasp when a professional picks up my four day old baby and positions it on a table to draw blood. I’m worried enough as it is having to watch her writhe around in pain as you squeeze blood from her heel. And the whole bleeding more when she is upset is simply not true. Another phlebotomist was able to prick her heel and get a sample just fine without even waking her and several others did the same without making her cry. You just suck at your job. If eating a fucking sandwich is going to put you in a better mind frame for sticking sharp needles and IVs in me, then by all means, go eat. I’m not going anywhere. If I need to tend to my toddler, (who my husband removed from your crowded waiting room because she is not feeling well and afraid of the people in the room in wheelchairs, thereby saving all the other patients from having to endure the meltdown of all meltdowns), give me five fucking seconds to hand my husband the book and the snacks that I found in my purse that might calm her down long enough so that I don’t have to hear her crying in the hallway while I wait my turn. AND, 11:40 AM is still morning, you stupid fucking cunt! You see, when both the big hand and the little hand are on the 12, then it is noon and anything after that is AFTERnoon. Jesus Christ! Where did you get your degree? And I would have been in your office earlier but there’s a long line in your waiting room and I almost lost my turn.
Their retort: The healthcare field is very stressful. We have to shut down some of our compassion or we will lose our shit and go crazy.
My response: I’m not buying it. If you can’t deal, get a different job. There are plenty of other healthcare workers who are more stressed out and sleep deprived who handle their jobs wonderfully. To those folks, the ones who were kind, caring and compassionate, I thank you.
Frequently heard saying: “Can you bend over and wipe that up? I’ll hold the garbage can open for you. Yes, I know it hurts, sweetie. Oh, you missed a drop over by your foot.”
“The angrier your baby gets, the easier it will be for the blood to come out. That’s it. Keep screaming!”
“You need to take your lunch break now! Look at what you’ve done to her arm putting that IV in! We’re going to have to call the lab in to get the blood sample. Look at all this blood that you got all over the place. Hopefully, the patient will be able to clean this up before the anesthesiologist gets here and paralyzes her.”
“How dare you take three steps into the hallway to hand your husband a book to read to your screaming toddler! This is a nazi death camp, er, I mean, waiting room! You can’t leave while holding a number! You must give it back now and go to the end of the line. We’re currently serving #67. I know you were #82 and will not be called for a long time. But now you must take #120 instead.”
“Do you realize your doctor’s instructions say that this needs to be done in the morning? Are you aware that it is now 11:40 AM? I hope we’re not too late!”
Why they bug: Some people love what they do for work and other people go into a field for the sake of job security. There is always a need for healthcare professionals and jobs can be somewhat easy to find compared to other fields. But if you’re an asshole, you really shouldn’t work with people, let alone in a field where the client’s emotions and stress levels run high. Not to mention, you are in a position where one mistake can cause someone a great deal of physical pain. I should not have to clean my own blood off the floor after major surgery. I should not audibly gasp when a professional picks up my four day old baby and positions it on a table to draw blood. I’m worried enough as it is having to watch her writhe around in pain as you squeeze blood from her heel. And the whole bleeding more when she is upset is simply not true. Another phlebotomist was able to prick her heel and get a sample just fine without even waking her and several others did the same without making her cry. You just suck at your job. If eating a fucking sandwich is going to put you in a better mind frame for sticking sharp needles and IVs in me, then by all means, go eat. I’m not going anywhere. If I need to tend to my toddler, (who my husband removed from your crowded waiting room because she is not feeling well and afraid of the people in the room in wheelchairs, thereby saving all the other patients from having to endure the meltdown of all meltdowns), give me five fucking seconds to hand my husband the book and the snacks that I found in my purse that might calm her down long enough so that I don’t have to hear her crying in the hallway while I wait my turn. AND, 11:40 AM is still morning, you stupid fucking cunt! You see, when both the big hand and the little hand are on the 12, then it is noon and anything after that is AFTERnoon. Jesus Christ! Where did you get your degree? And I would have been in your office earlier but there’s a long line in your waiting room and I almost lost my turn.
Their retort: The healthcare field is very stressful. We have to shut down some of our compassion or we will lose our shit and go crazy.
My response: I’m not buying it. If you can’t deal, get a different job. There are plenty of other healthcare workers who are more stressed out and sleep deprived who handle their jobs wonderfully. To those folks, the ones who were kind, caring and compassionate, I thank you.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Another Hiatus
I know I’ve been negligent. I still don’t think anyone actually reads this crap so I don’t feel too bad about not updating for a while. I’m having a baby very soon. So right now, I’m just trying to appease the good hormonal instincts (like the ones the birdies have about building their nests) and repress the bad ones (like the ones that black widow spiders have about killing their mates).
Sporadic posting is better than no posting. I will update dribs and drabs until my life becomes normal again. I don’t know when that will be, if ever, so just keep checking this space, faithful readers. I thank you both.
Sporadic posting is better than no posting. I will update dribs and drabs until my life becomes normal again. I don’t know when that will be, if ever, so just keep checking this space, faithful readers. I thank you both.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Not Everything That Counts Can Be Measured
It’s hard for me to avoid baseball this time of year. My husband and his family are big baseball fans. My dad obsessively watches the Phillies. Many of my closest friends are big baseball fans as well.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Confessions
Taylor Lautner bugs the shit out of me. I think it’s his face. It looks like he got hit in the face with a frying pan. I can’t stand to watch him in interviews and even the characters he plays are annoying.
I can’t read The Lorax with out crying. This isn’t even some hormonal pregnancy thing. I’ve never been able to do it, not even as a child. The part that really gets me is the whole, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” In fact, I can barely type it now without tearing up.
I’ve never seen the Goonies.
I used to cheat at Heads Up Seven Up in first grade. I would put my head down low on the desk and peek at the shoes of the people walking by.
Snakes bring me great anxiety. I can’t even watch them on television without my heart rate increasing and getting nervous. If I watch them for prolong periods of time, I have nightmares.
I think little boys in rompers look silly. I also don’t like these jiaper things they have out now. In case you don’t know what jiapers are, they are diapers that look like they are made of denim. How about putting some fucking clothes on your kid? Plus, they are made by Huggies. Huggies suck for girls. I have heard moms of boys rave about them, though. I think it’s a boy thing.
I don’t like the term “hip momma.” It sounds desperate. I like to think of myself as fairly modern and up on the latest stuff. But I would never call myself a “hip momma.”
I can’t listen to Sheryl Crow’s song “All I Wanna Do.” The last time I listened to it on purpose, I got a speeding ticket. This was twelve years ago and that’s all I can think of every time I hear it.
I will never understand why women get breast reduction surgery. It’s not the girls. It’s your posture or your bras. Or try losing weight naturally. Boobies are beautiful things that can get you what you want if you point them at something and ask the right person for it. It took me a long time to figure this out. I hated my breasts growing up but I couldn’t imagine “deflating” them now.
There used to be this reality based game show called Everest. The contestants had to perform various physical challenges (hiking, rappelling, etc.) and the winners got to climb Mount Everest. How the fuck is that a prize? “Congratulations! You’ve won an opportunity to do something that is so strenuous and dangerous it can kill you!” I don’t get it.
I can’t read The Lorax with out crying. This isn’t even some hormonal pregnancy thing. I’ve never been able to do it, not even as a child. The part that really gets me is the whole, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” In fact, I can barely type it now without tearing up.
I’ve never seen the Goonies.
I used to cheat at Heads Up Seven Up in first grade. I would put my head down low on the desk and peek at the shoes of the people walking by.
Snakes bring me great anxiety. I can’t even watch them on television without my heart rate increasing and getting nervous. If I watch them for prolong periods of time, I have nightmares.
I think little boys in rompers look silly. I also don’t like these jiaper things they have out now. In case you don’t know what jiapers are, they are diapers that look like they are made of denim. How about putting some fucking clothes on your kid? Plus, they are made by Huggies. Huggies suck for girls. I have heard moms of boys rave about them, though. I think it’s a boy thing.
I don’t like the term “hip momma.” It sounds desperate. I like to think of myself as fairly modern and up on the latest stuff. But I would never call myself a “hip momma.”
I can’t listen to Sheryl Crow’s song “All I Wanna Do.” The last time I listened to it on purpose, I got a speeding ticket. This was twelve years ago and that’s all I can think of every time I hear it.
I will never understand why women get breast reduction surgery. It’s not the girls. It’s your posture or your bras. Or try losing weight naturally. Boobies are beautiful things that can get you what you want if you point them at something and ask the right person for it. It took me a long time to figure this out. I hated my breasts growing up but I couldn’t imagine “deflating” them now.
There used to be this reality based game show called Everest. The contestants had to perform various physical challenges (hiking, rappelling, etc.) and the winners got to climb Mount Everest. How the fuck is that a prize? “Congratulations! You’ve won an opportunity to do something that is so strenuous and dangerous it can kill you!” I don’t get it.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Creep Of The Week: The Fertility Police
How to recognize them: They stare at you and your kids when you’re out in public, giving what they believe to be sympathetic looks if you have more than one. They get extremely nosey when you only have one child. And they treat you like a barren freak of nature if you tell them you don’t want children at all.
Frequently heard saying: “Oh you poor thing! You must have your hands full! I pity you!” “So, when are you having another one?” “You don’t want kids?!?!” **clutches pearls** “But children are such a blessing! You’re young yet. You’ll change your mind.”
Why they bug: Why do people have such a hard time with the “live and let live” concept? We all make our choices. The number of children you decide to have, or not have, is completely up to you. We have control over these things. We are free to live our lives in whatever way makes us happy. Just because a woman is juggling more than one child, that does not mean her life is miserable. Some people are perfectly satisfied with one child. And if someone decides that parenthood is not something they have any interest in at all, there’s nothing wrong with that, either. We all have our private reasons for these decisions. What if the woman at the grocery store adopted one of her children, saving them from horrible circumstances? What if the woman with one child had financial problems and another child isn’t something they could afford? What if the woman who chooses not to have children reached her decision after learning that she has fertility issues? It’s rude to make assumptions. It’s rude to ask questions. Does it really matter that much to you?
Their retort: “I was just making conversation.” “I was trying to be compassionate.” “I just know how much I love my kids and hate to see people miss out on this joy.”
My response: Get your fucking nose out of my uterus and mind your own business!
Frequently heard saying: “Oh you poor thing! You must have your hands full! I pity you!” “So, when are you having another one?” “You don’t want kids?!?!” **clutches pearls** “But children are such a blessing! You’re young yet. You’ll change your mind.”
Why they bug: Why do people have such a hard time with the “live and let live” concept? We all make our choices. The number of children you decide to have, or not have, is completely up to you. We have control over these things. We are free to live our lives in whatever way makes us happy. Just because a woman is juggling more than one child, that does not mean her life is miserable. Some people are perfectly satisfied with one child. And if someone decides that parenthood is not something they have any interest in at all, there’s nothing wrong with that, either. We all have our private reasons for these decisions. What if the woman at the grocery store adopted one of her children, saving them from horrible circumstances? What if the woman with one child had financial problems and another child isn’t something they could afford? What if the woman who chooses not to have children reached her decision after learning that she has fertility issues? It’s rude to make assumptions. It’s rude to ask questions. Does it really matter that much to you?
Their retort: “I was just making conversation.” “I was trying to be compassionate.” “I just know how much I love my kids and hate to see people miss out on this joy.”
My response: Get your fucking nose out of my uterus and mind your own business!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Do Not Adjust Your Monitor
I’m about to side with conservatives.
Today, I was informed of a controversy involving my high school alma mater. It seems that the school caved to pressure by certain members of the community to not actively promote or inform parents of the senior class’s baccalaureate.
I have to say I’m surprised that the school board would behave this way, being in, as James Carville would say, “the Alabama part of Pennsylvania.” Having God and right wing ideology is frequently preached and shoved down the throats of members of the community. I would think that the people who have complained about this situation would be silenced or ignored, rather than having the board cater to their desires.
I don’t understand why it would be a big deal to inform the community of an activity that is open to the public and isn’t harming anyone. It’s not mandatory for the students to attend. If it were, my opinion would differ. The students and their families have a choice as to whether or not they should attend the service. As long as no one will be harassed, punished or discriminated against for not attending, what is the problem?
My attitude with religion is to live and let live. If you don’t believe in God, how does prayer harm you? If anything, there is a benefit in that the people doing their praying are just wasting their time talking to someone that you don’t thing exists when they could be engaging in much more dangerous like campaigning for Pat Toomey. It’s conservative busy work; a child’s toy that will keep them occupied and out of the way for hours.
If it goes against your beliefs, don’t attend. Since I’ve always adapted the “I hate Sean Hannity/Glenn Beck/Bill O’Reily so I avoid them” philosophy, it would be hypocritical of me to suggest something else in this case as well.
If we drag an event like this underground by not talking about it, we start to infringe upon the rights of others to practice their religion. That’s not cool. I’d rather have it be well known and open to everyone at his or her own discretion than to have it become a secret meeting that could possibly evolve into a bunch of Bible bangers plotting to do something against others in the name of God.
The most reasonable compromise that I could foresee would be to send a schedule of all upcoming graduation activities such as prom, the class picnic, graduation and the all night party as well as baccalaureate. Many of those activities are also not mandatory. At least the word would be out and people can make their choice as to whether or not they would like to attend. It would not give baccalaureate any additional weight or publicity, just merely inform parents that it had been scheduled.
I guess I really don't like to be left out of the loop when it comes to social gatherings. Who knew it was to the extent that I would side with a bunch of Bible carrying freaks.
Today, I was informed of a controversy involving my high school alma mater. It seems that the school caved to pressure by certain members of the community to not actively promote or inform parents of the senior class’s baccalaureate.
I have to say I’m surprised that the school board would behave this way, being in, as James Carville would say, “the Alabama part of Pennsylvania.” Having God and right wing ideology is frequently preached and shoved down the throats of members of the community. I would think that the people who have complained about this situation would be silenced or ignored, rather than having the board cater to their desires.
I don’t understand why it would be a big deal to inform the community of an activity that is open to the public and isn’t harming anyone. It’s not mandatory for the students to attend. If it were, my opinion would differ. The students and their families have a choice as to whether or not they should attend the service. As long as no one will be harassed, punished or discriminated against for not attending, what is the problem?
My attitude with religion is to live and let live. If you don’t believe in God, how does prayer harm you? If anything, there is a benefit in that the people doing their praying are just wasting their time talking to someone that you don’t thing exists when they could be engaging in much more dangerous like campaigning for Pat Toomey. It’s conservative busy work; a child’s toy that will keep them occupied and out of the way for hours.
If it goes against your beliefs, don’t attend. Since I’ve always adapted the “I hate Sean Hannity/Glenn Beck/Bill O’Reily so I avoid them” philosophy, it would be hypocritical of me to suggest something else in this case as well.
If we drag an event like this underground by not talking about it, we start to infringe upon the rights of others to practice their religion. That’s not cool. I’d rather have it be well known and open to everyone at his or her own discretion than to have it become a secret meeting that could possibly evolve into a bunch of Bible bangers plotting to do something against others in the name of God.
The most reasonable compromise that I could foresee would be to send a schedule of all upcoming graduation activities such as prom, the class picnic, graduation and the all night party as well as baccalaureate. Many of those activities are also not mandatory. At least the word would be out and people can make their choice as to whether or not they would like to attend. It would not give baccalaureate any additional weight or publicity, just merely inform parents that it had been scheduled.
I guess I really don't like to be left out of the loop when it comes to social gatherings. Who knew it was to the extent that I would side with a bunch of Bible carrying freaks.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I'm Talking Out My Ass Here. Please Take With A Grain Of Salt.
I’ve never watched a full episode of Lost. When it started, I was in grad school and communting to Philadelphia twice a week for work. I really didn't have time to get sucked into a series like that. I believe I may have seen part of an episode from the first season at my dad’s house but fell asleep at some point during it. And I’ve seen a few clips here and there. Tonight, not really caring, I watched the last five minutes of the series just so I would have some sort of frame of pop culture reference when talking to other people. You know, like when the Sopranos cut to black, the Seinfeld cast ended up in jail and Bob Newhart ended up sleeping next to Suzanne Pleshette.
I’m not exactly sorry that I didn’t watch the series. I mean, it’s apparently a story about a plane crash and, surprise, the characters are all dead at the end. Gee, I never would have spent seven years wondering if that could possibly happen. But knowing the end now, I can’t help but wonder about the philosophical side of the story.
Fans, humor an outsider here.
I’ve heard and read all sorts of questions regarding the intricate plots and subplots of the story. I’ve read theories and jokes about polar bears, smoke monsters and many mysteries over the years. I’ve heard people not expecting to have their questions to be answered in the last season.
I gather that much of it was a big metaphor for life and what happens when you die. For example, a character is swept away by a big bird in one of the episodes. How many times in life does this happen in a less figurative sense? Someone you know who is always around and a part of your life falls off the face of the earth and you no longer speak. You never know exactly what happened to them just that something happened and they are no longer around. Perhaps that's what that represented.
Perhaps there's an alternate world where our alter egos, dreams and fantasies carry out. Of course, this world exists merely in our own minds. And perhaps our souls, living or dead, meet there from time to time. Maybe sometimes we're all dreaming the same dream. And maybe there's a third world, a sideways world, where you are remembered by others, where they question what you might have done when facing their triumphs and tribulations. Maybe they see you in a different light than you would think they would see you. And maybe they fuck up your stories.
Maybe the Smoke Monster represented cancer or disease in general. I seem to recall fans being surprised that it could kill one of the characters so quickly and easily. That's what diseases do. They attack even the strongest and toughest among us without prejudice.
Another clip that I’ve seen involved the turbulence on the plane where Charlie from Party of Five is gripping his seat for dear life. The turbulence ends and the woman next to him tells him that he can now let go. Some theorize that this is the moment where his life ends and that is why she says it’s okay to let go. The adventure that ensues is perhaps his time in purgatory of some sort. Or maybe he isn’t really dead yet and that he’s going on a big adventure before his death with a bunch of other passengers before they die as well.
Or maybe you just see some really fucked up shit before your die. Who knows?
At the end (the part that I did see), the Party of Five appears to be at a funeral home/church. He is told that the time spent on the island and the people there were the most important parts of his life. Even as an outsider, this puts it all into perspective. We all go through life together, our adventures, our triumphs, our downfalls and our fears. At the end, we won’t know the logic behind every little detail. And it’s not important that we do. What’s important is the people who were with us along the way during our journey.
Or maybe, as I've always suspected, it's just a lame TV show and I'm up way too late theorizing about something I know absolutely nothing about.
But why the fuck wasn’t the dog in the church? I guess there’s a separate heaven for animals after all. Take that, Sylvia Brown.
I’m not exactly sorry that I didn’t watch the series. I mean, it’s apparently a story about a plane crash and, surprise, the characters are all dead at the end. Gee, I never would have spent seven years wondering if that could possibly happen. But knowing the end now, I can’t help but wonder about the philosophical side of the story.
Fans, humor an outsider here.
I’ve heard and read all sorts of questions regarding the intricate plots and subplots of the story. I’ve read theories and jokes about polar bears, smoke monsters and many mysteries over the years. I’ve heard people not expecting to have their questions to be answered in the last season.
I gather that much of it was a big metaphor for life and what happens when you die. For example, a character is swept away by a big bird in one of the episodes. How many times in life does this happen in a less figurative sense? Someone you know who is always around and a part of your life falls off the face of the earth and you no longer speak. You never know exactly what happened to them just that something happened and they are no longer around. Perhaps that's what that represented.
Perhaps there's an alternate world where our alter egos, dreams and fantasies carry out. Of course, this world exists merely in our own minds. And perhaps our souls, living or dead, meet there from time to time. Maybe sometimes we're all dreaming the same dream. And maybe there's a third world, a sideways world, where you are remembered by others, where they question what you might have done when facing their triumphs and tribulations. Maybe they see you in a different light than you would think they would see you. And maybe they fuck up your stories.
Maybe the Smoke Monster represented cancer or disease in general. I seem to recall fans being surprised that it could kill one of the characters so quickly and easily. That's what diseases do. They attack even the strongest and toughest among us without prejudice.
Another clip that I’ve seen involved the turbulence on the plane where Charlie from Party of Five is gripping his seat for dear life. The turbulence ends and the woman next to him tells him that he can now let go. Some theorize that this is the moment where his life ends and that is why she says it’s okay to let go. The adventure that ensues is perhaps his time in purgatory of some sort. Or maybe he isn’t really dead yet and that he’s going on a big adventure before his death with a bunch of other passengers before they die as well.
Or maybe you just see some really fucked up shit before your die. Who knows?
At the end (the part that I did see), the Party of Five appears to be at a funeral home/church. He is told that the time spent on the island and the people there were the most important parts of his life. Even as an outsider, this puts it all into perspective. We all go through life together, our adventures, our triumphs, our downfalls and our fears. At the end, we won’t know the logic behind every little detail. And it’s not important that we do. What’s important is the people who were with us along the way during our journey.
Or maybe, as I've always suspected, it's just a lame TV show and I'm up way too late theorizing about something I know absolutely nothing about.
But why the fuck wasn’t the dog in the church? I guess there’s a separate heaven for animals after all. Take that, Sylvia Brown.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Creep Of The Week: People Who Call You At The Wrong Phone Number And Then Get Pissed When They Can't Reach You
How to recognize them: They have about 20 entries on your missed call list. They’re pissed because they really need an answer to a pressing question like, “What day does the rotary club meet?” or “Where are you?” and you are nowhere to be found.
Frequently heard saying: “Hi. I’m calling your cell phone because I know you told me you were going to be at a different number but I forgot. I need you to call me back ASAP. I have an important question. What’s the URL for Google? I mean, there’s nowhere to really look that up.”
Why they bug: I fucking told you where to call me! Did it ever occur to you that I gave you a specific number to reach me because I’m going to be in a place where my cell phone doesn’t work? And your questions are dumb and not that pressing. You’re just being lazy by not taking the right number down. You have no right to bitch about not being able to reach me if you can’t follow the specific instructions that I left you. And while we’re at it, if I’m calling you from a different number and you see it on your caller ID, don’t call me back on my cell phone! If I wanted to talk to you from my cell phone, I would be calling from my cell phone. Chances are good the battery is dying or I don’t have good service.
Their retort: “Well, I left you a message.”
My response: Joke’s on you. I rarely check my messages. Try using bing.com next time you need an answer.
Frequently heard saying: “Hi. I’m calling your cell phone because I know you told me you were going to be at a different number but I forgot. I need you to call me back ASAP. I have an important question. What’s the URL for Google? I mean, there’s nowhere to really look that up.”
Why they bug: I fucking told you where to call me! Did it ever occur to you that I gave you a specific number to reach me because I’m going to be in a place where my cell phone doesn’t work? And your questions are dumb and not that pressing. You’re just being lazy by not taking the right number down. You have no right to bitch about not being able to reach me if you can’t follow the specific instructions that I left you. And while we’re at it, if I’m calling you from a different number and you see it on your caller ID, don’t call me back on my cell phone! If I wanted to talk to you from my cell phone, I would be calling from my cell phone. Chances are good the battery is dying or I don’t have good service.
Their retort: “Well, I left you a message.”
My response: Joke’s on you. I rarely check my messages. Try using bing.com next time you need an answer.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Things I Wish I Could Say On Facebook
Driving to the Jersey shore is not a road trip.
Okay. We get it. You’re in love. Stop being gross with the mushy stuff.
Oy with the fucking Farmville shit already!
Did we not attend the same classes in high school? Why does your grammar suck so badly?
I voted for Specter because I don’t think Sestak has a shot in hell in November. And Toomey scares the holy fuck out of me. You may as well give him the keys to the office now. Thanks.
I’m not going to pray that your child and dog do better with their potty training. I’m pretty sure Jesus has more pressing issues than where your child or puppy take a shit.
Sue Sylvester is not a real person.
You don’t have to piss on my birthday cake to put the candles out. (Actually, I might make this one my status one of these days.)
Your quotations are inspirational and all but given your profession, you should be giving us more original updates.
You’re a hypocritical douche.
You’re an arrogant hypocritical douche.
You were a douche in high school. I see nothing has changed.
Look, we know Sarah Palin is an idiot. Are there really people out there who take her seriously?
Holy crap, you got fat!
Your child does not need a six month birthday party.
One of my ex-boyfriends has very ugly children.
I think your next wardrobe should consist of wrinkle free fabrics. You seem to spend a lot of time ironing.
Yankees suck!
Pretending to be a nice guy might get you laid but she’ll figure it out eventually.
Pretending to be a Republican might get you laid but it also makes you look like a douche.
Jesus Christ! Will you find a new job already? I’m sick of seeing you bitch everyday.
I might offend you when I bash your religion but you offend me when you bash gay people. So fuck you.
Bon Jovi and his goofy grin are partly responsible for the decline of heavy metal music. Rock stars should be angrier, fucking everything with a hole and a heartbeat and not married to their high school sweethearts.
Going to church and posting little “God bless you,” quotations does not make up for fucking another woman’s husband, you whore.
Come to think of it, it’s always the bible bangers that do the most fucked up shit.
Those pictures of yourself all look the same. Maybe you should just pick one.
Okay. We get it. You’re in love. Stop being gross with the mushy stuff.
Oy with the fucking Farmville shit already!
Did we not attend the same classes in high school? Why does your grammar suck so badly?
I voted for Specter because I don’t think Sestak has a shot in hell in November. And Toomey scares the holy fuck out of me. You may as well give him the keys to the office now. Thanks.
I’m not going to pray that your child and dog do better with their potty training. I’m pretty sure Jesus has more pressing issues than where your child or puppy take a shit.
Sue Sylvester is not a real person.
You don’t have to piss on my birthday cake to put the candles out. (Actually, I might make this one my status one of these days.)
Your quotations are inspirational and all but given your profession, you should be giving us more original updates.
You’re a hypocritical douche.
You’re an arrogant hypocritical douche.
You were a douche in high school. I see nothing has changed.
Look, we know Sarah Palin is an idiot. Are there really people out there who take her seriously?
Holy crap, you got fat!
Your child does not need a six month birthday party.
One of my ex-boyfriends has very ugly children.
I think your next wardrobe should consist of wrinkle free fabrics. You seem to spend a lot of time ironing.
Yankees suck!
Pretending to be a nice guy might get you laid but she’ll figure it out eventually.
Pretending to be a Republican might get you laid but it also makes you look like a douche.
Jesus Christ! Will you find a new job already? I’m sick of seeing you bitch everyday.
I might offend you when I bash your religion but you offend me when you bash gay people. So fuck you.
Bon Jovi and his goofy grin are partly responsible for the decline of heavy metal music. Rock stars should be angrier, fucking everything with a hole and a heartbeat and not married to their high school sweethearts.
Going to church and posting little “God bless you,” quotations does not make up for fucking another woman’s husband, you whore.
Come to think of it, it’s always the bible bangers that do the most fucked up shit.
Those pictures of yourself all look the same. Maybe you should just pick one.
Monday, May 17, 2010
In Support Of High Tech Births
Last week, I chose my child’s birthday.
On that day, or perhaps a few days before that if she decides she wants out sooner, I will arrive at the hospital, be prepped for surgery, cut open and have her removed abdominally rather than vaginally. This is the birth I have chosen.
I’m probably a decent candidate for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I don’t know for sure because I have not really discussed it at length with my OBGYN practice. At my first prenatal visit I made it clear that I had no interest in a VBAC. I was told at that point that if I did not attempt a VBAC this time, I would not be able to attempt one with any subsequent pregnancies. That’s fine with me since I don’t intend to have any more.
I don’t get why I have to defend this choice to some people.
I also don’t get why some people are so gung ho to use technology to get pregnant via fertility treatments. Yet, once they are pregnant, shun every possible piece of technology available. Why is one okay and not the other?
I also question why the very same people will fight tooth and nail to have a safe and high tech abortion when the outcome is that the fetus does not survive. These women would not want to do such a thing at home. Yet, they would love to have a home birth. If something did go wrong in those circumstances, they may not have the medical equipment available to ensure the child would survive.
Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?
People will say that the act of giving birth is a natural process and not a medical procedure. I disagree. If there’s blood involved, it’s medical. If someone’s life is at stake, it’s a medical procedure. If you have an opportunity to mitigate your pain and plan ahead, why not do it? This is not a third world country. You do not have to suffer or be inconvenienced.
When I went into the hospital to have my first child, I was asked if I had a birth plan. I told them, “You’ll probably do this more times today than I’m going to in my entire lifetime. I’ll just follow your lead.” Perhaps I am giving up control of my experience but that’s okay with me. I just want everything to be done safely. So I’m going to leave it up to the experts and professionals.
So I will spend the next few weeks planning childbirth, as much as anyone can plan childbirth. But at least I have a definite date that I can’t go back. To me, childbirth is not a means to an end but rather a means to a beginning.
On that day, or perhaps a few days before that if she decides she wants out sooner, I will arrive at the hospital, be prepped for surgery, cut open and have her removed abdominally rather than vaginally. This is the birth I have chosen.
I’m probably a decent candidate for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I don’t know for sure because I have not really discussed it at length with my OBGYN practice. At my first prenatal visit I made it clear that I had no interest in a VBAC. I was told at that point that if I did not attempt a VBAC this time, I would not be able to attempt one with any subsequent pregnancies. That’s fine with me since I don’t intend to have any more.
I don’t get why I have to defend this choice to some people.
I also don’t get why some people are so gung ho to use technology to get pregnant via fertility treatments. Yet, once they are pregnant, shun every possible piece of technology available. Why is one okay and not the other?
I also question why the very same people will fight tooth and nail to have a safe and high tech abortion when the outcome is that the fetus does not survive. These women would not want to do such a thing at home. Yet, they would love to have a home birth. If something did go wrong in those circumstances, they may not have the medical equipment available to ensure the child would survive.
Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?
People will say that the act of giving birth is a natural process and not a medical procedure. I disagree. If there’s blood involved, it’s medical. If someone’s life is at stake, it’s a medical procedure. If you have an opportunity to mitigate your pain and plan ahead, why not do it? This is not a third world country. You do not have to suffer or be inconvenienced.
When I went into the hospital to have my first child, I was asked if I had a birth plan. I told them, “You’ll probably do this more times today than I’m going to in my entire lifetime. I’ll just follow your lead.” Perhaps I am giving up control of my experience but that’s okay with me. I just want everything to be done safely. So I’m going to leave it up to the experts and professionals.
So I will spend the next few weeks planning childbirth, as much as anyone can plan childbirth. But at least I have a definite date that I can’t go back. To me, childbirth is not a means to an end but rather a means to a beginning.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Public Smokers
How to recognize them: They’re standing directly in front of the doors of the smoke-free place that you wish to visit (the mall, a restaurant, the hospital, etc.). You may have a hard time seeing them as there is a gigantic smelly cloud surrounding them.
Frequently heard saying: “I have a right to smoke. You’re infringing upon it.” “Well, something is going to kill me. It may as well be this.” “There are plenty of smoke free areas where you can go.”
Why they bug: What about MY right to breathe air that isn’t contaminated by cancer causing agents? What about my child’s right? What about my UNBORN child’s right? Surely, you wouldn’t blow smoke in a baby’s face. But if a woman is pregnant and not showing, you are doing exactly that without even knowing it. Look, I don’t care if you get cancer or emphysema. I’d be more than happy to have your dumb ass out of my gene pool. But don’t drag my kids or me down with you. Sure, there are areas designated as smoke free ones. But it defeats the purpose if I have to walk through your pollution to get to them. If you want to smoke in your own home, that's fine. You do have a right to do what you want with your body on your own property. But when your right infringes upon mine, it's just not fair. I didn't ask for that.
Their retort: **Cough**
My response: I just don’t see the point of smoking. Sure I tried it for a little while during my bad girl phase when I was 13 or 14. But knowing everything that we know about the harms, I just don’t understand what benefit could possibly outweigh them.
Frequently heard saying: “I have a right to smoke. You’re infringing upon it.” “Well, something is going to kill me. It may as well be this.” “There are plenty of smoke free areas where you can go.”
Why they bug: What about MY right to breathe air that isn’t contaminated by cancer causing agents? What about my child’s right? What about my UNBORN child’s right? Surely, you wouldn’t blow smoke in a baby’s face. But if a woman is pregnant and not showing, you are doing exactly that without even knowing it. Look, I don’t care if you get cancer or emphysema. I’d be more than happy to have your dumb ass out of my gene pool. But don’t drag my kids or me down with you. Sure, there are areas designated as smoke free ones. But it defeats the purpose if I have to walk through your pollution to get to them. If you want to smoke in your own home, that's fine. You do have a right to do what you want with your body on your own property. But when your right infringes upon mine, it's just not fair. I didn't ask for that.
Their retort: **Cough**
My response: I just don’t see the point of smoking. Sure I tried it for a little while during my bad girl phase when I was 13 or 14. But knowing everything that we know about the harms, I just don’t understand what benefit could possibly outweigh them.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
For The Birds
Five years ago when we were house hunting, we discovered a listing for a home that sparked an interest. The house was in a subdivision that was desirable to both of us and was set at an awesome price. I set up an appointment with the sellers’ agent. I gave her my work number and told her she could contact me there, which she did on one occasion. She seemed super excited about where I worked for some reason.
We met with her a few days later at the house that was for sale. The owners were home but quickly left with their two gigantic collies in tow. The house was a single level ranch with hardwood floors that needed some work. The realtor fully acknowledged this. She also told us that, while there were ducts in place for central air, a unit would need to be installed.
We toured the backyard, which had a dog pen. Since we are definitely not dog people, this was something that I found to be an unnecessary eyesore.
“They really need to find a farm out in the country. That’s where they belong,” said the agent. I nodded and smiled. I didn’t understand why having two large dogs would automatically make you country folk, but whatever.
I was about to find out what she meant. I definitely was not prepared for it.
When we went back inside to view the basement and the realtor quickly added, “This is where they keep the birds,” I figured maybe they had a pair of exotic parrots or cockatiels or something.
I was terribly wrong.
As we descended the wooden stairs, we saw two walls with easily two dozen cages filled with parakeets. Apparently, the homeowners were breeding these birds. They were squawking and carrying on in an unfinished portion of the basement. Toward the back of the basement, were two children’s bedrooms, one of which contained two large aquariums with large lizards. To this day, I can’t decide what is more horrifying – the lizards or the fact that there were two children sleeping just a few feet away from hundreds of birds.
As we were leaving, the realtor asked me a confirming question about where I work. Then she asked, “So how is Bob doing?” The only Bob I knew at my work was sales rep who had been fired months prior to that day. Apparently, she did not get the memo. I just smiled and said, “Oh, Bob is on the road so much. I rarely see him.” Then she went on and on about Bob and what a great guy he was. I could tell by her raving compliments that we were not talking about the same person.
We said our goodbyes and told her that we’d give the house some consideration. This, of course, was an empty pleasantry. I had absolutely no desire to live in a bird house. I told her that I’d tell Bob that she had asked about him as per her request. Then we turned our backs to her with smirks on our faces, hightailing it to the car.
When we got in the car and were safely out of earshot, we both let out a giggle.
“I just have one question,” I said to my husband.
“What’s with all the birds?” He asked.
“No. Who the fuck is Bob?”
I later realized that there is an abstract company with a name that is very similar to the company where I worked. Bob must have been an employee at the abstract company and she probably thought that’s where I worked.
A few days later, the realtor called me back. I told her that we had moved on with our search and that the home wasn’t the right fit for us. She then tried to entice me with a $1000 credit to have the floors redone.
Yeah, because THAT was the problem.
We met with her a few days later at the house that was for sale. The owners were home but quickly left with their two gigantic collies in tow. The house was a single level ranch with hardwood floors that needed some work. The realtor fully acknowledged this. She also told us that, while there were ducts in place for central air, a unit would need to be installed.
We toured the backyard, which had a dog pen. Since we are definitely not dog people, this was something that I found to be an unnecessary eyesore.
“They really need to find a farm out in the country. That’s where they belong,” said the agent. I nodded and smiled. I didn’t understand why having two large dogs would automatically make you country folk, but whatever.
I was about to find out what she meant. I definitely was not prepared for it.
When we went back inside to view the basement and the realtor quickly added, “This is where they keep the birds,” I figured maybe they had a pair of exotic parrots or cockatiels or something.
I was terribly wrong.
As we descended the wooden stairs, we saw two walls with easily two dozen cages filled with parakeets. Apparently, the homeowners were breeding these birds. They were squawking and carrying on in an unfinished portion of the basement. Toward the back of the basement, were two children’s bedrooms, one of which contained two large aquariums with large lizards. To this day, I can’t decide what is more horrifying – the lizards or the fact that there were two children sleeping just a few feet away from hundreds of birds.
As we were leaving, the realtor asked me a confirming question about where I work. Then she asked, “So how is Bob doing?” The only Bob I knew at my work was sales rep who had been fired months prior to that day. Apparently, she did not get the memo. I just smiled and said, “Oh, Bob is on the road so much. I rarely see him.” Then she went on and on about Bob and what a great guy he was. I could tell by her raving compliments that we were not talking about the same person.
We said our goodbyes and told her that we’d give the house some consideration. This, of course, was an empty pleasantry. I had absolutely no desire to live in a bird house. I told her that I’d tell Bob that she had asked about him as per her request. Then we turned our backs to her with smirks on our faces, hightailing it to the car.
When we got in the car and were safely out of earshot, we both let out a giggle.
“I just have one question,” I said to my husband.
“What’s with all the birds?” He asked.
“No. Who the fuck is Bob?”
I later realized that there is an abstract company with a name that is very similar to the company where I worked. Bob must have been an employee at the abstract company and she probably thought that’s where I worked.
A few days later, the realtor called me back. I told her that we had moved on with our search and that the home wasn’t the right fit for us. She then tried to entice me with a $1000 credit to have the floors redone.
Yeah, because THAT was the problem.
Monday, May 10, 2010
What I Want For Mothers Day 2011
1. An alcoholic beverage - I was too pregnant to party this year. Every year, my mother in law requests Outback for lunch. Next year, I want a Walaby Darned, damn it!
2. To sleep in – I don’t want to get up to go to church. I don’t want to get up with cranky kids with messy diapers. I don’t want to get up to remind my husband to call his mom and find out what she wants for lunch before she goes to church. I just want to sleep and wake up when the time is right.
3. An uninterrupted nap – Even if I sleep in late, Sunday afternoon naps are awesome. I tried this year but a very cranky baby with tummy troubles interrupted it. Moms truly never have a day off.
4. Jewelry that fits – My husband got me a bracelet that is too small because he thought I had small wrists. What. The. Fuck? He’s known me for 10 years, bought me other bracelets even. I’m a solid girl of eastern European stock. Why would I have dainty little wrists? I know I’ve bitched and moaned about having my grandmother’s stegosaurus like bone structure on several occasions over the last 10 years. At least he can take it back and get something that fits.
5. A clean cat box without having to ask or remind someone to clean it - This one is self-explanatory. Never mind the fact that I couldn’t clean the box right now, even if I wanted to due to my pregnancy. The deal when we got the cats was that they were his responsibility and he would take care of them.
6. To not have to pick up everyone else’s garbage and throw it away - Apparently, the fairy that is supposed to rinse out recyclables before putting them in the bin does not know where our house is. I often find empty Mountain Dew cans next to the sink.
7. To not have tummy troubles. - Hopefully, this sickness is just pregnancy related. I will spare you all the details. You’re welcome.
8. Red velvet cake ice cream from The Ritz in Allentown - This was the highlight of my Mothers Day. They have awesome ice cream in there.
9. My father in law to have a new kidney - The poor guy has been in the hospital almost every Mothers Day since I’ve known him. I really hope his health gets better. I think this is what he needs.
10. My children and their father to be happy and healthy, as well as the rest of my friends and relatives - As much as I whine and bitch about everything else, it could all be worse. The important thing is that we’re all happy and healthy. The rest is just small details.
2. To sleep in – I don’t want to get up to go to church. I don’t want to get up with cranky kids with messy diapers. I don’t want to get up to remind my husband to call his mom and find out what she wants for lunch before she goes to church. I just want to sleep and wake up when the time is right.
3. An uninterrupted nap – Even if I sleep in late, Sunday afternoon naps are awesome. I tried this year but a very cranky baby with tummy troubles interrupted it. Moms truly never have a day off.
4. Jewelry that fits – My husband got me a bracelet that is too small because he thought I had small wrists. What. The. Fuck? He’s known me for 10 years, bought me other bracelets even. I’m a solid girl of eastern European stock. Why would I have dainty little wrists? I know I’ve bitched and moaned about having my grandmother’s stegosaurus like bone structure on several occasions over the last 10 years. At least he can take it back and get something that fits.
5. A clean cat box without having to ask or remind someone to clean it - This one is self-explanatory. Never mind the fact that I couldn’t clean the box right now, even if I wanted to due to my pregnancy. The deal when we got the cats was that they were his responsibility and he would take care of them.
6. To not have to pick up everyone else’s garbage and throw it away - Apparently, the fairy that is supposed to rinse out recyclables before putting them in the bin does not know where our house is. I often find empty Mountain Dew cans next to the sink.
7. To not have tummy troubles. - Hopefully, this sickness is just pregnancy related. I will spare you all the details. You’re welcome.
8. Red velvet cake ice cream from The Ritz in Allentown - This was the highlight of my Mothers Day. They have awesome ice cream in there.
9. My father in law to have a new kidney - The poor guy has been in the hospital almost every Mothers Day since I’ve known him. I really hope his health gets better. I think this is what he needs.
10. My children and their father to be happy and healthy, as well as the rest of my friends and relatives - As much as I whine and bitch about everything else, it could all be worse. The important thing is that we’re all happy and healthy. The rest is just small details.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Creep Of The Week: Samplers
How to recognize them: They stand in long lines for a die-sized cube of cheese at the grocery store.
Frequently heard saying: “Tuna and mayonnaise on a Ritz cracker? Sounds like an awesome lunch! I’ll take five. Oh, I can only have one? Well, I guess I’ll just have to get back in line.”
Why they bug: It’s one thing to grab a quick sample if you’re just walking by. But why stand around in line and take up so much space? You’re in my way, damn it! I’m trying to get in and out of the store before my toddler figures out how to unhook the cart’s seatbelt and jump out. And did I mention she’s screaming her head off because the cart is at a standstill since I can’t get around you? Don’t get me wrong. I’m the first to speak up when I feel that I’m owed something. Heck, I once got a guy fired over a free Snuggie. But that’s another blog for another day. A complimentary squirt of Purell is not the same thing.
Their retort: “I have to wait in line. What if they run out?”
My response: Well, wouldn’t that suck? Maybe you should dig some change out of your car’s cup holder and, oh I don’t know, buy a two-dollar box of cookies and get the fuck out of the store instead of standing in my way while eating them.
Frequently heard saying: “Tuna and mayonnaise on a Ritz cracker? Sounds like an awesome lunch! I’ll take five. Oh, I can only have one? Well, I guess I’ll just have to get back in line.”
Why they bug: It’s one thing to grab a quick sample if you’re just walking by. But why stand around in line and take up so much space? You’re in my way, damn it! I’m trying to get in and out of the store before my toddler figures out how to unhook the cart’s seatbelt and jump out. And did I mention she’s screaming her head off because the cart is at a standstill since I can’t get around you? Don’t get me wrong. I’m the first to speak up when I feel that I’m owed something. Heck, I once got a guy fired over a free Snuggie. But that’s another blog for another day. A complimentary squirt of Purell is not the same thing.
Their retort: “I have to wait in line. What if they run out?”
My response: Well, wouldn’t that suck? Maybe you should dig some change out of your car’s cup holder and, oh I don’t know, buy a two-dollar box of cookies and get the fuck out of the store instead of standing in my way while eating them.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Book Suggestions For Your Mom For Mothers Day
It's that time of year. Many bookstores, magazines and news magazine programs are offering advice on what books to get your mom for Mother's Day. I can honestly say that, as a mom, these suggestions are always really lame. I'm not crafter. Gardening makes me itchy. I'd be insulted by Rachel Ray cookbook or something called "Hello, Cupcake!" I have no desire to read another Jodi Picoult book. So here are my suggestions for moms who don't fall under the umbrella of normalcy.
For the mom who is not quite Martha Stewart and has a really good sense of humor about it,
I Like You: Hospitality Under The Influence by Amy Sedaris – Sedaris, best known for her role in Strangers With Candy, as well as being the sister of humorous writer David Sedaris, offers some very handy tips for entertaining in this book. She is an advocate of stuffing your medicine cabinet with marbles to find out who is a nosey guest. She also gives great etiquette advice. For example, when speaking with the bereaved, a bad question to ask may be, “Where were you at the time?’ I have given this book as a gift many times. The first time was shortly after someone asked me about a friend who had died in a car accident. “Was she drunk?” she asked. I responded, “Well, it was 10 AM on Christmas Eve and she was on her way to work. So, probably.”
For the mom on Prozac,
What Girls Learn by Karin Cook – This is a fictional story about a mother of two young girls who remarries and moves to a different state. Shortly after she is married, she finds out that she has breast cancer. It’s also quite a coming of age tale that became a Showtime Original movie and later a Lifetime Movie Channel classic. I dare anyone to read it and not cry like a baby. Being on Prozac is your only hope.
For the mom who works so much she has little time to enjoy arts and crafts,
Extreme Office Crafts: Creative & Devious Ways to Waste Office Supplies & Company Time by Jimmy Knight and Tom Chalmers - Let mom save time by giving herself a manicure with Liquid Paper during a long boring conference call. She can make fun little toys out of erasers and paper clips. Let her get in touch with her creative design side and make a mosaic picture out of post it notes. It’s all in this fun craft book.
For the mom who lives under a rock,
Twilight Collection by Stephenie Meyer – Although, she’s probably already read it. We all know moms are the real targeted audience.
For the mom who is a Bravo Junkie,
Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Real Advice, Real Stories, Real Love by Jill Zarin, Lisa Wexler, and Gloria Kamen
And
Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle) by Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen
As of press time, I have not read either of these books. I ordered them from Amazon. They’re being sent to me regular mail and we all know what a bunch of fuck ups there are in the Blandon post office. I expect to have them sometime next January. But I will give you my take based on the viewing habits of my present television viewing guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New York and a couple online reviews that I’ve read. Alex’s book rules! It’s funny, not at all pretentious and an overall good read. Jill’s book sucks. She’s a bitch and probably writes her own reviews to combat fans of the show who gave the book a bad review as a result of her snide behavior.
For the mom whose wild life has been tamed by sniveling brats like yourself,
Mommies Who Drink: Sex, Drugs, and Other Distant Memories of an Ordinary Mom by Brett Paesel - If your mom didn’t mind labor because she was drugged up to her eyeballs, this is the book for her. It follows a mother of two and her girlfriends who enjoy a good cocktail, each others’ company and the adventures in mommyhood. Plus, the cover is super cute with its wink at Goodnight Moon
For the mom who is in denial and/or can't take a hint,
Mom, Dad, I'm Gay.: How Families Negotiate Coming Out by Ritch C. Savin-Williams – Chances are pretty good your mom has already figured it out. I mean, hello! You spell Ritch with a “t” in the middle. She’d probably prefer some nice flowers or a charm bracelet. But if you really feel the need to have a long discussion on a day that’s supposed to be light and happy for her, go for it. Just promise you’ll take her shopping or dancing another time.
For the mom who is horny,
Porn for New Moms: From the Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative by
Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative, Susan Anderson - A nice collection of hot men handling babies, talking about how they’ll change the diapers and do the laundry. Ah, a girl can dream.
For the new mom who is a bit clueless,
Safe Baby Handling Tips by David Sopp and Kelly Sopp – This illustrated board book offers great advice such as the following.
It also offers The Wheel of Responsibility for the couples to divvy up the tasks that pesky little babies demand so frequently. Never again will you have to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to change the next poopy diaper.
For the mom who is a misinformed Republican,
That's No Angry Mob, That's My Mom: Team Obama's Assault on Tea-Party, Talk-Radio Americans by Michael Graham - Then smack her upside the head with it for me.
For the single mom who makes bad decisions,
If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs: A Guide to Understanding Men by Big Boom – Another one that I’ve never read. I never really needed this advice. But I know a lot of people who do, including your mom.
For the mom who is not quite Martha Stewart and has a really good sense of humor about it,
I Like You: Hospitality Under The Influence by Amy Sedaris – Sedaris, best known for her role in Strangers With Candy, as well as being the sister of humorous writer David Sedaris, offers some very handy tips for entertaining in this book. She is an advocate of stuffing your medicine cabinet with marbles to find out who is a nosey guest. She also gives great etiquette advice. For example, when speaking with the bereaved, a bad question to ask may be, “Where were you at the time?’ I have given this book as a gift many times. The first time was shortly after someone asked me about a friend who had died in a car accident. “Was she drunk?” she asked. I responded, “Well, it was 10 AM on Christmas Eve and she was on her way to work. So, probably.”
For the mom on Prozac,
What Girls Learn by Karin Cook – This is a fictional story about a mother of two young girls who remarries and moves to a different state. Shortly after she is married, she finds out that she has breast cancer. It’s also quite a coming of age tale that became a Showtime Original movie and later a Lifetime Movie Channel classic. I dare anyone to read it and not cry like a baby. Being on Prozac is your only hope.
For the mom who works so much she has little time to enjoy arts and crafts,
Extreme Office Crafts: Creative & Devious Ways to Waste Office Supplies & Company Time by Jimmy Knight and Tom Chalmers - Let mom save time by giving herself a manicure with Liquid Paper during a long boring conference call. She can make fun little toys out of erasers and paper clips. Let her get in touch with her creative design side and make a mosaic picture out of post it notes. It’s all in this fun craft book.
For the mom who lives under a rock,
Twilight Collection by Stephenie Meyer – Although, she’s probably already read it. We all know moms are the real targeted audience.
For the mom who is a Bravo Junkie,
Secrets of a Jewish Mother: Real Advice, Real Stories, Real Love by Jill Zarin, Lisa Wexler, and Gloria Kamen
And
Little Kids, Big City: Tales from a Real House in New York City (With Lessons on Life and Love for Your Own Concrete Jungle) by Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen
As of press time, I have not read either of these books. I ordered them from Amazon. They’re being sent to me regular mail and we all know what a bunch of fuck ups there are in the Blandon post office. I expect to have them sometime next January. But I will give you my take based on the viewing habits of my present television viewing guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New York and a couple online reviews that I’ve read. Alex’s book rules! It’s funny, not at all pretentious and an overall good read. Jill’s book sucks. She’s a bitch and probably writes her own reviews to combat fans of the show who gave the book a bad review as a result of her snide behavior.
For the mom whose wild life has been tamed by sniveling brats like yourself,
Mommies Who Drink: Sex, Drugs, and Other Distant Memories of an Ordinary Mom by Brett Paesel - If your mom didn’t mind labor because she was drugged up to her eyeballs, this is the book for her. It follows a mother of two and her girlfriends who enjoy a good cocktail, each others’ company and the adventures in mommyhood. Plus, the cover is super cute with its wink at Goodnight Moon
For the mom who is in denial and/or can't take a hint,
Mom, Dad, I'm Gay.: How Families Negotiate Coming Out by Ritch C. Savin-Williams – Chances are pretty good your mom has already figured it out. I mean, hello! You spell Ritch with a “t” in the middle. She’d probably prefer some nice flowers or a charm bracelet. But if you really feel the need to have a long discussion on a day that’s supposed to be light and happy for her, go for it. Just promise you’ll take her shopping or dancing another time.
For the mom who is horny,
Porn for New Moms: From the Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative by
Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative, Susan Anderson - A nice collection of hot men handling babies, talking about how they’ll change the diapers and do the laundry. Ah, a girl can dream.
For the new mom who is a bit clueless,
Safe Baby Handling Tips by David Sopp and Kelly Sopp – This illustrated board book offers great advice such as the following.
It also offers The Wheel of Responsibility for the couples to divvy up the tasks that pesky little babies demand so frequently. Never again will you have to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to change the next poopy diaper.
For the mom who is a misinformed Republican,
That's No Angry Mob, That's My Mom: Team Obama's Assault on Tea-Party, Talk-Radio Americans by Michael Graham - Then smack her upside the head with it for me.
For the single mom who makes bad decisions,
If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start with Your Legs: A Guide to Understanding Men by Big Boom – Another one that I’ve never read. I never really needed this advice. But I know a lot of people who do, including your mom.
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