Tuesday, January 18, 2011
We overheard a song on the radio that included the lines "I am a friend of God/He calls me friend." From the backseat, J asked, "Does God REALLY call him Fred?"
On human frailty:
Upon waking up against her wishes: "MAMA! The brightness of the light, it pains me!"
If this is 4, I can't wait for 14.
J: "Mama, why does this book have purple aliens in it? Aliens are green."
Me: "Well, nobody knows for sure if aliens even exist or what they would look like. So artists can draw them however they want to draw them. If I were to draw an alien, I might color it yellow."
J: "OK. And if *I* were to draw an alien, I might color it green. BECAUSE THAT'S ITS ACTUAL COLOR."
Friday, May 14, 2010
Status: Fair. This has proven more difficult than originally anticipated. The Mother is short in stature but has an exceedingly strong will at times, stronger than I would like. Perhaps her bones are made of titanium or similar. Denying her sleep appears to be the key to her destruction, though this strategy is problematic for my own health as well. My recent strategy of climbing into her bed at 3 a.m. seems the best compromise: I sleep sideways in the bed, with my head on her torso. I awaken fully refreshed; she awakens exhausted. This plan appears to be working.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Do not leave the house for more than 10 minutes without a snack in your purse, a potty in your trunk, and a trick up your sleeve. Your “trick” will depend on the age of your child, but being able to fold a piece of newspaper into a pirate hat never hurt anybody. My trick is that I am not afraid to make a total fool out of myself, anytime, anywhere: I will dance in the yard, sing for no reason, and lower my voice to make the trashcan “talk.” You would not believe how entertaining that particular characteristic is to an infant/toddler/preschooler. When my daughter becomes a preteen and teenager, I suspect my foolishness will be less entertaining. However, it should serve me well as a means of punishment, and so I plan to keep it in my repertoire. I anticipate many happy years of obedience in response to the words, “If you don’t straighten up, I am not afraid to sing ‘Brick House’ right here, right now. AND I KNOW A DANCE THAT GOES WITH IT."
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Slacker Summer Tip #2: Never pay more than 3 bucks for a pair of sunglasses. You'll never be upset again when you sit on them in the car or your child pulls an earpiece off or you leave them at a friend's. My sister adds that this tip is also helpful if your daughter "accidentally sat on them over and over until they made a crack noise." Ah, my little niece, my namesake: I am so proud.
Summer Slacker Tip #3: Order your swimsuit online. Let me assure you: even if you have to deal with the post office to return a few frogs, it’ll be worth it when you find your prince. (Metaphorically speaking, of course. I don’t advocate mail-order spouses. Or amphibians.)
I went to Target once to try on bathing suits. I found a cute tankini. Curiously, no bottoms were attached, presumably because Target has a delightful collection of “mix-and-match” suits, also known as “we’re pretty sure you’ll buy the whole bleepin’ thing once you’ve gone to the trouble to find an actual match” suits. I don’t know what y’all have been doing, but apparently you Target regulars have angered the Clothing Gods. But I digress. I put on this cute top, which was my usual size, according to the hanger. (Rule 1: Never listen to the hanger. Hangers are lying liars. Who lie.) I had a bit of trouble getting it on but persevered.
It was somehow...Not Right. My breasts were smashed in there like I’d grown a couple of cup sizes, but my stomach was covered with yards and yards of fabric. Clearly, I was tiny! A tiny little miniscule woman with a tiny little miniscule waist! And huge ginormous breasts! I WAS A FIVE-FOOT TALL BARBIE, Y’ALL! And yet I still looked…Not Right. Decidedly Not Right, in fact. I took it off and checked the size. It was a size smaller than usual (woot)! And also a maternity suit (not woot!) So. Now I order online. Where I can find suits for women who are not currently gestating. And subsequently cry privately.
Summer Slacker Tip #4: Turn your oven off. Well, I mean, not if you’ve got a chicken baking in there right now or something. If there’s something IN there, then let it finish, take it out, and THEN turn off your oven. OK, good. Well done. Now leave it off until it gets cool outside again. That’ll be about October down here.
Now, don’t ask me what you’re gonna eat for the next several months, because you already know the answer: either eat it raw or get somebody else to cook it. As a general rule, fruits and vegetables will fit into that first category. However, I personally frown upon eating meat raw, which I realize makes me Extremely Unsophisticated. But I have a very good reason for my aversion: the texture skeeves me out. Now if that isn’t a classy enough justification for you, then maybe you’re just a snob, and I’m not sure we should be friends.
So for meats, you’re really gonna need somebody else to cook. I’d recommend any of your local fine dining establishments (and even the ones that are not so fine). But if you can con a man into firing up a grill on your behalf, that’s even better. Look, I know women are perfectly capable of grilling. However! I have a cultivated ignorance of outdoor cooking, and I would like to keep it that way. There’s still a chance I could someday date a man who is willing to grill, and I do not want to ruin my shot at getting a 7-month break from cooking just because of some equal-opportunity nonsense.
The best part of this slacker tip is that it keeps your house cool, which lowers your energy consumption, which both saves you money and makes you environmentally conscious. Dang, I just love it when the green movement turns my slacking and cheapness into something noble, don’t you? Just remember to take that chicken out before you start being noble, mmmkay?
Summer Slacker Tip #5: Become one with your paleness. Embrace it. Love it. Take it home to meet his mama. Make copious references to the era when pale skin was hip so that you sound historically informed and not just slackerly. A few references to skin cancer and “all those chemicals they put in self-tanner” will also make you sound medically informed and conceal your true slackerly motives.
Summer Slacker Tip #6: Eat lots of ice cream and popsicles. Do it in the name of cooling off. But just between you and me, everybody knows it’s just because they taste good.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
I think it’s time for us to acknowledge that this charade of a relationship is officially over. You know, I give and I give and I give...but you never can seem to offer me the things that I need.
There was a time when I didn’t think I could quit you, Wal-Mart. You’ve got the most store brands of any grocery store I’ve shopped in, it’s true. But I’m stronger now, and these days, a cheap jar of salsa is just not enough to woo me.
You probably haven’t even noticed that I’ve been seeing other stores. You wouldn’t, would you? You’re too busy serving your other girlfriends, women who wear halter-tops and have the word “juicy” printed across their rears. Oh, I’ve seen your other girlfriends, Wal-Mart. And I am not impressed. Not impressed at all.
But those other stores I’ve tried, they really seem to want my money, Wal-Mart. You know Amazon.com? Amazon delivers. To my DOOR, Wal-Mart. That’s the kind of love I’ve hardly dared dream about.
And Walgreen’s? Walgreen’s doesn’t beat me up if I forget something. It only takes a minute to go from one end of that store to the other. A MINUTE, Wal-Mart! Can you offer me that? No. No, I didn’t think so.
Today I came to you out of desperation. I was in my hour of need. My little girl needs some pajamas. She needs some cotton ones with short sleeves. It’s getting hot here, Wal-Mart, and she’s sweating through her sheets these days. But did you offer me cotton pajamas? No, you didn’t. The best you could come up with was polyester. Polyester, Wal-Mart? POLYESTER? Did you know I live in Mississippi? Surely you did. You live here, too. We’re practically neighbors. And yet these days, it feels like we are worlds apart.
I don’t think I can keep this up anymore, Wal-Mart. I really don’t. My heart hasn’t been in it for a while. And quite frankly, I suspect yours never was.