Thought Collection #2

More thoughts! A collection of things I think while going about my mom-ly duties:

My son has decided that he cannot eat anything that has a “wrapper.” Blueberries, grapes, beans, corn, and peas all have wrappers. He will spit them out like Tom Hanks in Big.

Tom-Hanks-Big-GIF

I attempted once- ONCE- to remove said wrappers for him. I also tried once to bake something I saw on Pinterest, but I like to think I learn from my mistakes.

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I feel like, when you pay off your hospital birthing bills, you should get the title for your kid, like when you pay off your car. Frame that shit.

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That moment when your kids are so quiet it causes panic. You must check on them but if they catch you peeking it will break whatever mystical spell has made them silent and they’ll come get all up in your business. But you need to a) see what has them so focused to make sure that it is available at all times from this point forward and b) make sure they’re actually still alive. But oh my god it’s been a full five minutes since someone whined at you and no-one is clinging to your leg so if you wait another three minutes you could probably still resuscitate with minimal brain damage if that’s the situation. And then MOM-GUILT you scurry to the doorway and peeeeeek around with one eye and it was just a new Sesame Street but you’re busted and so is this toy and they need snacks and moooooOOOOOOOOooooom.

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One fun thing about having kids is getting to explain the subtleties of language to them. Like why we say we “lick off the spoon” not “suck it off.” Loudly. In public.

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Pretty sure the nicknames we’ve had for our kids demonstrate exactly how life has gone with them. First kid: Little Man, Bubbaloo, Sir. Second kid: Chica, Scooter, Destructo, Gozer.

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We are at a phase in the big kid’s life where he is learning to deal with frustration in more mature ways than wildly flailing around the house raining destruction on everyone else’s emotions. It’s going pretty well, actually, though when your starting point is sobbing because you took your pants off when you wanted to pee through them, I guess you have nowhere to go but up. Anyway, the other day I saw a break-down coming during teeth-brushing time, and told him I would guess what was wrong since he couldn’t use his words with a toothbrush in his mouth. My guesses:

Is it because the Beatles broke up? Was it Yoko? I bet it was Yoko.

Are you upset because Nick Jr replaced Marina on Fresh Beat Band without saying anything and acted like we wouldn’t notice? How were not going to notice? You’re a kid, not a marmot. We know faces.

Is it because there’s no more Clearly Canadian? It was clearly the most Canadian soda, so I don’t blame you.

Wait, it’s because DiCaprio still doesn’t have an Oscar? Don’t jump on that bandwagon, man. He’s not all that.

I know. I know. It’s because your elbows are so pointy. Curse you elboooooows!

Is it because you have toothpaste in your nose from giggling so much? That would bother me, too. Stop giggling so much! You are SO weird.

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A lady’s body changes a lot after kids, mostly in ways that make you feel floppy and broken. Like now, having cramps is suddenly like implanting the garbage mashers from the first Death Star into my abdomen. Replete with thrashing tentacle monsters, metal poles propping up the walls, and a Wookie.

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And, just for good measure, an Awkward Baby. Sometimes, you just gotta see how a life-choice tastes before you can commit.

He who hesitates is sometimes licking paper

He who hesitates is sometimes licking paper

But if you do dive in, Awkward Baby applauds you.

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Awkward Baby #7

It’s time for an awkward baby, yes?

The longer I have kids, the more I find myself getting REALLY excited about talking to other grown-ups. But I’m out of practice. I want to have philosophical discussions about religion and politics and Art the way I used to when I was young and had no fear of being seen as an insufferable ass-hat. Maybe something about Marxism or Dada. Something you heard about on NPR today where I actually use my brains and the many overpriced years of education I amassed and *GASP* learn something new by listening to other people. I really miss that.

But honestly, at this point, I just get really excited to see someone who is over three feet tall. Someone who can talk about Italian cuisine without pronouncing it “Pahsketti.” And I get a little over-enthusiastic about it. I feel my face getting all goofy smiley and I don’t have anything intelligent to add to the conversation but I WILL laugh a little too hard at everything that’s not another knock knock joke about bananas. Sometimes I try way too hard and it’s a little embarrassing. And sometimes I don’t care because even being in the same room as other grown-ups is such a nice change that I don’t care how out-of-touch I am, I’m just glad to have a new person as a part of my day.

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What are you guys talking about!? AHAHAHAHA! Right?

Awkward Baby doesn’t judge- you keep on with that goofy smile.

We now return to our program

Well… hi. Look at that last post’s date. Look at this one. Whoops. Some life happened there, it seems. But I’m back! I still don’t know what this blog is going to be. But I know I want to give it another shot.

You know, when I started, I had these grand plans that I would create this visually stunning documentary on the life of a writer- everything I had ever done, from preschool to now. All organized by topic and date. It would be monumental….ly pretentious. So I ditched it. Then I thought I’d write the next hilarious mom-blog to go triple viral (because I don’t know how the internet works) and I’d get reposted by both The Bloggess AND George Takei and it would crash my site and I’d be instantly famous. But I was trying way too hard and gave up when I wasn’t rolling in Bitcoins within a month.

So that brings us to today. Two kids, a job I occasionally do, not a hell of a lot of time, but dammit, I started this and I want to keep trying. We all have these “shoulds” and “want tos” and I don’t know about you, but I know I avoid eye-contact with all of mine for fear of failure. But all you can really do is give SOMETHING a shot every once in a while, right? So all the stuff I would normally put on Facebook? The stuff that made a whole four people say I should start a blog? It’s going here. All the stuff I have scribbled on grocery receipts and random pages of notebooks? Here. If nothing else, it still makes ME laugh, so I’ve got that to look forward to. No clue what this blog will actually be, but it’s going to be… something.

Welcome back to the new and improved blog you never knew existed in the first place. Here we go again, awkwardly diving in.

That's the spirit

That’s the spirit

Awkward Baby #6

I’m going to a bachelorette party tonight. It should be pretty fun, and I haven’t been out in a long time. But I’m a lightweight now, the kind that goes out at 7 and comes home by 10:30. I can remember when I wouldn’t set foot in a bar before 10- that’s when the old people leave. Sigh. I’m not even going to drink, because the whole “providing sustenance for my child” thing is something I still find amusing. So I wonder what it would be like if I DID go out and get white-girl crazy. What’s my tolerance like anymore? Would I be three sheets after two drinks? Would I be doing the “who has two fingers and lotsa shots” routine?

This guy!!!!!

This guy!!!!!

 

Awkward Baby- hic. Awkward Baby- no, really this is serious. This is serious now. Listen, listen- Awkward Baby loves me anyway. Hug it out, man.

Awkward Baby #5

Have you ever been in the middle of a really animated conversation when suddenly a little blob of spit comes arcing out of your face hole toward the person you’re talking to? And you pray they don’t notice or, holy gods, please don’t let it hit them. And you just keep talking, pretending that you didn’t notice, and then pretending you didn’t notice they noticed. And hoping that if they DID notice, you can both just pretend it never happened?

Maintain eye contact....

Maintain eye contact….

Awkward Baby sympathizes.

Awkward Baby #4

Do your kids hate tummy time? My kids HATE tummy time. I mean despise it. Vocally. They both declared that tummy time is completely beneath them. (Heh. Punny!) I don’t do it nearly as often as helpful websites say I should. But I’m not too concerned for my kids deficient gross motor skills, the way those helpful websites say I should be. Both of my kids came out of the womb holding their heads up freakishly well, like they had some new mutant neck-muscles previously unrecorded in newborns. They both decided around two months old that being held vertically on their feet was far superior to any of that pedestrian swaddling or lying down The Man tells babies to do. They both stood up long before they sat up. Big kid walked before he crawled and Little Kid is following in his footsteps. (heh heh! More wordplay!) They both figured out that being held in a standing position where they can participate in the world is resoundingly better than being stuck face down on the floor. I mean, duh. So when I say my kids HATE tummy time, please know that I mean they vehemently hate it, the way I hate celebrity gossip being treated like actual news.

Who the fuck decided to pay attention to Kardashians?

Who decided to pay attention to Kardashians?

And why the fuck aren't you covering the net neutrality voting?

And why aren’t you covering the net neutrality voting?!

Awkward babies just have better things to do with their time.

TBT Awkwardly

The internets say it’s Throw-back Thursday, so let’s get back Awkward Baby style. Here’s me, the original Awkward Baby, way back:

 

It’s like when you come into the break room at work and everyone is at one table talking and they don’t make any effort to move over or include you so you just kinda stand there wondering what to do with your hands or if maybe you should microwave that Lean Cuisine someone left in the freezer over a year ago just so you have something to do and your uncomfortableness is kind of making everyone else a little uncomfortable.

You know what makes me uncomfortable? The color brown- oh shit.

You know what makes me uncomfortable? The color brown- oh shit.

Original Awkward Baby would sit with you.