my mom and I can have a whole conversation about whether Kimberly Williams-Paisley was prettier during her “Father of the Bride” phase than she is now. Mom thinks now. I voted for her “Bride” era, but mainly because I like her hair curly. Although, come to think of it, she was prettiest of all in Father of the Bride, Part 2 when her hair was short and not curly at all.
Super-Husband
September 26, 2009 at 11:35 pm (Husbands, Relationships)
I swear my husband can do everything. Everything. The only things I have discovered that I can do that he can’t are give birth and breast-feed. I am also better at planning meals and shopping. That’s it. I swear. He either knows how to do everything or he figures it out, seemingly effortlessly. He removes a poo stain from a onesie as effortlessly as he mows a lawn or installs a new garbage disposal. He is Super-Husband.
You’re thinking, “This is wonderful, right? This can’t possibly bother her, right?” Well, it doesn’t exactly. I just start to feel a little superfluous sometimes. I mean, there are ways to have babies without a wife. There are ways to feed a child without a wife. What it boils down to is – what the heck am I bringing to this relationship? Especially when I am so difficult to deal with sometimes??? I am so grateful for him and everything he does and I love him so much, but is that enough? Does a super-husband need a super-wife? What is my superpower?
Baby mine
September 23, 2009 at 12:03 am (Babies, Family, Motherhood, Parenting, Relationships)
I’ve decided I don’t appreciate this biological hooey where the baby looks like the dad the first few months, so that the father can be sure the baby’s his. Not only is it insulting to the mother, but it’s also just plain not fair. I carried my son for forty-one and a half weeks and spent 12 hours giving birth to him. (Drug-free, thankyouverymuch.) I’ve been breast-feeding him round-the-clock for almost two months now. Also, he has all of my facial features. My eyes, my nose, my mouth, even my forehead. Yet, he looks like my husband! Only one person has said he looks like me! I know it shouldn’t matter, but come on. I’ve already put a year of my life in to this kid. He’s half mine. By rights, it should be more, considering all of the extra effort I put in. 
He’s already got my husband’s last name! Where’s the MOM’S evidence that the baby is hers?? Believe it or not, we need some reassurance on that point, too.
Diaper-changing on the road
September 14, 2009 at 5:27 am (Babies, Drivers, Family, Motherhood, Parenting, Relationships, Travel)
Picture, if you will, a Brookshire Bros. grocery store in Buffalo, TX. A young couple are in the parking lot attempting to change their newborn’s diaper. Actually, the mom was driving, so she is in the front changing the diaper while the child lies in the front passenger seat. Almost everything that can go wrong does.
First – The child in question keeps pushing off the back of the seat with his feet. Consequently, his head is already hanging off of the seat before his mother even has his diaper off.
Second – The mother mentions that her open can of Diet Coke is in danger of being sprayed if the cloth diaper covering her son’s penis does not effectively block the spray if he pees. Due to extreme sleep deprivation, she does not notice her husband reaching right in front of her and removing the can.
Third – Her elbow strikes something on the console between the seats while she is trying to wipe her wriggling son’s butt and keep the makeshift “pee-pee teepee” in place. At first, she thinks it is the bottle of formula her husband was feeding her son moments before. However, she soon discovers it is her can of Diet Coke, which is now upside down between the well and the passenger seat, covering the floorboard with Diet Coke.
Fourth – Wife yells at husband “Why in the world did you put that there???” Husband proceeds to calmly tell wife not to yell at him as Diet Coke continues to leak on the floorboard.
Fifth – One of the parents (Can’t remember which one.) finally collects their scattered wits long enough to grab the Diet Coke can. Mother tells father to stop telling her to quit yelling at him and help her clean up the Diet Coke on the changing pad before son puts his foot in it.
Six – Mother explains to father that she wasn’t trying to yell, just exclaiming in wonderment over the fact that he thought it was a good idea to put the Diet Coke can there. He’s usually smarter than that. That’s what sleep deprivation will do to you, kiddies.
Seven – Father helps clean up the Diet Coke, goes to grocery store gas station to get paper towels.
Eight – Son spits up as soon as father leaves. Mother is still holding him on front seat. Burp cloth is in backseat.
Nine – Mother makes do with a wipe until father returns, retrieves burp cloth, and finishes the job. Afterwards, mother realizes she no longer knows which cloth diaper is “pee-pee teepee” and which is burp cloth.
Ten – Son is returned to backseat unscathed. Parents have a good laugh at themselves. Son laughs at parents from car seat. Parents drive out of the parking lot after that stunning display of mental acuity and coordination.
Although it doesn’t sound like it from that story, our first trip as a family went very well this weekend! Our son barely fussed in the car. He is the most amazing baby ever.
Day in the life of a mommy
September 9, 2009 at 5:54 am (Babies, Family, Motherhood, Parenting, Relationships, television)
7:30 a.m. Wonderful husband bottle-feeds son, so I can get some extra sleep after my horrendous Saturday night.
7:35 a.m. Realize that my Mommy radar won’t let me sleep when the baby is awake and in the immediate vicinity.
7:45 a.m.-ish Go back to sleep with baby after he has been duly fed and burped.
11:30 a.m. Awaken next to squirming baby. Rush in to bathroom to test milk on Milkscreen to make sure glass of wine consumed 12 hours ago is safely out of bloodstream.
11:32 a.m. Rush now-screaming baby in to be changed after Milkscreen’s thumbs-up.
11:35 a.m. Am now feeding baby, who falls asleep after one side. Right boob, which has not been feed or pumped off of in over 12 hours starts to pulse ominously.
Noon: Place smiling, giggling, but totally uninterested in eating and relieving Mommy’s discomfort baby in swing. Silently curse the Fates for making me have to put him in the swing when he’s happy, yet deal with him when he’s screaming his bloody head off. Realize will have to pump while having breakfast.
12:05 p.m.: Find pumping equipment still dirty in sink and vitamin container empty. Breakfast moving farther away.
12:30 p.m.: Finally start making breakfast after cleaning pump, filling cats’ water bowls and disseminating Fancy Feast and about a thousand cat treats. Hear Nature calling just as toast pops up.
12: 40 p.m.: Finish spreading soupy butter on room temperature toast.
12:45 p.m. Realize all of my nursing and baby paraphernalia still need to be moved from bedroom to living room in case the baby wakes up hungry or cat plops itself on my lap, rendering me unable to move.
1:20 p.m. Finally sit down to breakfast. Baby starts to stir. Start wondering whether to pump or wait.
1:30 p.m. Baby asleep. Must pump before boob explodes and obliterates Tokyo with typhoon of breast milk.
1:40 p.m. Crisis averted. Tokyo safe.
2:20 p.m. Baby awake. Finished all of breakfast except yogurt. Place yogurt on mantel to protect from cats. Change and nurse baby.
3 p.m. Tummy time.
3:30 p.m. Try to place baby in bouncy seat, so can pick out husband’s birthday present. Baby suddenly hates bouncy seat.
4 p.m. Discover all birthday ideas are not available until after birthday.
4:30 p.m. Baby asleep in swing. Rush to finally dress and brush teeth and hair.
4:45 p.m. Eat lunch.
5:20 p.m. Change and nurse baby.
5:45 p.m. Attack poor, unsuspecting husband for being late and calling while my phone was in the back and I couldn’t answer it (due to nursing).
6 p.m. Make up with husband after we catch each other smiling at Friends.
7 p.m. Eat dinner from Baby Greens, watch season premiere of 90210.
8 p.m. Nurse baby, watch series premiere of Melrose Place. Already looking forward to next week. Good sign.
8:45 p.m. Discover yogurt still on mantel.
10 p.m. Shower.
11 p.m. Nurse baby.
12:30 Blog, eat ice cream, go to bed. Start all over again tomorrow.
Awkward parenting dialogue
September 9, 2009 at 5:35 am (Babies, Relationships)
Me: I think the batteries are out in his (our son’s) monkey mobile. What kind does it take?
Husband: It takes wind-up batteries.
Me before I notice smirk spreading across husband’s face: Really? There’s such a thing as wind-up batteries … ooookay. I get it. (In pitiful tone.) Don’t make fun of me like that. (Thinking in not-so-pitiful tone.) The postpartum reunion just got postponed indefinitely, smart ass.
Bless you
September 3, 2009 at 4:04 am (Animals, Cats, Food, Relationships)
I found out today that my husband actually had some doubt as to whether I would eat food with cat snot on it. He seemed to think I might, if I was hungry enough. Just to set the record straight, I have never been THAT hungry. Now I wonder what kind of man I married, since he was apparently willing to marry someone he thought could maybe, possibly, eat cat snot.
Unexpected parenting dialogues
August 23, 2009 at 3:23 am (Babies, Kissing, Life, Relationships)
Me: The baby stuck out his tongue while I was kissing him today. Very bad timing.
Husband: Are you telling me you French-kissed our boy?
Me: Well, technically, HE french-kissed ME.
Oy.
Maybe Uncle Ben was stubborn, too
July 20, 2009 at 6:18 pm (Animals, Babies, Cats, Death, Family, Life, Music, Pregnancy, Relationships)
He is still refusing to come out. Maybe today will be lucky. It is the anniversary of my Uncle Ben’s birthday. He was a musician who lived in Austin. He loved cats and Garfield and could play almost every instrument. It seemed like it anyway. He died almost twenty years ago of a brain aneurysm, so I didn’t get to know him very well, but I thought he was cool. He taught me how to blow bubbles with bubble gum and gave us McDonald’s gift certificates for Christmas. I feel connected to him whenever I play the piano, although I can’t play rock ‘n’ roll on it like he could. I’m better at classical. Thanks to him, my brother and I discovered Nermal (the cutest cat in the world) and garnered hours of entertainment from that and marveling how cute his cat was all hunched up behind the curtain on the windowsill. It’s actually amazing how alike we are. I wish I’d gotten to know him better, but I’m glad for the time we got. Thanks, Uncle Ben. Hope you’re still rocking out up in heaven.
Tales from Grandpa, part 2
July 17, 2009 at 1:21 am (Celebrities, Family, Life, Relationships, War)
So, Grandpa has a lot of great stories about his time serving in World War II, but it’s hard to get him started telling them. He did tell me once about a bunkmate of his who had that famous pin-up of Betty Grable pinned up over his bed. Every time they would leave, the guy would kiss his fingers and then press them on Betty Grable’s rear end in the picture. Grandpa asked him why he did that. He replied, “Because if I die, I want to be able to say that the last thing I did was kiss Betty Grable’s ass!”
