Last Friday I was at D'Agostino's (are there supposed to be two apostrophes in it? freaking apostrophes) looking for cooking wine. I had already gone to Westside Market, stroller in tow, and hadn't been able to find it there. I dragged the stroller and my 100 lbs of groceries all around D'AGs, and still could not find the effing cooking wine. I was about to give up when I saw a D'AG guy unloading chicken and thought, "Should I just go buy real wine? Or should I ask him? There's no harm in asking him right?" RIGHT.
Me: "Excuse me, do you know where I can find cooking wine?"
Him (smiling): "What?"
Me: "Cooking wine."
Him: "What?"
Me: "Cooking wine? Cook-ing wi-ine."
Him (looking apologetic): "Sorry (touching his ear). I am hearing impaired. Can you say it again?"
At this point, I want to kick myself. Really, did I just pick the only hearing impaired employee to ask a question? And it's not like I can just walk away with a "Oh sorry but your deafness is not convenient for me."
Me: "COOK-ING WI-IINE?"
Him: "Chicken white?"
Me: OMFG. Just tell me to go away or ask someone else. "No, cooking wine? Like, white wine? Sherry wine? Marsala wine?"
Him: "Chicken fried?"
Me: Oh dear God in Heaven, please let the ceiling fall upon my head so that this conversation can end. "No...cooking wine. Cooooking wiiine. Cooooooooooking wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine."
Him: "Sorry..."
I went back today for something else and guess what--freaking bottles and bottles of cooking wine was like 2 feet away from where I was standing with the chicken guy.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Remember that scene from Psycho?
If either my mother or mother-in-law says ONE MORE TIME that I need to lose the baby weight, I will seriously kill them. There will be tears and blood and possibly little pieces of brain, and it won't be mine.
My mom started her campaign 10 days after I gave birth. TEN F*CKING DAYS. My mother-in-law says shit like, "you shouldn't get any fatter than you already are, but here take this cake home and eat it".
I don't know what purpose they think their comments are serving. Do they think I am deliberately plan to keep these extra 40 lbs or so on? Because it's fun to continue wearing my maternity clothes? Because I like looking and feeling like I've ingested a healthy toddler? I just wish they would, oh I don't know, THINK before they open their fat traps. If they thought about it, then they would realize they should keep their yaps shut. If I've decided to keep the weight on, then their comments are irrelevant because I already made my decision. If I've decided that I want to lose the weight, then their comments are still irrelevant because I'm already there.
If I knew we were playing a game of dumbshit honesty, then I have lots of helpful advice to volunteer to them as well! "Look at all your wrinkles! Jeezus you look frickin' old. It must really be awful to lose your hair like that, and look like a balding man. Why are you making that ugly face right now? Are you in a bad mood right now because you are in menopause?"
Every time I think about this, my brain lights on fire and my mental function grinds to a halt. There is no one in the vicinity that I can kill right now, so I am going to go swiffer the shit out of my apartment instead.
My mom started her campaign 10 days after I gave birth. TEN F*CKING DAYS. My mother-in-law says shit like, "you shouldn't get any fatter than you already are, but here take this cake home and eat it".
I don't know what purpose they think their comments are serving. Do they think I am deliberately plan to keep these extra 40 lbs or so on? Because it's fun to continue wearing my maternity clothes? Because I like looking and feeling like I've ingested a healthy toddler? I just wish they would, oh I don't know, THINK before they open their fat traps. If they thought about it, then they would realize they should keep their yaps shut. If I've decided to keep the weight on, then their comments are irrelevant because I already made my decision. If I've decided that I want to lose the weight, then their comments are still irrelevant because I'm already there.
If I knew we were playing a game of dumbshit honesty, then I have lots of helpful advice to volunteer to them as well! "Look at all your wrinkles! Jeezus you look frickin' old. It must really be awful to lose your hair like that, and look like a balding man. Why are you making that ugly face right now? Are you in a bad mood right now because you are in menopause?"
Every time I think about this, my brain lights on fire and my mental function grinds to a halt. There is no one in the vicinity that I can kill right now, so I am going to go swiffer the shit out of my apartment instead.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Tender moments
Sometimes when I am holding V, she looks up at me. Her face relaxes, and her eyes gaze into mine. I think, "how sweet..."
And then she kicks me in the boob, or tries to pull out my hair, or grabs the skin on my neck, and a couple of times, has dug her fingernail into my nipple. It hurt so much that I involuntarily yelled OW! and she cried.
Ah, those tender moments. How they scare me.
And then she kicks me in the boob, or tries to pull out my hair, or grabs the skin on my neck, and a couple of times, has dug her fingernail into my nipple. It hurt so much that I involuntarily yelled OW! and she cried.
Ah, those tender moments. How they scare me.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Child model I think not
I decided that this year we would do a holiday card, complete with a picture of our little monster looking all Christmasy and cute. I've gotten a bunch of these over the years, and it is one of those Things That You Do while your child is still cute and has not begun the sudden descent into the fiery and uglifying circles of puberty.
Easier said than done!
Trying to pose a 3 month old for a picture is like trying to hold hands with an octopus. First you have to prop her up, then look at the camera! Oh no she's spitting up so let's wipe that off, and now she's falling over, so sit her back up and look look look LOOK AT MOMMEEE! and now she's sliding down again and foaming at the mouth and all she wants to do is cram her hands into her mouth, stare at her feet and fold herself into a V shape that is NOT conducive to good picture taking.
Almost:
Almooost:
Ugh photo session FAIL:
Easier said than done!
Trying to pose a 3 month old for a picture is like trying to hold hands with an octopus. First you have to prop her up, then look at the camera! Oh no she's spitting up so let's wipe that off, and now she's falling over, so sit her back up and look look look LOOK AT MOMMEEE! and now she's sliding down again and foaming at the mouth and all she wants to do is cram her hands into her mouth, stare at her feet and fold herself into a V shape that is NOT conducive to good picture taking.
Almost:
Almooost:
Ugh photo session FAIL:
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Feets
This is something I meant to post about like 6 months ago but never got around to it.
One of the awesome things that can happen to your body when you get pregnant is that parts other than your glorious womb can swell like freaking camel humps. It doesn't happen to everyone. Only the truly lucky, such as moi. My feet and legs decided that it needed to retain every drop of water I drank starting from April till the day I gave birth, at the end of August. By the end of it my legs were starting to look like elephant legs. I would post a picture but it would sear your eyes, so I will instead post a pic from the earlier stages of swelling:
There is no treatment for this. You just live with it. If it's benign swelling it doesn't hurt; it just looks freaking gross. It wouldn't have been so bad except that it was summer, and there was no hiding my Jeezilla feet in flip-flops. Every OBGYN appointment my rail-thin non-swollen doctor would ask if anything was of concern, and I would say, "the swelling", and she would cluck empathetically and say, "have you tried compression stockings?"
I in fact did try compression stockings, which Jeezsister got me from the hospital. Voila:
My doctor would say, "the stockings are probably not too comfortable to wear in the summer." Oh really? Probably not?
Let's put aside the fact that the stockings make my legs look like gigantic tapeworms with little bloody orange mouths. What you're telling me is that the way to solve the discomfort I feel from the appearance of my swollen feet is to wear these? "Oh no one will notice the swelling now." I guess that is true, because people would be too busy wondering why I've dressed up like a giant toddler in white tights.
Suffice it to say that I did not end up wearing these. However, I do have a very nice collection of compression stockings in various sizes that you could use for a Halloween costume, as bungee cords, etc.
One of the awesome things that can happen to your body when you get pregnant is that parts other than your glorious womb can swell like freaking camel humps. It doesn't happen to everyone. Only the truly lucky, such as moi. My feet and legs decided that it needed to retain every drop of water I drank starting from April till the day I gave birth, at the end of August. By the end of it my legs were starting to look like elephant legs. I would post a picture but it would sear your eyes, so I will instead post a pic from the earlier stages of swelling:
There is no treatment for this. You just live with it. If it's benign swelling it doesn't hurt; it just looks freaking gross. It wouldn't have been so bad except that it was summer, and there was no hiding my Jeezilla feet in flip-flops. Every OBGYN appointment my rail-thin non-swollen doctor would ask if anything was of concern, and I would say, "the swelling", and she would cluck empathetically and say, "have you tried compression stockings?"
I in fact did try compression stockings, which Jeezsister got me from the hospital. Voila:
My doctor would say, "the stockings are probably not too comfortable to wear in the summer." Oh really? Probably not?
Let's put aside the fact that the stockings make my legs look like gigantic tapeworms with little bloody orange mouths. What you're telling me is that the way to solve the discomfort I feel from the appearance of my swollen feet is to wear these? "Oh no one will notice the swelling now." I guess that is true, because people would be too busy wondering why I've dressed up like a giant toddler in white tights.
Suffice it to say that I did not end up wearing these. However, I do have a very nice collection of compression stockings in various sizes that you could use for a Halloween costume, as bungee cords, etc.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Vacation with a 3 month old
For some reason I thought vacation with a baby would be like going on regular vacation, the only difference being that I bring the baby everywhere. Not the case!
First of all, 99% of your luggage is devoted to the baby, and you need to bring every thing that the baby may possibly need. It was a 4 day/3 night trip to the Dominican Republic, and I brought over 40 diapers, 10 pairs of baby socks, 10 changes of baby clothes (clothes for the plane, each day, and clothes to change into on the plane or in the DR in case the baby craps into her clothes, which has happened before), a package of baby wipes, baby formula (liquid and powder), bottle parts, the [chicken] breast pump, pump parts, a device that sucks snot out of the baby's nose, baby bath products, baby carrier and other baby crap. I had like 58 lbs of baby crap in one suitcase, for which I had to pay an overweight fee of $100. I could have fed, changed and clothed an orphanage of babies. I packed like a shirt and shorts for myself and squeezed it into the corners of the suitcase.
Then you have to get your carry-ons in order. Mostly, you will need to create a mini-version of your big suitcase, in case the baby gets hungry, craps, etc on the plane. And then you also need the car seat if you bought a seat for the baby, the stroller that you will gatecheck unless you want to lug the baby in the carseat through the airport (the carseat itself is not that heavy, and the baby weighs maybe 13 or 14 lbs, but together they chemically react to weigh 100 lbs), and the stroller cover, unless you want to risk having your stroller murdered by homicidal airport luggage handlers. Somewhere in there, you have to squeeze in everyone's passport, money, and if you have room, something to read.
Don't even talk to me about going through security with a baby. You've got to get all your crap into those stupid bins, take out the liquid baby formula and let the TSA agents know that there's liquid in excess of the usual amounts in your stuff and it's baby formula, take the baby out of the stroller, fold the stroller and take yourself and the baby through the metal detectors while 3000 people are standing in line staring at you. Seriously I could understand if someone forgot/lost their baby during this process, because you are supposed to do about 23 things instantaneously, with 2 eyes and 2 arms. Dear God please make me an octopus right now please please please.
Then there is the plane ride. There is not much to be said about this. If your baby doesn't cry, it's awesome. If your baby cries, you want to take a running start at the emergency exit so that you can float peacefully amongst the silent fluffy clouds.
Then you get to the resort. Note of warning: your baby may hate and scream her head off at everything. She may scream while sitting at the breakfast table, standing at the breakfast table, being jiggled up/down, side/side at the breakfast table, sitting in the stroller by the pool, sitting in the carseat by the pool, sitting in the baby carrier by the pool, etc. She may end up spending 90% of the time being put to sleep in her carseat, under your coat, in the closet of your hotel room.
Yes, you could have done that in NYC for thousands of dollars less, but don't think about that.
In the end, you may return home paler than you were when you left. Congratulations, you have just gone on vacation with your 3 month old.
First of all, 99% of your luggage is devoted to the baby, and you need to bring every thing that the baby may possibly need. It was a 4 day/3 night trip to the Dominican Republic, and I brought over 40 diapers, 10 pairs of baby socks, 10 changes of baby clothes (clothes for the plane, each day, and clothes to change into on the plane or in the DR in case the baby craps into her clothes, which has happened before), a package of baby wipes, baby formula (liquid and powder), bottle parts, the [chicken] breast pump, pump parts, a device that sucks snot out of the baby's nose, baby bath products, baby carrier and other baby crap. I had like 58 lbs of baby crap in one suitcase, for which I had to pay an overweight fee of $100. I could have fed, changed and clothed an orphanage of babies. I packed like a shirt and shorts for myself and squeezed it into the corners of the suitcase.
Then you have to get your carry-ons in order. Mostly, you will need to create a mini-version of your big suitcase, in case the baby gets hungry, craps, etc on the plane. And then you also need the car seat if you bought a seat for the baby, the stroller that you will gatecheck unless you want to lug the baby in the carseat through the airport (the carseat itself is not that heavy, and the baby weighs maybe 13 or 14 lbs, but together they chemically react to weigh 100 lbs), and the stroller cover, unless you want to risk having your stroller murdered by homicidal airport luggage handlers. Somewhere in there, you have to squeeze in everyone's passport, money, and if you have room, something to read.
Don't even talk to me about going through security with a baby. You've got to get all your crap into those stupid bins, take out the liquid baby formula and let the TSA agents know that there's liquid in excess of the usual amounts in your stuff and it's baby formula, take the baby out of the stroller, fold the stroller and take yourself and the baby through the metal detectors while 3000 people are standing in line staring at you. Seriously I could understand if someone forgot/lost their baby during this process, because you are supposed to do about 23 things instantaneously, with 2 eyes and 2 arms. Dear God please make me an octopus right now please please please.
Then there is the plane ride. There is not much to be said about this. If your baby doesn't cry, it's awesome. If your baby cries, you want to take a running start at the emergency exit so that you can float peacefully amongst the silent fluffy clouds.
Then you get to the resort. Note of warning: your baby may hate and scream her head off at everything. She may scream while sitting at the breakfast table, standing at the breakfast table, being jiggled up/down, side/side at the breakfast table, sitting in the stroller by the pool, sitting in the carseat by the pool, sitting in the baby carrier by the pool, etc. She may end up spending 90% of the time being put to sleep in her carseat, under your coat, in the closet of your hotel room.
Yes, you could have done that in NYC for thousands of dollars less, but don't think about that.
In the end, you may return home paler than you were when you left. Congratulations, you have just gone on vacation with your 3 month old.
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