1.26.2008
1.24.2008
s-s-s-s-tuttering
I am noticing that Jake has a bit of a stuttering problem.
Not a huge one, but maybe two or three times a day he will get caught up on a sound or word (m-m-m-milkshake, was the first I caught on Monday, and al-al-al-alright was the problem last night). I spoke to a few child development people at work, who assured me that it is normal for early talkers to start stuttering a bit around this age, especially if they are speaking in sentences and the problem will probably phase out by age five without treatment. I remember my brother stuttering when he was little, but I don't remember how old he was.
Jake doesn't seem bothered or stressed by it, he isn't a troubled or anxious child, and he lives his life in such a state of constant and utter spastic excitement that it is a wonder it is only a stutter and not a brain hemorrhage.
I don't think that Dave has noticed it, and you might not either if you don't know him well, but it is definitely there and I'll be keeping an ear on it. Jake has his two year check up in March, so I'll mention it then and go from th-th-th-there.
Not a huge one, but maybe two or three times a day he will get caught up on a sound or word (m-m-m-milkshake, was the first I caught on Monday, and al-al-al-alright was the problem last night). I spoke to a few child development people at work, who assured me that it is normal for early talkers to start stuttering a bit around this age, especially if they are speaking in sentences and the problem will probably phase out by age five without treatment. I remember my brother stuttering when he was little, but I don't remember how old he was.
Jake doesn't seem bothered or stressed by it, he isn't a troubled or anxious child, and he lives his life in such a state of constant and utter spastic excitement that it is a wonder it is only a stutter and not a brain hemorrhage.
I don't think that Dave has noticed it, and you might not either if you don't know him well, but it is definitely there and I'll be keeping an ear on it. Jake has his two year check up in March, so I'll mention it then and go from th-th-th-there.
1.23.2008
you asked
1. How long have you been a Mom? One year, ten months, six days, and nine or so hours. I'm terrible because I don't know what time Jake was born. I want to say one forty-something ish kinda on a Friday morning. No one really asks because they are too excited that he was a St. Pat's baby.
2. How many children call you Mommy? As many that there are left at the daycare when I pick Jake up. As soon as that latch clicks all the crumb snatchers come running and screaming.
3. Girl? Boy? or both?: Boy, but he's real purty. Everyone says I should put a dress on my little girl instead of boots. Yeah. No.
4. Did you know what you were having? I did. I didn't want to at first, but I'm glad I did.
5. How old were you when you became a Mom? 29 and a half
6. How long were you in labor? Cervidil on Wednesday at 5.30pm. Pitocin on Thursday at 1am. C-section on Friday at almost 2am. That's a long effing time.
7. What's your favorite thing about being a Mom? Jake
8. What's your least favorite thing? Early mornings, touching someone else's snot/puke/poop/pee, responsibility, anxiety, and toys all over the house.
9. Do you want more kids? No thank you. I love Jake so much I can't imagine giving him less than 110% of me.
10. Do you plan on having more soon? Maybe I'll buy one for my mid-life crisis.
11. How many times have you been peed on? Not too often. You can avoid it if you're crafty. I'll say less than seven.
12. Barfed on? Maybe two or three times. Maybe. I'm a great dodger. I've cleaned it up more than a dozen times though.
13. Is your child named after anyone? No way.
14. How did you come up with their name? I have no idea. It was arduous.
15. When your child gets in trouble, who is the bad guy? I'm more reasonable about punishment.
16. What is the longest you have been away from your children? Ten days or so in August when I had my face re-arranged.
17. Bedtime routine? Pajamas at seven, running amok until 7.45, giving Daddy kisses, saying goodnight to everything downstairs, going upstairs and reading Good Night Moon, making a big deal of turning the lights out, counting to one hundred together, kissing every animal in sight, giving each other tons and tons of kisses, and then Jake asks me to go downstairs because he's tired. "Okay, Mommy. Go downstairs. I tired."
18. Are your toes painted? Usually they are, but I'm letting them air out for a few months. They are kind of yellow and gross from years and years of painting.
19. Last movie you saw in the theater? Juno.
20. One thing you will not give up just because you're a mom? Spending time tearing up the town with friends.
21. One thing you did give up now that you're a mom: Spending every night tearing up the town with friends.
22. Best Mom perk: people seem to like my kid, and I get to take all the credit.
23. Snack, you sneak bites from your child? Some days it seems that all I get a chance to eat is whatever he drops or doesn't want.
24. When the kid is napping, you are: rejoicing
25. Where is your child now? in the hall closet. Maybe running in his wheel or playing with the empty paper towel tubes on the floor and drinking out of his water bottle or eating the wilted celery I left out for him. Why? Where is your child when you go to work?
26. Favorite place to buy maternity clothes? The Gap and Old Navy. Everything else was chintzy junk.
27. If I could do it over... I can say I would because I don't have to
28. First thought when you saw your child was... "he is really dark, Holy crap! I wonder if Dave thinks I was with a black guy. Holy crap! I wonder if Dave was with a black girl. That son of a bitch was cheating on me with a black girl and now I'm having her kid! What the fuck?"
Please remember, I was under the influence of some major narcotics and I didn't get to eat anything since breakfast on Wednesday and thirty hours of starvation and drug-free labor can kinda mess with your sensibility.
2. How many children call you Mommy? As many that there are left at the daycare when I pick Jake up. As soon as that latch clicks all the crumb snatchers come running and screaming.
3. Girl? Boy? or both?: Boy, but he's real purty. Everyone says I should put a dress on my little girl instead of boots. Yeah. No.
4. Did you know what you were having? I did. I didn't want to at first, but I'm glad I did.
5. How old were you when you became a Mom? 29 and a half
6. How long were you in labor? Cervidil on Wednesday at 5.30pm. Pitocin on Thursday at 1am. C-section on Friday at almost 2am. That's a long effing time.
7. What's your favorite thing about being a Mom? Jake
8. What's your least favorite thing? Early mornings, touching someone else's snot/puke/poop/pee, responsibility, anxiety, and toys all over the house.
9. Do you want more kids? No thank you. I love Jake so much I can't imagine giving him less than 110% of me.
10. Do you plan on having more soon? Maybe I'll buy one for my mid-life crisis.
11. How many times have you been peed on? Not too often. You can avoid it if you're crafty. I'll say less than seven.
12. Barfed on? Maybe two or three times. Maybe. I'm a great dodger. I've cleaned it up more than a dozen times though.
13. Is your child named after anyone? No way.
14. How did you come up with their name? I have no idea. It was arduous.
15. When your child gets in trouble, who is the bad guy? I'm more reasonable about punishment.
16. What is the longest you have been away from your children? Ten days or so in August when I had my face re-arranged.
17. Bedtime routine? Pajamas at seven, running amok until 7.45, giving Daddy kisses, saying goodnight to everything downstairs, going upstairs and reading Good Night Moon, making a big deal of turning the lights out, counting to one hundred together, kissing every animal in sight, giving each other tons and tons of kisses, and then Jake asks me to go downstairs because he's tired. "Okay, Mommy. Go downstairs. I tired."
18. Are your toes painted? Usually they are, but I'm letting them air out for a few months. They are kind of yellow and gross from years and years of painting.
19. Last movie you saw in the theater? Juno.
20. One thing you will not give up just because you're a mom? Spending time tearing up the town with friends.
21. One thing you did give up now that you're a mom: Spending every night tearing up the town with friends.
22. Best Mom perk: people seem to like my kid, and I get to take all the credit.
23. Snack, you sneak bites from your child? Some days it seems that all I get a chance to eat is whatever he drops or doesn't want.
24. When the kid is napping, you are: rejoicing
25. Where is your child now? in the hall closet. Maybe running in his wheel or playing with the empty paper towel tubes on the floor and drinking out of his water bottle or eating the wilted celery I left out for him. Why? Where is your child when you go to work?
26. Favorite place to buy maternity clothes? The Gap and Old Navy. Everything else was chintzy junk.
27. If I could do it over... I can say I would because I don't have to
28. First thought when you saw your child was... "he is really dark, Holy crap! I wonder if Dave thinks I was with a black guy. Holy crap! I wonder if Dave was with a black girl. That son of a bitch was cheating on me with a black girl and now I'm having her kid! What the fuck?"
Please remember, I was under the influence of some major narcotics and I didn't get to eat anything since breakfast on Wednesday and thirty hours of starvation and drug-free labor can kinda mess with your sensibility.
1.18.2008
sick
The best perk of being a working mom=sick days.
I catch a bug once every few years, and I was over due.
Sure my guts are churning and I'm wretching and I counted the tiles between the tub and toilet twenty-three times since 2am, but I have the house to myself! I shaved my legs! And applied self-tanner! And put my glass on the floor without worrying!
I didn't have to feed anyone, or see someone else's poop, or touch snot.
I didn't have to answer the telephone or check Outlook. No extra large Excel spreadsheets or Vista-formatted Word documents crashed my archaic computer system. (I have a state of the art computer but my version of Office is powered by a hampster in a wheel who holds two sparklers and wears a sequined blue singlet. Who is probably hungry since I'm not there to give him the oat chips that fall off my granola bars.)
I didn't clean anything or do anything that didn't involve scrapbooking or making fun of a Lifetime Television special about a bulimic teen and her single therapist mother who should have known all along over the phone with a friend on his lunchbreak.
I only have two hours of freedom left, so I'm signing off so I can clean my toenails and pluck my eyebrows (read: upperlip).
I catch a bug once every few years, and I was over due.
Sure my guts are churning and I'm wretching and I counted the tiles between the tub and toilet twenty-three times since 2am, but I have the house to myself! I shaved my legs! And applied self-tanner! And put my glass on the floor without worrying!
I didn't have to feed anyone, or see someone else's poop, or touch snot.
I didn't have to answer the telephone or check Outlook. No extra large Excel spreadsheets or Vista-formatted Word documents crashed my archaic computer system. (I have a state of the art computer but my version of Office is powered by a hampster in a wheel who holds two sparklers and wears a sequined blue singlet. Who is probably hungry since I'm not there to give him the oat chips that fall off my granola bars.)
I didn't clean anything or do anything that didn't involve scrapbooking or making fun of a Lifetime Television special about a bulimic teen and her single therapist mother who should have known all along over the phone with a friend on his lunchbreak.
I only have two hours of freedom left, so I'm signing off so I can clean my toenails and pluck my eyebrows (read: upperlip).
1.17.2008
deuce deuce
Jake turns twenty-two months old today. I remember when I could start at the top of his head and work my way down and tell about everything he was doing or saying or eating. Forget that now, there isn't enough time in the day, but I'll try to hit the big stuff.
Babycenter.com lists the following milestones for 22 month olds:
Kicks ball forward
Follows two-step requests (e.g., "Get your doll and bring it here")
Does simple puzzles
Draws a straight line
Names several body parts
Puts on loose-fitting clothes
Might be ready for a big bed
Understands opposites (e.g., tall vs. short)
which makes me even more scared that I've given birth to an over-developed monster. Other than the puzzles which Jake doesn't really have much time for, he has been doing all of those things for at least six months now. We've tried the puzzles, and Jake will only do them if there is a promise of a cookie. Once I saw that he was able, I dropped the task.
He knows how to point out and say all of his body parts (hair, head, eyes, nose, mouth, chin, ears, face, neck, shoulders, boobs, pits, arms, elbows, knees, hands, fingers, toes, feet, legs, penis, butt, nails, button, belly, back) and all of the different kinds of clothes he wears.
He's good at naming all the foods and vehicles and toys.
He knows everyone's name, grouped by household and including family pets.
He knows chair, couch, table, bed, dresser, rug, floor, ceiling, window, roof (thanks to Santa), fireplace, tv, stove, fa-widge-a-wade-ah, sink, tub, doors. He's on spot with his colors and shapes, but loves to tell you everything is blue. South Philly is dripping with hearts this time of year, and we have to hear about every single one of them.
Verbs are big right now. Jump, fly, walk, run, ride, kick, throw, catch, cross, look, bite, taste, take, see, touch, and my favorite- love.
Jake speaks in three or four word sentences, most starting with "I" or "more" and ending in "okay" And answered by him with another "okay". I have it, okay? Okay! I taste it, okay? Okay! I love (nub) it! It's soooo good! I want it, okay. Okay! I share it, okay? Okay! I trade it, okay? Okay! I go-a beach, okay? Okay! More Teletubbies, okay? Okay! More Thomas, okay? Okay! More cookies, okay? Okay!
Jake loves to tell you how he is feeling. "I feel hot/cold/hungry/tired/hurt/happy/sad" and he is pretty spot on with the way he is feeling. It's effing adorable. He still convinces himself "no cry" when he's upset.
Every morning Jake walks to his baby-locked door and knocks. "Knock knock! Come in! Mommy! I'm ready! I have a milkshake? Okay! Good morning! I'm happy! I'm awake! Hello Mommy! Hello Daddy! My light's on! I turn it on!" I'll try to get that on tape. Despite the amazing level of cuteness, I am still really angry in the mornings. Jake is so happy to see me that I feel terribly awful about being mad. I pretend to be as ecstatic as he is, and I think I have him fooled, but on the inside I'm still sleeping.
Jake loves his trucks, motorcycles, and his helicopter and I love the vroom, bzzzzt, and choppa choppa choppa noises he assigns to each.
He likes to stack his alphabet blocks so high that he can blow them over, and he loves to show off by "reading" the books he has memorized to you. He does best at Goodnight Moon and Dr. Seuss' ABC and Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?.
He is always up for a good game of catch or kick or roll.
He knows all of his letters, but sometimes gets confused with E and F. Lots of times he says "Eef" for both of them and looks at you like you're crazy if you didn't know that letter. He likes to turn W upside down and say "M" and turn a U on its side and say "C". 7's can be L's and 6's are immediately flipped to 9's.
Jake nubs to sing Jingle Bells (Jingy bews, Jingy bews, one horsey pen slay), Happy Birthday (Happa Bird day to new, Happa Bird day to new, Happa Bird day deaw _____), Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (tinkle star, tinkle up so high), and Tomorrow (you'll get this one day, I swear).
Jake eats and eats and eats everything. He especially likes pizza, oats, cereal, toast, crackers, soup, noodles, (what he thinks is) meat, cheese, fruits, vegetables, and yogurt. I give him a glass of milk in the morning with some Carnation Instant Breakfast in there and either a waffle or a piece of toast. Then he gets baby oats mixed with applesauce or diced fruit or yogurt for Breakfast Two. Lunch is whatever the day care is serving for the day, which is usually leftovers from the family meal the night before. Thank all that is good for in-home, family day cares. Snacks are doled out hourly (fruit, cheese, pretzels, and an occasional cookie). Dinner is touch and go, sometimes yes and sometimes no. If Jake doesn't eat well at supper I give him a shot of baby vitamins and the other half of the packet of Carnation in a glass of milk.
He goes to bed at eight and asks to go most nights "I tired, Mommy. Readabook innna big boy bed?". Occasionally I'll give him a bath, mostly when I'm up to the task or when the floor needs a good mopping anyway. He gets in there two or three times a week, I swear. He loves to flop around and scream "I'm swimmin! I'm swimmin!". He has a duck and a cup, but he'd rather be in there by himself. Try to put the toys in and he will humor you for a minute, and give it to you, saying "here you go, thank you". The boy is HUGE on manners. Please, thank you, you're welcome, excuse me, I'm sorry.
Jake wakes up sometime between six and seven. I try to keep all his toys in his room and put a cup of water and a few crackers on his nightstand on the weekends so we can sleep in a little.
All around he's a pretty neat kid. Of course I think he is the smartest, cutest, sweetest boy in the whole wide world ( so does Jake... "whoda bess boy inda hoe why worl? JACOB!") but you probably think that about your brat too.
Babycenter.com lists the following milestones for 22 month olds:
Kicks ball forward
Follows two-step requests (e.g., "Get your doll and bring it here")
Does simple puzzles
Draws a straight line
Names several body parts
Puts on loose-fitting clothes
Might be ready for a big bed
Understands opposites (e.g., tall vs. short)
which makes me even more scared that I've given birth to an over-developed monster. Other than the puzzles which Jake doesn't really have much time for, he has been doing all of those things for at least six months now. We've tried the puzzles, and Jake will only do them if there is a promise of a cookie. Once I saw that he was able, I dropped the task.
He knows how to point out and say all of his body parts (hair, head, eyes, nose, mouth, chin, ears, face, neck, shoulders, boobs, pits, arms, elbows, knees, hands, fingers, toes, feet, legs, penis, butt, nails, button, belly, back) and all of the different kinds of clothes he wears.
He's good at naming all the foods and vehicles and toys.
He knows everyone's name, grouped by household and including family pets.
He knows chair, couch, table, bed, dresser, rug, floor, ceiling, window, roof (thanks to Santa), fireplace, tv, stove, fa-widge-a-wade-ah, sink, tub, doors. He's on spot with his colors and shapes, but loves to tell you everything is blue. South Philly is dripping with hearts this time of year, and we have to hear about every single one of them.
Verbs are big right now. Jump, fly, walk, run, ride, kick, throw, catch, cross, look, bite, taste, take, see, touch, and my favorite- love.
Jake speaks in three or four word sentences, most starting with "I" or "more" and ending in "okay" And answered by him with another "okay". I have it, okay? Okay! I taste it, okay? Okay! I love (nub) it! It's soooo good! I want it, okay. Okay! I share it, okay? Okay! I trade it, okay? Okay! I go-a beach, okay? Okay! More Teletubbies, okay? Okay! More Thomas, okay? Okay! More cookies, okay? Okay!
Jake loves to tell you how he is feeling. "I feel hot/cold/hungry/tired/hurt/happy/sad" and he is pretty spot on with the way he is feeling. It's effing adorable. He still convinces himself "no cry" when he's upset.
Every morning Jake walks to his baby-locked door and knocks. "Knock knock! Come in! Mommy! I'm ready! I have a milkshake? Okay! Good morning! I'm happy! I'm awake! Hello Mommy! Hello Daddy! My light's on! I turn it on!" I'll try to get that on tape. Despite the amazing level of cuteness, I am still really angry in the mornings. Jake is so happy to see me that I feel terribly awful about being mad. I pretend to be as ecstatic as he is, and I think I have him fooled, but on the inside I'm still sleeping.
Jake loves his trucks, motorcycles, and his helicopter and I love the vroom, bzzzzt, and choppa choppa choppa noises he assigns to each.
He likes to stack his alphabet blocks so high that he can blow them over, and he loves to show off by "reading" the books he has memorized to you. He does best at Goodnight Moon and Dr. Seuss' ABC and Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?.
He is always up for a good game of catch or kick or roll.
He knows all of his letters, but sometimes gets confused with E and F. Lots of times he says "Eef" for both of them and looks at you like you're crazy if you didn't know that letter. He likes to turn W upside down and say "M" and turn a U on its side and say "C". 7's can be L's and 6's are immediately flipped to 9's.
Jake nubs to sing Jingle Bells (Jingy bews, Jingy bews, one horsey pen slay), Happy Birthday (Happa Bird day to new, Happa Bird day to new, Happa Bird day deaw _____), Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (tinkle star, tinkle up so high), and Tomorrow (you'll get this one day, I swear).
Jake eats and eats and eats everything. He especially likes pizza, oats, cereal, toast, crackers, soup, noodles, (what he thinks is) meat, cheese, fruits, vegetables, and yogurt. I give him a glass of milk in the morning with some Carnation Instant Breakfast in there and either a waffle or a piece of toast. Then he gets baby oats mixed with applesauce or diced fruit or yogurt for Breakfast Two. Lunch is whatever the day care is serving for the day, which is usually leftovers from the family meal the night before. Thank all that is good for in-home, family day cares. Snacks are doled out hourly (fruit, cheese, pretzels, and an occasional cookie). Dinner is touch and go, sometimes yes and sometimes no. If Jake doesn't eat well at supper I give him a shot of baby vitamins and the other half of the packet of Carnation in a glass of milk.
He goes to bed at eight and asks to go most nights "I tired, Mommy. Readabook innna big boy bed?". Occasionally I'll give him a bath, mostly when I'm up to the task or when the floor needs a good mopping anyway. He gets in there two or three times a week, I swear. He loves to flop around and scream "I'm swimmin! I'm swimmin!". He has a duck and a cup, but he'd rather be in there by himself. Try to put the toys in and he will humor you for a minute, and give it to you, saying "here you go, thank you". The boy is HUGE on manners. Please, thank you, you're welcome, excuse me, I'm sorry.
Jake wakes up sometime between six and seven. I try to keep all his toys in his room and put a cup of water and a few crackers on his nightstand on the weekends so we can sleep in a little.
All around he's a pretty neat kid. Of course I think he is the smartest, cutest, sweetest boy in the whole wide world ( so does Jake... "whoda bess boy inda hoe why worl? JACOB!") but you probably think that about your brat too.
fetish
I'm secretly turned on by rich older ladies smoking cigarettes. Not like 40 years-old older, but like geriatric older.
Oh stop puking. I know what turns you on, and it's far more shocking than grandma taking a drag.
And it's not like I want to touch them. I just like to think about what their life was like a half a lifetime ago. I like to think that they were glamorous and popular and liberated and went to all the best parties in Rittenhouse and had a hair appointment every Thursday afternoon and held it in place with AquaNet and Pucci or Hermes scarves. I like to think about the jewelry and the stockings and pointy bras hanging over claw-footed tubs at night. Red lipstick, record players, elbow-length gloves, martinis, party dresses, and embossed calling cards.
I try to imagine how they felt when a girl like that wed, whether it turned out to be how she imagined. If she lied about being a virgin if she wasn't, how it felt to be a new mom, trapped in the house all day with the brat, looking out the window at the younger, thinner, prettier girls who were still free to go as they pleased. If she resented going to the market and cooking and cleaning all day and if she missed the person who is trapped behind the public presentation of wife and mother. I wondered if she was secretly and guiltily happy when the children were finally grown, and what she did to re-enter herself into what was left of society. If she took speedy pills to help cope with life and get everything done like so many people did back in the days before Prozac and Xanax. If she snuck booze during the day and spit in the casserole when it came out of the oven out of spite. If she broke down and cried in frustration when the last kid was finally out the door in the morning, knowing that there was no one around to hear. Not that anyone would listen anyway.
I like to think that every time that woman inhales, she can close her eyes and remember how it felt to be young and sexy and happy before life happened to her.
And then she coughs up blood and yellow stuff and something strangely solid and her bifocals fall to the sidewalk and she slips and breaks a hip on the way to pick them up and pees herself and farts really loud and I remind myself why I never started smoking and I remember that part in Mommy Dearest where Greg Savitt says to Joan something about how when she was younger drinking made her look sexy but now it just makes her look like an old drunk and maybe I should skip happy hour for the next few years and drink a glass or eight of milk so I don't end up on the sidewalk in fifty years with osteoporosis-induced urine running down my leg.
Oh stop puking. I know what turns you on, and it's far more shocking than grandma taking a drag.
And it's not like I want to touch them. I just like to think about what their life was like a half a lifetime ago. I like to think that they were glamorous and popular and liberated and went to all the best parties in Rittenhouse and had a hair appointment every Thursday afternoon and held it in place with AquaNet and Pucci or Hermes scarves. I like to think about the jewelry and the stockings and pointy bras hanging over claw-footed tubs at night. Red lipstick, record players, elbow-length gloves, martinis, party dresses, and embossed calling cards.
I try to imagine how they felt when a girl like that wed, whether it turned out to be how she imagined. If she lied about being a virgin if she wasn't, how it felt to be a new mom, trapped in the house all day with the brat, looking out the window at the younger, thinner, prettier girls who were still free to go as they pleased. If she resented going to the market and cooking and cleaning all day and if she missed the person who is trapped behind the public presentation of wife and mother. I wondered if she was secretly and guiltily happy when the children were finally grown, and what she did to re-enter herself into what was left of society. If she took speedy pills to help cope with life and get everything done like so many people did back in the days before Prozac and Xanax. If she snuck booze during the day and spit in the casserole when it came out of the oven out of spite. If she broke down and cried in frustration when the last kid was finally out the door in the morning, knowing that there was no one around to hear. Not that anyone would listen anyway.
I like to think that every time that woman inhales, she can close her eyes and remember how it felt to be young and sexy and happy before life happened to her.
And then she coughs up blood and yellow stuff and something strangely solid and her bifocals fall to the sidewalk and she slips and breaks a hip on the way to pick them up and pees herself and farts really loud and I remind myself why I never started smoking and I remember that part in Mommy Dearest where Greg Savitt says to Joan something about how when she was younger drinking made her look sexy but now it just makes her look like an old drunk and maybe I should skip happy hour for the next few years and drink a glass or eight of milk so I don't end up on the sidewalk in fifty years with osteoporosis-induced urine running down my leg.
1.14.2008
baby loves sex, drugs, and disco
All the cool moms are taking their kids to Baby Loves Disco. It seems like a really awesome thing to do, and I'm sure I would have a lot of fun. I know Jake would. My mommy friends go. Jake's friends go.
So why don't Jake and I go?
Baby Loves Disco in Philadelphia is held at Shampoo.
Shampoo is a huge warehouse type nightclub that hosts all sorts of different events for different types of people who are into different things.
Loyal fans know that pre-Jake Lora used to tear up Philadelphia on a regular basis. I would eat this town, and swallow without chewing. Shampoo, however, managed to take a bite out of me.
I've been to Shampoo three times. Time one was because a friend knew the bartender and the bouncer so we got in for free and drank for practically free. That night I saw a waitress on her knees behind the bar and in front of the bartender. I guess she was, er, siphoning his, um, tap line. By mouth. Maybe? If you've worked behind a bar you know what a bitch it is when your tap line clogs in the middle of your shift, so it was a good thing she was there. I also saw what I think must have been a man giving another man a horsey ride in the bathroom. I couldn't really tell, because another man was taking pictures and the flash was blinding. The establishment should really consider investing in doors for the restrooms.
Time two was a going away party for a friend who was moving to California. We all thought it would be a great idea to jump in the foam room, because who doesn't want to be in their bare feet and up to their nipples in detergent? At a bar? Sounded like a good idea at the time but I quickly learned that there are few things worse than your bare foot sliding into someone's bare butt. Turns out you can breathe under that stuff if you clear out a little air pocket. And as long as you can breathe, you can give underfoam horsey rides. Two of my friends told me all about it over late night eggs. There was a whole rodeo down there.
The third night was totally unplanned. It started pouring while we were walking past and there was no cover that night. There were an awful lot of people who apparently couldn't resist the smell of the sinks, and the backs of the toilets, and the bar, and the tops of the speakers, and their keys. Half the people there looked like they got in a Pixie Stick fight. A girl at the stool next to me dropped a bottle of pills, and they rolled all over the floor. Then she cried because she couldn't find all of them and she needed to sell "each and every one of them to make her rent this month". I cut my foot later that night on a piece of broken bottle.
Three strikes and I'm out. Granted, this all happened a couple years ago and it may be different now (ha!), but I can't bring myself to take my baby to a bar like that when I know that there could be a stray pill in a corner or a piece of glass under a chair from the night before. I'm assuming they clean up every night, but I know how much effort goes into cleaning a bar after closing. It's 3am and all anyone wants to do is go home or get themselves to afterhours. Toss some bleach on the floor, pick up the big chunks, and get out. Let the daybar deal with the leftover grime.
So, yeah. I think I'll be skipping BLD again this month.
So why don't Jake and I go?
Baby Loves Disco in Philadelphia is held at Shampoo.
Shampoo is a huge warehouse type nightclub that hosts all sorts of different events for different types of people who are into different things.
Loyal fans know that pre-Jake Lora used to tear up Philadelphia on a regular basis. I would eat this town, and swallow without chewing. Shampoo, however, managed to take a bite out of me.
I've been to Shampoo three times. Time one was because a friend knew the bartender and the bouncer so we got in for free and drank for practically free. That night I saw a waitress on her knees behind the bar and in front of the bartender. I guess she was, er, siphoning his, um, tap line. By mouth. Maybe? If you've worked behind a bar you know what a bitch it is when your tap line clogs in the middle of your shift, so it was a good thing she was there. I also saw what I think must have been a man giving another man a horsey ride in the bathroom. I couldn't really tell, because another man was taking pictures and the flash was blinding. The establishment should really consider investing in doors for the restrooms.
Time two was a going away party for a friend who was moving to California. We all thought it would be a great idea to jump in the foam room, because who doesn't want to be in their bare feet and up to their nipples in detergent? At a bar? Sounded like a good idea at the time but I quickly learned that there are few things worse than your bare foot sliding into someone's bare butt. Turns out you can breathe under that stuff if you clear out a little air pocket. And as long as you can breathe, you can give underfoam horsey rides. Two of my friends told me all about it over late night eggs. There was a whole rodeo down there.
The third night was totally unplanned. It started pouring while we were walking past and there was no cover that night. There were an awful lot of people who apparently couldn't resist the smell of the sinks, and the backs of the toilets, and the bar, and the tops of the speakers, and their keys. Half the people there looked like they got in a Pixie Stick fight. A girl at the stool next to me dropped a bottle of pills, and they rolled all over the floor. Then she cried because she couldn't find all of them and she needed to sell "each and every one of them to make her rent this month". I cut my foot later that night on a piece of broken bottle.
Three strikes and I'm out. Granted, this all happened a couple years ago and it may be different now (ha!), but I can't bring myself to take my baby to a bar like that when I know that there could be a stray pill in a corner or a piece of glass under a chair from the night before. I'm assuming they clean up every night, but I know how much effort goes into cleaning a bar after closing. It's 3am and all anyone wants to do is go home or get themselves to afterhours. Toss some bleach on the floor, pick up the big chunks, and get out. Let the daybar deal with the leftover grime.
So, yeah. I think I'll be skipping BLD again this month.
1.12.2008
run, rabbit. run!
Saturday night.
8.30 PM.
Sick boy.
Sick husband.
Chinese food on the way (Terryin on 4th and Snyder. Excellent, especially for Veggies) and I'm holding down the fort.
I decided that tonight is the night that I'm finally going to watch The Wizard of Oz and listen to the Dark Side of the Moon, via You Tube because my Dark Side of the Moon tape is warped and I don't have a VHS copy of WoO. I hear it doesn't work with the DVD. Not that I would own a DVD player. Remember, I'm essentially Amish.
I get it, by the way, this whole synchronicity thing. I'm enjoying the show.
I think I would have gotten it much better back in the mid-90's when everyone was doing it, what with all the herbal aids and accoutrement that the mid-90's provided me, but it's good.
Is this what grown ups do? Sit around and think of things that they wish they would have done back when those things were popular but they were too busy with what they were doing to do the cool stuff?
8.30 PM.
Sick boy.
Sick husband.
Chinese food on the way (Terryin on 4th and Snyder. Excellent, especially for Veggies) and I'm holding down the fort.
I decided that tonight is the night that I'm finally going to watch The Wizard of Oz and listen to the Dark Side of the Moon, via You Tube because my Dark Side of the Moon tape is warped and I don't have a VHS copy of WoO. I hear it doesn't work with the DVD. Not that I would own a DVD player. Remember, I'm essentially Amish.
I get it, by the way, this whole synchronicity thing. I'm enjoying the show.
I think I would have gotten it much better back in the mid-90's when everyone was doing it, what with all the herbal aids and accoutrement that the mid-90's provided me, but it's good.
Is this what grown ups do? Sit around and think of things that they wish they would have done back when those things were popular but they were too busy with what they were doing to do the cool stuff?
1.11.2008
tagged
Beth wants to know all about Dave and I.
~How long have you been together? 13 years and 2 months minus 1 day
~How long did you date? 4 years 7 months to the day
~How old is he? 31
~Who eats more? I really want to say Dave, but I think I have him beat.
~Who said I love you first? Definitely Dave. Jake is the only person in my whole entire life that I ever said I love you to first.
~Who is taller? Me. By at least a half inch.
~Who sings better? Dave thinks he does since he went to music school but I rock the folk mic. And I'm really good at children's music. My rendition of Puff the Magic Dragon will bring you to tears, but you'll probably never hear it because I have massive stage fright. That's why I hide here, behind my words.
~Who is smarter? We are intellectual equals. I'm good at some stuff and he is good at arguing and debating, which is why I'm saying that we are intellectual equals. Because I don't want to hear it later. And hear it. And hear it. And hear it.
~Who does the laundry? I don't let anyone else touch my stuff
~Who does the dishes? mostly me
~Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? when and if I'm willing to share, I get the right. If Dave lets me on the couch after dark I get the right side there too
.
~Who pays the bills? Dave makes more money, but I write the checks. I can clean him out at any time.
~Who mows the lawn? I've never mowed a lawn in my life. Dave did my mom's yard once. Sometimes I'll pull the weeds that grow up through the cracks in the concrete slab that is our yard.
~Who cooks dinner? the pizza guy on the corner
~Who drives when you are together? Dave
~Who is more stubborn? I'm not stubborn at all. I'm irrational.
~Who kissed who first? I kissed Dave first. I don't make emotional advances, only physical ones.
~Who asked who out? we were next door neighbors in the college dorms. There wasn't too much "out" about it. We just started doing homework and watching television in each other's rooms and going to the cafeteria together once in awhile. I don't think he saw me in non-sweat pants pants for the first two years of our relationship.
~Who proposed? Dave did, but we discussed it first. Life-altering surprises are ridiculous.
~Who is more sensitive? Pre-Jake it was Dave. Post-Jake it is me.
~Who has more friends? Me.
~Who wears the pants in the family? We both think we are in charge. It's the only way it works.
Your turn...
~How long have you been together? 13 years and 2 months minus 1 day
~How long did you date? 4 years 7 months to the day
~How old is he? 31
~Who eats more? I really want to say Dave, but I think I have him beat.
~Who said I love you first? Definitely Dave. Jake is the only person in my whole entire life that I ever said I love you to first.
~Who is taller? Me. By at least a half inch.
~Who sings better? Dave thinks he does since he went to music school but I rock the folk mic. And I'm really good at children's music. My rendition of Puff the Magic Dragon will bring you to tears, but you'll probably never hear it because I have massive stage fright. That's why I hide here, behind my words.
~Who is smarter? We are intellectual equals. I'm good at some stuff and he is good at arguing and debating, which is why I'm saying that we are intellectual equals. Because I don't want to hear it later. And hear it. And hear it. And hear it.
~Who does the laundry? I don't let anyone else touch my stuff
~Who does the dishes? mostly me
~Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? when and if I'm willing to share, I get the right. If Dave lets me on the couch after dark I get the right side there too
.
~Who pays the bills? Dave makes more money, but I write the checks. I can clean him out at any time.
~Who mows the lawn? I've never mowed a lawn in my life. Dave did my mom's yard once. Sometimes I'll pull the weeds that grow up through the cracks in the concrete slab that is our yard.
~Who cooks dinner? the pizza guy on the corner
~Who drives when you are together? Dave
~Who is more stubborn? I'm not stubborn at all. I'm irrational.
~Who kissed who first? I kissed Dave first. I don't make emotional advances, only physical ones.
~Who asked who out? we were next door neighbors in the college dorms. There wasn't too much "out" about it. We just started doing homework and watching television in each other's rooms and going to the cafeteria together once in awhile. I don't think he saw me in non-sweat pants pants for the first two years of our relationship.
~Who proposed? Dave did, but we discussed it first. Life-altering surprises are ridiculous.
~Who is more sensitive? Pre-Jake it was Dave. Post-Jake it is me.
~Who has more friends? Me.
~Who wears the pants in the family? We both think we are in charge. It's the only way it works.
Your turn...
sick
After having bragged to one nurse and three therapists yesterday that Jake has only been sick one day in his whole life (save for surgery recovery), I got a call from the daycare lady that Jake was sick. It was the first time in the history of Jake that I have gotten The Call. I panicked when I saw the number on my Caller ID. My guts wretched and I broke out in a sweat before taking a deep breath and using my grown-up phone voice to answer. Luckily it was just to ask if it was okay to give him babyTylenol. Sure, I said. Good thing he was at daycare and it was only babyTylenol. Jake's lady knows what to do with a sick baby and I've never had one so I have no idea. If he were at home I'd'a given him a shot of whiskey and a glass of Nyquil because that's what works for me when I'm sick.
Kidding. I would have put the Nyquil in a sippy cup. Jake isn't old enough to drink out of a glass. It could break.
I don't have three therapists. Being surrounded by wellness professionals is a perk of my job.
Even sickJake is a pleasure, but the poor kid had snot running down his face and he sounds really funny when he talks. "Momby, I no wan subber. I no hombry."
Luckily I have some contraband infant cough and cold medicine left over from last year, before infant cough and cold medicine killed off 90% of American coughing and colding infants and the drug companies had to pull it off the shelf.
Don't tell anyone, but I secretly like the medicated, toned-down version of Jake. He cuddles more and shrieks less. He kisses me lots and doesn't use his teeth to do it. It should be a nice, quiet weekend.
Knock on blog.
Kidding. I would have put the Nyquil in a sippy cup. Jake isn't old enough to drink out of a glass. It could break.
I don't have three therapists. Being surrounded by wellness professionals is a perk of my job.
Even sickJake is a pleasure, but the poor kid had snot running down his face and he sounds really funny when he talks. "Momby, I no wan subber. I no hombry."
Luckily I have some contraband infant cough and cold medicine left over from last year, before infant cough and cold medicine killed off 90% of American coughing and colding infants and the drug companies had to pull it off the shelf.
Don't tell anyone, but I secretly like the medicated, toned-down version of Jake. He cuddles more and shrieks less. He kisses me lots and doesn't use his teeth to do it. It should be a nice, quiet weekend.
Knock on blog.
1.08.2008
readabook?
No matter how many choices I give him each night, Jake always wants Goodnight Moon for his bedtime story. This morning in the car, I showed Dave how good Jake and I have gotten at telling the story. We don't even need the book anymore:
Me: In the great green...
Jake: WOMB! (eww, right?)
Me: There was a...
Jake: TELEPHOME!
Me: And a red...
Jake: BALLOON!
Me: And a picture of...
Jake: JUMPING COWMOON!
Me: There were three little...
Jake: BEERS! (wrong story)
Me: Sitting on...
Jake: CHAIRS!
Me: And two little...
Jake: MEOW!
Me: And a young...
Jake: MOUSE!
Me: And a comb and a...
Jake: BRUSH!
Me: And a bowl full of...
Jake: OATS! (I can't bring myself to correct him, rhyme be damned)
Me: And a quiet old lady who was whispering...
Jake: HUSSSSHHHH! No spitting, mommy!
And we go on from there, while I wipe the spit off that page because Jake can't figure out how to swallow before he shushes.
Me: In the great green...
Jake: WOMB! (eww, right?)
Me: There was a...
Jake: TELEPHOME!
Me: And a red...
Jake: BALLOON!
Me: And a picture of...
Jake: JUMPING COWMOON!
Me: There were three little...
Jake: BEERS! (wrong story)
Me: Sitting on...
Jake: CHAIRS!
Me: And two little...
Jake: MEOW!
Me: And a young...
Jake: MOUSE!
Me: And a comb and a...
Jake: BRUSH!
Me: And a bowl full of...
Jake: OATS! (I can't bring myself to correct him, rhyme be damned)
Me: And a quiet old lady who was whispering...
Jake: HUSSSSHHHH! No spitting, mommy!
And we go on from there, while I wipe the spit off that page because Jake can't figure out how to swallow before he shushes.
1.06.2008
you know i've done all i can
Thanks to the miracle of putting toys in Jake's room, I slept in until eight this morning. By 8.15, I had already put away dishes, done more dishes, folded a load of laundry, put laundry in the dryer, put laundry in the wash, made a cup of tea, made Jake's "milkshake", swallowed my morning handful of vitamin, allergy, and arthritis cocktail, changed a diaper, cleaned the litterbox, and checked last night's game scores.
When I made it back into the living room at 8.16 with my tea, Dave and Jake were sitting on their chairs watching ESPN and singing Easy Like Sunday Morning. As if. There is nothing easy about any morning. Especially Sunday when you realize that you haven't gotten anything done all weekend and you have to be at work this time tomorrow.
Maybe this is why people go to church- to put off doing anything constructive around the house for a few more hours. I remember going to brunch back in the olden days for the same reason. They allow mass quantities of mind-numbing alcohol at brunch. At church they only allow Mass quantities, and its barely enough to numb your tongue.
It's 8.57 now, and a good chunk of housework is done and Dave and Jake are out in the world somewhere driving around and I'm home alone listening to the dryer and Lionel Ritchie.
This part isn't so hard.
When I made it back into the living room at 8.16 with my tea, Dave and Jake were sitting on their chairs watching ESPN and singing Easy Like Sunday Morning. As if. There is nothing easy about any morning. Especially Sunday when you realize that you haven't gotten anything done all weekend and you have to be at work this time tomorrow.
Maybe this is why people go to church- to put off doing anything constructive around the house for a few more hours. I remember going to brunch back in the olden days for the same reason. They allow mass quantities of mind-numbing alcohol at brunch. At church they only allow Mass quantities, and its barely enough to numb your tongue.
It's 8.57 now, and a good chunk of housework is done and Dave and Jake are out in the world somewhere driving around and I'm home alone listening to the dryer and Lionel Ritchie.
This part isn't so hard.
1.04.2008
proverbs for the joneses
My uber-Jones mother always likes to say "pretty in the cradle" when she sees someone who is less than desirable in the aesthetics department. That's Jones-talk shorthand for "pretty in the cradle, ugly at the table". On the other hand, you can be ugly in the cradle and grow up to be a gorgeous human being, as most of us Jones-spawn tend to be, if I do say so myself.
Of course in her Jones-mind, Jacob being the most beautiful baby in the whole world means that he will be beautiful forever. He's the only exception to the cardinal Jones-rule.
In the few short hours after Brian found out he is having a girl, he probably panicked when he thought of how horribly hideous I was as a girl-child. There aren't too many pictures in existence, but I'll see what I can dig up. Just know- it was bad. While pregnant, I had to prepare myself for loving an ugly child. I did so by looking at my baby pictures and reminded myself that despite my terrible appearance, I turned out to be pretty at the table.
Even after 36 hours of sun and boozing and little to no sleep with my fatgirls in Vegas...
and being jetlagged and emotionally wrenched in El Diego with the same long-lost fatgirls. We are eternally staying classy...
and on my own turf, days away from having my face re-constructed...
And then there is this wedding, where I think I looked nice, but no one (Dave) really cared about me from the clavicle up. I wear that dress a lot. Don't tell anyone, but I got it for $30 at Mandees.
No, honestly though. Who other than me gets ready for a baby by looking at how pretty they turned out to be? Goodlord. I'm terrible. Straight to hell, without the complimentary $200 is where I'm headed.
But seriously, I should be sitting at more tables. I'm a really good centerpiece.
Of course in her Jones-mind, Jacob being the most beautiful baby in the whole world means that he will be beautiful forever. He's the only exception to the cardinal Jones-rule.
In the few short hours after Brian found out he is having a girl, he probably panicked when he thought of how horribly hideous I was as a girl-child. There aren't too many pictures in existence, but I'll see what I can dig up. Just know- it was bad. While pregnant, I had to prepare myself for loving an ugly child. I did so by looking at my baby pictures and reminded myself that despite my terrible appearance, I turned out to be pretty at the table.
Even after 36 hours of sun and boozing and little to no sleep with my fatgirls in Vegas...
and being jetlagged and emotionally wrenched in El Diego with the same long-lost fatgirls. We are eternally staying classy...
and on my own turf, days away from having my face re-constructed...
And then there is this wedding, where I think I looked nice, but no one (Dave) really cared about me from the clavicle up. I wear that dress a lot. Don't tell anyone, but I got it for $30 at Mandees.
No, honestly though. Who other than me gets ready for a baby by looking at how pretty they turned out to be? Goodlord. I'm terrible. Straight to hell, without the complimentary $200 is where I'm headed.
But seriously, I should be sitting at more tables. I'm a really good centerpiece.
1.01.2008
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