Sunday Special
Every Sunday night, while Husband is out patrolling the park (the other night they caught some people doin' it in the parking lot -- totally naked!), I drink lots of wine and post ridiculous things here on the WWW. I also sit and read lots of other blogs obsessively. And one such blog is that of my friend, The Queen, who posted this really cool picture of a baby mandrill and mother. The baby is nursing, and the mom's nipple is elongated like a gummy worm that you stretch to oblivion and I really wanted to post it but am too technologically illiterate to figure out how, so if you want to see it then you have to click here.
And speaking of nursing, our friends Mohammed & Judy just had a baby and we went to see it last night and take them some food and I SO do not miss that newborn time. It is so hard. Harder than you can imagine. Just imagine hard and then multiply that times 3,000,000,000,000 and then imagine that what you've imagined is only about one quarter of how hard it really is. And maybe this is more news than you want to know, but I just got over a "I might be pregnant" scare. Remember how I had all that angst back in August? Angst which I thought was a pitta imbalance but really turned out to just be PMS for the first time in nearly two years? Well then the September period never came. And then I threw up breakfast two days in a row. So this morning I took a test and it was negativo thank The Good Lord in Heaven. We are not ready financially or emotionally for another baby. My vag will never be ready for another baby, but that is probably TMI. Phew. Conclusion: The Goose has started nursing more due to his separation anxiety issues and my period went away again.
Anyway, while we were at Mo & Judy's dropping off a delicious dinner (of angel hair tossed with a basil-tomato sauce and hand-torn green leaf and spinach salad with home-made caesar dressing and bread and wine), I managed to break one of Mohammed's family heirlooms. It was a hand-carved camel (Mohammed is from Egypt). Mo had given it to The Goose to suck on since he was in DIRE NEED of a toy and I said, "No, just give him some tupperware or something instead because he might break it." Mo said it was no big deal for him to play with it, but then I sat on it in the middle of the baby screaming and The Goose climbing on top of their stereo system. And yet again I am left pondering the philosophical question of the century: WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
ION ...
I have been reading this parenting book that my mother brought last weekend (note to reader: beware of parenting books given to you by your mother). It is nearly 700 pages long and is one of those Q/A-type books where the author answers the questions of some poor mom who supposedly wrote in to ask a question whose answer can benefit everyone. Don't they know that we know that they make those questions up? Anyway, I'm now on a non-spoiling mission and am further convinced that TVs are the scourge of our nation.
We don't watch TV (we just use ours as a movie machine), so that's not a problem. But the spoiling issue is scary. The book said to write down everything that you would want (material stuff). It said to write down EVERYTHING (even the stuff you're embarrassed about like authentic Miss America Pageant dresses from the 1980s and obscene amounts of eye make-up). Then it said to cross out everything EXCEPT what you think you could actually attain in five years. For most of us, this reduces the list significantly ... like to just a couple of items. Then it said to list all of your kid's wants/desires and to cross out all of the ones that they would not be able to attain (either from you or from their grandparents and other friends/family members) within the next five years. And that's the clencher. When you satisfy ALL of your kid's desires (which is tempting as a parent, let me tell you ... hello? I gave mine a friggin' razor to play with), then they do not learn how to work for things, how to start small, how to save, how to sacrifice, etc. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Why am I paraphrasing all of this here? Anyway, with you, reader, as my witness, I WILL DO BETTER.
ION ...
The .22 I mentioned in my previous post is not really loaded. It's upstairs behind the bed, but it's unloaded. I woke up at 3 a.m. thinking "WTF? WE HAVE A LOADED GUN AND A BABY IN THE SAME HOUSE???!!!" and I woke up Husband and demanded to know why he was so stupid as to keep a loaded gun in the house with a 12-month-old and he just rolled over and sweetly replied, "It's not loaded, Kim. Please go to sleep." I'm not sure how I've managed to stay married for four years.
Oh, and one more tidbit ...
The Goose is practically walking. Which means that he CAN walk but just WON'T indulge us all the time. You know what this means right? It's like that old adage: You spend the first year trying to get them to talk and walk and the next 18 telling them to shut up and sit down.
And speaking of nursing, our friends Mohammed & Judy just had a baby and we went to see it last night and take them some food and I SO do not miss that newborn time. It is so hard. Harder than you can imagine. Just imagine hard and then multiply that times 3,000,000,000,000 and then imagine that what you've imagined is only about one quarter of how hard it really is. And maybe this is more news than you want to know, but I just got over a "I might be pregnant" scare. Remember how I had all that angst back in August? Angst which I thought was a pitta imbalance but really turned out to just be PMS for the first time in nearly two years? Well then the September period never came. And then I threw up breakfast two days in a row. So this morning I took a test and it was negativo thank The Good Lord in Heaven. We are not ready financially or emotionally for another baby. My vag will never be ready for another baby, but that is probably TMI. Phew. Conclusion: The Goose has started nursing more due to his separation anxiety issues and my period went away again.
Anyway, while we were at Mo & Judy's dropping off a delicious dinner (of angel hair tossed with a basil-tomato sauce and hand-torn green leaf and spinach salad with home-made caesar dressing and bread and wine), I managed to break one of Mohammed's family heirlooms. It was a hand-carved camel (Mohammed is from Egypt). Mo had given it to The Goose to suck on since he was in DIRE NEED of a toy and I said, "No, just give him some tupperware or something instead because he might break it." Mo said it was no big deal for him to play with it, but then I sat on it in the middle of the baby screaming and The Goose climbing on top of their stereo system. And yet again I am left pondering the philosophical question of the century: WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
ION ...
I have been reading this parenting book that my mother brought last weekend (note to reader: beware of parenting books given to you by your mother). It is nearly 700 pages long and is one of those Q/A-type books where the author answers the questions of some poor mom who supposedly wrote in to ask a question whose answer can benefit everyone. Don't they know that we know that they make those questions up? Anyway, I'm now on a non-spoiling mission and am further convinced that TVs are the scourge of our nation.
We don't watch TV (we just use ours as a movie machine), so that's not a problem. But the spoiling issue is scary. The book said to write down everything that you would want (material stuff). It said to write down EVERYTHING (even the stuff you're embarrassed about like authentic Miss America Pageant dresses from the 1980s and obscene amounts of eye make-up). Then it said to cross out everything EXCEPT what you think you could actually attain in five years. For most of us, this reduces the list significantly ... like to just a couple of items. Then it said to list all of your kid's wants/desires and to cross out all of the ones that they would not be able to attain (either from you or from their grandparents and other friends/family members) within the next five years. And that's the clencher. When you satisfy ALL of your kid's desires (which is tempting as a parent, let me tell you ... hello? I gave mine a friggin' razor to play with), then they do not learn how to work for things, how to start small, how to save, how to sacrifice, etc. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Why am I paraphrasing all of this here? Anyway, with you, reader, as my witness, I WILL DO BETTER.
ION ...
The .22 I mentioned in my previous post is not really loaded. It's upstairs behind the bed, but it's unloaded. I woke up at 3 a.m. thinking "WTF? WE HAVE A LOADED GUN AND A BABY IN THE SAME HOUSE???!!!" and I woke up Husband and demanded to know why he was so stupid as to keep a loaded gun in the house with a 12-month-old and he just rolled over and sweetly replied, "It's not loaded, Kim. Please go to sleep." I'm not sure how I've managed to stay married for four years.
Oh, and one more tidbit ...
The Goose is practically walking. Which means that he CAN walk but just WON'T indulge us all the time. You know what this means right? It's like that old adage: You spend the first year trying to get them to talk and walk and the next 18 telling them to shut up and sit down.
posted by Kimpossible @ 10/02/2005 07:35:00 PM
3 Comments:
At 11:04 PM,
mamabird said…
If you posted every five minutes, I would read every entry and virtually (pun intended) abandon my husband and son. It's that fun to read.
The last line about shut up made me think of something funny that happened this weekend. Daddybird was telling our friends a story about some misbehaving kid he saw, and he got worked up and ended the story by saying "I'd tell Aidan to shut up and sit down if he ever said that to me!" Which he totally wouldn't. But anyway, before I knew it I said, "Yeah, you'd be telling MY CHILD to shut up VIA TELEPHONE FROM YOUR MOTHER'S BASEMENT!"
By the way, have you ever looked into Mrs. America? Have we ever talked about that? Because, the more I think about it, I'm feeling like it might be your destiny.
At 11:06 PM,
mamabird said…
PS: Yay for walking! That is so exciting. It changes everything...in a good way, I think.
At 9:48 AM,
KayJayPea said…
Thanks for the "shout-out" with my baby nipple-stretching mandrill!!! Speaking of which, have you ever been to the zoo and seen mother orangs or chimps? Their nipples are, like, SEVERAL inches long. Seriously, it makes mine hurt just to look at them hanging there limply, stretched to oblivion, and I've never nursed a baby.
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