One thing that is fascinating about having a toddler is watching her build and navigate things, as I have mentioned before. We love seeing Mabel's brain making decisions about how things should look and how to construct things just so. Also, we've been trying to figure out whether she is a leftie or rightie. While Mabel used to do everything with her right hand, lately she has been spooning her food with her left. J is a leftie, and I should have paid better attention in bio class when we did those Punnit or Punnet or Punit or whatever it is squares to figure out the dominance or recessiveness of a gene. I am pretty sure right- handedness is dominant, but I forget how to figure out the likelihood that Mabel is a rightie. It doesn't matter anyway-- it's fun to guess.
As we watch Mabel engineer various projects with her toys, I wonder if she will eventually inherit my mechanical skill-- which is really no skill at all. I get nervous about even the smallest put- this- together- task. It's pathetic, really.
Some say you just need patience to put things together, but I don't think that's all. I'm patient when I research, and when I read, or have to find some product online. Even when I am following driving directions or trying to find my way without them, I am patient. In fact, I am pretty good at negotiating my way around places I don't know. I have found various short- cuts in almost every neighborhood where I have lived because I enjoy doing so. The open road seems so different from the rug at home where I have 27 pieces of a bookcase staring at me glumly. Yup, being mechanical is a totally different story. I lack patience there, but I also lack ability. I truly think it's a DISability.
We have two car seats-- one for each car-- and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to set either one up or remove it. I take one look at that LATCH system in the car, and one look at the belts and tethers and the what- have - yous and I just give up. I don't even try. But I should learn. I am afraid of car seats and I am a mother. It's no good.
And that's just the issue-- the looking at the item initially. Upon first glance, J seems to already find assembling things intriguing and fun while I just get angry. He doesn't mind manuals (while I can't even follow the pictures, let alone the verbal descriptions of "attach piece one to insert 2 while holding cylinder 3 into disc 4.") But even better, he likes to put things together without the manuals-- and he checks after to make sure it's right. And it is. It seems so obvious when he expresses, "Well, this piece has to go there" but I would never make that same observation on my own.
As Mabel gets older, there are more and more things have require assembly. And even non- baby things need it too-- I bought a floor lamp today that has these shelves. It came in about 48 pieces; I opened the box, cringed, and put it to the side. Naturally, J will figure it out tonight in a jiffy.
And let me point out that I don't for a second believe this issue has anything at all to do with gender. My mom is a whiz with assembly-- and she loves it, to boot. She put together more than a few Ikea gems for me when I was living on my own-- no easy task if you've seen an Ikea manual. She has her own tools and a drill and gets right up there to install brackets and curtain rods and what not-- I have to invite her over and bribe her with lunch when I need that stuff done and I don't want to bug J yet again.
So, will Mabel be like her dad and Nana, or like her sad- sack Mom who is mechanically disinclined? So far she seems into the whole mechanical process, but give her one day down the road where a Barbie leg falls off and she has to fit it back into the pelvis. I hope she does better than I.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
SAHM
I have to come right out and admit I have been struggling a little with the whole stay- at- home mom thing this summer. Not struggling with being here-- I am enjoying the time away from work that I get to spend with Mabel, seeing her dance to any song that comes on the TV (her newest move is a squat up- and- down, but she also loves the sway, the twirl- in- circles [making her quite dizzy and looking like a drunk], and the happy feet jog) and watching her explore and figure out new things. Yesterday I watched her make a tower out of stacking cubes for a solid fifteen minutes. She easily made a tower, but the perfectionist in her made her go back and rearrange the cubes over and over until they were in the correct order of size. I really do love having this time.
But maybe I love it because I know it isn't permanent-- I savor it more as a result. I find the navigation of being a SAHM, as they call it, somewhat difficult because the parameters aren't clear. People who are permanent SAHMs will laugh at this post, but for a newbie, it's hard.
I'm not sure how much time I am supposed to spend cleaning or playing with Mabel or making dinner or resting/ hanging. I feel guilty when I rest/ hang, but then sometimes I feel like I am SUPPOSED to do that a little when she naps so that I can rejuvenate. I feel like I am SUPPOSED to cook dinner and have it ready for J (he has never demanded such a thing, but I impose it on myself), but then I feel guilty when I get annoyed at Mabel for hanging on me when I am cooking. Am I supposed to be JUST tending to her, or to house stuff too? Am I supposed to pretend she is my day job, like teaching normally is, and still do the cleaning and other house chores in the evenings or at times I would normally do them? It's all very weird in terms of the shoulds.
I hate shoulds because they are always relative and according to some person's standards. I know I have a Type- A personality, but that doesn't mean I want to clean and organize and be stressed and anxious every second of the day. That's Monica on Friends, and she was a caricature more or less. Nobody is THAT Type- A. It's funny because I am very Type- A about some things around this house (J laughs at me because anything of Mabel's that is a set [ blocks/ her board book collection/ stacking cubes] I must put away perfectly before I go to bed. I must have some crazy latent fear that one piece will go missing and the world will turn to anarchy!) But today I vacuumed my car and realized I am most definitely not Type- A with that. I am horrified to say I don't know when the last time was I did that. But the vacuuming around here gets done daily. Mabel throws so much food that I pull that Dyson sucker out daily. Some things just take greater priority over others.
And so as a SAHM, I am having trouble prioritizing. It's a First- World problem, and I am absolutely not asking for sympathy. I'm merely making an observation. I don't know how to be a SAHM. And part of me feels really, really bad about that. Because it makes me feel I am lacking some gene. I am inept to be a SAHM.
I've made it work for a month, and I'm not effing anything up majorly or anything. I just feel like I could always be doing more in some department-- either for Mabel or the house or school (yes, teachers do work in the summer when we are "off"-- AKA on unpaid leave). I know I tend to be hard on myself-- I've been told that in many situations and facets of my life. But this one has got me. I knew I didn't really WANT to be a SAHM.... but I didn't think I would feel so eluded by it.
If you're home everyday with your kids for the foreseeable future, I'm sure you get involved in all sorts of activities. Playgroups and playgrounds becomes part of the weekly schedule, and I know I could handle that. I didn't sign Mabel up for anything this year because she's not even 18- months- old, and I, selfishly, wanted to maximize time with her. I looked at a mom- and- tot swim class at the pool up the road, but the class for her age group was on Saturdays, which J and I decided to keep clear for jaunts to the beach etc. I am going to bring her to Story Hour on some rainy Tuesday morning, but other than that we are just hanging out. She is my companion for all errands and my date for all outings. It's been wonderful, but I hope I am doing what I should be.... according to that big book of shoulds that must exist somewhere.
But maybe I love it because I know it isn't permanent-- I savor it more as a result. I find the navigation of being a SAHM, as they call it, somewhat difficult because the parameters aren't clear. People who are permanent SAHMs will laugh at this post, but for a newbie, it's hard.
I'm not sure how much time I am supposed to spend cleaning or playing with Mabel or making dinner or resting/ hanging. I feel guilty when I rest/ hang, but then sometimes I feel like I am SUPPOSED to do that a little when she naps so that I can rejuvenate. I feel like I am SUPPOSED to cook dinner and have it ready for J (he has never demanded such a thing, but I impose it on myself), but then I feel guilty when I get annoyed at Mabel for hanging on me when I am cooking. Am I supposed to be JUST tending to her, or to house stuff too? Am I supposed to pretend she is my day job, like teaching normally is, and still do the cleaning and other house chores in the evenings or at times I would normally do them? It's all very weird in terms of the shoulds.
I hate shoulds because they are always relative and according to some person's standards. I know I have a Type- A personality, but that doesn't mean I want to clean and organize and be stressed and anxious every second of the day. That's Monica on Friends, and she was a caricature more or less. Nobody is THAT Type- A. It's funny because I am very Type- A about some things around this house (J laughs at me because anything of Mabel's that is a set [ blocks/ her board book collection/ stacking cubes] I must put away perfectly before I go to bed. I must have some crazy latent fear that one piece will go missing and the world will turn to anarchy!) But today I vacuumed my car and realized I am most definitely not Type- A with that. I am horrified to say I don't know when the last time was I did that. But the vacuuming around here gets done daily. Mabel throws so much food that I pull that Dyson sucker out daily. Some things just take greater priority over others.
And so as a SAHM, I am having trouble prioritizing. It's a First- World problem, and I am absolutely not asking for sympathy. I'm merely making an observation. I don't know how to be a SAHM. And part of me feels really, really bad about that. Because it makes me feel I am lacking some gene. I am inept to be a SAHM.
I've made it work for a month, and I'm not effing anything up majorly or anything. I just feel like I could always be doing more in some department-- either for Mabel or the house or school (yes, teachers do work in the summer when we are "off"-- AKA on unpaid leave). I know I tend to be hard on myself-- I've been told that in many situations and facets of my life. But this one has got me. I knew I didn't really WANT to be a SAHM.... but I didn't think I would feel so eluded by it.
If you're home everyday with your kids for the foreseeable future, I'm sure you get involved in all sorts of activities. Playgroups and playgrounds becomes part of the weekly schedule, and I know I could handle that. I didn't sign Mabel up for anything this year because she's not even 18- months- old, and I, selfishly, wanted to maximize time with her. I looked at a mom- and- tot swim class at the pool up the road, but the class for her age group was on Saturdays, which J and I decided to keep clear for jaunts to the beach etc. I am going to bring her to Story Hour on some rainy Tuesday morning, but other than that we are just hanging out. She is my companion for all errands and my date for all outings. It's been wonderful, but I hope I am doing what I should be.... according to that big book of shoulds that must exist somewhere.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
The Bod and the Bags and the Boobs, Plus Other Concerns
The other night I went to dinner with some friends and we were lamenting the fact that a few of us have started to wear and embrace the tankini. It got me thinking not just about my post- baby delivery body, but about my weird age in terms of body stuff.
I feel that at 34 I am sort of at the precipice of wearing lame attire. Remember that ad for "mom jeans" that SNL did as a spoof? I still cringe at the idea of those high- waisted nightmares. But I wonder if I look ridiculous in low- rise now, and if I don't, will I soon?
I am so torn on this because I know plenty of people my age who still rock bikinis and look awesome. And then there's, say, Jennifer Aniston who is like 44 or something and can wear nipple- covers and a thong and look incredible. But I know I don't have the body that these peeps have. I'm not overweight, and I have a skinny bone structure. But I don't work out much anymore. Alas, my body is going to shiz. I've been noticing a gradual change for the past few years, but as of very recently, the ick factor seems to have heightened. I'm not about to blame all this on delivering Mabel, because it was almost 17 months ago, and Sarah Jessica Parker had her pre- baby body back 3 weeks after she gave birth. But I do bet that having a kid makes the come- back harder. Boobs, hips, and even thighs have taken a big plunge into yuck- ville from having been pregnant, and they don't seem to want to bounce back completely. I do have to say the bod has bounced back better than I thought it would, but of course I notice the differences. If I am being honest, though, it's my 25- year- old body I wish I could get back--- not my 32- year- old pre- Mabel form.
And what's funny is that I never realized I had a decent body when I was 25. Trust me, I am not claiming for a moment that I ever looked like Aniston or even close to it, but I didn't have extra skin. My boobs were way perkier, and my legs were far more toned. It's true that youth is wasted on the young because all I ever did then was inwardly complain about how I looked in a swimsuit. My, to have a DeLorean and go back.
It's not just the body either. Lately, it's the mug. I have to take a big step down from my soap box because I used to scoff at people who got Botox and stuff like that to look younger. "That is so, so vain," I would think. But now I know a few people who have gotten injections and really, they look fabulous. Now I'm not saying I am going to run out and spend 300 bucks a pop on Botox for my wrinkled forehead, but I am moving further and further away from thinking it's a terrible idea. I think people need to do what makes them feel good. For me, getting any kind of plastic surgery-- going under a knife for vanity's sake-- would not make me feel good. So THAT'S not for me. But who am I to judge others, if that's what they want to do? It sucks that as humans our self- confidence is a little tied to our looks.
So if I am not going to get any kinds of treatments, I am stuck trying to minimize crow's feet and other unsightly wrinkles using products I can buy. And most are just full of chemicals, and then THAT makes me nervous. No winning! Where do we draw the line between vain and happy, between dangerous and confidence- boosting?
All this questioning reminds me of when I was pregnant with Mabel. I wasn't sure whether it was safe to get my hair dyed, but I was already sprouting many grey hairs. I consulted several friends who had already had kids and who I knew colored their hair. I ended up deciding to go for it, but used foils only during the first trimester and then spaced appointments out a little more than usual. When I told this plan to a coworker, who does not yet have ANY greys and is older than me, she said, "Or what if you just went natural? Like just do grey and then that's YOUR thing? You've got the greys!" I looked at her probably really bitchily, because I was thinking, "Are you effing serious?? I am 32- frickin'- years- old." I paused and instead just said I wasn't ready for that yet, but truth be told, I will likely not be there for a long, long time. I work with another lady who looks gorgeous with a head of silver hair, but in all honesty, when I met her I thought she was about 15 years older than she was.
I'm not sure why I care. What is the inborn thing that is telling me I can't be grey? I suppose it's society and all that marketing, yadda- yadda. But I hate myself a little when I find myself having vain thoughts. It feels so arrogant and self- absorbed.
I went a few weeks ago to Nordstrom to get some concealer that would work well for the crow's feet (high school and college girls-- it's NOT worth it to have a tan face. Wear your SPF-- pleeease!). The guy at the counter asked what I needed, and when I told him, he said, "Oh, yeah, and for the bags, too?" Ok, so I guess I have bags under the eyes as well. Thanks, dick! But he was right. I have to admit it. And the make- up I got works to a point, but at the end of the day I have the lines and some sun- spots and a host of other fun blemishes. I'm trying to make peace with them for now. Maybe if I give them pet names I will come to adore them.
I feel that at 34 I am sort of at the precipice of wearing lame attire. Remember that ad for "mom jeans" that SNL did as a spoof? I still cringe at the idea of those high- waisted nightmares. But I wonder if I look ridiculous in low- rise now, and if I don't, will I soon?
I am so torn on this because I know plenty of people my age who still rock bikinis and look awesome. And then there's, say, Jennifer Aniston who is like 44 or something and can wear nipple- covers and a thong and look incredible. But I know I don't have the body that these peeps have. I'm not overweight, and I have a skinny bone structure. But I don't work out much anymore. Alas, my body is going to shiz. I've been noticing a gradual change for the past few years, but as of very recently, the ick factor seems to have heightened. I'm not about to blame all this on delivering Mabel, because it was almost 17 months ago, and Sarah Jessica Parker had her pre- baby body back 3 weeks after she gave birth. But I do bet that having a kid makes the come- back harder. Boobs, hips, and even thighs have taken a big plunge into yuck- ville from having been pregnant, and they don't seem to want to bounce back completely. I do have to say the bod has bounced back better than I thought it would, but of course I notice the differences. If I am being honest, though, it's my 25- year- old body I wish I could get back--- not my 32- year- old pre- Mabel form.
And what's funny is that I never realized I had a decent body when I was 25. Trust me, I am not claiming for a moment that I ever looked like Aniston or even close to it, but I didn't have extra skin. My boobs were way perkier, and my legs were far more toned. It's true that youth is wasted on the young because all I ever did then was inwardly complain about how I looked in a swimsuit. My, to have a DeLorean and go back.
It's not just the body either. Lately, it's the mug. I have to take a big step down from my soap box because I used to scoff at people who got Botox and stuff like that to look younger. "That is so, so vain," I would think. But now I know a few people who have gotten injections and really, they look fabulous. Now I'm not saying I am going to run out and spend 300 bucks a pop on Botox for my wrinkled forehead, but I am moving further and further away from thinking it's a terrible idea. I think people need to do what makes them feel good. For me, getting any kind of plastic surgery-- going under a knife for vanity's sake-- would not make me feel good. So THAT'S not for me. But who am I to judge others, if that's what they want to do? It sucks that as humans our self- confidence is a little tied to our looks.
So if I am not going to get any kinds of treatments, I am stuck trying to minimize crow's feet and other unsightly wrinkles using products I can buy. And most are just full of chemicals, and then THAT makes me nervous. No winning! Where do we draw the line between vain and happy, between dangerous and confidence- boosting?
All this questioning reminds me of when I was pregnant with Mabel. I wasn't sure whether it was safe to get my hair dyed, but I was already sprouting many grey hairs. I consulted several friends who had already had kids and who I knew colored their hair. I ended up deciding to go for it, but used foils only during the first trimester and then spaced appointments out a little more than usual. When I told this plan to a coworker, who does not yet have ANY greys and is older than me, she said, "Or what if you just went natural? Like just do grey and then that's YOUR thing? You've got the greys!" I looked at her probably really bitchily, because I was thinking, "Are you effing serious?? I am 32- frickin'- years- old." I paused and instead just said I wasn't ready for that yet, but truth be told, I will likely not be there for a long, long time. I work with another lady who looks gorgeous with a head of silver hair, but in all honesty, when I met her I thought she was about 15 years older than she was.
I'm not sure why I care. What is the inborn thing that is telling me I can't be grey? I suppose it's society and all that marketing, yadda- yadda. But I hate myself a little when I find myself having vain thoughts. It feels so arrogant and self- absorbed.
I went a few weeks ago to Nordstrom to get some concealer that would work well for the crow's feet (high school and college girls-- it's NOT worth it to have a tan face. Wear your SPF-- pleeease!). The guy at the counter asked what I needed, and when I told him, he said, "Oh, yeah, and for the bags, too?" Ok, so I guess I have bags under the eyes as well. Thanks, dick! But he was right. I have to admit it. And the make- up I got works to a point, but at the end of the day I have the lines and some sun- spots and a host of other fun blemishes. I'm trying to make peace with them for now. Maybe if I give them pet names I will come to adore them.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Getting Caught Up
I realize I haven't blogged in a while-- hence posting two entries today.
I went to Mabel's baby book the other day and recorded a bunch of recent milestones, but the book calls for all super- traditional ones. I've said before that I want to record here some of the more quirky doings of Mabel's. I think they're fun to look back on.
- Today Mabel discovered that the baby proofer on the "party stuff" drawer is broken. She also went trash picking in the garbage can while she was at it. I was in the living room when she brought into me: a wine opener, three stale (REALLY stale) cookies (trash- picked) on fine coasters, a package of cupcake foils, my sneakers, and 2 shot glasses. She arranged the cookies perfectly on the coasters as if they were plates, and put the shot glasses next to them (after pretending to drink out of both). She then put all the other crap down and went trash picking again. This time she pulled out a used coffee filter and spilled all the grinds, and a sack of nearly- moldy grapes. She found the wrappings of two sugar packets and tried to eat them. It was a lovely scene indeed.
- Sometimes when I shower, I throw Mabel in her high chair where she is secure and she watches either Sesame or Sid the Science Kid (her two faves-- but really her ONLY shows-- I am trying to get her into some others so I can use up further time for personal things whilst placing her in front of the boob tube. Don't worry, I make sure they are all PBS shows. Doesn't that make it better?). But on days she is too antsy, I bring her in the bathroom with me and close the door tight. I peek out of the shower literally every ten seconds. Her favorite activities are to open the Q- tip drawer and dump them (the BJ's size pack) all over the floor; try to clean the floor with the tub- scrubbing wand thing; open and close the toilet; and unravel all the TP. I have gotten my showers to a measley 5 minutes in order to minimize damage.
- When it comes to Mabel's bath time, she is in heaven. I believe taking a tub could be her most favorite pastime. When we get into the bathroom, she scurries over to the closet where the washcloths are and points up, babbling at the stack. She knows what we need to have. I take one down and hand it to her, and she grabs the container of body wash/ shampoo and waits. When it's time to get in, she enjoys playing with all her bath toys, but especially loves arranging them on the tub edge in a row. Sometimes she tries to throw the toys at my face.
- Mabel adores the outside. Even if we are upstairs, if I say, 'Wanna go outside?' she starts clapping and dancing a little and gets herself right over to the top of the stairs to go. I'm sure all babies love the outside, but her reaction is pretty flippin' cute.
- Mabel is not afraid of any dogs, and I am aware this could be a bad thing. But for now it is sweet to see her with Cam, or T's dog Buddy, or N and J's 5 dogs. She spent a good amount of time this weekend at N and J's chasing them around to pet them and feed them their "baba."
- She's still a total carbs girl, and a racist when it comes to food. Loves anything beige and fattening. Hates the consistency of most fruits and veggies, so even at 16 months is still on those baby fruit/ veg packets. Whatever gives her the nutrients, me supposes.
- J and Mabel have a really zany and cute tradition of chasing each other around the house and trying to fake each other out. Being captured means tickle- torture, and her laugh is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.
- Still obsessed with Sesame as I indicated before, she will watch full episodes. Fave segments are Abby's Flying Fairy School and Super Grover 2.0. Also loves Elmo still. She has little dolls of most of the characters and knows them all by name and fetches them correctly. If we say, "Good job on that!" she claps for herself. Total narcissist.
- I bet this won't last, but Mabel loves having her hair brushed or put into ponytails. Let me remember that when she starts hitting me for doing it wrong.
- Other loves/ fancies: the train going by; pens (this is an issue); empty milk cartons we have left out for recycling; her water table; putting on her own shoes (trying); feeding herself (sloppily); pizza (we have created a monster with that one); her dollhouse and its accoutrements; keys and making the alarm thing go off; dirt and dirtiness; her high chair; the wild animals book with the furry manes in it; the corn popper toy (soo annoying); her stacking toys; the remote controls and buttons on the cable box (trying to squelch both); straws in drinks; phones; blowing kisses (just puts hand to mouth and goues "muahhh" all clumsily) and giving hugs; showing us where her head, nose, teeth, and feet are. She is generally obsessed with feet.
I could keep going-- but I'd bore you-- and I think I've got sufficient goods here to make me smile later. Peace!
I went to Mabel's baby book the other day and recorded a bunch of recent milestones, but the book calls for all super- traditional ones. I've said before that I want to record here some of the more quirky doings of Mabel's. I think they're fun to look back on.
- Today Mabel discovered that the baby proofer on the "party stuff" drawer is broken. She also went trash picking in the garbage can while she was at it. I was in the living room when she brought into me: a wine opener, three stale (REALLY stale) cookies (trash- picked) on fine coasters, a package of cupcake foils, my sneakers, and 2 shot glasses. She arranged the cookies perfectly on the coasters as if they were plates, and put the shot glasses next to them (after pretending to drink out of both). She then put all the other crap down and went trash picking again. This time she pulled out a used coffee filter and spilled all the grinds, and a sack of nearly- moldy grapes. She found the wrappings of two sugar packets and tried to eat them. It was a lovely scene indeed.
- Sometimes when I shower, I throw Mabel in her high chair where she is secure and she watches either Sesame or Sid the Science Kid (her two faves-- but really her ONLY shows-- I am trying to get her into some others so I can use up further time for personal things whilst placing her in front of the boob tube. Don't worry, I make sure they are all PBS shows. Doesn't that make it better?). But on days she is too antsy, I bring her in the bathroom with me and close the door tight. I peek out of the shower literally every ten seconds. Her favorite activities are to open the Q- tip drawer and dump them (the BJ's size pack) all over the floor; try to clean the floor with the tub- scrubbing wand thing; open and close the toilet; and unravel all the TP. I have gotten my showers to a measley 5 minutes in order to minimize damage.
- When it comes to Mabel's bath time, she is in heaven. I believe taking a tub could be her most favorite pastime. When we get into the bathroom, she scurries over to the closet where the washcloths are and points up, babbling at the stack. She knows what we need to have. I take one down and hand it to her, and she grabs the container of body wash/ shampoo and waits. When it's time to get in, she enjoys playing with all her bath toys, but especially loves arranging them on the tub edge in a row. Sometimes she tries to throw the toys at my face.
- Mabel adores the outside. Even if we are upstairs, if I say, 'Wanna go outside?' she starts clapping and dancing a little and gets herself right over to the top of the stairs to go. I'm sure all babies love the outside, but her reaction is pretty flippin' cute.
- Mabel is not afraid of any dogs, and I am aware this could be a bad thing. But for now it is sweet to see her with Cam, or T's dog Buddy, or N and J's 5 dogs. She spent a good amount of time this weekend at N and J's chasing them around to pet them and feed them their "baba."
- She's still a total carbs girl, and a racist when it comes to food. Loves anything beige and fattening. Hates the consistency of most fruits and veggies, so even at 16 months is still on those baby fruit/ veg packets. Whatever gives her the nutrients, me supposes.
- J and Mabel have a really zany and cute tradition of chasing each other around the house and trying to fake each other out. Being captured means tickle- torture, and her laugh is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.
- Still obsessed with Sesame as I indicated before, she will watch full episodes. Fave segments are Abby's Flying Fairy School and Super Grover 2.0. Also loves Elmo still. She has little dolls of most of the characters and knows them all by name and fetches them correctly. If we say, "Good job on that!" she claps for herself. Total narcissist.
- I bet this won't last, but Mabel loves having her hair brushed or put into ponytails. Let me remember that when she starts hitting me for doing it wrong.
- Other loves/ fancies: the train going by; pens (this is an issue); empty milk cartons we have left out for recycling; her water table; putting on her own shoes (trying); feeding herself (sloppily); pizza (we have created a monster with that one); her dollhouse and its accoutrements; keys and making the alarm thing go off; dirt and dirtiness; her high chair; the wild animals book with the furry manes in it; the corn popper toy (soo annoying); her stacking toys; the remote controls and buttons on the cable box (trying to squelch both); straws in drinks; phones; blowing kisses (just puts hand to mouth and goues "muahhh" all clumsily) and giving hugs; showing us where her head, nose, teeth, and feet are. She is generally obsessed with feet.
I could keep going-- but I'd bore you-- and I think I've got sufficient goods here to make me smile later. Peace!
A Good Old- Fashioned Family Show
I remember when I admitted on this blog that I am addicted to Etsy. And also when I wrote about the curse of the premium channels-- namely Homeland-- and its ability to suck me into a season in one weekend's time. But owning up to those things was sort of like admitting you like to clean the house or do crosswords. There's nothing about Etsy or Homeland that fries brain cells or is unhealthy. Etsy respects creativity, and Homeland requires at least a modicum of intelligence to follow along. But what I am about to admit to cannot be classified in either of those ways, and I know I risk judgment, ridicule, and scorn.
I am addicted to the Kardashians.
Yes, I do "keep up" with possibly the most ego- inflated, glamor- whoring family in all of Hollywood or California or the world. When I admit this vice to people I say things like, "I know it's terrible, and I know THEY'RE terrible, but I can't help it."
When I decided to really think about that statement though, I had to question it. Are they totally terrible? And of course I actually COULD help but watch them. What is so intriguing about this "famous- for- no- substantial- reason" troop of seeming buffoons, clad in plastic surgery and Louis Vuitton and bad lipstick?
I'd like to walk you through my love affair with the K's to do this whole concept justice. First of all, I never saw a single episode-- despite their being on TV for like 7 seasons now-- until I was on maternity leave with Mabel. Flipping through the channels one day while she slept or cried or ate, I came across an intense argument between Lord Disick (Scott) and Auntie Coco (Khloe). I couldn't take my eyes off it. It was amazing the dirty laundry these people were airing on TV. And lo and behold, a marathon was on, and I let myself get sucked in.
To this point, I've not seen a few of the middle seasons, and I look forward to someday going back to catch them all. I don't want to use them up too fast, so I must view sparingly. Let me break down some myths about the K's, or myths as far as I can see them:
1. They're not all stupid. Some of them say ditzy shiz, and it's not like any of them are being recruited for MENSA. But Kourtney is very business savvy, leading the sister- trio in a multi- location boutique ownership in which they have amassed millions of dollars. They also have navigated their way through clothing lines, perfume scents, and modeling spreads in trendy magazines. They know what they are doing when it comes to their finances and their business. One look at all their homes is indicative.
2. They're not evil. Ok, some have had bouts of evil. Scott was one of the biggest pricks on TV-- reality or non-- for a solid season. But he's cleaned his act up, and he's actually a really good dad and treats Kourtney well (usually). He is also quite amusing. I know you will be making me eat crow when he beats her or commits tax fraud over the next two years, but for now, I am sticking by this idea. Kris Jenner takes a lot of heat, but she's a nice lady. She's label- obsessed and a total fame- whore, but she means well for all her kids and grandkids. She is also modest in many ways, in that she goes totally public about her plastic surgeries (I hate when celebs deny it) and her inability to pee in public and her tendency to whiz her pants. She is a tad annoying when looking for compliments, but aren't we all a little insecure sometimes? She's got a camera on her like 26/7, after all.
3. The bitchy ones are entertaining. I'd file Kim here first. She has such a large stick up her ass that you can see it protruding from her Dolce and Gabana mini- dress. She is OCD and curmudgeonly, and it is really, really, really funny when the others try to mess with her and she gets all flipped out. Sometimes she talks down to the others, and you laugh hard at the sheer gall. Kendall and Kylie can also both be kind of brutal, given they are teens. And Kourtney-- though she is maybe my favorite-- she thinks the world will end if she gets chemical deodorant on her body or doesn't sleep next to Mason for one night. She also referred to herself as having the "confidence of a queen" once. I find all of this mesmerizing. I can't imagine living like they do, and it makes me want to watch more and more of it.
4. Their love lives have lots of normal parts to them. Ok, so you can't understand a 72- day marriage? Or marrying an NBA star (Lamar) one month after meeting him? Yup, these incidents are strange. But the K's have many everyday issues in their relationships too. Khloe and Lamar are struggling with fertility, and Scott and Kourtney are trying to carve out time for romance against the stress of having two small kids. Bruce and Kris-- after 23 years of marriage-- decided they need space from each other to stay happily married and have rented another property to make into his man cave (ok, so that's not normal-- but they're staying together, which is way more "everyday" than most spotlit couples). Kim and Kanye had to do a big search to find the perfect home, and Rob is still trying to get over his long- lost ex Adrienne. See, D- list celebs have souls and emotions too!
5. They have universal appeal. Adults in their 30s starting families-- check. A pitiable lone son among a sea of indulgent girlie- girl daughters-- check. (Oh, and he struggles with weight which is also relatable for many.) Crabby and often jealous teenagers-- check. Abandoned and resentful sons from a first marriage (Brandon and Brody)-- check. An athlete (ok, former-- wayyyy former)-- check. Grandbabies-- check. Friends who turn into frenemies-- check. Good food and drink-- and sometimes too much partying-- major check.
To conclude, I would like to point out that I have never seen a single episode of the real housewives of any county, nor any other reality series on Bravo. I have never watched a dating show or Rock of Love or that one with Scott Baio or the Brady Bunch guy. I have never seen Big Brother (though we may have to watch soon because J knows a girl on it) and haven't watched Real World in like 7 years. I don't watch any singing or dance competitions or pageant shows or programs about pregnant people (ok, I did once). Am I bragging? NO. I am pointing out that I know myself well, and I don't trust myself. I bet if I saw one episode of any of the above I could get sucked in, and I'm not sure I could defend any of those like I could my dear Kardashians.
J hates the very image of any of the K's. I have played with him before in waiting to see how long the show can be on the TV before he notices and wigs. Alas, I must DVR each Sunday night and watch when he is not around. He asked once how I could like The Newsroom and The Kardashians at the same time. He still doesn't understand how I can be jazzed up about well- known authors and etymology and grammar and still like to watch Kim Kardashian obsess over red wine spilled in her foyer. J just doesn't get it. I like character studies, and isn't THAT what this show is all about? Go DASH!
I am addicted to the Kardashians.
Yes, I do "keep up" with possibly the most ego- inflated, glamor- whoring family in all of Hollywood or California or the world. When I admit this vice to people I say things like, "I know it's terrible, and I know THEY'RE terrible, but I can't help it."
When I decided to really think about that statement though, I had to question it. Are they totally terrible? And of course I actually COULD help but watch them. What is so intriguing about this "famous- for- no- substantial- reason" troop of seeming buffoons, clad in plastic surgery and Louis Vuitton and bad lipstick?
I'd like to walk you through my love affair with the K's to do this whole concept justice. First of all, I never saw a single episode-- despite their being on TV for like 7 seasons now-- until I was on maternity leave with Mabel. Flipping through the channels one day while she slept or cried or ate, I came across an intense argument between Lord Disick (Scott) and Auntie Coco (Khloe). I couldn't take my eyes off it. It was amazing the dirty laundry these people were airing on TV. And lo and behold, a marathon was on, and I let myself get sucked in.
To this point, I've not seen a few of the middle seasons, and I look forward to someday going back to catch them all. I don't want to use them up too fast, so I must view sparingly. Let me break down some myths about the K's, or myths as far as I can see them:
1. They're not all stupid. Some of them say ditzy shiz, and it's not like any of them are being recruited for MENSA. But Kourtney is very business savvy, leading the sister- trio in a multi- location boutique ownership in which they have amassed millions of dollars. They also have navigated their way through clothing lines, perfume scents, and modeling spreads in trendy magazines. They know what they are doing when it comes to their finances and their business. One look at all their homes is indicative.
2. They're not evil. Ok, some have had bouts of evil. Scott was one of the biggest pricks on TV-- reality or non-- for a solid season. But he's cleaned his act up, and he's actually a really good dad and treats Kourtney well (usually). He is also quite amusing. I know you will be making me eat crow when he beats her or commits tax fraud over the next two years, but for now, I am sticking by this idea. Kris Jenner takes a lot of heat, but she's a nice lady. She's label- obsessed and a total fame- whore, but she means well for all her kids and grandkids. She is also modest in many ways, in that she goes totally public about her plastic surgeries (I hate when celebs deny it) and her inability to pee in public and her tendency to whiz her pants. She is a tad annoying when looking for compliments, but aren't we all a little insecure sometimes? She's got a camera on her like 26/7, after all.
3. The bitchy ones are entertaining. I'd file Kim here first. She has such a large stick up her ass that you can see it protruding from her Dolce and Gabana mini- dress. She is OCD and curmudgeonly, and it is really, really, really funny when the others try to mess with her and she gets all flipped out. Sometimes she talks down to the others, and you laugh hard at the sheer gall. Kendall and Kylie can also both be kind of brutal, given they are teens. And Kourtney-- though she is maybe my favorite-- she thinks the world will end if she gets chemical deodorant on her body or doesn't sleep next to Mason for one night. She also referred to herself as having the "confidence of a queen" once. I find all of this mesmerizing. I can't imagine living like they do, and it makes me want to watch more and more of it.
4. Their love lives have lots of normal parts to them. Ok, so you can't understand a 72- day marriage? Or marrying an NBA star (Lamar) one month after meeting him? Yup, these incidents are strange. But the K's have many everyday issues in their relationships too. Khloe and Lamar are struggling with fertility, and Scott and Kourtney are trying to carve out time for romance against the stress of having two small kids. Bruce and Kris-- after 23 years of marriage-- decided they need space from each other to stay happily married and have rented another property to make into his man cave (ok, so that's not normal-- but they're staying together, which is way more "everyday" than most spotlit couples). Kim and Kanye had to do a big search to find the perfect home, and Rob is still trying to get over his long- lost ex Adrienne. See, D- list celebs have souls and emotions too!
5. They have universal appeal. Adults in their 30s starting families-- check. A pitiable lone son among a sea of indulgent girlie- girl daughters-- check. (Oh, and he struggles with weight which is also relatable for many.) Crabby and often jealous teenagers-- check. Abandoned and resentful sons from a first marriage (Brandon and Brody)-- check. An athlete (ok, former-- wayyyy former)-- check. Grandbabies-- check. Friends who turn into frenemies-- check. Good food and drink-- and sometimes too much partying-- major check.
To conclude, I would like to point out that I have never seen a single episode of the real housewives of any county, nor any other reality series on Bravo. I have never watched a dating show or Rock of Love or that one with Scott Baio or the Brady Bunch guy. I have never seen Big Brother (though we may have to watch soon because J knows a girl on it) and haven't watched Real World in like 7 years. I don't watch any singing or dance competitions or pageant shows or programs about pregnant people (ok, I did once). Am I bragging? NO. I am pointing out that I know myself well, and I don't trust myself. I bet if I saw one episode of any of the above I could get sucked in, and I'm not sure I could defend any of those like I could my dear Kardashians.
J hates the very image of any of the K's. I have played with him before in waiting to see how long the show can be on the TV before he notices and wigs. Alas, I must DVR each Sunday night and watch when he is not around. He asked once how I could like The Newsroom and The Kardashians at the same time. He still doesn't understand how I can be jazzed up about well- known authors and etymology and grammar and still like to watch Kim Kardashian obsess over red wine spilled in her foyer. J just doesn't get it. I like character studies, and isn't THAT what this show is all about? Go DASH!
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