Selective Hello's

One afternoon, I was sitting on the front porch rocking in the rocking chair with LB, when husband comes home.

Husband rolls down the window to say hello and sweet nothings to LB.

He rolls forward and then says hello to Wallace. Our adopted stray cat who now lives on our front porch, eating our food and hoping we'll let him in. He has become our fourth mooching roommate. Wonderful.

Husband then goes on down the driveway to park. In the garage.

LIKE I WASN'T EVEN THERE.

Me: Hi, I'd like to introduce myself...you're wife. Mother of your child. I was the one he was sitting on when you pulled in.

Husband: (laughing) I realized I didn't say hello when I got in the garage.

Me: Is this what we've come to? You over looking me?

Husband: Um, how often do you say good morning to me when I'm in LB's room feeding him in the morning?

What is this a cross-examination? Am I on trial? Do I need an attorney?

Me: You get your good morning before we ever get out of bed.

Silence

Uh huh....that is the sound of I'M RIGHT.

I win at marriage.

The next morning though, I made it a point to say hello to Husband when I walked into LB's room.

So what if it was an exaggerated hello. It was still hello.

But, I don't think I've done it since.

There is a first time for everything...

I know over the course of LB's life there are a lot of 'firsts' I won't get to see or be a part of.

Some I'm okay to miss.

Like the first time he spends 7 minutes in a closet with a girl...I don't want to be there.

Other firsts I do want to see...like his first steps, his first word, his first touchdown catch, his first win for the NCAA championship and going first in the NFL draft. I want to be there front and center shouting. (I could be front and center shouting expletives with the whole 7 minutes in a closet thing...unless he's thirty, then I would be shouting for him to get a job and get out of my house...but if he's fourteen, I'm tapping Husband in.)

I was afraid when I went back to work there would be all these 'firsts' I wouldn't get to see.

We've had a lot of firsts this week.

And I got to see them...Some I could have done without...preferring instead the closet scene.

LB can now get his toes in his mouth. And since I had just wiped them with sanitizer (don't ask) they tasted extra nice...hence the yuck face he made after he got them in there. Didn't stop him though...he kept trying to gnaw on those little piggies like they were his last meal.

LB can sit up completely on his own...unattended.

LB knows now that face-planting on a toy in the tub only gets you a mouth full of water. And it's not the breathable kind of water they used in the "Abyss" either...it's a full on red faced coughing fit for those who haven't had the pleasure.

LB had his first real injury. Like 'we are going to the emergency room right now' real. And even though it isn't fair, I totally would have been pissed if it happened on someone else's watch. We're talking medieval, channelling my inner Nurse Ratched, psychological warfare, lobotomies for everyone...pissed.

LB went to Gymboree for the first time. Hilarious. We had the best time. And it didn't matter that LB was the youngest but biggest kid there and I was the oldest mom with my ben-gay and dentures...he was the ONLY kid to laugh...for the entire hour. Because he is a tall, laid back, big for his age, bundle of awesome.

LB scoots on his butt now when he wants to get somewhere. He has no idea what he's doing and it looks like the cat when he scoots his butt across the floor because his anal glands need to be 'expressed'. It's like that...only cuter. 

Husband mentioned that it was hard for him to imagine that LB would get so excited over something like bubbles before he realized LB has never seen bubbles before.

This only makes Husband super excited to show LB every new thing...just so he can see his wide eyed expression. And that makes me swoon...man has never seen so much play in his life.

Tell It Like It Is

I think you should consider yourself lucky if you have people in your life who will give you the honest truth. Even if that truth is hard to hear or ugly or that you've got lettuce between your teeth, a fly undone and breath that could straighten hair and stop traffic.

YOU WANT TO KNOW.

According to my mom, I have a neck like an ostrich and an ass as flat as a surfboard.

So clearly, I'm no stranger to hard truth.

Even though my mom has not commented on my hair since 2001, she frequently praises my and Husband's parenting.

And that people, is how I know I'm not totally messing up. Because this woman does not sugar coat, avoid, soften or ignore anything.

Husband and I talked at length about how we would raise LB.

Is our method different from others? Certainly.

Do we think our way is the only way? Absolutely not.

Do I ever wonder why Husband is asking me how we should do something when I have no clue myself? You bet.

Are there nights we can't get the margarita bottle open fast enough? For. Sure.

So when my mom tells me what a great job we are doing and how wonderful and easy LB is to care for, I know she means it.

I also know that when she tells me the lady at Walmart gave her too much change, she marched right back in there and gave the largest retailer in the nation their $2.35.

...Because my mother does not want $2.35 to keep her from getting into heaven.

Kickin it Old School



Husband calls these LB's MC Hammer pants. 

We're RICH!

People keep a lot of wacky useless crap in their attics.

For mercies sakes an entire village in Africa could live on the crap my parents have in their attic which has overflowed into their garage and probably into their house which isn't going unnoticed by my mom...I'm talking to you Dad. No, really...you don't need 10,000,000,000 empty cardboard boxes I don't care how useful the varying sizes appear to be.

I keep waiting for TLC to feature them on Hoarders. Which is okay because they have enough boxes to pack that crap up to throw it away.

You know who else could be featured on Hoarders?

Husband.

He hoards Star Wars paraphernalia.

It isn't all his fault.

He loved Star Wars as a kid and since TNT runs a Star Wars movie marathon every Sunday, I get to watch them over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

It's awesome.

And they never get old. Ever.

It is also the 'go-to' gift when people don't know what to get him.

Which is like the perfect gift...if you're a seven year old.

Now that our storage count has gone up to five boxes, in a house with NO storage space, husband has sheepishly admitted that it may be time for people to quit with the Star Wars gifts. It might also have something to do with the fact that as an adult he prefers tools, gadgets, trips and an inordinate amount of Kellogg's cereal.

Now here's the funny thing.

Most of the Star Wars toys have never been opened. They are still in their originally packaging.

What the hell...what fun is having a whole bunch of action figures you can't play with?

The answer is none. None.

There is NOTHING fun about looking at a box you can't open which you know has cool stuff inside. It's like when you are dying of thirst and the only thing to drink is one of those bloody awful Capri Suns but you say screw it there's nothing else, even though you know, you KNOW, you will never be abe to get that stupid straw in that hole without somebody at Kraft being called a mother-f#$%er.

So for giggles I looked up on ebay the going rate of 'vintage' Star Wars action figures.

WHAT!

Here is where I humbly admit that I was wrong and go immediately to Expedia and book a trip to Hawaii.

Aloha!

Not Your Ordinary Present

There is a great big box of awesome in my trunk right now.

And I am Bubbling. Over. With. Excitement about it.

It's Husband's father's day gift.

I am so excited about it that even though it's midnight, I want to wake husband up and go open it. Just like older sister used to do to me at 2 a.m. on Christmas morning.

I really debated about what to get him. It's his first real father's day and I want it to be special. So you can imagine my excitement when I stumbled upon this:

Holy Wow.

And as enticing as his array of shows are which include adult parties with an "optional surprise ending", this is not what is boxed up in my trunk.

Because that is a whole lot of not right.

Besides how would I even wrap that?

But you know.

I haven't gotten my own dad anything yet.

And who wouldn't want the gift of awkward for father's day.

...maybe I'll give it to father-in-law instead.

Introverts Make Up 60% of the Gifted Population

For those people who know me, I am an introvert. It's a pain being an introvert because I'm often misunderstood.

Like when I said, "NO we are absolutely not feeding that mangy stray cat." Husband really didn't feed that poor scrawny starving kitten. (I've named him Wallace because he led a William Wallace revolt on my heart and now I feed him nightly.)

Or when I said "No thanks, I don't want a refill on my margarita" husband ACTUALLY thought I didn't want any more margarita. WTF.  

See what I mean.

I suck in large gatherings. I suck even more at large gatherings in small spaces. So keep that in mind if you ever invite me to a block party in your bathtub.

And don't even get me started on my awkwardness in elevators. I say something completely inappropriate and then laugh like a hyena.

Wikipedia defines introverts as:

"people whose energy tends to dwindle during interaction. Introverts tend to be more reserved and less outspoken in large groups. They often take pleasure in solitary activities such as reading, writing, music, drawing, tinkering, playing video games, watching movies, and using computers. In fact, introverts are more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose. (SEE!) An introvert is likely to enjoy time spent alone and find less reward in time spent with large groups of people, though he or she may enjoy interactions with close friends. Introverts are easily overwhelmed by too much stimulation from social gatherings and engagement."

For anyone who has done it, they know...becoming a parent is hard. It's not hard in the way I thought it would be hard when I was childless. And I've come to realize how valuable love, support and encouragement is because husband and I don't have a clue what we are doing. Help can easily be misinterpreted as "holy shit that child will be stuck in that sleeper his whole life since his crackhead mother can't figure out those damn snaps!"

Tack on to that a full time job, volunteer obligations, social obligations, family obligations, sports obligations, asses to wipe and cat puke to clean up and the introvert in me starts screaming for mercy.

So when people get all Judgey McJudgerson and infantile about shit, I realize maybe they haven't bothered to get to know me.

Me: I think I would make a terrible cab driver.

Husband (laughing): Really? Why is that?

Me: Cause I hate talking to people. And cab drivers have to do a lot of talking.

Husband (trying hard NOT to laugh): Really? THAT's why you think you'd make a bad cab driver?

Me: Yes. (dramatic eye roll) Why do YOU think I'd make a bad cab driver?

Husband:  Um. Cause you can't drive.

Me: Are you kidding me? Have you met a cab driver that CAN drive. I already meet the prerequisite for cab driving which is an inability to drive.

Husband: True. Well then you're right. You would make a bad cab driver.

Husband clearly knows me.