Lack of Tact Begets Awkward Moment

There's something new to bitch about this week. This weekend, I was bombarded by a bunch of people giving me the case to hurry up and get cracking on having another baby. They say hurry up, don't wait too long, you don't want to change diapers forever. Yeah, I get it. I had the same idea. I tried and it didn't work, so leave me alone. Granted, these are people who didn't know about my recent trip to the hospital.

OK, I know this is fucked up but I was having this very conversation with someone yesterday. She was telling me how I should get pregnant soon and, exclusively in the hope of creating an awkward moment, I told her, "I did get pregnant but I just had a miscarriage." Is that wrong? BTW, I'm pretty sure I succeeded.

Lost Cancun

I had written a super long post about our ridiculous trip to Cancun. I didn't save it and then the computer restarted itself - stupid Microsoft updates - and I lost it. This is life's way of telling me GET OVER IT.

Yoda Was Here

JESUS CHRIST! Who knew? Who knew Halloween was such a big deal? If you don't have your shit locked in by September, your kid's going to be the little dork dressed in the Spiderman costume from Target, without the mask because some asshole stole it. Dally could have been that little dork.

Back in September, I saw a Yoda costume that I thought would be killer. We had originally planned for the dude to be Vader but the Vader for toddlers costume was stupid-looking. A couple of weeks ago, I headed out to Target to pick up his costume and lo and behold, it's sold out - which sucks because that means there are going to be a bunch of other little Yodas out there AND because Dally's got no costume. We could have gone to Old Navy - they always have costumes but while it worked last year for Dally to be a HalloWeenie (a hot dog), their costumes now seem too babyish for the sophisticate that he has grown into.

We tracked a single remaining Yoda costume at the ghetto Target on the other side of town. My mom picked it up, and when I picked her up to go shopping later that day, she said, "I got the costume, but, here's the thing. They gave me ten percent off because the ears are missing." Ten percent off? Target, you cocksucker chain. Half the costume, the half that makes it a Yoda costume and not just a bathrobe, is missing and we get a whopping $1.99 off. My mother, convinced of my craftiness, said I could make the ears. Fine, easy enough. I still think my mom got ripped off but she refused to return the costume.

In typical me fashion, I wait til October 30 to make the costume. I've had the material for a couple of weeks, but I needed those weeks to work up the motivation. Plus, in my mind, it would be a super easy job, because I'm crafty, right? Well, first I had to make my mom a Little Red Riding Hood cape. This is when I was re-introduced to the idea that Leatherface is probably a better seamstress than me. I got the stupid cape done. I think she's only wearing it for a parade early in the morning, so hopefully people will have crust in their eyes and won't look too closely at the seams. Oh, hopefully it doesn't fall apart. I told her it would probably make it through the parade. "But you sewed it together, right?" she asked.

Oh mother, yes, it was sewn, but it wasn't sewn well. And that can make all the difference.

When I started the stupid Yoda ears in the late afternoon, I decided to hand sew - maybe I'd have better results. A professor of mine once said, "Use the right tool for the job." Using a quilting needle was probably not the right tool - but it was all I could find. That sucked. It took me forever to pierce through the fleece. I got lazy and I didn't finish. So no ears for Yoda, right?

Not so fast. Guilt struck at 1am this morning. Back to work I went. I continued the tedious hand sewing but you tend to have less patience at 1am. I convinced myself, "Just try using the sewing machine." Alas, I went back upstairs and went for it. It was disasterous and loud. I suspected Dally would wake up any minute now, telling me how much he hated me for ruining his sleep. But no. I sewed and sewed and I finished the goddamn ears. They're not too pretty. They look like donkey ears or Shrek. But whatever.

You'd think the lesson here is when you see a seasonal item at Target, you should buy it - don't expect it'll be there later. But that's not what I took away from this. My lesson is - GO BIG. Next year, I'm going to make Dally's whole costume! Cross your fingers, for his sake, that I get better at sewing.

So THAT'S the Scam

The key to super stardom in Korea and a segment on The Today Show is having 17 kids, and counting (and counting because there's a bun in the oven). So at least 18 little buttholes. And, for effect, you should name some of them Jebediah, Jedediah, and Jim Bob. Well, Jim Bob is the baby daddy but I think it would be a reasonable name for the spawn. What the hell am I talking about, you ask. 17 Kids and Counting.

They are a household of 19. They have absolutely no debt. They also sing Jesus songs in the family car - a bus. Because they are a freak occurence, they get to do cool things on Mother's Day - like go on The Today Show in New York City. Do I sound jealous? Eh, I'd really be jealous if it was Good Morning America. I heart Chris Cuomo.

Breastmilk Scores D Minus!

So I'm practically jumping on tables over this one. The AAP just came out with new guidelines because bone-deteriorating diseases are making a comeback. Children are in danger! Apparently, the pint-sized set isn't getting enough vitamin D to combat rickets - whatever that is.

Check this out. Breastmilk does not have sufficient vitamin D. Breastmilk-fed babies need vitamin D supplements or they will crumble to sawdust. HOWEVER, formula-fed babies are fine. They will not crumble to pieces because they get enough vitamin D from their formula.

So there you have it, Breastmilk. Not so perfect, are you?

HELL YEAH IT IS

Part of the reason why I didn't write much here was because I didn't have much to bitch about. Yeah, it sucked that three months into parenthood, I started getting these fucked up bald spots (absolutely no exaggeration here). It also sucked that my days of taking super long naps on Sunday afternoons between watching Lifetime movies and Lock Up was a distant memory. I also really hated washing bottles. Not just any bottles. Dr. Brown bottles. John counted. There are five pieces to wash for each bottle. Times that by eight feedings (initially) and the feat became a part-time job. (This is where breastfeeding mothers have the last laugh - until, six months later, they look down at their boobs in shock and say, "What have I done?!?!?!?")

But then I took a hit last week and even though it sucked, the outpouring of support from my homies is yet another reminder of how good I have it. My moping around officially came to an end last night when I got the best birthday present ever. Anne took me to see Neil Motherfucking Diamond. HELL YEAH.

To say that the man is a showman is an understatement. He is the epitomy of everything that is good about music. Friendly, charismatic, sequined, and soulful. He informed us, "The only rule is there are no rules." But he said it in that voice. He rocked all the hits. He even sang You Don't Bring Me Flowers. He destroyed (with love, because that's all that really matters) with Hell Yeah. And just when we thought we'd just seen a great show, it got even better when he closed the night with my favorite ND song - Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show. Are you kidding me?!?!?!

Anne and I got matching pink concert t-shirts.

We finished the night off with Slurpees. It was pretty much a perfect night. Thanks, Anne. I love you.

P.S. No more Dr. Brown bottles! The dude's on a sippy cup now - only three pieces.

Blogs Are Low Class

So sayeth my mother.