Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I promise I don't waste *that* much

You know what makes me feel like a repressed 50's housewife? The fact that I wait until my husband is at work to sneak the vegetables we're never going to eat into the compost bin. Well, that and pre-treating the ring around the collar on his dress shirts. I die a little bit inside every time I do that.

But back to the food wasting. It's not like he would be angry with me. It's not like I don't have carte blanche to do whatever the eff I want around here. It's just that if the hubs sees me trying to throw away some turnips that have already languished in the crisper for a month, he tells me not to throw them away, he'll eat them. He will then proceed to attempt some nastiness like scrambled eggs and turnips, and I end up throwing out the remaining (majority) liquified turnips two weeks later. It's better my way, starving children in China or no.

Part of the problem is, no matter how much I actually enjoy eating kale or swiss chard, they are not exactly my "go-to" vegetables. Like any other good American, my staples are frozen peas and corn. Maybe green beans. MAYBE. Spinach? Even that is getting a little fancy. I grew up with frozen spinach served mostly in a hollowed out sourdough loaf as spinach dip. Oh and salad. We also had a lot of salad. And we have a lot of salad now in my Family, v. 2.0.

We also have about ten thousand apples in the fridge, because nobody really wants pears or persimmons or whatever else the CSA tries to pass off as acceptable fruits. So I always default to apples, but never actually eat them. Any time I do, I think "my, what a lovely little snack an apple makes," but then the next time I'm hungry I go right back to the M&Ms. Old habits. You know.

Monday, November 28, 2011

The big door busting bust

Gather 'round children and you shall hear, of the one time I tried to go door busting and then decided it wasn't worth it and went home and went to bed.

So my sister and I were sitting around after Thanksgiving dinner,  looking at the Black Friday ads and generally avoiding doing the dishes. I was flipping through the Toys R Us ad when suddenly I was overwhelmed with the urge to go bust some doors. It seemed like the perfect plan. A victimless crime. It was nine - the store was already open! The store was only 5 minutes from my parents' house! They had at least two big ticket items I wanted to get on sale for 75% off! My judgment obviously impaired by wine, I thought that we would just saunter on in, make our purchases, and return home in a timely fashion.

Umm, no. We pulled up to the strip mall. The first thing we noticed was that the parking lot at the Petsmart next door seemed awfully full. We wondered aloud at what sort of door busters sale they were having on pet food, and continued down the block to the Toys R Us. Complete. Mayhem. They had a bouncer at the door. The line went out the door, around the corner AND THEN back around the block. All I could think looking at it was who needs stuff this bad? It was out of control. We circled through the lot and retreated home.

I feel a very strange mix of feelings whenever I think about this experience. I feel at once ashamed at my naivete, amused by the absurdity of the scene, and disappointed that I didn't actually get to door bust. But overall, I think this experience will hold me. I don't actually need to get in that fray. Maybe it will be a new tradition, like driving around Christmas eve looking at Christmas lights. On Thanksgiving night after dinner, we can drive around the strip malls and look at all the batshit crazy people.

Monday, November 21, 2011

And Alexis is the interesting one

I wish I had more interesting things to share with you, but basically I've got working out and eating and taking care of the kid. Any of that sound fascinating? No? Okay then.

I appreciate the fact that Patricia Arquette never fixed her teeth, but then again I find that her teeth are all that I think about when I see her. I'm sure a cursory google search would inform me all about her teeth and the stand she took or did not take by not going for the caps, but really I feel like I've spent too much time thinking about Patricia Arquette today already. Rosanna didn't fix her snaggle tooth either, and she got at least two songs written about her. That's all I think about when I hear "In Your Eyes" on the radio - what a slut Rosanna Arquette must have been in the eighties. Which is really too bad, for such a pretty song.

So there you have it - I spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about the Arquette sisters. The end.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Indulge me if you will

I went to the gym this morning. WAIT. Before you go clicking on to what you hope will be a more interesting blog, hear me out. It was kind of a big deal for me, because it was a new gym, a new class (spin), and a new leaving Marlo in childcare. Spoiler alert: I got through half my class before they had to page me.

Here's the thing about me. I am absolutely terrible about getting outside of my comfort zone. I hate going into new situations where I don't know where I am or what I'm doing. I know that some people live for that shit, but I am not one of them. Yet. Maybe I can learn. But so far, not so good, seeing as I just came across an essay from high school in which I described how much I hate going into situations where I don't know where I am or what I'm doing.

So it was kind of a big deal for me to get in the car, drive to a place I had never been before, get Marlo checked in with some lady, run around the building looking for my classroom (which was unfortunately located in the basement with the men's locker room), introduce myself to the teacher and get on the bike and ride. For those keeping score, that means the unknowns included 4 destinations, one stressful mom/baby situation and one stressful new girl of questionable cardiovascular fitness situation.

It turned out I really needn't have worried about the spin class itself. I think I was the youngest person in there by at least 15 years, judging by the Bachman-Turner Overdrive and the fact that one lady asked the instructor to please turn down the music because that electric guitar was just killing her ears. One lady said "ooh, look! I'm doing 450 rpms!" Not exactly an advanced cycling group.

What I should have worried more about was poor Marlo, who I pretty much unceremoniously dumped in the daycare because I was running late- and what is worse than being new but also late? Nothing. Except maybe, I don't know, traumatizing your poor baby for life. I'm going to try and rectify the situation by taking her in there for little baby step visits, and hopefully I'll be able to get through an entire class eventually.

But, credit where credit is due - I did something that I've been wanting to do for the past two weeks (since we joined the gym) but hadn't had the courage to do. I overcame my weird head trip. Yeay me.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

to be continued.

You probably noticed that I couldn't help myself and messed with the blog template again. What can I say, I exert control upon my universe any which way I can.

I have more to say about the mom thing eventually. I want to tell you all about the Herbfarm and how I am restructuring the household budget in order to be able to eat there again soon. I want to talk about how every time my husband wears this one 5k t-shirt it makes me feel like a failure because he ran it on  whim out drinking one night (it was a midnight run) and I don't think I could up and run a 5k if I had a gun to my head.

But right now the baby wants grapes. She always wants grapes. I was putting her in her car seat the other day and noticed her hair was in her eyes. I asked her if she wanted me to go get her a clip.

"Yes." she said. "And grapes."

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

What if believing is the difference

A few weeks ago, I decided to rededicate myself to the whole "stay at home mom" concept. I decided it had gone on long enough, all the angst and anxiety over whether I was fulfilled or if I was throwing away my life or whatever. Basically I decided rather than having one foot out the door all the time, I was going to be the best damn stay at home mom I could be. And I think it's working, at least as far as my own level of contentedness is concerned.

What I realized I needed to do was to focus on the "mom" part. This may sound really stupid and obvious to you, but I think it's really hard to see sometimes when you're in the throes of it. I am not staying at home with Marlo so that I can get the laundry done or the internet surfed. I'm here to help her learn how to be a person. Hopefully a good one.

What this has meant in practice is that I have had to try and reconcile with my old nemesis, patience. I am horribly impatient. I have exploded in rages of blind fury over such minutiae as the speed with which my husband fills his tacos. Guess how pleasant that extreme lack of patience makes day to day life with an almost 18 month-old? But since my rededication, I have worked at being better. I have tried to enjoy helping Marlo learn to walk down the stairs - rather than think oh my god hurry UP - I repeat this mantra to myself: what do I have better to do? Yeah, maybe I'm heading downstairs to get the laundry, but helping Marlo learn to walk down the stairs is actually my job, now, isn't it?

I don't mean this as some pious report from on high about how I am a better mother than you are. I'm just sayin' - I found the first 17 months of being a stay at home mom to be more of a challenge, more detrimental to my self esteem than I thought it would be. Over the past couple of weeks I've flipped the script. I rock with Marlo at naptime, her little head on my shoulder, still smelling like peanut butter and jelly from lunch. And I think to myself how grateful I am, how amazingly fortunate I am that I am the one who gets to be there in that moment with her, every day. At first I was only telling myself - but it didn't take long for me to believe it.

Monday, November 7, 2011

But at least it's not raining

I kinda hate this new "daylight savings time ending so late" thing, because it just dumps you into extreme early darkness. It's very abrupt all the way up here in practically Canada. Like, it's four in the afternoon and I need to start turning on lights. Oh well, six more weeks of darkness and it will start to get lighter again. Just trying to channel my inner Pollyanna!

Actually, eight weeks from now and yours truly will be in full blown summer. Take that, Northern Hemisphere inhabitants! I'm spending most of January 2012 in New Zealand - which should be one of the best months out of the entire year to not be in Seattle. The only downside to this trip, as far as I can see, is that I have to fly with Marlo all by myself. I know people who have done it, and I know it can be done, but two 15 hour flights (there and back) without my husband there to have the teeny bathroom poopy diaper changes pawned upon sounds just slightly more fun than staying home alone with her for three weeks. I actually read a blog that recommended getting the kid slightly constipated before the flight. I think I may follow that advice.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

As if my life weren't poo-centric enough

So Marlo has become obsessed with the potty lately, which is both very exciting and very not. She's had a potty book for a while that she has now pulled in to heavy rotation. We just bought her an actual potty chair the other day during a harrowing trip to Toys R Us. She's been sitting on it, fully clothed, reading books or watching TV.* I wondered if maybe I shouldn't let her sit on the potty in the middle of the living room, but then I thought, hey, how often do you get to sit on a toilet without having to miss (pause) the action in your favorite TV shows? Right now, it appears Elmo is taking a turn on the potty, while Elmo's World plays on the screen. What a narcissist.

If potty training wasn't such (alleged) ass pain, I would be ready to be in the throes of it. What I am more ready for is the burning of my entire cloth diaper stash, and two blissful years of disposable diapers. Lately the diapers have been way harshing my mellow, what with the three teething poops a day and all. And also there's the whole part where Marlo is old enough to have an opinion about everything, including diaper changes. Her opinions tend to be quite strong on the subject, and mostly negative.

Now she's eating her snack on the potty. I should probably stop this. Although I am getting more and more convinced she just thinks it's a nifty plastic throne. I was thinking the other day how much I wished I lived in olden times, where I would have a chamber maid to come in my room in the morning, throw back the shades,  wake me gently and hand me my pot - you know, eliminating that long walk to the bathroom. Then I realized that chamber maids DO still exist, and I am one of them. There's no justice.

* I mean, not watching TV. Ha ha, she's only 17 months old, why would I be letting her watch TV? More nervous laughter, ha ha ha.