Thought Collection #2

More thoughts! A collection of things I think while going about my mom-ly duties:

My son has decided that he cannot eat anything that has a “wrapper.” Blueberries, grapes, beans, corn, and peas all have wrappers. He will spit them out like Tom Hanks in Big.


I attempted once- ONCE- to remove said wrappers for him. I also tried once to bake something I saw on Pinterest, but I like to think I learn from my mistakes.


I feel like, when you pay off your hospital birthing bills, you should get the title for your kid, like when you pay off your car. Frame that shit.


That moment when your kids are so quiet it causes panic. You must check on them but if they catch you peeking it will break whatever mystical spell has made them silent and they’ll come get all up in your business. But you need to a) see what has them so focused to make sure that it is available at all times from this point forward and b) make sure they’re actually still alive. But oh my god it’s been a full five minutes since someone whined at you and no-one is clinging to your leg so if you wait another three minutes you could probably still resuscitate with minimal brain damage if that’s the situation. And then MOM-GUILT you scurry to the doorway and peeeeeek around with one eye and it was just a new Sesame Street but you’re busted and so is this toy and they need snacks and moooooOOOOOOOOooooom.


One fun thing about having kids is getting to explain the subtleties of language to them. Like why we say we “lick off the spoon” not “suck it off.” Loudly. In public.


Pretty sure the nicknames we’ve had for our kids demonstrate exactly how life has gone with them. First kid: Little Man, Bubbaloo, Sir. Second kid: Chica, Scooter, Destructo, Gozer.


We are at a phase in the big kid’s life where he is learning to deal with frustration in more mature ways than wildly flailing around the house raining destruction on everyone else’s emotions. It’s going pretty well, actually, though when your starting point is sobbing because you took your pants off when you wanted to pee through them, I guess you have nowhere to go but up. Anyway, the other day I saw a break-down coming during teeth-brushing time, and told him I would guess what was wrong since he couldn’t use his words with a toothbrush in his mouth. My guesses:

Is it because the Beatles broke up? Was it Yoko? I bet it was Yoko.

Are you upset because Nick Jr replaced Marina on Fresh Beat Band without saying anything and acted like we wouldn’t notice? How were not going to notice? You’re a kid, not a marmot. We know faces.

Is it because there’s no more Clearly Canadian? It was clearly the most Canadian soda, so I don’t blame you.

Wait, it’s because DiCaprio still doesn’t have an Oscar? Don’t jump on that bandwagon, man. He’s not all that.

I know. I know. It’s because your elbows are so pointy. Curse you elboooooows!

Is it because you have toothpaste in your nose from giggling so much? That would bother me, too. Stop giggling so much! You are SO weird.


A lady’s body changes a lot after kids, mostly in ways that make you feel floppy and broken. Like now, having cramps is suddenly like implanting the garbage mashers from the first Death Star into my abdomen. Replete with thrashing tentacle monsters, metal poles propping up the walls, and a Wookie.


And, just for good measure, an Awkward Baby. Sometimes, you just gotta see how a life-choice tastes before you can commit.

He who hesitates is sometimes licking paper

He who hesitates is sometimes licking paper

But if you do dive in, Awkward Baby applauds you.

Awkward Baby #7

It’s time for an awkward baby, yes?

The longer I have kids, the more I find myself getting REALLY excited about talking to other grown-ups. But I’m out of practice. I want to have philosophical discussions about religion and politics and Art the way I used to when I was young and had no fear of being seen as an insufferable ass-hat. Maybe something about Marxism or Dada. Something you heard about on NPR today where I actually use my brains and the many overpriced years of education I amassed and *GASP* learn something new by listening to other people. I really miss that.

But honestly, at this point, I just get really excited to see someone who is over three feet tall. Someone who can talk about Italian cuisine without pronouncing it “Pahsketti.” And I get a little over-enthusiastic about it. I feel my face getting all goofy smiley and I don’t have anything intelligent to add to the conversation but I WILL laugh a little too hard at everything that’s not another knock knock joke about bananas. Sometimes I try way too hard and it’s a little embarrassing. And sometimes I don’t care because even being in the same room as other grown-ups is such a nice change that I don’t care how out-of-touch I am, I’m just glad to have a new person as a part of my day.


What are you guys talking about!? AHAHAHAHA! Right?

Awkward Baby doesn’t judge- you keep on with that goofy smile.

Thought collection #1

Modern social media has changed the way I think. Rather than have actual ponder-y thoughts, I find myself planning out how to relay my musings in a witty status update. This happens multiple times per day. And then, the moment is gone, I completely forget what I was thinking about, and it never makes it past my noggin.

Until now!

Tell 'em what they've won!

Tell ’em what they’ve won!

(p.s. This is the first image when you Google the phrase “tell them what they’ve won.” It’s like I got you a pony! But I didn’t. I just got you this marvelous image, which is frankly almost as good.)

I’m going to collect all those daily thoughts and flop them down haphazardly here! For your reading enjoyment! You’re welcome!

First installment: car seats to gay porn. Hooray!

1) The way to test to see if you’re ready to be a parent is to install two car seats, in the dark, while it’s sleeting rain/snow. If you can do it without hurling something across the yard, slamming the car doors more than six times, or screaming obscenities at innocent latch hooks, then you may be ready to parent. For the record, I am not ready to parent.

2) Realized I am only two years away from my TWENTY FREAKING YEAR high school reunion. This led to three thoughts. Thought one: holy. shit. Thought two: Pretty sure you have to identify as adult when you commemorate twenty years of the end of something. So… I’m a grown-up now, I guess. Thought three: I have two years to get my shit together so I can pretend I never got super fat.

Thanks, Pinterest

Thanks, Pinterest

3) Got the Big Kid his first Shamrock shake. “Mom… this is the most amazing drink ever. It’s so… green.” We’re all right there with ya, kid.

4) How I know I am an adult: I do not pull off chips of peeling paint from my walls or ceiling; I consider when I will be able to scrape and repaint. How I know I will never be fully adult: god DAMMIT I want to pull off that chunk of paint SO bad.

5) Had an odd moment today where I realized a lot of the things I hear as a parent would, in a different context, not be out of place on the set of a gay porn movie. Consider these actual moments from this week:

“Batman will ride the Batmobile and Robin will ride this cucumber.”

“I kind of prefer you don’t kiss me directly on the butt.”

“Aww, look at all those bears piled up on your face!”

And, the old stand-by: “Look how flexible my penis is!”

Til next time, keep it awkward, friends.