Friday, September 26, 2014

The Checkout Guy, the Killer, and the Bad Mama

Yesterday I took the kids grocery shopping at Trader Joe's. They were acting like their normal, semi-whiny, semi-grumpy selves as we checked out.

The young cashier guy gives me a pitying look and says "So...would you do it again if you knew?", meaning, I assumed, if you knew what a pain in the butt they would be, would you still have kids?

I looked at him for a really long time, and then, because it's weird to just stand there and say nothing, I mumbled, "I...dunno...."

He looked shocked as heck. I'm sure that guy is rethinking his future as a parent now, ha!


I love over-hearing people's conversations at my gym. When I go, it's usually the time when every retired person in my neighborhood is also there so I hear a lot of talk about aging, mortality, and creaky joints.

The other day I heard a guy confessing to murder. He first confessed to something small, and then, because he couldn't help himself, confessed to something much larger in his past.

His first confession was that his neighbor had an annoying plant that attracted annoying pests, so he went out at night and uprooted the plant. His conversation partner said - Well, I'm glad I'm not your neighbor!

This spurred the plant-murderer to boast of his greatest crime.

Well, that's nothing. When I was a kid, our neighbor planted a huge row of bushes that blocked off a lot of our view and sun. My dad was so pissed about it. So one night I went out and poured a salt mix all around the bushes. Killed them all in about a week!

I know this guy only murdered plants, but still. It's chilling to know I was doing lat pull-downs next to a true, bonafide sociopath of sorts.


Today I had to go to Judah's parent-teacher night at his preschool. Noah was apparently really upset that I left the house for an hour. He looked for me, he cried a little, he clearly missed me.

When I was nursing and cuddling him to sleep he scolded me (that's a first!): Ba- mama! Ba- mama! (translation: Bad mama! Bad mama!)

And then he slapped me on my hand and said, spank spank! (which is what the Spouse does to him whenever he messes with the Spouse's book collection).

Noah did this 7 or 8 times.

What a presumptuous baby. Seriously. This kid is not afraid to speak truth to power!

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Portrait of a Parent

Sometimes people see me out and about with the kids and make kind comments like - you are such a good mom! You are so patient!

It's amazing how seeing a 2-minute snapshot of a parenting situation is so different than a 12-hour time-lapse experience.

Because if you ask Judah how he feels about my parenting, he would probably present to you this very telling picture (which he in fact did present to me last week):

Mommy, this is about 'motions. So we can learn about 'motions. In this picture you are mad, I am sad, and Noah is confused.

And there you have it. The inside scoop from someone who tells it like it is.

Monday, September 08, 2014


This week and weekend has been pretty rough.

Judah's been dealing with a horrific all-body rash that has turned his face into a cross between a puffer-fish and Quasimodo.

Kinda looks like a pro-activ "before" pic from hell.

Oh my poor, deformed, rashy son.

It started around Tuesday and I finally took him to the doc on Friday. The doc wasn't that impressed (probably since it didn't look that bad yet) and told us it wasn't contagious. Well, that's a relief.

The prevailing theory is poison oak (or ivy or sumac), but to be honest, we have no idea when or how Judah came in contact with the offending plant. He is forever trampling through shrubbery and hiding in it so he can gleefully watch us hunt for him, so it was probably inevitable that he would get this sooner or later.

Either way, I realized I do not handle watching my child suffer very well. I went through wild swings of imagination - what if it's strep? what if it infects his blood and organs? what if he goes into shock from the allergic reaction? what if the rash leaves horrific scars for life? what if he stops breathing? Pure. Torture.

But Judah has handled it all with surprising grace and equanimity of spirit. At his most uncomfortable stage one night I was patting him with cold water compresses, and he sighed in relief each time the cool cloth was draped over his burning skin. "I have the best mommy in the world," he cooed.

He is so much like me - blessing physical discomfort if it brings emotional consolation.