A Bit of a Rant

Ok, I have to say I"m getting a little tired of random strangers criticizing my parenting choices. In the past week and a half I've had two strange men call me out on small parenting decisions without bothering to A) look my in the eye or B) offer to help me correct what are obviously grievous parenting deficiencies.

The first time was just after the transmission on my car died. We were experiencing an apocalyptic rain storm that day which I was, admittedly, unprepared for being that I didn't expect to have my car go completely belly up on a Saturday morning in a torrential rain storm. Trust me, if I could have somehow anticipated that I would be stranded in the Pearl District without a car you can bet your ass I would have come better prepared.

So AAA has towed my car away (seriously, if you don't have a AAA membership, GO GET ONE! Totally, 100% worth it.) and I have to wait for Morgan to come pick me up in the rental car (we only have one car now which is normally FINE). So I can either choose to sit with a vocal baby in the waiting room of the salon where I have just gotten my hair cut or I can run up the street to Powell's where Finley can make all the noise she wants and not stand out like a Hummer in a sea of Priuses. I go for Powell's. I mean, its only two blocks from the salon and while folks are drawing up plans for the Ark (i.e. its raining real, real hard), its warm and I'm wearing boots and Finley is partially covered by the shade on the stroller so we go for it. And we have a lovely time. And I get some Christmas shopping done. And people ooh and ahh over Fin and I'm thinking Wow! this has been a really crappy morning but things are working out. Yay!

So, Morgan calls and he's waiting for me and Fin and I walk toward the salon where he is meeting us. And yes. It's raining. But 1) we live in Portland, we're used to this. We regularly make fun of people who use umbrellas. Seriously, what a sissy. And 2) its 61 DEGREES! If it wasn't raining people would be out in skirts and shorts and sundresses. And 3) IT'S TWO BLOCKS. This is not a tremendous distance even in the rain. Even with a baby.

ANYWAY...I'm waiting at the corner and it's definitely my time to cross and this guy has to come to a screeching stop so he doesn't hit me and Finley (FORESHADOWING) and I think Oh phew. Glad we missed that guy. So we cross and then I'm crossing the other way and as he drives by me he takes the time to roll down his window and yell out at me "HEY LADY! GET YOUR DAMN BABY OUT OF THE RAIN! JESUS CHRIST!"

Ok, tough guy. Let's go ahead and list out your asshat-ery
1)what kind of jackwagon yells at a random stranger on the street? Seriously? Get a job or a hobby or spend some time of Facebook. Maybe you can be one of those Dungeons and Dragons freakshows. If you find that your thoughts are so consumed with the weather & travel habits of strangers, that you need to yell at them out of your car window, you need to enrich your life.
2)clearly you are not ACTUALLY concerned with me or my baby because if you were, you would have stopped and offered to, I don't know, hold the umbrella over the stroller or something.
3)and yes, you're very tough and helpful and cool or something to yell out the window at me and refuse to make eye contact when I look at you in surprised amazement. That's right, buddy, drive on. It's easy to be critical and a general ass clown when you don't actually have to back up what you say. Just yell it out the window. Very helpful. Thank you.

AND THEN!

I took the kids to the library yesterday and because I forgot the stroller I was wearing Finley in the Ergo, carrying my diaper bag on one arm and holding Conor's hand with the other arm. Well, I was holding his hand with my hand but you get what I'm getting at. He's aware of the handicap button that will automatically open the doors and I usually let him push it for me because he likes to (kids like to push buttons, both real and figurative) and because generally I do have my hands full and while, yes, I am physically capable of opening the door by myself, it usually involves some sort of body contortion where I open the door with one side of my body, smash up against it and try to usher Conor through all while desperately attempting to keep hold of all the items I happen to be holding in my hands. So yes, I take advantage of the handicap access door. I also use the handicap bathroom and GASP! use the auto open doors at Target. I wonder how long my prison sentence will be?

ANYWAY! We're going through the second of the set of double doors and this man behind us snidely says "these are not toys, you know". And I look around because What? He's can't be talking to me and he sure as hell better not be talking to my son. But there is no one else around me. It's just me and Conor and him. And I look at him like What? Are you talking to me? And he won't even meet my eyes. Just makes his little comment and walks on. I walked the other way but kept looking back over my shoulder at him like, seriously? Was he really talking to me? So you criticize my parenting choice but don't offer to help with the door. In fact, you GO THROUGH the door you've said is not a toy.

So, yeah, I get it. I'm a pretty hands off parent. It's not that I neglect my children but I walk out of the room and leave Finley alone. And I don't insist that Conor hold my hand every second that we are out. And I don't put him on one of the wretched kid leashes. I allow my kids to experience rain drops (Quick! Call Child Protective Services!), and I allow my kids to let go of my hands to push the handicap button on doors (Quick! Call the cops! She doesn't have the appropriate handicap placard!) I don't keep them in perfectly-secure-no-harm-may-come-to-you bubbles and I guess sometimes that can call my parenting choices into question.

But more than someone disagreeing with a parenting choice I've made, it's the way you disagree. A comment hurled through an open window on a rainy day or snidely tossed over your shoulder is obviously criticism not to be constructive or help the situation but criticism just to criticize. Or maybe these two guys just like to be ass monkeys. Who knows?

This is about 10 paragraphs longer than I anticipated but I actually feel tremendously better from having vented. Whew.

It's unlikely that I will post again before Christmas so I would like to say that I hope you and yours have a day that is merry and festive. And hopefully spiked with a little somethin'-somethin'.

Also?  This is my 200th post!  YEE-HAW!  Merry Christmas, y'all!

Oh Crap

Is there anything I can say anymore?

Conor now walks around the house going "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."

Oh crap.

Yes, there are worse things he could say, he's said those too, but I'm running out of expletives.

Dammit.

Sleeping Arrangements

Conor has begun giving us some trouble at nap time and night time. I get the feeling that he has become afraid of the dark as he won't walk down the hallway to his bedroom alone in the early morning hours or in the early evening. As a consequence his bedroom door must be left open during naps and during the night.

And so a new step has been added to our nighttime routine. We read our stories, sing our songs and then Conor says its time to talk about his "options". As in, "OK, Mommy, now we can talk about my OPTIONS."

See I discuss with Conor what he needs to do in order to keep his bedroom door open.

ME: Ok, Conor, you have two options. You can have your bedroom door open or you can have your bedroom door shut. Which would you prefer?

Conor: Bedroom door OPEN.

ME: Ok, and what do you need to do in order to keep your door open?

Conor: I need to be QUIET.

ME: And if you're not quiet, what will happen?

Conor: You will close my door.

ME: And if I close your door, will you be happy or will you be sad?

Conor: I will be SAD.

ME: So what should you do to keep your door open?

Conor: I will be QUIET. Good OPTIONS, Mommy.

So last night Morgan gets out of the shower and asks if Conor was noisy and if that was why I closed his door. Since I actually didn't close his door we were curious and decided to investigate this little matter. We also noticed Tucker was missing. (FYI Tucker's kennel is now in Conor's room.) Hmmm...

Morgan walks into Conor's room to find Tucker pawing at the door, Conor missing from his bed and curled up with his Bubba (Blankie) in Tucker's kennel.

Apparently there is a third option I failed to consider.

Spoons

The strangest thing is happening in my house. I'm losing all my spoons. Well, all the small spoons, that is. Does this seem extrordinarily strange to anyone else?
I mean, where have they all gone?

I started with a set of 8 and now we're down to four. Half the original amount have vanished. I've looked everywhere I can think but they have simply DISAPPEARED. And it's not like you can go out and just buy four spoons that will match the set. Actually, I don't even care about matching, I woulld just like a full set of spoons but no one sells utensils individually. Probably because, who in the world looses only spoons?

When we move out of this house someday we are going to find a cache of spoons and perhaps missing socks stored somewhere.

At any rate, small spoons, along with cookware, cutting knives and sippy cups are no longer permitted in the dishwasher. Hand wash only. At this rate, I should just tear out the dishwasher and put in more cabinet space.

Babyfest

I love Babyfest every time we have it.  There are three members to this group.  Zech, son of Billy was born June 3rd, Harper, my sweet little niece, born June 23rd and Finley, (you know who she is), born July 10th.


 I wish I had a picture of Babyfest 1 when they were so little and tiny.  But you know, looking back, they actually look more like aliens so perhaps its best that I don't post it here.

Babyfest 2 - Early August

Babyfest 3 - Late September/Early October

Babyfest 4 - December

It's fun to watch these little ones grow up together.  I can't wait to see what they look like this time next year.  We moms were talking about taking these same pictures in 10 years and how they would probably not want to sit on the couch together then either.  Billy and Kristen and I have all been friends for at least 10 years so it's perfectly reasonable to think that we'll be attending Babyfest 134 in 2020.

So cute.  Such fun.

Comments

So when I said the other day that I don't get any comments on this blog I guess I lied a bit. I get these random annonymous comments from time to time and I thought, rather than actually typing a coherent post, I would share with you the responses to some of my other posts.

Please to enjoy.

In response to Blocked: I fool be familiar with a insufficient of the articles on your website in the present circumstances, and I really like your style of blogging. I added it to my favorites net stage file and resolve be checking back soon. Please contain out of order my orientation as highly and vindicate me conscious what you think. Thanks.

Well, kind sir, consider yourself both vindicated and conscious.

In response to Cop Out: solved my problem, thank you!

Wonderful! So glad my post about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING solved your problem. If only we all had problems so easily solved.

In response to The box under the table: Just wanted to take a moment and say hello to everybody. Looking forward to the forum and what everybody has to say.


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There are so many things wrong with this. First of all forum? My random, sometimes incoherant ramblings can hardly be considered a forum. Then, dear commenter, if you are not, at the moment, "focused on the internet" why are you reading a blog on the...you know...internet? And then, the good man Anonymous just goes all sorts of crazy. Potent as a train engine? hmm, someone has an awfully high opinon of themselves. And what the hell is a packet outhouse? A packet in an outhouse or an outhouse in a packet? Either way, I'm not interested. But my favorite part is where our esteemed commenter explains that the "information is prepared in order that obviously any good infant can understand it." Well, good! I don't want the bad infants understanding it anyway.

I have toyed with the of setting up the comments so that you have to enter a code in order to post a comment thereby eliminating these obviously spammed comments.  But its actually far too much fun.

December 7, 1941

Today is the 69th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  Grandpa Joe is a Pearl Harbor survivor and one of the coolest, most rock-solid dudes I know.  He reads every single blog post I write and comments on most of them.  He admits that half the time he has no idea what I'm talking about.  I admit that, half the time, I don't know what his comments are about either.  He always signs comments and emails "Semper. The Grands South  or Elder Grands Walsh...way south". 

As they say, once a Marine, always a Marine.


As the years pass the numbers of Pearl Harbor survivors dwindle and I count myself extremely fortunate to know and love this particular veteran. 

Thanks, Grandpa Joe, for your service to our country. 

*Click the link above if you haven't already.  You'll not only see how handsome this 91 year young man is but you'll see how he still serves in his community today.*

December 2nd, 2010

Finley rolls over for the first time.  I had forgotten just how much fun these little milestones can be.  Smiling and giggling can be tricky because each can be confused as something else be it gas or strange baby grunts.  But this felt like the first big, easily recognizable physical accomplishment and it reminded me of how much more we have in store.

Oh!  and she was so cute when she did it too. We were at Mom's Group which we don't get to go to very often and she was MESMERIZED by the other babies.  The speaker that day was a phyiscal therapist and she had just mentioned that babies, at about five months old, will begin to pull their feet towards their faces and roll side to side in what she called a barrel roll.  From there they will rock until they are on thier sides and then sort of smush a little bit farther and end up on their bellies.

AND THEN FINLEY DID IT!  She looked really surprised like "wait!  how did I get here?" before I scooped her up and kissed a million and a half times.  Such a sweet little girl, I could not love her more if I tried.

in other Finley news, I've begun feeding her some solid foods at meal times.  I had given her a few tastes of my oatmeal or yogurt a time or two and she was kind of blah about it.  This weekend I mashed up some banana and she was...well, underwhelmed by it.  We hit the jackpot yesterday at lunch though when I gave her some of Conor's applesauce.  She could not get enough.  Again at dinner,when she had some avocado, she could not get enough.  Looks like she'll be a good eater just like her brother.

yeah, I fell off the daily posting wagon. Based on the content of my last several posts, I doubt any tears have been shed.

12 days in a row. Wait, make that 13

So, today is my 13th consecutive post and I've got to say, the novelty has long since worn off.  There are two problems I've identified with daily blogging thus far.

1.  Quantity often sacrifices quality.  I'm forcing myself to blog every day but not forcing myself to come up with quality posts.  I mean, I want to, I just don't always have something of merit to say.
2.  Its a little lonely.  I sort of feel like I'm writing for myself most days.  And if it's just me writing for me, then why I am I doing this?  With blogging it's hard to know if anyone is actually reading this.  And if no one is reading any of this...wait, again, why am I doing this?

So, that's where we stand today.  Tomorrow is the Civil War (GO DUCKS!) so hopefully a passionately fought football game will inspire more than a similarly tepid post.

Merry Christmas Tree

Its the Sunday after Thanksgiving and we're off to get our tree.

Its important to plug your child in with a movie before you leave.  Its not like you want to actually TALK to them on the way up there or anything.

Its nice to have a car big enough to eat lunch, hang out and change a diaper.

A big car also protects you from the snow.  Well, only if you're not the photographer.

Finley has decided that the snow is pretty fun.

Morgan is growing a beard.  I think its sexy even if it is a bit tickly.

Do you remember when you were little how much you loved the snow?  Conor LOVES the snow.

Its also great fun to throw snowballs at Mommy.  Meanwhile Mommy is yelling "Not the camera!  NOT THE CAMERA!!!"

Look!  We made a little teeny snowman.

Look!  I can knock it over!

Look!  I am adorable and pink cheeked.

Off to find the perfect tree.

Found one!

Conor finds Daddy in a game of hide and seek.

"How about this one?"

This is the one!

So, Daddy.  I think you should cut it down right here.

No, actually,  I think this is a better spot to start.

Well, if you're not going to listen to me, I wash my hands of this whole operation.

 Christmas tree getting was a success.  Our tree is up, decorated and dropping needles everywhere.  Its kind of perfect.

As promised

Oh 1996, with your puffy hair and Bill Cosby sweaters, you were good times.  Let's take a moment to review, shall we?

1.  What is with my triangle shaped poofy hair?  Also, is it two-tone?  Very possibly.
2.  Oh Dustin, did you have to borrow your dad's sweater that he stole from the venerable Mr. Cosby?
3. Look at the way I am gripping his arm.  What I want to know is what the hell is he doing with the other hand to make me grip him so?
4. Corsage and boutineer.  I sincerely hope in the 14 years since I went to high school dances the practice of giving wearable flowers to your date has passed.  I'm all for a nice bouquet but seriously?  Flowers?  On my wrist?  What?
5. We aren't in our high school cafeteria but a blue skied, snowy winter wonderland.  With comfy wrought iron chairs and weird white stick thingys and a lamp post to light our way.
6. I actually paid money for this marvel of photographic genius.
5. Boutinier