Um. Gross.

Remember a while back when I shared a really funny scary phrase that someone searched for and then ended up getting my blog as a result? I even made a new category for stuff like this in hopes I would have more to share. You know, for laughs and stuff.

It ended being a long stretch of not much interesting popping up. Until today. Here’s one that led someone to my recent post about cat hair:

“why do cats butts leak that nasty stuff”

Um, I think maybe someone should try searching the Yellow Pages for a vet. Gross.

Dressed for Success

Bear with me, ’cause I’m trying on a new look for the blog. I really don’t think this template fits just right, but it’s here for the time being. Speaking of dressing up and trying stuff on, here is what sometimes happens when daddy gets us dressed in the morning:

Dresses over jeans are so two years ago!

In his defense he did look at her and laugh once he realized how silly this is. He thought it was a shirt at first. You know, because a stripped shirt over the ladybug onsie, instead of a dress, would have totally worked. The even more surprising part…Grandma didn’t change her before we picked her up that afternoon. She must have been afraid we’d think she was judging our fashion sense. A shirt that isn’t warm enough for a 20 degree day is one thing. I often get a baby in a sweater back at night. This….this is just odd. No danger here.

Truth be told, I don’t mind this kind of thing too much. She looks cute in an offbeat kind of way. And, honestly, there are not too many years in our lives we can get away with such creative outfits and still be considered so adorable. Maybe later when we are over the age of 80, but that’s it. During the years in between people start to wonder about such blatant disregard for fashion rules. Or, you get famous by designing your own shit and winning Project Runway.

Ted and I do sometimes disagree on how she looks however. Even though I boast a laid back attitude, (I often say that come the day she wants to go to Safeway in a tutu and rain boots I’ll be very supportive. Pleased even.) I do occasionally get bristly with her Dad if he puts her in jeans and a baby Metallica t-shirt for a party. Seriously? We hardly ever get to dress her up and you choose this? It’s clear we have different agendas when it comes to showing her off to friends and family. Plus, I have a completely ridiculous amount of hand-me-down dresses that aren’t going to wear themselves, people.

Lucky for us, KC is getting to the point where she’s going to start picking stuff out on her own. She already zeros in on any and all head gear. She’s got knit caps for the cold, a baby-sized Boston Red Sox cap in pink that she actually likes to wear, and she constantly raids my closet to pull out all my baseball caps as well. She recently got a red velour outfit with matching red head band (courtesy of Grandma) and she keeps the head band in her toy box in case the urge to be more fashionable strikes at random. Cute. A little dorky in the “sugary sweet girlie” way, but cute. Dad hates it of course. Last week she chose to put it on just before we left for that playdate at the doctor’s office. I’ll leave you with that visual. Oh, and the awesome Longwood jacket was courtesy of Ted’s cousin, Steph. Jaunty!

C'mon, people. I'm due to meet Olivia Newton John in, like, 20 minutes. Let's go!

Hair Today, More Tomorrow

Cats. Two cats to be exact. Two cats = lots of hair. Hair on the couch, hair on the beds, hair on the stairs and the floors. Some days I sit back with a beer and watch the hairballs spin and dance around on the hardwood, passing in and out of sunlight from the windows, like some dirty ballet.

I am not a good housekeeper. This I will admit right up front. I don’t get out the broom, nevermind the mop and soap, very often. It usually takes company coming over to get my husband and I to really clean the dirt up. I do plenty of laundry, clean dishes every day, and take out trash. However, stuff that requires real cleaning equipment (like spray bottles and sponges) gets shamelessly ignored for weeks.

Company coming over will most definitely get me to clean up, and especially to clean up cat hair. Most of the time I keep our guest bedroom closed so the cats won’t use it as their own personal bedroom. Sometimes, however, I forget and what results is completely disgusting. This bed appeals to our cats more than ours. And why not? It’s clean and made up every day. Our bed (mine and my husband’s) is a tangled mess of sheets that haven’t been changed since…well, we won’t go there.

While I’m talking about cats and beds, why, WHY I ASK YOU do they always choose the very top of the bed? The part that is folded over and will be in your mouth if you were to accidentally sleep in all that hair? Amazing. The least they could do is stick to the foot, or pull back the covers.

When I was pregnant with KC, I had the nursery all made up weeks in advance, like excited mothers-to-be typically do. Almost every day I’d peek in there at cute mobiles and tiny clothes just marveling at what soft, wonderful little creature would be in there very soon. Almost every day I’d look at the crib and see cat hair, and I’d marvel at why I still owned the soft, sneaky little creatures that insist on sleeping in it every day while I am at work. Little bastards. I must have changed that crib at least 4 or 5 times before my daughter was even born.

Back then I worried so much about how I was going to keep the cats out of her crib. Surely it can’t be healthy for a newborn to sleep in a cat-hair coated bed? (Not to mention the dirt they bring on their feet…and butts. Ew.) I’d have to keep the door shut at all times. I’d have to chase after my husband to make sure he also kept the door shut at all times.

It’s funny now to recall how freaked out I was about the baby being subjected to any pet hair, or dirt on the floors as she crawled around. One look at my house, if you come by without warning, and it’s pretty clear I’m not exactly offended by it myself. Happily, the presence of my daughter seems to turn the cats off her crib. It seems they like the beds no one else is using. Thank God. I would have gone (even more) nuts chasing them out and worrying that they were sneaking in with her at night.

I got pretty relaxed about all the dirt paranoia real quick with the baby. Funny how that happens. I do still, however, clean that guest bed like a maniac anytime my Mom visits, or if I even think a drunken stranger friend might need to stay the night. Dirt on my kitchen floor, scum in the toilet, grease on the counter top…eh. Don’t like it? Go back to your own house. But, that cat hair coat on the top of my guest bed? Or the sofa arm? Good Lord. Even I have my standards to uphold.

*****

This post was done as part of the PBN Blog Blast. Check out the Parent Bloggers Network at http://blog.parentbloggers.com. And here’s something fun for you pet owners. Pledge™ is giving your pets a chance to redeem themselves in their Show Off Your Shedder contest. From February 21 through March 21, upload a photo of your pet on his favorite piece of furniture, and you might win $5,000 cash and a year’s supply of the new Pledge™ Fabric Sweeper for Pet Hair. Visit www.showoffyourshedder.com for details.

That counts as a playdate, right?

Remember how I said I needed to push for more playdates? Well, this weekend we had three. Sort of. Saturday was our niece’s 3rd Birthday, so KC got to go to a party. She adores her cousin, so any chance to see “Ya-ya” is a big deal. On Sunday we had another couple over for lunch. They have a little boy who is about to turn 1 year. KC loved that. She is completely enamored of any babies she meets. The word “baby” is used by her to describe any kids from age 1 month to about 5 years. Her fascination doesn’t stop at live babies either. We’ve got baby dolls now too—about 4 of them here at home, and 4 or so more at Grandma’s house. Even photos of babies rate up there for my daughter. She’s totally obsessed.

I am happy to note that other kids her age seem equally enthralled with the younger set. We went to the doctor today for KC’s well-baby visit. Spent about an hour hanging out with 2 or 3 other little girls, (who also took quite a liking to my husband) and a couple of newborns all the girls wanted to crowd in on. Much to the dismay of the new moms. It was a crowded day to say the least. Lots of sick kids. Always a bit nerve wracking considering how much “babies” like to touch each other and put each other’s toys right in the mouth. Ah well. Hard to escape all the germs, so I guess I’ll just cross my fingers that KC didn’t catch any doosies.

So, it was getting pretty clear that everyone there had been waiting a while. On a whim I decided to ask if we would have much longer. They looked at me funny and said, “She isn’t scheduled for an appointment today.”

Huh? You’re kidding! Today is the 16th! I have it written in my work calendar as Monday the 16th at 4 pm!

“Oh, no,” they said, “she’s not due in until March 16th.”

Crap. We just spent a whole hour playing with sick kids for nothing. My mistake or theirs? I will probably never know since I tossed the appointment card after writing it on the calendar. My husband and I were both surprisingly unruffled by the whole thing. You’d think at least one of the two of us would blow a gasket. I guess after spending the entire day on our couch it didn’t seem like such a bad thing to get out and “play”.

Nothing says, “I love you” like a 24 oz. Miller Lite…

…and a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a light-up rose. Seriously. This is what my husband brought me today at work. I totally married my soul mate.

Now that I am married I actually like Valentine’s Day. Ted is good. He’s real good. Each year he has had flowers (real ones), chocolate strawberries, or a Vermont Teddy delivered to me at work. My co-workers think I married the perfect guy. Little do they know the real gift comes when we get the credit card bill. This year I insisted we be more economical. I am glad he listened to me, because although I adore the nice gifts, after (almost) six years of marriage I don’t really need it to know he loves me.

I used to hate Valentine’s day. Truth be told, even though I enjoy me some February 14th hooplah, I still think it’s highly overrated. All that romance shoved in the face of everyone on earth regardless of relationship status? Cruel. They can pretend it’s for everyone (Look! You got a card from your Mom! Sweet!) but it’s crap. Before I got married I never, NOT EVEN ONCE, had the good fortune to be dating someone on V-day. Never on a major holiday either. No lie. I pretended indifference to all the rose bouquets around me, but inside I was jealous.

So, without further adue (adoo? whatever.) I give you my Valentine to the world. One that everyone can appreciate. And, if you can’t appreciate it, well, screw off.

Oh, I almost forgot. Ted also gave me a 2nd guitar for the Wii Guitar Hero game. A flying “V”. Hey, wait a minute. I just realized that is kind of cool. “V” like for “Valentine”. Heh. Anyway, he swears it was under $15. (You know, in keeping with the Trailer Park/Ghetto theme this year.) Tonight, after the bambino falls asleep, I will crack open my 24 oz. of Miller and jam on my new axe.

xoxo
-JRock

(Yes, that is my GH name. Shut up.)

Confessions of a Wallflower

I like to think I’m a lot more outgoing now than I was as a kid, but apparently I haven’t changed much since high school. I was shy. Painfully shy. Always quiet, to the extent that one classmate, upon hearing me speak one day, sarcastically exclaimed, “OMG! You do speak English!” Yeah. “F” you, bitch.

It’s FaceBook that has made me realize it. I am a person who (often) holds back and waits to be “friended” by others. Particularly with old classmates I have not heard from in years. It’s completely ridiculous. Why on earth would they not want to be my FB friend? I’m a nice chick. We are beyond the cliquey ways of high school when maybe I would have been too much of a nerd to go to a party with them. But, now? We are adults, parents, professionals…we are past that crap. I hope.

And, everyone knows, the more friends you have on FB the cooler you look! Right?

This has always been my curse. It’s probably why I was not that popular. I was so afraid to just go up to people and say, “Hi, I’m Jen! I love your sweater!” Classmates naturally assume you don’t want to talk, or they think you are a snob, or maybe just weird. I can’t imagine how many dates I missed out on because the (already terrified and akward) boys thought I was cold and aloof. I mean, hello! Guaranteed rejection! I wouldn’t have approached me either.

This “cold and aloof” facade couldn’t be more opposite from the truth, however. And, I did have a lot of friends despite my shyness. Luckily for me, there are plenty of other kids who don’t “fit in” immediately either. You tend to bond with each other. Plus, I had some close friends who were considered cool and didn’t care (much) about cliques, and one best friend in particular who was so talkative I could have been a ficus tree. God love her.

That same friend went on to college with me. College was a whole new world. I didn’t have the stigma of being the “quiet girl” anymore and with my best friend by my side, I quickly deemed it paradise on earth. In college guys will talk to you even if you seem shy. (3 cheers for beer!) Girls have no idea you weren’t a cheerleader, or that you were the teacher’s pet. They don’t really care anymore anyway. It’s college. We are all in the same boat now. We are all starting at square one. We are all invited to a kegger.

Now that I’m a mom, I am starting to slide back to those old days of feeling like the chick in the corner. We live on a street with other couples our age all around us. Most with young kids. I need to start leaving the comfort of my living room and making friends. If not for me, then for KC. Ted is so great at it. He was a football player and popular in high school. It figures that he just has an easy way with new people. Plus, he does a lot of stuff outside so he tends to run into the neighbors. All of whom are not “mole people” like myself, who prefers laundry-type chores to weeding and gardening in the sunshine.

I’ve got to try harder this year. KC will be my confidence. My excuse. She’s 1 and a half now so it’s time to get socializing. It won’t be easy. I have this odd tendency to feel inferior to a lot of people. Especially women. I don’t even know how to describe it. The funny thing is, I know that logically they are probably just as shy and insecure on the inside. They probably just do a better job hiding it. Or faking it.

No more excuses. I have women in my wider group of local friends who are new moms too. I should be calling them. Why don’t I? Maybe it’s laziness too. Life as working parents is busy enough without adding a social event every weekend. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay at home. Hey, I know! Maybe we can have a kegger at our house and invite them all! Just like college! We can make “virgin” Jello shooters! You know, for the kids! Holy Crap. We have a kid.

KC, I hope you got some of your Daddy’s “social” genes, but if you are a wallflower, like me, it’s ok. There’s always college. And the internet.

You took the words right out of my brain.

I found a website that scans your blog and makes a “Wordle”, which is basically a cloud of words in different sizes and colors. Words that pop up a lot in your most recent posts. I think that the larger words are ones used more often, but not sure. Here’s mine:

Looking at it, I can tell it used a lot of words from KC’s birth story. Kind of cool.

Please, don’t “show me the money”.

Ted and I are trying to refinance. Along with the rest of the population of the United States apparently. I tried calling my current lender first and they had no time to talk with me, but promised to take my number “and have someone call you in a few days.” Um. Thanks. Likewise, a second lender we typically turn to. I was about to give up and just wait for them to be ready. On a whim, I called a third company who a co-worker had good experience with. Lo and behold, they could help me right then and there.

It’s been about 3 weeks now and we are still in the process. I’m so sick of waiting. I hate stuff like this. The fine print just drives me nuts. A big part of why it’s now taking so long is that I had to stop the process and have terms re-done, because I had somehow misunderstood and agreed to pay for points. Um. No, thank you. I already cannot afford the closing costs as it is and will be financing those along with the mortgage. Why in the world would I want to also finance about $3,000 worth of points on top of that? I’ll take the slightly higher rate please. Then again, is paying for points (even if you can’t pay for them at closing) a good idea to get a lower rate? I don’t know really. The answer I’m usually given is “it depends”. Great. Thanks. Ugh. Anyway, seemed better to not finance extra money if I don’t need to.

Which leads me to the real reason for my post. (I know you are not interested in the details of my financial issues.) I hate the fine print, but I hate the large print even more. By large print I mean the “Truth in Lending” disclosure. W! T! F! Seriously. Who’s brilliant idea was it to make it a requirement for all lenders to tell us this tidbit? I know, I know. We have a right to know that we will be spending waaaaaaay more than the house is worth at the end of 30 years of finance charges. Well…duh. Like I don’t realize that. Like I’ve got about half a million stashed in a piggy bank, but just don’t want to part with it because I’d rather support the banks of the world in their effort to stay afloat.

Here’s my alternative to that very large, very hard to ignore number they are required to show me. How about instead of a number they come up with a selection of humorous phrases that clearly indicate the levity of the math involved, but also make us laugh at the same time. I mean, we know we are getting seriously robbed when we sign that dotted line. Can’t we at least pretend to be ok with it?

Here’s some suggestions on how it could be structured:

For a mortgage of say…$150,000.00 it could say that at the end of 30 years you will have actually paid:
“Enough to support a small village for a year, or maybe pay the electric bill at that house that goes totally crazy at Christmas. You know the one.”

For a mortgage of say…$300,000.00 it could say…
“A motherf***ing buttload. Just don’t worry about it.”

For jumbo loans it could say…
“That number has not even been invented yet.”

What do you think? Cool, right? Money sucks. Unless of course you have a ton of it. Debt is unavoidable unless you are a complete freak and never buy anything or do anything fun and frivoulous. Why do we have to know that stuff? Jimmy Buffet aptly states in one of his songs, “If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.” Amen, brother. A – f***ing – men.

More Than a Mouthful

KC’s communication skills and vocabulary are growing. Fast. It’s way more than words though. She understands so many things and the list just keeps growing. Just tonight I witnessed her picking up something very small and walking with determination into the dark kitchen. I followed assuming no good could come of it. I was totally mistaken. She opened up the trash bin and put the very tiny, offending piece of trash into the bin and shut it again. Well, holy shit. That’s new.

But, back to words and vocab, because that’s really the point of my post. We have picture books which we repeatedly go through, pointing and asking “what’s that” and she says the names of the animals and objects she sees and has memorized. What was once just the basics like “cow, pig, horse, cat, dog, sheep” has grown to include “elephant, duck, snake, owl, monkey” and as of tonight, um…”piñata”. Yes, “piñata”. One of those books has a rather odd and random assortment of stuff. “Chair, wagon, robot, cake, pumpkin and candle” are among some others she can recognize. A lot of these are very recent too. It’s pretty amazing the speed at which she’s picking up new things.

It doesn’t just stop at picture books either. I recently took notice of her ability to say “yes” when asked if she wants something rather than simply “yeah, yeah.” She has been saying “thank you” for quite some time now. I know she picked it up from us always saying it when she hands us something, or obeys a command. (Good dog.) At first she’d say it just to mimic what she knew we would say next. Like, after she picks her bottle up off the floor. Cute. Now she uses it more in context. Like when I give her a snack such as “cheese” (a favorite) or the infamous “ba-dole”.

Am I trying to brag about my daughter’s vocab talents? Maybe a little. But, really I am just trying to take stock of where she is right now, so I remember. It’s happening so quickly lately. Soon it will just be normal. One of the funniest is the way she now says “poo poo” if she thinks she has. Often she’s just got gas when she says it. Occasionally Daddy, or (I admit) myself (when no one but Kelly is around), lets one fly and she says it then too. I now try to say “excuse me” very pointedly when she or Ted goes “toot toot”. That’s another phrase she likes. Of course, Daddy finds it so amusing to fart and just act like she did it. Thanks for your help, honey.

It’s acutally quite astonishing that “poo” is the worst potty word she’s got so far. I mean, considering the fact that both Ted and I are still struggling to keep our language clean. She once repeated “shit” after me, but only once. I was relieved when she seemed to forget it right away. No doubt worse is coming. Cursing and detective shows with body parts flying around. These are the two vices I just cannot seem to give up yet. At least while she is present that is. Am I kidding myself to think imagery seen on Law and Order or NCIS will not affect her yet? It’s fairly likely and I really need to be better about it.

We have been buying more kid-friendly DVDs lately in an attempt to give her something to watch on demand. Where before she didn’t get too phased by the TV (aside from an annoying Dell commercial for a while) she now watches for longer stretches. She loves Hello Kitty, the Stump Village series. Claymation. Pretty cute stuff. “Hi Kit-T! Hi Kit-T!” is the chant every day now. That one is definitely the favorite as far as she’s concerned. The song makes her dance and smile. (The songs gets stuck in your head for days on end.) Dad and I are partial to Veggie Tales. It’s actually quite funny. With our luck, she’ll hate that one. When I pick her up at Grandma and Grandad’s each day it’s the same routine. She immediately runs to the door and says “Coat! Coat!” As we walk to the car it’s “Da-da! and Hi Kit-T!” Maybe “ba-dole” tossed in for good measure. This kid knows what she wants at the end of a long day. Sure, kid, you can have your “ba-dole” and your “Hi Kit-T” for now. Later tonight, Mommy’s watching House with a beer.