One of my favorite movies of all time is Christopher Guest's amazing, hilarious, awesome Best in Show. Love it. And one of my favorite scenes from the movie is when the characters played by Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara are checking into the hotel in Philadelphia, and their credit card is rejected. "Try this one," Cookie says. "That's the good one." The card is declined. "No, no, that's the good card, it's only on the 2nd notice."
That line (although inaccurate as I report it) cracks me up every time. It is not as funny, however, when it is YOUR card that is declined, as my husband's was in Costco on Saturday.
Picture this, me and DH, each holding an increasingly fussy child. A cart full of stuff like dog food and frozen broccoli. A busy Saturday in a store that ONLY takes debit cards, Amex, or Costco credit cards. Of those three, we ONLY have a debit card that would not cover our dog food and broccoli.
Oh, I'm sure you can imagine the feeling, right? Thankfully, we had another debit card that worked. We start our way out the door, with the husband fighting with the 2 year old about her sitting in the cart, when, in front of the lunchtime crowd eating their hot dogs and churros, I inexplicably FALL. I was carrying M, and managed to keep her upright. I did this by twisting my body into an unnatural position and landing on my right knee.
Every eye in Costco was now looking at the mom on the floor with the baby, and the dad fighting the toddler. Two kind men came over to help me up. I thanked them, then limped back to where husband was standing with the cart and crying toddler.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Just. Go." I muttered.
I struggled to look as serene and as in-control as possible as we walked out, passing the busy service desk where every.one had seen me bite it and are now analyzing me to see what type of a mother would fall while holding a baby, like Britney Spears. Husband is muttering something about the bank, I'm thinking about the bruise forming on my right knee, and kids are now screaming.
Now that is a fun Saturday.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Mea Culpa
It didn't hit me until my commute home that I might be a tad bit of a hypocrite about something.
See, last week I picked up E at day care, and Miss J, her teacher, told me that she needed more diapers. I asked how E's pull ups were working. Miss J said, "fine" then paused. "But... all the other little girls have princess pull ups and E keeps asking why she doesn't have princesses on her pull ups."
My first reaction was pure pain, for my little 2 year old who wanted to have princess pull ups like the other little girls. I don't even know what her other pull ups had on them - Dora? Tweety? I hadn't even checked. And even though I have a long-standing and perfectly reasonable dislike for all things "princess" I told E that I would get her princess pull-ups.
And I did.
I've thought about that decision several times since, and not just after what I posted earlier today. I'm not really regretting it, it's just a diaper that she's peeing and pooping in, and if anything makes her more enthusiastic about the potty learning process, I'm all for it, even if it means collaboration with the evil princesses. I've just been thinking about how sad it is that I'm already having to deal with peer pressure, with commercialism and branding.
Anyway, I just felt in the interest of fair and balanced journalism, I should come clean about my hypocrisy. Kinda.
See, last week I picked up E at day care, and Miss J, her teacher, told me that she needed more diapers. I asked how E's pull ups were working. Miss J said, "fine" then paused. "But... all the other little girls have princess pull ups and E keeps asking why she doesn't have princesses on her pull ups."
My first reaction was pure pain, for my little 2 year old who wanted to have princess pull ups like the other little girls. I don't even know what her other pull ups had on them - Dora? Tweety? I hadn't even checked. And even though I have a long-standing and perfectly reasonable dislike for all things "princess" I told E that I would get her princess pull-ups.
And I did.
I've thought about that decision several times since, and not just after what I posted earlier today. I'm not really regretting it, it's just a diaper that she's peeing and pooping in, and if anything makes her more enthusiastic about the potty learning process, I'm all for it, even if it means collaboration with the evil princesses. I've just been thinking about how sad it is that I'm already having to deal with peer pressure, with commercialism and branding.
Anyway, I just felt in the interest of fair and balanced journalism, I should come clean about my hypocrisy. Kinda.
Fight the Princesses
This should touch every woman who has ever felt that she wasn't good enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough. It's one reason why I HATE the (Disney) princess phenomenon, which tells little girls they have to be pretty and... well... that's pretty much it. If I feel like it will be a struggle to raise my girls in this world, I can't imagine what women of color struggle with.
No child should feel that they are ugly or bad based on what they look like. Boycott the princesses. That is all.
No child should feel that they are ugly or bad based on what they look like. Boycott the princesses. That is all.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Brr!
Well that sucked.
What, you say?
Getting up on a snowy morning. Getting your kids dressed, getting yourself dressed, driving 25 mph to the train station, slipping and sliding along the way. Getting on the train, going to work, only to find a sign on the door that the office is closed today. Damn.
Getting back on a train, slipping and sliding on the way home, 3 hours later coming into my kitchen to find a message from my supervisor that indeed the office had closed.
The time the message was left? 7:50 am. The time I'm supposed to be at my desk? 7:30 am. Granted, I didn't get there until 8:20 this morning because of the aforementioned slipping, sliding, and 25 mph, but still.
Dallas is not supposed to be cold and icy and snowy. We're just not cut out for it. See Mrs. DallasKs blog for more information.
And the part I feel worst about, is that my kids are in day care. They're having a normal, fun time, I'm sure, but Mr. Illegal and I decided that his 4WD should transport them today. So. Here I am, with an unscheduled day off, snow and ice, hours of my days wasted on a unfruitful commute, no immediate plans, and a large sleeping dog at my feet that just emitted a very foul smell.
Fun, right?
What, you say?
Getting up on a snowy morning. Getting your kids dressed, getting yourself dressed, driving 25 mph to the train station, slipping and sliding along the way. Getting on the train, going to work, only to find a sign on the door that the office is closed today. Damn.
Getting back on a train, slipping and sliding on the way home, 3 hours later coming into my kitchen to find a message from my supervisor that indeed the office had closed.
The time the message was left? 7:50 am. The time I'm supposed to be at my desk? 7:30 am. Granted, I didn't get there until 8:20 this morning because of the aforementioned slipping, sliding, and 25 mph, but still.
Dallas is not supposed to be cold and icy and snowy. We're just not cut out for it. See Mrs. DallasKs blog for more information.
And the part I feel worst about, is that my kids are in day care. They're having a normal, fun time, I'm sure, but Mr. Illegal and I decided that his 4WD should transport them today. So. Here I am, with an unscheduled day off, snow and ice, hours of my days wasted on a unfruitful commute, no immediate plans, and a large sleeping dog at my feet that just emitted a very foul smell.
Fun, right?
Friday, January 12, 2007
Internet Spelling Vent of the Day
When you are pregnant, and are about to go into labor, your cervix DILATES.
It does not DIALATE.
I will so go off on someone if I see this again.
Like LOOSE vs. LOSE. Since when does an extra letter make it easier to spell?
Yes, I know this makes me a spelling bitch, or nazi, or whatever, but it just irks me to no end.
And do NOT get me started on the incorrect use of possessive apostrophes.
It does not DIALATE.
I will so go off on someone if I see this again.
Like LOOSE vs. LOSE. Since when does an extra letter make it easier to spell?
Yes, I know this makes me a spelling bitch, or nazi, or whatever, but it just irks me to no end.
And do NOT get me started on the incorrect use of possessive apostrophes.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Three punches
Some days it just seems to come in waves.
First, I'm reading a great book, Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser. This morning a passage of a 7 year old princess's passing just got to me. I thought, I could *never* have lived back in the days of high infant mortality. Never.
Then, I read an e-mail from my mother, and she says something about one of her friend's three-year old daughter, Hannah, who was born the same month my first pregnancy was due. "She's three," my mother writes, and that just brings tears to my eyes. I could have three year olds. My eyes quickly went to my pictures of E and M, that surround me every day. I know things turned out ok, but they kind of sucked for a while, and my tears are for the days that sucked.
Finally, the tsunami. News of a miscarriage after a loss. Damn. I want to throw up. I want to say, "I know how you feel," but I don't, not really. I cry anyway, but nothing I do can make it better. As my first two waves show, even time can't take away the pain. It just dims and transforms into something different, something subtler and harder to define. It may make us tougher. It may make us wiser. It may make us more vulnerable. It definitely makes us more compassionate. But it just never goes away.
First, I'm reading a great book, Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser. This morning a passage of a 7 year old princess's passing just got to me. I thought, I could *never* have lived back in the days of high infant mortality. Never.
Then, I read an e-mail from my mother, and she says something about one of her friend's three-year old daughter, Hannah, who was born the same month my first pregnancy was due. "She's three," my mother writes, and that just brings tears to my eyes. I could have three year olds. My eyes quickly went to my pictures of E and M, that surround me every day. I know things turned out ok, but they kind of sucked for a while, and my tears are for the days that sucked.
Finally, the tsunami. News of a miscarriage after a loss. Damn. I want to throw up. I want to say, "I know how you feel," but I don't, not really. I cry anyway, but nothing I do can make it better. As my first two waves show, even time can't take away the pain. It just dims and transforms into something different, something subtler and harder to define. It may make us tougher. It may make us wiser. It may make us more vulnerable. It definitely makes us more compassionate. But it just never goes away.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Financial advice
To the man sitting behind me on the train this morning, who stated he wanted to sell his house and start renting so that he could "save" $20,000 on property taxes over the next few years, who said he'd rather have that money in "his pocket."
Um, what?
You sounded like a nice person. You're a single dad of a teenager and obviously, you talk really loud on the train. If I'd had a financial background, or the business card of a financial adviser, I would have turned around and given it to you, because frankly, you're either full of sh!t or completely clueless.
The person who owns your new rental house? S/he might be writing the check to the tax office, but rest assured, you're paying the taxes. And you've lost your equity.
Or am I missing something?
Um, what?
You sounded like a nice person. You're a single dad of a teenager and obviously, you talk really loud on the train. If I'd had a financial background, or the business card of a financial adviser, I would have turned around and given it to you, because frankly, you're either full of sh!t or completely clueless.
The person who owns your new rental house? S/he might be writing the check to the tax office, but rest assured, you're paying the taxes. And you've lost your equity.
Or am I missing something?
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
my dreams
It's the height of self-absorption, apparently, to blog about your dreams, but this one I found particularly interesting the other night.
I was somewhere, and President Bush was there. Some kind of official reception or something. I was perfectly polite and shook his hand, etc. Then he came by my table where I was standing. He said, in a kind of belligerent cowboy way, "I know you have something negative to say to me."
This was my chance to tell him what I thought, what's been on my mind. And I burst into tears. I said, "I'm sorry Mr. President. I don't want to be negative. But ever since I had my babies, my heart can't take the way this world is run. I can't believe in war, when other mothers are losing their babies. We have so many things to fix. I mean, what kind of schools are my babies going to go to? You have daughters, can't you understand that?"
In my dream, I just sobbed and held his hand. I don't remember if he said anything.
I don't put a lot of stock in dreams, necessarily. I've had a few that have been very meaningful to me, usually about my babies, but this one was interesting. I keep thinking about it and I've realized that the state of the world has probably affected me more than I realize.
For more on the state of the world, I enjoyed this article: 2006: The Year in Sex - So Long Sugar Tits I wished I could write that. Pretty funny and pretty sad. Again, here's to 2007.
I was somewhere, and President Bush was there. Some kind of official reception or something. I was perfectly polite and shook his hand, etc. Then he came by my table where I was standing. He said, in a kind of belligerent cowboy way, "I know you have something negative to say to me."
This was my chance to tell him what I thought, what's been on my mind. And I burst into tears. I said, "I'm sorry Mr. President. I don't want to be negative. But ever since I had my babies, my heart can't take the way this world is run. I can't believe in war, when other mothers are losing their babies. We have so many things to fix. I mean, what kind of schools are my babies going to go to? You have daughters, can't you understand that?"
In my dream, I just sobbed and held his hand. I don't remember if he said anything.
I don't put a lot of stock in dreams, necessarily. I've had a few that have been very meaningful to me, usually about my babies, but this one was interesting. I keep thinking about it and I've realized that the state of the world has probably affected me more than I realize.
For more on the state of the world, I enjoyed this article: 2006: The Year in Sex - So Long Sugar Tits I wished I could write that. Pretty funny and pretty sad. Again, here's to 2007.
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