To the Future Mothers on the Bachelor

Posted on January 26, 2009 by The Daring One

I like a lot of you. I don’t know you. I don’t readily admit to watching your shenanigans and exploits. I just happen to catch the show every Monday night at 8pm PST completely by accident. You are not super-real to me but just real enough I thought I’d write you all a letter on the internet, from one mom to a group of future moms who are, like, so ready to be moms.

First off, Jason doesn’t plan the dates. When he takes you out in a blimp, a jet, a parachute, a helicopter, a largish kite, shoots you from a cannon, or in some way takes you soaring to new heights with a view of the world you’d never imagined was possible, he is not the mastermind behind the experience. He has a team of PRODUCERS PLANNING EVERYTHING FOR HIM.

When you’re married, the team of producers will no longer live at your house, feeding him lines, starting the campfires, decorating his mansion and making every moment perfect. Jason will likely change back into a normal human male, a human male with a 5-year-old son whom he loves more than you.

And it’s not that heating up your own Papa Murphy’s while desperately seeking a vegetable to feed the child and then trying to get him in bed early enough that you’ll still have energy left for quality time with your shmoop isn’t fun. It’s just different. He will likely never shoot you out of a cannon or write your name in the sky again, at least not on weeknights. He may ask you to do his laundry though.

Secondly, nothing prepares you for motherhood, not watching shirtless Jason on TV playing with his son, not holding your friend’s kid until it starts to squeak ever-so-slightly, not obtaining a college degree, not “getting all the partying out of your system,” not even being hosed down with boogers and diaper fillins for 6 months straight while someone screams in your ear at the top of their lungs. Nothing prepares you. I’m not sayin’ it ain’t wonderful because it is. You’re just not, like, so ready. No one is.

Posted in domesticality, Love and Marriage, parenting, television | 41 Comments

My Baby LISTENS

Posted on January 25, 2009 by The Daring One

This morning Magoo emerged from his room with a large stuffed turtle tucked under his arm, rather than the small mangy dog he’s been carrying around for weeks as his “baby.”

“This is my new baby,” he announced.

“Oh really? What happened to your old baby?”

“He never LISTENS to me. This baby LISTENS to me so he’s my new baby now.”

I think this is good criteria for choosing a baby. As she’s drooling in the Bjorn and I’m expounding my great treasures of knowledge, is the baby really listening? Well if not… You never know who I’ll end up with the next morning. It may be a turtle or a purple frog but a baby who doesn’t listen doesn’t last very long in this household.

So he took his baby to church where he cuddled him, tossed him around and eventually dropped him on the floor. I didn’t see much talking or listening and I wondered how long the relationship would last.

Laylee retrieved the wide-eyed turtle infant from the ground and began moving it around in a pattern resembling play but which did not appear enjoyable in any way. And then she sneezed.

I know she sneezed because I heard the sound next to me and a moment later she was holding the turtle 3 inches from my face with a guilty, teeth-baring grin/grimace on her face. There was a largish boogie on the turtle.

Magoo hadn’t noticed the desecration yet and she whispered, “What should I DO!?”

I searched my bag in vain for tissues or wipes and then told her quietly to take the turtle to the bathroom and wipe him down with a damp paper towel. This seemed to please her, the idea of having any business important enough to excuse her from a church meeting giving an inexplicable maturity and importance to her very being. As she marched with dignity from the room, Magoo noticed the baby-napping that had just occurred.

“Where’s she taking my BABY!?”

“Your baby has a boogie on his head and she’s gone to clean it off,” I whispered.

At this point, please ask me how much I had gotten out of the church meeting? Not a lot. I did have a renewed testimony of baby wipes, even when your human babies are past the point of diaperhood but other than that, it had been a pretty unfulfilling service.

And Magoo seemed strangely pleased over the drama with his baby. Of course he longed for his safe return, but a BOOGIE ON HIS HEAD?! That was obviously scandalous and cool in a way that only a 3 or 13-year-old boy can truly appreciate.

5 minutes passed.

Laylee returned with the turtle, holding it boog-first towards me, the grimace still on her face.

“In the bathroom there was a sign that said ”˜DO NOT something-I-couldn’t-read.’ I was worried that I wasn’t allowed to wash the boogie off his head.”

How, oh how did I keep a straight face as I told my semi-literate daughter that I was pretty sure, like 100% sure, that the sign did not say, “DO NOT WIPE BOOGIES OFF THE HEADS OF STUFFED BABY TURTLES IN THIS BATHROOM?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I’m pleased to say that the baby has now been cleansed and his listening skills are as good as ever. Perhaps better.

Posted in baby stuff, blick, kid stuff, parenting | 24 Comments

You Need a Budget

Posted on January 24, 2009 by The Daring One

Before I announce the winner, I want to let you all know that now through January 31st, Daring Young Mom readers can get a 10% discount on YNAB software by entering the coupon code “daring” on the YNAB.com site. Jesse was impressed with the response you all gave and wanted to help out because there are so many of us who are struggling with finances right now. Yay Jesse!

And the winner of the You Need A Budget software giveaway is Donna, commenter number 29. Please contact me and I’ll get you set up with your prize.

ynab-winner

Click to Read My Product Review Policy

Posted in contests, money | 3 Comments

Emotional Outbursts are We

Posted on January 22, 2009 by The Daring One

Emotional Outbursts are We – A Grammatically Correct Place Where a Kid Can Throw a Fit.

Things have been sort of climactic at our house lately. Everything is high drama. Both kids are going through a bit of a manic depressive stage. Either they’re twirling pirouettes joyfully around the house or they’re bawling their brains out. Magoo is especially bad because we’re trying to wean him off naps.

If he gets a nap, then he stays up all night with eyes as big as saucers. Blink. Blink. Grin. Giggle.
baby-buddy-face
If we skip the nap, then he’s an absolute, fall-on-his-face-with-his-open-mouth-wailing, can’t-see-for-the-river-of-tears-blinding-his-eyes, mess. The slightest thing will make him bawl to an extent no one should ever bawl whose life is as charmed as his or whose cheeks are as luscious. If my cheeks were that rosy and edible, I would probably never cry again.

So a couple of nights ago I asked Laylee to set the table. We keep all our kid dishes in low drawers so they can get food and drinks for themselves while Dan and I sip sodas and watch YouTube videos of dancing cats.

Laylee very obediently and somewhat maliciously went about doing this chore as quickly as humanly possible. You see, she knows that Magoo likes to pick his own dishes at meal time, especially at dinner time, a time when he has been awake well past his ticking-time-bomb-of-a-brain’s point of no return. I watched her at work and thought, “NOT THE BLUE WIRE! CLIP THE RED!” Perhaps she was still disappointed that the police broke up our little fireworks soiree on New Year’s Eve and she wanted to see some toddleric pyrotechnics instead. Sadly I doubt she was moving that fast simply to do a good job. You could tell by the look on her face and the way she glanced over at Little Buddy that she was clipping the blue wire on purpose.

And he ERUPTED! “I wanted to pick my own plate. Don’t EVER EVER EVER pick my plate Laylee. EVER!”

“Sorry bud. You’re too late,” she said matter-of-factly.

“BUT I DON’T W-W-W-WANT THAT PLATE. I WANT TO PICK MY OWN PLATE.”

At this point I had already dished up his food and did not relish the thought of dirtying another dish. Magoo sat in front of the drawer sobbing as if his broken heart had fallen in a Humpty-Dumpty-like tragedy and the pieces would never be put together again.

The sobbing and the pleading, the sorrow and the lack of pity went on for quite some time until Dan stepped in with a brilliant idea.

“Here,” Dan said. “You wanna pick your plate? Fine. Pick your plate.”

He then carried the dish full of food over to the drawer, put it inside and closed it.

“Okay Magoo. Pick your plate.” Magoo opened the drawer, lifted the dish full of food, slid another plate from under it, sniffling all the while, and carried it pathetically to the table. His dinner remained shut in the bottom drawer.

Sometimes my greatest parenting triumphs involve not laughing at my children in their darkest hours. In their moments of greatest heartbreak, I often find my most fulfilling parental hilarity. It may be cruel but it’s the Way of Things.

As Magoo went to sit snifflingly up to the table, Dan reminded him to wash his hands and said he’d dish up for him while he was in the bathroom.

While Magoo’s hands were all a-lather, Dan quietly pulled the loaded plate from the drawer and switched it out with the nearly identical plate Magoo had so pathetilovingly chosen for himself.

And he didn’t notice. And I decided that maybe we could do just one or two more naps. Per week. For the next few years.

Posted in domesticality, food, kid stuff, parenting, unbearable cuteness | 27 Comments

Yeah-No

Posted on January 21, 2009 by The Daring One

The “yeah-no” has become quite the art form around our house. I give the kids the affirmation they need without actually allowing them to do the bizarre and sometimes impossible things they ask for. The goal is to say “no” with some sort of affirmative statement that lets them walk away with a smidge of dignity intact and smiles on their squishable faces.

[I’ve written up the instructions for the “yeah-no” at parenting.com]

Posted in parenting | 1 Comment

Eggnog and Raisin Day

Posted on January 20, 2009 by The Daring One

Magoo came running up to me today calling, “MOM! MOM! Dad says turn on the TV. It’s Eggnog ‘n Raisin Day. So I did. AHHH! Inauguration day. I knew it was coming. I’ve been watching coverage of President Obama painting homeless shelters and hugging babies across the country on his tour towards the White House. But with all the celebrating and media events, I’d forgotten when it was actually happening.

So we kept Laylee home from school for a good part of the morning to watch the President take the oath of office. She and Magoo both watched with a level of attention I wish they could muster during church. We’ve been talking about this day for a long time and even though his name was harder to remember than McCain’s, I think she’s glad that someone with “darker skin” got elected as president for the first time. That idea thrills her. It thrills me too.

I loved watching him with his daughters, explaining what the boxes were for as he got ready to take the oath. I loved that one of them was taking pictures of him while he gave his speech. I really enjoyed his speech. If every presidency, if any presidency, could be as good as the inauguration speech, wouldn’t that be something? Maybe this one will be.

I loved that the NPR commentator felt the need to point out Oprah and her entourage and narrate her activities and shenanigans. I loved that Obama and Biden both turned in their seats to watch 4 of the world’s most amazing musicians play to them and the entire country out in the freezing cold. I loved that Dan was concerned about how the cold would affect their intonation. I was just worried that their fingers would go numb.

At one point, Obama said, “As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience’s sake.”

I wondered if he was alluding to the fact that we may not get out of Iraq as soon as everyone hopes we will. He’s president now. It’s official. He can allude to things like that.

I love that with all his calm, poise, confidence and eloquence, his brain was exploding just enough to biff it a couple of times as he was repeating the words of the oath of office. It made me like him more. And Michelle just stood there smiling. My word, she’s an attractive and confident woman.

I enjoyed the prayers. I’m glad we can still have prayers at events like this. I especially enjoyed the imagery of “beating tanks into tractors.” I’d like to watch that happen on some bizarre military/agricultural version of Pimp my Ride.

I’m hopeful. I was not a flag-waving, bumper sticker toting Obama supporter. I’m still not. But I like him and I’m hopeful. Looking at my children, my neighbors and some of my local leaders, I know things can get better and I chose to believe that they will.

Posted in aspirations, faith, politics | 15 Comments