NOBODY can have it ALL

wah wah wah... i may be suffering from a case of the mondays...

last night i sat down to write a post about my sweet sensitive boy and his favorite pink blankie. but, being the overthinker that i am, the subject got away from me. it turned into this enormous rambling monster that jumped from gender equality and stereotypes to the traditional roles of marriage to introverted and "highly sensitive" personality types, etc etc etc. i had to rethink and decided i would break it down. one post would be about boys and girls and how, in my (albeit limited) experience, they're not as different as you would assume or as the dichotomies that permeate the ether would have you believe. at least, not in the ways you would think.

another (somewhat related) post would be about "sensitive boys" and how they fare in a society that places such a premium on these contrived notions of masculinity and femininity.

i was not and am not trying to get to the heart of persistent gender inequality or instigate the next wave of feminism or examine the much maligned plight of the white male. i was just asking questions that maybe don't really have answers, because... isn't that what you do on the internet?

THEN. this morning i see, for like, the 37th time this year, another f*cking article about how women can't have it all. ARGH.

look. i'm not saying these people aren't making valid points. but helloooooo. have you ever heard of The Little Engine That Could? or how about the Henry Ford quote, "Whether you think you can, or think you can't, you're right." women will never be truly be on equal footing if everyone keeps reminding them that they can't be. because if you hear something enough times, you are going to start believing it.

and by the way. WHY is it always about what WOMEN can't have?!? NOBODY can have it all. seriously. not even "The 1%." each of us only has two hands and one head and twenty-four hours in a day. SOMETHING's gotta give. we all - single parents, working moms, stay-at-home dads, trophy wives, fortune 500 CEOs and everything in between, have to prioritize, pick what's most important to us, and do the best we can. but let's try to find that line between reasonably tempering expectations, and clipping our wings.

so maybe my son and my daughter can't "have it all." but i want them to be able to choose who they are and what they want to be based on what they feel in their hearts and minds, not based on some predestined plan predicated upon their possession of either testicles or ovaries. i mean, okay, my girl may not be able to successfully pee standing up (but, to be honest, the boys in my life aren't super awesome at it, either) or get an embarrassing boner in gym class (no big loss there!) and my son will never personally experience the joys and terrors of carrying a child, growing boobs (or in my case, buying them), or starting your period while wearing white shorts. but. non-negotiable physical differences aside, i plan to tell them BOTH that they can do whatever they want to do, love whoever they want to love, be whatever (and whoever) they want to be. nothing's standing in their way... and i am hoping, if i say it again and again and again and again... by the time they are grown... it might actually be true.

*sigh.* a girl can dream. (editor's note: boys can dream, too ;))

more tangential musings coming your way soon.

in the meantime, a little more rain for your parade:

"Why Women Should Stop Trying to Be Perfect" by Deborah Spar on The Daily Beast

"Debora Spar, Barnard President, Says Women Can't Have It All, And Shouldn't Even Try" by Lori Leibovich on Huff Post Parents.

"Why Women Still Can't Have It All," Anne-Marie Slaughter, The Atlantic

Mother! If Drew Barrymore can't have it all, I'm screwed.

Sheryl Sandberg Commencement Speech < "Don't leave before you leave." So true! And easier said than done.

And then there's this thoroughly depressing piece, "The Opt-Out Generation Wants Back In" by Judith Warner in The New York Times. Alternatively titled, "whatever you decide to do, you're f%&#$*."

"The Women Who Do It All But Don't Have It All" by Georgeta Dragoiu on The Washington Post. The intersection of race, class and gender - triply f%^&ed.

"Why Men Still Can't Have It All" by Richard Dorment on Esquire. < Yes! Exactly!

"Longer Maternity Leave Not So Great for Women After All" by Kay Hymowitz on Time.com < Aaaaah, the dreaded "Mommy Track," I know ALL about that!

"New Study Destroys Myth Than Women 'Can't Have It All'" by Max Nisen on The Business Insider < Sweet, so, if I move to Holland, and find a law firm that's cool with me working 10-19 hours a week (I'm sure there are plenty), I'm golden!

water is wet, and other reasons my kids cry

Big kids don't cry. Just kidding.

Okay, I know this is a played-out concept, but this is my life, so here are my unofficial submissions to the "reasons my kid is crying" phenomenon... (i'm like tee-ball and these guys - Jason Good & Greg Pembroke - are major league).

When we hang out with people who are not familiar with Jack's ways, we often hear "What's the matter?/What's wrong with him?/Is everything alright?/Please for the love of God and everything Holy DO SOMETHING TO STOP THAT RACKET!" I have to assure them that it's perfectly normal for my children (mainly the bigger one) to scream like someone set their hair on fire for any number of reasons, e.g.,

He wants to go to the water park, but he doesn't want to get wet.

A wave splashed him at the beach.

His sister splashed him in the pool/bathtub.

She threw something out of reach, and she's mad because she can't reach it.

IT SMELLS LIKE TOAST.

She wants to stick scissors in her ear.

His shirt isn't long enough.

His shirt is too long.

Mom said he couldn't wear PJs to school.

Mom chose to wear a skirt to work instead of pants.

Dad wanted to change out of his work clothes before snuggling his peanut-butter-coated children. (And by "peanut butter" I mean locally-sourced almond butter processed in an American factory that does not even think about peanuts.)

The sandbox ate his socks.

His "weinow" is "[s]tuck." Don't ask.

He wanted to try the hot sauce. And I let him.

She drank bubbles.

His feet got sandy at the beach.

We didn't call him "The Blue Player."

We called him "The Blue Player" at the wrong time.

We poorly played the part of the adoring baseball fans.

We said "Good job!"

We didn't say "Good job!"

She wants to take off her own shirt but she can't take off her own shirt.

She wants to be IN the bath and OUT of the bath AT THE SAME TIME.

His sister wants a hug.

His sister doesn't want a hug.

He didn't want to have his picture taken, so we took the picture without him.

I wouldn't let her OD on baby tylenol.

I wouldn't let him OD on gummy vitamins.

I wouldn't let him rip the nose off his teddy bear so that it matched his cousin's.

I didn't buy him a "supwise" for not crying.

He "would like to be a gwown up," which to him entails drinking adult beverages out of glasses and playing with knives. Because he gets to 'at [s]chool.'

I would not let him have an Oreo pop for breakfast.

I forgot to bring a delicious and nutritious snack buffet for the 90 second car ride home.

She handed me a half-eaten banana and I didn't have it when she asked for it 45 minutes later.

also check out these jill greenberg photos of crying babies. hilarious and heart breaking.

sh*t my husband says

In "real life" -

"You're funny, for a girl."
Oh yeah? Well.... your brain has the shell on it!

After returning from a trip to the market with a 2-year-old Jack: "He made me buy Skittles."

Me (as I'm baking cookies): "I hope our kids like my cooking."
DM: "Yeah, I was just thinking about that. I have a feeling we're going to hear 'I'm eating over at Millie's house' a lot."
Ouch! And a corollary -
ME: "Jack, how's that chicken mama made? Good or bad?"
J: "Bad."
Alrighty then. lol. Millie's house it is!

"Nice ascot."
Yes. An ascot. Otherwise known, in some circles, as a scarf.

While we are out on 'Date Night' - "Are those jeans, or sweatpants?"
Um... Jeans... That are apparently going to Goodwill tomorrow?

 

"I love being married to you. I know we'll always have Ziploc bags around."
Awww. Thanks, baby. So romantic.

"You touched my pepperoni. That's true love."
FYI, that's not innuendo. I actually touched pepperoni. I'll take his pepperoni over his raw chicken any day! ;)

"[Our mutual friend] really likes you. This weekend he said, 'Can we just talk about the fact that you're married to pretty much the coolest chick ever?' And I was like, 'Wait, who am I married to?'"
Lol, wtf, man?! In his defense, only people that do not know me very well would think that about me :)

Brother-in-law: "Do you have a soldering gun?"
DM: "No. I have a hot glue gun for crafting? Does that help?"
Editor's note: We actually used the hot glue gun to fix the electronics after the soldering iron failed!

"Oh sh*t. It's my mom's birthday tomorrow? Did we get her a card?"
Yes, "we" did.

Went out to bars with friends. Went to their house afterwards. JW commences baking a cake. DM: "I hereby dub you Drunken Contessa."

DM took the day off to watch a sick newbie Colby-baby. I texted to see how it was going and I received this reply: "Watching infomercial called 'Brazilian Butts.' All is well."

I had some weird itchy rash on my legs and DM was like, "Maybe all your cellulite is melting off"...
Ummmm.... mayyybe.... ?

Me, putting on makeup wearing just "jorts" (my shirt was in the dryer). DM: "You're like a Guess mom jeans commercial."
Oh yeah? Well you're like the "Before" guy in a Rogaine commercial. Just kidding! You're barely even that bald, and anyway, I still love you, even though I know what's in store <3

While I am pregnant -

Me: "How does this dress look?"
DM: "Like a mumu."
Soooo... I should not wear this one to the baby shower???

DM: "You don't even look pregnant in that dress. People will probably just think you're a little overweight."

Me, dressed in black gaucho pants and a black top. DM: "You look like a pregnant ninja."
Not an inaccurate assessment. But still.

Me, dressed in brown yoga pants and a brown fleece, "I know I'm sort of monochromatic right now." DM: "I wasn't going to say anything, but you look like a giant tootsie roll."

DM: "Whoa, you're like wider than you are tall right now."
Me: *incredulous stare*
DM: "Not fat. Just, you know, really... thick."
ME: "Please stop talking."
DM: "Yeah okay, good call."

While I am recovering from being pregnant -

For some reason I brought my "skinny" maternity jeans - as in - maternity jeans that hadn't fit me in 3 months, in my hospital bag. As I'm struggling to get dressed to leave the hospital after giving birth to his daughter, DM says, "You probably should have brought some more forgiving clothes - it doesn't look like those are gonna work out for ya."
Thanks for the input, Captain Obvious!

"You look good, for someone who just had a baby." ... Um... thanks?

"At least you're thinner than when you were pregnant." Is that a compliment?

Sh*t Other People's Husbands Say -

JW, to TW, his beautifully pregnant wife: "It's amazing that your legs still look so good when you are generally enormous otherwise."

JW, after TW had stopped nursing their first child: "Awwww, sad, your boobs look like helium balloons three days after a birthday party."

GD, to his (reluctantly) pregnant wife upon her return from a business trip: "Wow, honey, you're getting huge! I love it!"

DP bought a maternity suit skirt. She tried it on at home and asked her husband if it looked decent enough for work. He responded, "I mean, it's fine, but I wouldn't pose for a picture in it or anything."

Oh, and she's not my husband, but sometimes I wish she was - our erstwhile nanny. When I was pregnant with Colby and found out she was a girl, I came home and told the nanny and she said, "I knew it! I always say you can tell someone's having a girl when their face gets kinda puffy and they look pregnant from behind.... Oh... I don't mean it like that... You look great."... Riggggght... hahaha :)

Okay. One of my cousins has some good material. I was going to try to come up with cheese names for all of them. She suggested Limburger for her husband, Muenster for her son, and Brie for her daughter. I was trying to think of a name for her but I'm kind of at a loss. Maybe Pepper? By the way, do you know there's a cheese called Cougar Gold? That's gonna come in handy at some point.

Anyway. Some of Limburger's gems - "No, it's not that [I don't want to hold your hand after you just delivered my first-born son], but you have some blood, or slime, or something foreign on your wrist." This coming from someone who guts deer and finds pleasure in raw meat! Apparently he would not touch her until she had washed the placenta or other unidentified schmeg from her hands! Ha!

When Muenster was born, Pepper had mild pre-eclampsia so she had to be induced. As she was being hooked up to the Pitocin, Limburger consulted the Google Medical School archives, proceeded to read aloud all the potential side effects, and then pronounced, "Ooooh, this is gonna hurt!" Then, after she requested an epidural and the anesthetist arrived, he said "Ooooh, that needle is at least 8 inches long!" Sounds like he needs to work on his bedside manner!

With Brie, Pepper's water broke at 2am and her contractions were intense immediately. They lived about 15 minutes from the hospital. She woke 'Burger, writhing in pain, and hobbled down the stairs, thinking he was basically right behind her. She waited, and waited. After about 5 minutes she crawled back to the apartment to discover him wrapped in a towel and shaving. She asked "What on earth are you doing?! Hello! I am having a baby. Like, NOW. There is presently a head coming out of my woman parts!" His eyes widened and he said, "Like, now now?! I was just shaving. I wanted to be fresh when she met me. I should probably finish. Can you wait that long?" Pepper had Brie 15 minutes later (they made it to the hospital, but barely) and she did NOT get the epidural. She screamed at him and told him to grow a beard :))

A funny story from another friend - Whenever anyone tells MH and her husband that their toddler is "advanced," her hubby replies, "She still sh*ts her pants. She ain't that smart!" Ha!

he has definitely said this.

worst vegetarian ever

when i was very young, my mom would fly across the country with me and bring "yummy snacks" to keep me happy. according to family lore, these snacks were raw carrot sticks and broccoli stalks. mmmmm. YUM-O. she wasn't a crazy health nut or anything - i definitely remember her baking lots of sweet treats and making a mean velveeta-bean dip. but i also remember her putting wheat germ in her pancakes and weird things like fennel seed in her pizza dough and instead of bologna sandwiches with kraft singles on wonder bread, my lunches were packed with pita pockets stuffed with alfalfa sprouts. that actually doesn't sound half bad now, but believe you me, that shit's worth diddly-squat in the cut-throat currency of the elementary school lunchbox black market.

i remember i wasn't even allowed to have honey nut cheerios. only plain ones, or probably something worse from the food co-op, like spelty-Os. i remember sometimes i would spend the night at my grandma's house and before bed she and i would each have a bowl of raisin bran and wooooeeeee did i think that was somethin' special. bran flakes and california raisins. partay! once my mom went on a business trip and i somehow convinced my father to buy me a box of lucky charms. (reminds me of this one time at my local coffee shop where a dad and his 3 year old daughter were eating enormous chocolate chip cookies at 7am and the dad was like, "don't tell your mother this is what you had for breakfast." ha!) it was like winning the lottery. i probably ate half the box, bounced off the walls for a while, and spent the next 24 hours in a sugar coma, but whatever. it was worth it. i STILL love lucky charms. there will always be a special place in my heart for stale marshmallows of any kind. post-easter clearance peeps, i'm lookin' at you.

if my mom's healthy eating habits had stuck, that would have been great, but even she had given up by the time my little brother rolled onto the scene eleven years later. it may have had something to do with the fact that he was allergic to milk, eggs, and beef.... that or she had just given up by then. little man stuffed marshmallows into his mouth straight from the bag, and had lucky charms for breakfast every day. i believe he subsisted solely on lucky charms without milk and chicken taquitos for the first five years of his life. perhaps if moms had stuck to her guns, i would have carried her good intentions into my own adult life, but actually, the opposite occurred, and i secretly blame the alfalfa sprouts. i think being deprived of sugar for the first half of my childhood instilled an insatiable craving for sweets and salts* and gave me an emotional allergy to vegetables. (*the salt habit is definitely her fault. before she and my dad divorced, she would drive my paternal grandparents crazy because she would put salt on all the food they cooked before she even tried it. she called it "just-in-case salt." makes sense to me!)

vegetables had already left their scar on my soul by the tender age of ... whatever age you are in third grade. 8? 9? anyway, that year, i won the illustrious st. philomene's "wings of the dove" writing contest for a short story called "vegetable face," in which a young girl named endive was repeatedly scolded for not eating her vegetables. finally, she succumbed to parental pressure and wouldn't you know it, she woke up the next morning and her face had been transformed into the very vegetables her mother had forced her to eat. that'll teach you, mom!

food art by alex j. jefferies.
this is f*cking terrifying.
going to go have some nightmares now.

so, as you can see, vegetables and i have a tortured history. despite our challenges, however, i decided to become a vegetarian in 8th grade. this was partly because i was 13 and wanted to save all of the animals and also the planet, and partly because my little sister reveled in my reaction when she would openly discuss the furry, cuddly, doe-eyed sources of our meals. "mom, bacon's made out of pigs, right? little piggies are delicious!" "mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb." "mmmm. hamburger. too bad this tastes so good because cows are cute." "do they really use horse hooves to make jello? my little ponayyyyy."

but i actually don't miss meat at all. once when i was pregnant i thought i had a craving for a tuna fish sandwich (i remember my grandma's being SO GOOD!) but you're not supposed to have tuna anyway, so i didn't act on it. then i recently smelled one and was like, wtf, that's disgusting, why on earth would anyone want to eat anything that smelled like that? so yeah, getting rid of the animal-y type things wasn't hard. i could probably even get rid of eggs if i had to. they skeeve me out 78% of the time anyway. but there is just one small snag in my life plan as a vegetarian.

i don't like vegetables.

okay actually this is not entirely true. my friends and family like to say this as a hilarious joke every single time we share a meal but i actually DO like vegetables. some of them. just not the ones that vegetarians are supposed to like, like portobello mushrooms (um, slimy zombie flesh?) and eggplant (in the words of Jason Good, "hey, can I get a tiny purple pumpkin in the shape of human kidney that tastes like dirt?" thanks but i think i'll pass!) and when we go out to a nice dinner and all they have for vegetarians is "pasta primavera," or god forbid a "roasted vegetable platter," i literally want to cry. i mean, seriously? not even some cheesy mashed potatoes or panko-crusted mac & cheese or a deep fried vegetable? help a sistah out!

here is a list of the vegetables that i actually like:

slightly overcooked broccoli, lima beans, carrots, and peas. fresh cucumbers. avocado obviously (oh wait is that a fruit?). and i actually still weirdly like peeled raw broccoli stalks. asparagus - like the top 1.5 inches. corn (but DO NOT put that shit right on the grill, i beg you. i'm not even stressing about the residual animal flesh, it just tastes like charred ass that way). bell peppers. banana peppers. jalapenos! green beans. crunchy lettuce that is completely covered in dressing. jicama (ditto on the dressing). black eyed peas, when evenly dispersed in a delicious persian rice dish. edamame with a shit ton of salt or that delicious 7 spice from world market. most any manner of potato (including sweet potatoes and, obviously, french fries, though strangely i do not love potato chips - except those salt & pepper kettle chips a.k.a. "heart attack crack," mmmmmm. yes. now that is my kind of "vegetable." :)) sugar snap peas. pickled beets. radishes. sprouts (when sandwiched by bread and cheese and mayonnaise). lentils, when made into a soup with so much sodium it could kill a lab rat. most all beans but black beans are my least favorite and unfortunately those are usually the only ones not made with the juices of swine or fowl. wait. i'm getting into legume territory. does that even count?

vegetables that i will eat without too much fuss:

raw carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, celery, snow peas, zucchini or similarly shaped squash. pumpkin or butternut squash if made into soup that consists of 4/5 cream and 1/5 salt. onions when they are cooked in some other sort of deliciousness. spinach. tomatoes walk a very fine line. i like super salty tomato soup as a dipping sauce for grilled cheese. does that count? i will eat tiny diced tomatoes in a salad. i think i have had three delicious tomatoes in my life so the odds are not in their favor. sometimes i forget i don't really like tomatoes thought and i get them on sandwiches and i inevitably end up with sliced tomato carcasses on my plate. or i give them to my friend :) also aren't they technically fruits anyway? sneaky bastards. also not a huge fan of arugula. tastes like bitter weeds. pretty sure it's not actually meant for human consumption, it was just some genius marketing coup following a bad lettuce crop one year.

vegetables i WILL NOT TOLERATE:

eggplant and any kind of mushroom - ESPECIALLY PORTOBELLOS. blarf. brussel sprouts. nope. get them out of my face right now. spaghetti squash. IT LOOKS LIKE WORMS.

the end.

oh yeah also i love cheese and bread more than i love my children sometimes so that, too, is an impediment to a healthy and balanced vegetarian diet. sure, i don't mind certain vegetables but i will choose cheese and bread over your goddamn pasta primavera every. single. time.

ps, before anyone freaks out at me, i make one or more vegetables for dinner (almost) every night. usually i make things i don't hate. sometimes i even make things i don't really like and i pretend i'm eating dinner with the president of the united states and i'm not going to tell him that i'd rather die than eat a portobello mushroom mushrooms aren't my favorite so i have to act like mmmmm, yes, this is deeeelicious! i also cook meat for my dear husband and children, even though i don't eat it. side note. cooking chicken. i don't get it. am i the only one who feels the need to burn down my entire kitchen after handling raw chicken in order to stave off the next major salmonella outbreak? sick. it actually works out alright since i usually almost burn down my kitchen every time i cook anyway.

just discovered this blogger lady, jj keith. obsessed.
also, check out her pinterest board,
"mother fucking homemaking." killing it.

the biggest mistake you will never regret

for some reason Blogger's version of pacific standard time is ahead of reality so it's kind of like i'm talking to you from the FUTURE....

so. one of my brother's friends got a tubal ligation when she was 20. she was that certain she didn't want to have kids, ever. she recently spent some time with me and my kids which may have served to reaffirm the decision in her mind. still. i'm extremely curious about what kind of doctor would perform this sort of irreversible medical procedure on a 20 year old who, no offense, doesn't know shit. [i know this comes off as paternalistic and patronizing, but i'm only speaking from experience, as a person who once thought she knew all of the things, but recently discovered she does not know any of the things.... and i think this is a pretty common path to (dis)enlightenment.] anyway, that's a different issue altogether.

then, a single (or rather, serially dating) male friend of mine asked me whether i thought he would someday regret not having kids. i got to thinking about the decision whether or not to have kids in the context of this blog post/article/open letter that has been floating around online for years and keeps resurfacing. (it has been reposted eleventy billion times all over the interwebs as early as 2008 but i can't seem to find who actually wrote it.) a girlfriend of mine just posted it again. it's basically a mom and her grown daughter, and the daughter "half-jokingly" says she's taking a survey on whether she and her husband should have a baby. the mom says "it will change your life" and the daughter replies, "i know, no more sleeping in, no more spontaneous vacations..." but the mom is like, gurrrrrrl, that will be the LEAST of your concerns! just kidding :) she goes on to talk about all the ways that motherhood will change you - ways that you wouldn't have believed in a million years and ways that you won't understand until you realize that those changes have already occurred. the way it's written, the mom appears to keep the inner dialogue to herself - because, to be honest - it's not something you could ever adequately explain, even if you tried. so instead, she simply says, "you will never regret it."

and i think she's right. maybe my personal experience and sample pool are misleading, but i know a lot of people with kids. people who had "oops" babies at 18. people who had "oops" babies at 45. people who tried for years before finally having a baby (or three!) people who always wanted babies and got pregnant every time they tried. people who couldn't have babies and adopted. people who could have babies and adopted. of all of the baby-makers, baby-bakers and baby-caretakers i know, i have never met anyone who regretted having children, whether it was a well-thought-out decision or a total surprise. as i've said before, i may have momentary regrets, for a minute, an hour, or the duration of a cross country flight, but all in all, my kids (and their co-creator ;)) are, hands-down, the best parts of my world. i was never one of those girls who always dreamed of being a mommy, but when i thought about my future, there were two kid-shaped spots in it. (until i had one. then that double-wide spot shrank down to a single. but we ultimately braved baby #2 and i could not be happier or more thankful that we did.) plus, when i was in 5th grade that game MASH told me i was going to have two kids, so obviously, my fate was sealed ;)

though baby boy was a wee bit of a surprise, i'm assuming the infamous "biological clock" would have started ticking eventually. in any event, we would have started trying sooner rather than later, because we knew someday we wanted to be parents, and also because both my Ob-Gyn and my former employer had recently told me i better get on it because my eggs were rotting. anyway, the point is, if i could do it all again, i wouldn't change a thing. (well, i might change one tiny part - to wait until after (or during!) the month-long belated honeymoon trip to Costa Rica and Nicaragua - as opposed to finding out two days before we left! i'm still campaigning for a do-over. ;))

but the bottom line is, being a mom is the best thing, EVER. unfortunately, it is also the WORST thing ever. i read a quote once - "motherhood is the only way to experience heaven and hell at the same time." truer words were never spoken. it melts your heart and kicks your ever-lovin ass. anyone who says different is drunk, high, or LYING. but at the end of the day, you'll never regret it. i don't know if it's hormones or pheromones or Stockholm Syndrome or pregnancy-induced psychosis or all of the above, but once you drink that koolaid, there's just no turning back.

the question is.... what if you don't drink the koolaid? i've seen another quote (i love me some quotes) that says something along the lines of "people with kids and people without kids are always feeling sorry for the other.." but i think that's only half true. maybe child-free people don't know what they're missing, but i, for one, do know what i'm missing! lazy mornings. naps. a clean house. the luxury of deciding what i want to do today. spontaneity. rowdy sex during the daylight hours. vacations. (i'm talking about vacations, not a "family trips.") reading a book on the couch or having a cheesy movie marathon on a rainy day. peeing alone. self-indulgent sick days. deciding to have wine and popcorn for dinner (or breakfast! sub mimosas for wine, obv). sunbathing without being interrupted every 13 seconds to save one of my kids from drowning. i better stop before i go jump out my 18th floor window. oh wait. i don't have a window. phew, lol.

i saw an ad on TV recently - i think it was for expedia. they were walking up to strangers in a park and saying hey, i have this ticket to Fiji (or Australia or Japan or wherever it was), it leaves in 3 hours, wanna go? most people said no. but someone said yes (or at least, a paid actor made me believe he was "Joe 9-to-5" and he said "Hell yes!")... sigh.... that will never be me again. at least, not for the next 16 years, six months, and 5 days ;) i need at least 2 weeks' notice to schedule a happy hour. transcontinental vacation? fuhgeddaboutit. that's just not my life anymore. and while i wouldn't trade what i have for the world, i sure do miss parts of that old life! which is why, when friends ask me if i think they'll regret not having kids, i'm like, "Hell no!" now, i'm not necessarily advocating making that decision permanently at the age of 20. but if you're of "that age" and you're feeling the pressure from mom or grandma or your perfect happily married sister who's on her 4th angel baby and you're wondering whether you should have kids "before it's too late," then my answer to you is a resounding "NO!" one of my besto's has a rule = "No Shoulds." try it! it'll change your life! and of all the things in the entire universe, the decision whether or not to reproduce is probably the best possible place to employ this simple philosophy. if you want them, by all means, get busy! if not, or if you're just on the fence about it, or maybe you don't but feel like you "should," then don't do it! i think i can safely say that your life will be infused with plenty of passion, love and meaning, and hey, if for any reason you need a little kid fix, i will happily loan my tiny terrorists to you any day of the week. i also think i may have seen some for rent or sale in Tijuana. just kidding. sort of.

this same logic also applies to the "should we have a second child or just have the one and only?" decision, which, apparently, draws nearly as much BS as the decision to remain child-free. i don't really understand that at all. it's such a personal decision. i mean, i'm sorry, but, whose uterus are we talking about here?! you might as well be advising me which brand of tampons to use, for all the stake you have in the decision, only, in this case, the tampons cost at least $241,080 and are an 18+ year commitment.

seriously though. i can't even pretend to understand the stress and turmoil this societal/familial pressure causes, especially for a female of child-bearing age. i have some friends (men and women, single and couples) who have decided not to have kids. notably, nobody really gives the guys any flak. it's always the ones with the uteri that get it. you would not believe some of the shit people say! family members, and even complete strangers. it's appalling. i wish i could be there to give the speakers a violent shake and say, do you think that is helpful??? AT ALL??? but you can't let someone bully you into a decision like that. also, FYI, in case you can't tell by the rapid proliferation of wrinkles and gray hair and the mismatched flip flops and the magic marker cheek- and forehead-tattoos and the declining IQ and the eternal state of frazzle - this shit's freaking hard as f*ck. i would not recommend it if you're just looking for a new hobby. try pilates or get a gerbil instead.

or a hedgehog. omg. LOOK AT IT!

* i asked my brother to ask his friend if it was okay to write about some of our convos on the blog. he was like, "i'll ask her but i'm sure it's fine. you gotta use non-baby blog fodder where you can get it!" ha! don't be silly, brother. obviously i'll still find a way to make this about children ;)
[update: my brother just read this and informed me (out of some sense of obligation to his friend or to the maligned medical professional, i'm not sure ;)) that there was a pre-existing condition as well as psychological counsel that went into his friend's decision, she didn't just show up at a doc-in-the-box on tubes-tied-tuesday. sorry. i am not an investigative journalist ;)]
** update #2 - my "serially dating" (male) friend mentioned above just asked me "Can you get pregnant on birth control?" Me: "If you do not take it at the same time every day as directed, yes." Him: "Shit. I had unprotected sex with this girl I just started dating. But she showered afterwards so that helps, right?" ummmmmmmmm............ wait. what? it helps her SMELL BETTER. it does not WASH THE SPERM OUT OF HER VAGINA!!!!!
*** by the way, i hope no part of this post comes off as "oh people without kids just don't get it" (except this ^ guy. ya gotta love 'im, but he clearly does not get it, and by "it," i mean, basic anatomy, biology, and life). but, there are some wonderful and terrible things about parenthood that you can't know until you live through them, just as there are things i will never know again, e.g., what it is like to have expendable income, have uninterrupted conversations with grown-ups about grown-up things, get dressed without someone pointing out that my belly is "squishy," my butt "looks funny," or dumping the entire contents of my underwear drawer on the floor, and hey, maybe even use the bathroom without having to hear a play-by-play. in fact, i actually get some of my best parenting advice from people without kids. something about not being "in the shit" (literally and figuratively) gives them some useful perspective and insight. and/or the fact that they have access to 63% more brain cells than i do.


this is funny. from momlogic.com on the parents zone.
i like that it highlights my one major qualification for being a mom -
i <3 disneyland!!!

you guys would tell me if i was dead, right??

DM was Jack's favorite pretty much from birth, but until just recently, I was Colby's numero uno. however, over the past couple of weeks, she has latched onto daddy like a koala bear and she won't let go. Could be because he is powerless to say no when she asks him to pick her up, which happens approximately 97,000 times per day. C: PEEEESE?! [arms reached upward, curls bouncing, eyelashes batting, grinning that crazy dimpled grin.] DM: Okayyyyy.

 

Anyway, last night, she was looking at pictures on my phone and wherever there were pictures of all four of us she would say, "DADDY!" and point at DM, and then "BRUDDER!" and point out Jack, but made no mention of me. She did this four or five times. I finally looked over at DM and I was like, "Is this like that M. Night Shamalan movie where I'm dead but I don't know it?!" DM joked, "Oh kids, I sure do miss your mother. I really wish she was here with us today." Next thing I know, I look over and Colby is pointing to this and saying, "WHAS DIS ONE?"

OMG! The timing was impeccable. I will say that she wasn't browsing the internet for urns or anything, I actually had this in the photos on my phone because a friend had pointed out that they sell urns and coffins on Overstock.com and I had saved the picture because I knew there'd be a way to work it into a blog post someday. And here we are!

My favorite part is that it comes with a little "pocket urn", you know, in case you need your loved one's ashes in travel size [?] Or, maybe you'd prefer a necklace made from you loved one's cremains? I mean, who doesn't love diamonds?!


it's like the falafel problem, except, with words

i dated the same guy through most of college. let's call him John Smith. (always John Smith. never just John.) he was (and is) a really nice guy. i really can't say anything bad about him except that he and i were definitely not MFEO. (made for each other, duh! ;)) but, despite the fact that we were often like oil and water, we had definitely discussed marriage, kids, and forever. for-evah-evah. then, i accidentally fell madly in love with DM and that was pretty much all she wrote. and yes, if that timeline sounds a little too close for comfort, it was. fear not. i believe i have received my karmic retribution and paid my debt to the universe.

anyway. this is probably (definitely) just be me being a narcissistic a-hole (again), but i am pretty sure i ruined three to six months of this guy's life and/or killed a small sliver of his soul. what really drove this home for me was when two different friends of mine told me that they had spoken with John Smith's then-girlfriend, who had said something along the lines of, "wow, someone really f*cked him up good." hmmm. weird. i have no idea who that could be.

but. it's been a really, really, really long time, and i'm sure if there was any ruination, he has long since recovered. still, i feel a vague sense of guilt if/when he ever pops into my consciousness, which, i'm sure my husband will be happy to hear, is not often. despite the fact that we own homes less than a half mile from one-another (bizarre), i probably see the guy no more than once or twice a year. DM actually runs into him more frequently than i do on his way to/from the local surf spots. however, a girlfriend of mine recently mentioned that he and his wife are expecting their first child, and shortly thereafter i received a mass email from him about a new business venture. i didn't think much of it at the time but then i had a very strange dream where he and his wife were our roommates and their baby looked like DM (in that it had black hair) and i couldn't remember the wife's name so i kept calling her "tanya the cheerleader" and then it ended in some sort of apocalyptic scene where our planet was attacked by alien jet planes.

ANYWAY. when i do run into him.... *sigh.* how can i explain this? have you ever seen that movie tommy boy? do you remember the scene where he loses his freaking mind when trying to close a sale? yeah. basically, that's me. it's like, i start off saying something mildly awkward or off-color, and when i don't get the reaction i was looking for, rather than backpedal, i just go full steam ahead to crazytown. i'll leave the "why" to my future therapist, but here is a small sampling of weird shit that i've said, apropos of absolutely nothing...

"do you still eat entire apples all the way down to the core?"
"that's funny, why does your myspace profile say you're 6' tall? did you grow since i saw you last?" [that one was a while back, obv. and the next day it had been changed to 5'11". i am a terrible person.]
"i had a strange dream about you while i was pregnant - is that awkward? man, you should HEAR some of my pregnant dreams, this one was tame in comparison - i dreamt that you got married on a party boat wearing a kilt and playing the bagpipes."
"i'm so jealous of your wedding date! it's so auspicious! [it was one of those days like 8.9.10, which, incidentally, is the date i really really really wanted Jack to be born. dammit!] i really really wanted to get married on 6.7.08! but the venue was already booked! because you totally care!" [i definitely said this with all of those exclamation points, or, "i really mean its!", as my brother called them when he was little :)]
"remember when you got that weird itchy contagious rash over your entire body??"
"do you still break out in hives in the cold? my nephew has that too! reynauds? yeah..."
"hey, your dad's an accountant, does he know anything about dissolving a private corporation?"
"do you prefer boxers or briefs?"
"remember when i had a total panic attack and fainted and peed myself at that jack johnson concert? or that ben harper concert where you tried to pick a fight with a man twice your size and we got in a huge argument and you tried to walk 13 miles home?"
"do you ever miss the 80s?"
"remember when you got arrested and thrown in the drunk tank after PB block party?"
"remember when your parents stayed at my house and i baked terrible burnt banana bread and may or may not have adequately hidden the sex toys?"
"what's your take on national immigration reform?"
"do you like the color yellow?"
"remember how you were a virgin when you came to college? that was so cute!" (i'm lying, i didn't actually say that one ;))

probably my best work was shortly after colby jean was born. it was one of those situations where we needed milk and i looked like death warmed over (or maybe just plain death) but said to myself, it's not like i'm going to run into anyone i know at CVS at 10 o'clock on a wednesday night, right? WRONG. i went and got the milk and for some weird reason some really random ass other stuff like dr. scholls gel foot pads and nutter butters and a sand sifter that was in the sale bin in the seasonal aisle and then i hear behind me, "Mackenzie?"

naturally, it was John Smith. ugh. listen. i am, somehow, still, after all this time and the trials and tribulations of being married with children, head over heels in love with my husband and i have two beautiful babies and it's not like i am trying to get the guy back or make him jealous or anything of the sort. but no matter the present circumstances, it is no fun to run into someone with whom you were once romantically involved, when you probably haven't showered, brushed your teeth, or combed your hair in 24 hours, are not wearing makeup, and are dressed in semi-transparent, stretched out workout pants with a hole in the crotch, and an ill-fitting t-shirt with sweatstains and spit-up stains and God knows what other kinds of stains that does little to disguise the cardboard nursing pads you haphazardly stuffed into your granny bra.

he asked how i was doing and in response i think i basically gestured to my person as if it was pretty self-explanatory. then, somehow, we got on the topic of traveling with children and i launch into one of my (in)famous non sequiturs - "well, actually, DM and I sometimes* joke that Jack is yours and it was just a 7-year gestational period** and how that would be awesome because then you'd take him every other weekend and we could have couple nights off." crickets. so i continued "you know... because he's blonde... and... you're blonde.... and... we're... not blonde... and... also... blue eyes... and... yeah." he was like, "uh... okayyyy. so anyway, nice seeing you, Mack."

OMIGOD you guys. what is wrong with me?! this is one of those things that will probably haunt me into eternity. not only does it make me sound bat-shit crazy, it makes it seem like we regularly discuss/laugh about John Smith behind his back, which is definitely not true. but. oh well. i guess i should be happy, because if there was ever any doubt in his mind about whether our separate lives turned out as they should have, i'm sure this incident quickly put those to rest. he was probably thinking, hahahahaha, DM, SUCKAH! have fun with your crazy frumpy unwashed wife and her nutter butters ;)

so yeah. that happened. i got home and told DM and he was like, "you did not say that." oh yes, yes i did. can't wait until the next time we run into each other. maybe i'll just give him the link to this post ;)

* "sometimes" being code for "one single time during a totally random conversation."
** once, while volunteering on the mental health docket during law school, a woman was actually suing her doctor because she had "been pregnant for 7 years" as the result of her doctor "putting a piece of plastic inside to block the exit" and she wanted the judge to order the doctor to remove it so the (7 year old) baby could get out.

the good ole days

we spent labor day weekend with my stepdad's family at their old family cabin in the mountains. it was, as always, pretty freaking awesome. i just love the family in general and this annual experience in particular. there are communal meals and cocktails served in 80 year old coffee mugs and campfire games and s'mores and trading memories as the fire burns to embers. there's an outhouse (not my favorite part). there's a chore chart. we take turns cooking and cleaning up and doing the dishes together. we blow an old horn when dinner's ready (it's like, a literal horn. i mean, a horn made out of an animal's horn. he's not using it anymore ;) it never occurred to me before now that this was the etymology of the word horn. learn somethin' new every day!) anyway, if someone has a new friend, we make them try to blow the horn and point fingers and laugh when they spit and sputter and fail. we play campfire games specifically designed to fluster the newbies. we play cards and (good naturedly) harass them some more. (wanna come?? ;)) we sleep under the stars and wake when the sun comes up over the mountains and eat bacon and pancakes and eggs or sometimes just cereal and drink coffee together next to the fire, planning our daily adventures, waiting for the sun to warm the air.

the kids LOVE it there. they get dirtier than they get the other 360 days of the year combined. they literally roll around in the dirt. omg, so much dirt. and they have SO much fun. but the cabin is definitely not what you would call child-proofed. there's a river on one side and a highway on the other. no fences. you can cross the river on a sagging, creaking 2"x12" board. there are steep, rickety old stairs, an unfinished, sliver-serving deck, open flames, large rocks, falling pine cones, wild and domesticated animals, biting insects, water snakes, and various other hazards. perhaps most tellingly, there are often SHARPIES left out within reach of the children - GASP! ;) the kids poke each other with sticks and swing branches wildly through the air and throw rocks too close to one anothers' heads and generally run around like dusty little savages. they "help" start the campfires and attempt to toast their own marshmallows. they play with ancient tonka trucks that would surely be recalled today for safety concerns. sometimes they play without either DM or I watching them at all, us relying heavily on the principles of community parenting.

this weekend, J went on a hike. an actual hike (well, i don't know if it totally qualifies because DM carried him most of the way) but, most importantly, he shat in the woods. if you know my anal retentive little boy, you know what a big deal this is. i'm sure anyone within a 5 mile radius thought some satanic cult was performing a ritual sacrifice, but whatever, he did it, and he lived to tell the tale, which DM keeps prompting him to do with that unmistakable glint of fatherly pride in his eye.

i don't ever really worry about J. he's got his mother's inherently concerned, rule-abiding, nature. (one of the news things he likes to say is, "if i don't do [dis or dat] den da police man wiw get me." no idea at all where he got that one. *wink wink.*) when they reached the top of the mountain on their hike, he had to be coaxed and prodded to step to the edge in order to see our cabin down below, and he was cautious as ever when we made our wallenda-like river crossings ("cautious" being code for "walking halfway across and then beginning to scream 'AAAH! HEWP MEHHHHH! I'M GONNA FAWWWWWW!!!'" he even worries on behalf of his little sister, yelling "Mama! Daddy! Save hewh! SAAAAVE HEEEEEWH!" whenever she is teetering on the edge of something tall and unstable, which is often.

at the cabin, there's a set of granite stairs. 4 steps, i think. no rails. grams and the other "elders" have assured me that, in the 100+ years the cabin has been in the family, "only two or three" kids have ever fallen down those stairs to their injury, but they still make me nervous, because C has no concept of her own mortality, balance is not her forte, and if anyone would be the "3rd or 4th" casualty, it would be her. she spent a lot of time staggering and stumbling on those stairs, causing her dad and me multiple mini heart attacks. she actually would have fallen down them more than once if one of us hadn't swooped in to catch her. i'm sure she would have survived, but it wouldn't have been pretty. so it was with good reason when J said, "Mom! [This is his new thing. "Mom" and "Dad" instead of "Mama" and "Daddy." *sniff sniff* ;)] I'm getting a littow newvous dat Cowby's going to faow down da 'tairs." haha! at least he understood. most everyone else just made fun of us for freaking out about it.

every time i'm up there, subject to this steady onslaught of familial hazing, it gets me thinking about how wimpy kids are, these days. or rather, we parents are. or maybe it's just me. but i remember having so many adventures when i was young, catching tadpoles in a little creek behind the babysitter's house, riding my bike to go get an ice cream cone, exploring the neighborhood, construction sites, and abandoned fields with friends, playing capture the flag or kick the can in the streets long after the sun had gone down - all with no grown-ups in sight. do kids even do that anymore? and our parents' generation took even more liberties. we always hear stories about stepdad and his brothers and cousins and the CRAZY SHIT they did when they were kids. climbing the faces of enormous rocks when they were knee high to a bee. backpacking solo in the wilderness. skateboarding without pads or helmets down steep winding mountain roads, and/or being towed (as grams says, "if they were dumb enough to try it, the least i could do was drive the car.") riding wheeled things off the diving board. unicycle races on a wire suspended over the swimming pool. using the empty pool as a halfpipe. doing flips off the tops of mountains or houses or balconies or anything else you could flip off of. sometimes they broke things, got scabs and scars. but they lived to tell the tales, and they are SUCH GOOD TALES! my dad has good stories, too. one of my faves is when he and his friend were 4 years old, they somehow convinced someone at the PX to sell them pocket knives, and they played with them until my grandpa caught them hours later, hands torn to shreds. (four years old!) there are also stories involving beebee guns, roaming around england for a day before being returned home by a good samaritan (or maybe that was ben, the family dog), and possibly driving a car before achieving double digits? my mom basically grew up in footloose. there was no drinking or dancing or playing cards or watching movies or wearing nylons (at least, not that the parents were supposed to know about), so her childhood stories are of a different genre.

not that i'm advocating selling knives to four year olds or anything (though maybe the YMCA does). and obviously some changes in the way we parent are probably worthwhile tradeoffs. (i have heard many a grandparent lament the use of "those craaaazy car seat contraptions," saying, "in our day, we didn't even have seat belts!" yes, and children flew out the window in a car crash! my girlfriend actually has a funny story from when they had their first child. her father-in-law was completely flabbergasted that you are required to have a car seat for your baby in order to leave the hospital. he was like, "what do you mean, you can't leave the hospital unless your baby is in a car seat?!? it's your baby?!? what're they gonna do?! arrest you?!" um actually, yes, hahaha.) but nowadays, kids can't even play football or soccer without fear of traumatic brain injury. and God forbid we go to the park without a costco-sized vat of Purell. i don't remember my mom having to desanitize the shopping cart before i sat in it, do you? how sad if this generation of america's (okay, middle-to-upper-class america's) kids' stories are like, "i played x-box while sitting in an ergonomic chair in a HEPA-filtered, climate controlled environment. sunlight - what?! did you want me to die of skin cancer?!"

so yeah, we're safer. but. what have we given up? and is it worth it? i'm not sure. it's like when i was pregnant and deciding whether to take anti-nausea medication or puke all day, to have a glass of wine or lose my mind, etc... it's a balancing test. you have to weigh the odds that something bad is going to happen vs. how much of an asshole you're going to feel like if that highly unlikely thing occurs... if your baby has 11 toes... if your kid shoots himself in the eye with a bee bee gun... etc...

reminds me of this interesting interview from a while back with lenore skenazy, the "free range kids" guru, on salon.com. she points out the irony of us taking such extreme measures to keep our precious children safe, all the while driving them around in cars 24/7 which is the #1 cause of death in children. “Remember parents: Asteroids happen, so keep your children inside!”

of course, i have no problem leaving the children perched unattended on a bench at the edge of a small cliff above a river... if it means getting an adorable photo out of the deal!!! ;) (don't worry. J would almost certainly save C in the somewhat likely event that she'd try to "dump" (aka jump) to her death below.)



i basically wrote this whole thing
just so i could post this picture :)

can you die of retroactive mortification???

I hung out with my brother this weekend, who is 22, and one of his friends, who is 21. My brother, in a sometimes refreshing/sometimes infuriating sort of way, doesn't even pretend to have his sh*t figured out (love you, bruddah!). But his girlfriend (friend-girl), a beautiful brilliant wisp of a woman, has some pretty staunch opinions about life and love. She reminds me an awful lot of myself at that age. Though perhaps not beautiful, brilliant, or wispy, I held plenty of fervent opinions about many, many things when I was young. And by young I mean, until I had my first child at the age of 30, at which time my (apparently overblown) sense of self confidence suffered a fate worse than my tattered vagina. (Sorry for that visual).

I'm not saying brother's dear friend is wrong in her opinions/thoughts/predictions about herself. She has had a much different and way gnarlier life experience than I have. She may well have nailed her permanent point of view on the head at the tender age of 21 (though you all know I am a born-again 'Never Say Never-er'). Nor am I saying she's a card carrying member of the Douche Bonnet Guild, as apparently I am, or used to be. But. Talking to her and my bro' reminded me of how sure I once was about so many things, which in turn reminded me of this REE-diculous "letter to myself" that I wrote my junior year of high school for my Professional Drama class. (In retrospect, the name of the class is apropos.) My then-teacher just recently contacted me and forwarded the offending piece of swill. I spent the next 15 minutes cringing, laughing maniacally, and wishing I could teleport myself back to 1997 to punch myself in the face - though after reading the letter it is a mystery to me how I survived my teen years without someone doing me the favor.

Let's hope, for my sake, there is a Bell Curve of dickery and it peaks at the age of 16.

I cannot include the actual letter because it is too terrible, contains too many personal references, and I could never forgive myself. But. Here are a few gems:

Okay, first of all, I start the letter "Al principio."

I use the phrase "'nuff said" no less than three times.

Some thoughts on our "Professional Drama" course -

"My partner was basically useless, so alone I pulled everything together." Kind of like my marriage. Just kidding. The hubs said this after he read my letter, not me :)

"The shows were smashing." What is this, Broadway?

"Being a director is a tough job, especially when the actors and actresses think that you don't have the authority to tell them what to do." I'm actually still having this problem.

Quoting the substitute teacher "When I was watching you I was thinking, man, before she was born someone said 'This kid's gonna be a director - or a football coach.'" In other words, I was born bossy, so it's not really my fault?

"I don't think people realize how big a part the director has to do with the production." What I'm trying to say is, IT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART. *REE REE REE* < That's the sound of me stabbing my 16 year old self in the eye.

"Everyone doubted that we could pull this off without the constant aid of a teacher - and of course you helped a lot - but honestly - no offense - I think we could have done it without you." But they definitely could not have done it without me, obviously!

"I have done a lot of work this year, just as much or more than anyone else, but I didn't live up to the expectations that I had for myself and this class at the beginning of the year. So how about you grade on a curve and give me an A anyway." Yes, please, give me an A, for Asshole.

Some thoughts on life -

"You have to develop the skill of tolerating people that bug the hell out of you." True statement, actually. Though apparently it could have applied to others tolerating me.

"I was so naive [coming from junior high, as opposed to now, being a high and mighty 16 year old]. I had come from a little private school in a class of 24. I didn't know anyone, sex and drugs were a mortal sin.... everything is so different now. If I still held true to my 'I'm not going to be friends with anyone who drinks or smokes out' then I would have no friends, so although I do not agree with their practices, I have learned to overlook and accept (within reason.) I still do not accept such actions in a person I am having a relationship with, because I really do not understand why people do it, and if they are not on the same page as me, then I'm not interested in anything long-term anyway." Good thing I changed my tune or I still wouldn't have any friends. I couldn't even be friends with myself. (Not that I would want to!)

"I have learned that I am much more socially and intellectually mature than most of my peers... most of my friendships [at school] are more or less superficial... The playing field here is somewhat limited, so if I want stimulation, I have to reach outside the bounds of my school. There are just not too many people like me here, and I am raring to get out of here so I can find more kindred spirits." Kindred spirits being other complete ASSHATS?!?

"I have recently discovered that most adults are no more mature than I am, and they aren't always right." Now that I am an "adult" I know this to be true. But still. SOMEBODY SMACK ME IN MY SMART MOUTH!

"Never be totally dependent. Make sure you can always stand on your own. I have discovered that I do not need anyone to survive. If my parents kicked me out, I could get by." HA! Says the girl whose parents were about to foot the bill for her 4.75 year university degree.

"I know I'll do well in college." Note to self. Teach children modesty. Even if its false, it's better than sounding like a punkass.

"I'll probably be paying off debts for a long time before I ever get rich and world renowned, but hey, I want to have to work to get to the top." Stilllllll workin'...

"'Losers quit when they're tired, winners quit when they've won." Okay, Ali! Pfffftt. What if you're really, really, really tired though???

Oh, and speaking of mortifying ridiculousness. I also recently found a picture of me when I was about 12 years old. I wrote a note on the back... to... myself?? Just in case I forgot what a jackabee I was? OMG. Seriously. Kill me. PPS no clue who "Denny" is. Judging by the name, he did not actually qualify as a "potato" a.k.a. "fine guy." Quite possibly he was a complete figment of my imagination.




[copyright 1999 paramount pictures]