Let Them Eat Cake

Oh, hello there. Long time no see. How's it goin? What's new?

I've been a wee bit busy. That's part of my excuse for being MIA. The other part is that Donald Trump's presidential campaign has made me question my reason for being, which has eclipsed my mommy blogging motivation.

These times, they are a changin'!

I left my old job after five years. But I took this lamp. And also that one. And this one. And the other one too.

Then we had a Michael Jackson party for The Boy's 6th birthday. This was at his request, which kind of made me feel like I was winning at this parenting thing. (He's too young to appreciate any awkward irony.) But about a week before the party, a little buddy of his came over and apparently didn't know who Michael Jackson was, so J$ said he changed his mind and wanted to have a ninja party instead. I said A) TOO LATE. And B) Your friend needs to reevaluate his life choices. Duh.

The night before the party I almost died the death of a thousand paper cuts because, as per usual, I was assembling motherf*cking cupcake toppers and bedazzling oreo pops at 3am. Seriously why, WHY, WHYYYY do I do this to myself ? WILL I NEVER LEARN??

Ahh. That's bettah.

Also, someone RSVP'ed the night before for a FAMILY OF 5, and then someone RSVP'ed THE MORNING OF for another two kids and two parents and in case you don't know, now you know: This puts me IN A RAGE. Pet Peeve Hall of Fame right here. It drives me absolutely BONKERS. I can hear myself getting all shrewy about it and I can feel DM trying really hard not to roll his eyes at me and I still can't stop. It is seriously SO ANNOYING TO ME. Like, WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION? I'm not asking you to reply via carrier pigeon. The marvels of modern technology make it literally as easy as the push of a button. "I Will Attend." Click YES. Or NO. It's that simple people!!!

I shouldn't be so judgy. "He that is without sin among you, cast the first stone," or whatever. Once DM did this to friends of ours, but it was against my express and vehement objection. I was like, No, absolutely not, that is not okay. We are not a family of lawless savages! He went anyway. Also, I recently forgot to send my regrets to an old friend's wedding invite until two weeks prior. Oops. Dick move. But, less bad than a late RSVP - "Will Attend - PLUS FOUR," right???

Maybe my frustration is exacerbated by the fact that I am a woman obsessed who hand-crafts cupcake toppers and magical rainbow unicorn wands and/or orders personalized thingamajigs from Etsy or what have you. I mean it's one thing if you want to bring a few more people to a mellow backyard BBQ. But, for me, kids birthday parties are a production. There are months of careful planning, ordering, multiple trips to Michael's, crafting, baking, etcetera culminating in one mathematically and scientifically calculated afternoon of conspicuous consumption. I already order/make/bake extra everything because I now know better, but the last few parties we've had, there have been like ten unaccounted-for little critters in need of goodie bags! Maybe this is indicative of the underlying problem of kids expecting elaborate to-dos and fancy goody bags at all (a problem created by Pinterest and psycho parents like yours truly). I don't know.

ANYWAY. The party was fine. It always is. AND. The people who RSVP'ed the night before? Literally the nicest family with the most polite children I've ever met in my entire life. Like, THE actual nicest. And as they were leaving the mom said, "I already told the kids they don't get goodie bags because we RSVP'ed too late, so no worries at all if you don't have enough." Soooo, I'm an asshole. Thank the Patron Saint of Party Etiquette we had enough!

Success. DM and I celebrated the next day with a well-deserved grown-up date.

"Mom Purse" this, MFers.

Then DM took the kids to the East Coast for a week and I started a new job and it was kind of good in a way that I could just focus on the new gig, but it felt very strange to come home to an empty, quiet, CLEAN house every night. I felt a little lost and floaty but also a lot free. I got more sleep than I have in 6 years. I subsisted primarily on popcorn, jelly beans, and toaster waffles. It was not the worst.

Imma 'bout ta watch TV by myself for the first time in a year! Just as soon as I figure out which remote to use.

I also had a romantical sister date complete with crafting, poolside cocktails, sunset over the Pacific, and Mexican food. It was all fun and games until the Uber driver asked if I was her mother. [Side eye emoji.]

The new job is good but hard. I feel like a newbie again and I hate not knowing things. But everyone is nice and patient and helpful and, p.s., the office is 1.5 miles away from my house!!! My commute is a tenth of what it was. The other night I texted DM "On my way. Be home in 300 seconds!" The place is also a block from the beach, and it appears that the entire staff generally works normal business hours and even kicks off by 3 on Friday to go surf. I cannot complain.

Okay, actually I can complain, just a little. I have to dress like a grown-up which is not one of my specialties. Also? There is no ice. I mean, there's like a dusty deformed block of ice from 2004 in one of the freezers. But there is no way to get cubes of ice in my beverage of choice. So basically I'm adjusting to life as a pilgrim. But don't worry. I'll get there. I'm a survivor.

One other issue is that, before I got the new job, I had signed up for this writing workshop so I could bust out the next great American novel right quick ;) There's a (self-established) daily writing quota and I figured, given my penchant for too many words, I'd be able to meet it, no problem. Haaaaaa.

Let me just say, I am eternally grateful for the opportunity and experience my last five years of employment afforded. But, as I think I've mentioned here before, the job did not require the utmost application of brain cells. Most of my job was rote and repetitious and could likely have been performed by a primate with a law degree (I happen to know several). I figured I could squeeze half my words in during lunch and still have the stamina for a post-bedtime stretch.

At the new place? Not so much. I've used more brain power in two weeks than I have in the past year. And my grey matter is a fat lazy f*ck. It is dusky viscous sludge. I am basically doing an intensive "couch-to-5K" program for my think box. Or maybe couch to half marathon. And it is somehow physically exhausting to be using my brain like this again. Also, writing at lunch just means I'm working an hour later. But trying to string a bunch of coherent sentences together at 9pm? Let's just say it has not been smooth sailing.

Another hurdle has been the fact that, apparently, I kind of suck at writing. I mean, *actual* writing, as opposed to blogging. My scribble-scrabble thus far can most aptly be characterized as "Bridget Jones' less witty, semi-literate, schizophrenic cousin's diary."

It has also become clear to me over these past few weeks that I do my best work when I get a bee in my bonnet about something on the internet and feel the need to preach from my tiny soap box. It is much, much harder (for me) to write, regularly, in a linear manner, and tell a story. Even (or especially) when that story is my own.

The take-home is, don't hold your breath for Mack N. Cheese to be debuting at the top of the NYT Bestseller list anytime soon :)

In the vein of lighting a fire under my tiny soap box though:

This. Freeport Bakery in Sacramento (Sac-TOWN, whoop whoop) made a cake with a Ken doll in a pretty dress. Some people got their puritan panties in a bunch, called the bakery and said they'd lost their business forever and ever ("You're not invited to my birthday party so THERE!"), "un-liked" them on Facebook, wrote them nasty messages, left negative reviews and comments, etc. Luckily, it seems the story has a happy ending. Support for the bakery in general, and orders for the fancy Ken cake in particular, have been flooding in after the story went viral. Git it, gurrrrl.

It's my party, I'll have a trans-Ken cake if I want to!
Hater's gonna hate. The rest of us get cake!
Image courtesy of the Sacramento Bee.
Read the story here. 

I'm glad it ended well but the initial backlash still chaps my hide. Why is it that when a bakery refuses to make a cake for a non-traditional client/theme/occasion based on their "religious" or "moral" views, these whackadoodles are like, "RAH RAH RAH! RIGHTZ! You can't force a bakery to make a cake they don't agree with. Private business are free to make whatever they want and not make whatever they don't want! Yeah! CAPITALISM! FREEDOM! GOD! THUH CONSTITUSHUN! 'MERICA!!!"

BUT THEN! When a bakery exercises it's GOD- (or Adam-Smith-given) RIGHTS and bakes a deliciously sassy cake AT THE REQUEST OF A PAYING CLIENT, these same 'Merica - FuckYeah fools are like, "DON'T GET YOUR GAYNESS ON MY GOD OR MY FREEDOM OR MY FROSTING!"

YOU CAN'T HAVE YOUR CAKE/CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS AND EAT THEM TOO, PEOPLE!

Okay I'm going to go crawl back under my rock now, byeeee.

Wait, just kidding, I'm back. I forgot one small recent milestone. My kids also started Pre-K and Kinder on Monday and NOBODY CRIED.

The end.

the creepy chaperones

While we're on the subject of children leaving home... How do parents of teenagers not just cry all the time and follow their kids around like crazy ex girlfriends?

Let me back up.

If you happened to check Facebook last Wednesday night, you might have noticed that DM and I were on a date. On a school night, no less! I'm gonna go on ahead and pat myself on the back for that one.

It being date night and all, I engaged in some married flirting, saying things like "Will you still make out with me even though I smell like dirty head and the 80's?"

why do they all smell like Madonna?

And "It's gonna take two people to get these pants off, but they're fastened with a hair tie so at least you'll have a head start!"

just fyi, that's a (really) dirty mirror, not dirty pants. well. the pants are probably dirty too. but, not THAT dirty.

We went to a Bastille concert. We may have been the oldest people there. I felt like we were chaperones on a school field trip. My immediate charges were a pack of strongly scented, perfectly coiffed Scandinavian exchange students. They were like Swedish Bieber triplets. It was fun. My favorite part was when the band did a rendition of TLC's "Scrubs." Funny what bits and pieces of pop culture have staying power. Like the other day I heard a young teenage boy make a 'Mean Girls' reference. Who'd'a thunk?! Then on the way home from the concert, DM and I got into a debate over whether the song "Pony" playing on the radio was a recent song (his view), vs. a recent remix of a song that's nearly 20 years old (my view). For future reference, Googling "Pony Horny Ride Me" is NSFW. Also, I was right (obv).

Anyway. Back to the show. I really enjoyed it. The lead singer was one of the most polite young men I've ever encountered. His parents should be proud. It was good music and they put on a great show. At one point they asked everyone in the audience to turn on their "torches" but since no one has lighters anymore, everyone turned on their cell phone flashlights, so instead of mood lighting, the place was lit up like a Christmas tree and it sort of felt like we were in the middle of a mass police interrogation. Also, at the end, the lead singer went out and ran around the audience while he sang. I love that kind of shit, even though I was sort of having a sympathetic panic attack for the guy because people were grabbing and touching him and it was 23% scary.

rockin.

everybody put your hands up, you're under arrest!

I have to admit, though, I spent a good chunk of the show sort of creepy-staring at the group in front of us. It was a mom and dad, probably in their 40s? With their younger son (clearly just along for the ride), their high school-aged daughter (honestly she could've been anywhere from 12 to 17, I'm not good with ages), and a handful of her girlfriends. I'm not going to be able to put the pull of these people into words, and I'm probably just going to come off sounding like a stalker, but I was so intrigued by their dynamic.

First off, this teenage girl was willingly in public with her parents, so they must be doing something right. And she and her friends were sort of mesmerizing. She was beautiful, but not old enough to really know it, or to be self conscious of this fact. And she was completely transfixed and transformed by the music and the experience. I remember feeling like that, at that age... Like I was just mainlining music straight into my soul. It made me wonder at what point we all get so crusty and jaded?

But what really caught my eye was the mom. She wasn't that much older than me. She seemed as hip as you could be, for a mom. She knew all the words to every song, though whether that was from a personal affinity, or because her daughter plays them at full blast on repeat is unclear. But she wasn't really watching the show much, either. She was watching her daughter watch the show. Riveted. And garnering such pure, unadulterated joy as it was being filtered through her daughter's eyes. It almost made me want to cry. Like, happy/sad glistening tears, not ugly-crying or anything ;)

I just kept thinking about my daughter. Both of my children, actually. Even now, at 2 and 4 years old, I am constantly blown away by the fact that they are turning into such little PEOPLE. Like, real legitimate human beings. But, really, they're still so present. So open. So needy. So accessible. There's no barrier between me and their feelings, their hearts, their thoughts. (No barrier AT ALL. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, at MAX volume, always.)

I can't imagine what it's going to feel like when they're further along in the "conscious uncoupling" process, when they start to become truly separate and distinct from me. On the one hand, if you don't fuck it up too badly, your heart's just got to be bursting with pride. You freakin' CREATED these humans from nothing but tequila and a smile, and they are surviving in this big bad world, and they are the type of people that you would actually like to know, even if they hadn't sprung forth from your very own vagina.

On the other hand, I have to imagine it feels a lot like you're outside on a cold night, looking in on a bright, warm party to which you were not invited. Maybe they'll take pity on you and let you in out of the cold. But you know you're only there out of the goodness of their hearts.... You definitely weren't on the guest list. Hopefully, on the flip side, when they're as growed-up as they're gonna get, they'll let you back in, but man, that in-between-time has got to be a polar vortex for your heart. Ugh.

I did not expect to be this kind of mother. I wouldn't have guessed it in a million years. I didn't cry when I had to go back to work, when I sent them off to preschool, when I leave for a romantic grown-up getaway. I'm always happy when it's Friday, but usually, I'm pretty happy when it's Monday again, too. (Monday is the working mom's Friday ;)) I surreptitiously toss 97% of their "art" into the trash. (Like a ninja in the night. Hell hath no fury like a toddler who found his "mastowpiece" crumpled up in the garbage can.) The idea of saving a lock of my kids' hair or their baby teeth gives me the heebie jeebies. I mean, used teeth?!? That's just fucking disgusting, people. And yet. Here I am, on the verge of tears at some concert because the strangers in front of me are making me nostalgic for my life 15 years from now? WHO ARE YOU?! AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE OLD ME WHO WASN'T A COMPLETE AND TOTAL SAPPY PANTS?!?!

Jayzus.

So. I have seen my future, and it involves me following my teenage children around with puppy dog eyes, watching them while they sleep, snuggling their long-forgotten blankies in the corner of my closet, and crying at the drop of a hat because of the way they eat an apple. I am really feeling that quote right now that says "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." (Elizabeth Stone). Ohhh my heart.

I just figured it out! This is like toddlers being freaking adorable so you don't murder them in their sleep. Conversely, teenagers are total angsty A-holes to their parents so that mom and dad don't spend four years mooning and moping and sobbing uncontrollably in public. It's God/Mother Nature/Darwin's way of helping us let them go :)

Anyway, when DM and I returned home, we revisited the too-tight-pants-tied-with-a-rubber-band issue. He was like, "What in the hell? I don't understand this. I mean, it made some sort of sense when you were actually pregnant, or recently pregnant, but it's been almost three years! Why do you continue to buy pants that you have to jerry-rig shut? Just buy bigger pants!" I thought: NEVARRR!!! I said: "Well, these happen to be really old pre-pregnancy pants that are WAY to small. But I do also sometimes buy pants that are a little too small, because I'm between sizes, and I just can't bring myself to buy the bigger size." DM: "Okay, but why, if you're between a 5 and a 7, do you buy a 3?!"

Aaaaand, that was the end of date night. (Although his cluelessness re: women's sizing and the notion that I could even get my ankle into a size 3 is kind of cute. And there was no way I was getting those pants off by myself. And it also reminded me of when I was pregnant and he would always take my boots off for me because I couldn't reach over my belly. Okay, fine. He can stay ;))

e-love

DM and my little brother and i saw "Her" on Saturday night. yeah, about three months after it premiered. what can I say? we don't see grown up movies often. anyway, i thought it was interesting. it kind of made me uncomfortable and sad, which, i suppose, means it was a good movie. it got me thinking about how we, as a society, are becoming more and more dependent upon computers as a buffer or proxy for human emotion and interaction, and ultimately, those computers might just replace human interaction altogether.

sometimes, i am thankful that i have a computer or a "smart" phone there to do my bidding for me. but there are some relationships that i don't want to be digitized, like those with my family, my friends, and my best friend and partner, DM. in today's day and age, though, it takes work to keep these relationships "real." it's so easy to get sucked into the black hole of the interwebs. to fall prey to the ease and convenience of sending a quick text as opposed to really talking to one another. to allow the simultaneous playing of candy crush saga in each other's general proximity to count as "quality time." (i am speaking hypothetically here. if you ever see me playing candy crush saga, you can assume my body has been taken over by alien life forms.) maybe i'm old fashioned (or just old), but i think this new wave of "e-relationships" are a knockoff version of real human contact and you are going to have to drag me down that road with my heels dug in, kicking and screaming.

this is not to say i'm immune. i know how hard it is to find time and energy to foster the relationships that are important to you. i remember learning about the advent of "modern conveniences" in the home and how women's relationships with one-another suffered as a result. yes, you could do your laundry and your dishes in half the time, but gone were the conversations over the clothesline. it's even worse now. we are expected to be "on" and available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. "did you not get my text/email?" "um, i did, but it was 3am, so I decided to wait until normal human hours to respond." but at the same time we're not really there. the only person i really talk to on the phone is my father. romance, too, is digitized, automated. why entertain and captivate each other when there are 1,000 television channels ready and willing to do it for us?

the other night DM and i were planning on an "at home date night," a.k.a. having our own personal wine tasting and movie screening on our couch. this is actually one of my favorite things to do, even though it may not be the most exciting or interactive or romantic way to spend an evening. DM was reading something on his phone and i was giving him the hairy eyeball like, c'mon, man! time's a-wastin! he responded, "hang on, i'm reading my wife's blog." it was funny, but it's also sad, and true. a testament to these times we live in. why would i waste my breath telling him how my day was when he could just read what i posted online? well, because, it's not the same. reading some sanitized-for-public-consumption version of my stories is an inadequate substitute for a one-on-one, give-and-take, face-to-face conversation. my husband shouldn't be finding out about what's going on in my life by reading my blog.

it's so easy to fall into this, though. i'm so, SO tired at the end of the day. every day. i just read a line in a book that said something like, "I was tired in the way that you are when you have a job and a husband and small children, the type of tired that feels like a persistent low-grade illness."* it's so hard to stay "on" past dinner and bath and bedtime battles, to save anything for my dear husband at the end of the day. i don't want to just give him the leftovers, but that's often all that I have left to give. i'm so talked out. i'm so touched out. I just want to veg out. but i, we, all of us need to make that effort, to be aware, and wary, of just phoning it in, of giving ersatz, Xeroxed versions of ourselves to those we love the most.

the other day DM and i were emailing each other. yes, again, welcome to the 21st century. i was telling him about how i had emailed the city council to tell them i disagreed with their recommended approach to street improvement initiatives in our town, because i am a giant dork, and how the deputy mayor (who i've actually worked with on a project) emailed me back thanking me for my insight, AND, though of course i do not take credit, the council actually changed their course of action! DM responded "WHOA! how do you know all this stuff?! your civic engagement is HOT! i want to get to know you better. date night?"

we are nerds. but i just think he's super cute. i lurve him. and i do want to get to know him better.

how about you? are you due for a date night, too? ;)

DM: "you know you're on vacation when you're taking pictures of your feet."
i think we might actually need a date week or date month.
i'm not sure a night is going to cut it ;) 

how apropos. i was just about to post and then someone sent me the link to this video, "look up," by gary turk. it's so true. and it made me so sad. especially the part about our kids. i want to throw my phone in the river and cry. let's all get off the grid and move to an ashram and eat collard greens (which, according to whole foods, are the new kale) and drink hemp milk and sing kumbayah together!



* i think it was "still life with bread crumbs" by anna quindlen but i can't find it again to be sure.

escape from alcatraz

i feel like motherhood is a slightly more pleasant version of being a refugee or prisoner of war - stockholm syndrome and all. except i have to make the bread and water myself. and cut the freakin' crusts off.

on a day-to-day basis, i'm one barefoot-Lego-encounter away from throwing my kids in the river for fish food. [*editor's note: this is an old family colloquialism, generally muttered with varying degrees of affection, and, to my knowledge, no child has ever actually been thrown into any large body of water for the purpose of consumption by fish or any other amphibious creature.]

but then, when i momentarily escape my captors and delve into that magical netherworld of lounging, day-drinking, naps, sex in the daylight hours, and silence ... my heart kind of aches.

pathetic. i know. I HAVE BECOME THAT WHICH I MOST LOATHED!!!!

sigh.

don't get me wrong. DM and i still thoroughly enjoyed our 24 hour "staycation" this past weekend. but honestly, about 12 hours in (coincidentally - about the time the tequila wore off), i couldn't sleep and felt slightly nauseous from missing those buggers so bad. or at least, i really, really missed the idea of them :) not enough to leave our beachfront balcony, mind you. but still. it's weird. DM and i take turns ditching family life for a day or so here and there. but this is the first time we've been away overnight, together, since june. something about being away from them at the same time for more than just dinner and a movie brings the kid-shaped space in our hearts into stark relief. even though my sister was taking care of them and i knew they were happy as clams! man. the truth is out. i love those snot-faucets so much it makes my teeth hurt. phew. it feels really good to get that off my chest ;)

we still managed to have a good time though. we drank margaritas and ate nachos and watched football and soaked in the sunset and took a nap and brought takeout pizza back to the hotel and drank whiskey and played scrabble and watched a movie on TNT. in other words, we still know how to party. if the niners hadn't rooked the championship game, it would have been my exact definition of a perfect date. (melted cheese, booze, and scrabble? you can't lose! no. seriously. i never lose ;))

i even managed to spice things up between the sheets by taking the pillow that i would normally have reserved for use as a glorious goose down barricade, and placing it on the far side of the bed so that DM could actually be in my general geographic vicinity, instead of futilely pawing a pile of feathers (or, as is usually the case, a lumpy sack of hypoallergenic organic hemp fiber fill). yep. INSTANT ROMANCE. we still got it, ladies and gents!

i would be remiss if i did not mention one of the most memorable moments of our "peshal date," as the kids would call it. we were sharing a meal and the sun was shining and DM was gazing at me and said, "wow, your eyes are a really pretty green right now." he kept staring at my face. then he started chuckling. i asked what was so funny. he replied, "okay. i'll tell you. but just know, it has nothing to do with you. it is a total coincidence that i was looking at your face when the thought popped into my head." me: "tell me." DM: "welllll.... i was watching this sarah silverman bit... and she did a really funny joke... about how she didn't realize she had a mustache because she thought it was invisible because it was blonde." [silence.] "but you don't have a mustache." [more silence.] "not even a blonde one!" sigh. do you think siri can schedule a waxing appointment for me?

really though. look at this view. who could complain. added bonus: mustache becomes much less visible once the sun goes down.

and the morning after:

there is champagne in that OJ, and there are
TATER TOTS and SRIRACHA SOUR CREAM in those burritos.
ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT'S ME, MACKENZIE.
have i died and gone to heaven???