None of your beeswax is over here!

Wanna hear me rant about something that really makes me mad?  Well, you’re in luck!
FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY, WHY are people who are not related to me or my baby (and by this I mean to include you and your baby, and anyone not reading this and THEIR babies) so concerned about our childcare arrangements!??!  This makes me mental to a degree that I am having a REALLY hard time restraining the F-bombs (it’s an official  word now, btw) and other profanities.  So, here is a proclamation:
When someone you work with, or live near, or are otherwise somewhat friendly with but not related to tells you they are expecting a child, among the first things you have to say about it should NOT be “Are you going to keep working full-time afterwards?”  Or, in the case of my male coworker, “Does your wife work full time?  Is she going to keep doing that?”  Because first off, it’s none of your fucking business.  And second of all, you don’t IN ANY WAY resemble someone who is just curious and making conversation!  You much more closely resemble what you are: a judgy busy-body who is overly self-righteous about the welfare of children that aren’t yours.  And when I say you shouldn’t say that within the first few hours, I am being very generous.  More likely, you shouldn’t bring it up at all.  NUNYA!
Furthermore, the next person who makes a VERY VERY POINTED show of asking me in an obnoxious manner, “so, who watches your kids while you’re at work?”  Or even better, “Do your babies go to DAYCARE?” said ALWAYS in church lady fashion, I am going to probably tell you to go to hell, and possibly kick you in the shins.  Or, if I’m feeling magnanimous, I might just give you one of my fave Scrubs quotes: “If you’re looking for your beeswax, none of that is over here!”
My childcare situation requires a long explanation, anyway, that, lets be honest, you’re not at all interested in.  I work full time.  So whatever answer I have for your question, you’re just waiting for it to start so you can shame me.  (For the record, I work 4 days, so Wednesdays I’m home, Fridays my mom watches them, and Mondays Tuesdays and Thursdays they go to daycare partial days depending on my husband’s school schedule.)  My favorite is the other day when someone at work pulled that, “So, who’s watching your kids right now?”  (Seriously, is there a way for that sentence to NOT sound obnoxious?) And I responded, “Their dad.” (I left off the “asshole” part that I wanted to add at the end.)  I SWEAR TO GOD, her face fell when she realized she couldn’t give me that judgy “your poor, unloved kids go to daycare because their parents don’t want to make time for them” face.  But without missing much of a beat, she then said “Oh, he’s unemployed?”  I am not lying, this conversation actually happened. At this point I should have just stuck out my tongue at her and walked away, but instead I said, “No, he works nights.”  You ASS!
Now, I don’t work full time by choice, believe me.  I would LOVE (literally, more than anything else I can think of) to be able to be home with my kids more.  But I also would love to be able to provide food and shelter and the occasional fun outing to my kids.  And if I stayed home, we would have to be on government assistance.  And boy would THAT be a fun time for those same judgy-pants who don’t want me working.
But even if I did WANT to work full time at a fulfilling career, or at a gas station for that matter, there would be many good reasons possible for this, and I would still be raising my own damn kids.  Some women actually enjoy having careers.  And it makes them happy, healthy mommies.  Which is of course good for their kids!  There are myriad good things about moms having careers.  I won’t extol them right here, because this post is getting out of control already.  But also, daycare isn’t the devil!  GASP!  Lola engages socially there; she learns things.  From her letters, to how to sit quietly for circle time, to what happens if you stick your finger in someone’s face when they don’t want it there (It gets bit.  Last week.)   Etcetera.  (Okay, in the future I will try to do a piece on Good Things About Working Moms and Why Daycare Can Be Great, because I don’t have much space left here after my hysterical ranting above.)
So to sum up: presumptuous jerks should stop inquiring judgementally into the childcare arrangements of parents whose lives are none of their business.  Not least because IT IS IRRITATING THE EVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME!  Plus, you’re likely to fall off your stupid high horse by constantly trying to stick your nose into all the business down here among the rest of us.  And with all the parents staying home, good luck finding someone to bandage your stupid face!

I would totally medal in random ramblings.

Well, how’s it goin’? 

I have been mourning the loss of my computer time.  But sadly, I suck.  I just can’t muster up any strength in my fingers by the end of the day.  However, if I’m going to totally flake on keeping a baby journal and assembling photo albums, I believe that there are parenting laws that require me to at least make a few minutes to update the ol’ blog once in a while.  We’ll see how far I can get before I lose patience with telling Corbin AGAIN and AGAIN to stop playing with the damn computer plug!  And of course, because he’s only 8 months old, he doesn’t listen to my protestations at all and I have to actually GET UP every time, so no promises on this being a decent post.  Getting up repeatedly is beyond my capabilities sometimes.  Seriously.

So how about an update on what’s new in the six weeks or so since I last posted?

– Corbin has sprouted TWO teeth and is highly mobile. He’s a bad teether so far, so that’s awesome (there should literally be a sarcasm font.)  But I do enjoy the fact that sometimes I don’t have to get off the couch when he wants me because I can make him come to me instead.  🙂  He still barely eats anything besides breastmilk, much to my chagrin.  I like the finger foods stage!  He’s totally not interested.

– Lola is what I am happy to call Officially Potty Trained!  Okay, I’m happy to REPORT that, I’m not actually happy to CALL it that because I HATE the word “potty” and tried like hell to avoid it.  And failed.  But I will use whatever cutesy wootsy words you can throw at me if it means that we continue to have “rare” accidents ACTUALLY mean “almost never” instead of “ONLY once or so a day.”

– I discovered the BEST SNACK.  Pretzels dipped in whipped yogurt.  I now eat this almost every day.  I actually crave it.  Sounds simple, I know.  And I agree that whipped yogurt is generally kind of yuck.  Also, I recognize that this doesn’t SEEM like interesting news.  But try it and see.  I like vanilla. 

– Brian and I took the kids yesterday to my FAVORITE event of the summer- State Fair!  Where I ate ridiculous food (beer sorbet anyone?  Also, if your fried cheescurds aren’t the size of delicious, cheddar-heavy golf balls, you REALLY need to take a trip to WI) and repeatedly cursed the weathermen who did NOT warn me of the 95 degrees I would be walking around trying to eat fried pickles in.  Yes, I totally fed my 8 month old apple strudel and lemonade.  (By the way, I initially typed it with Capitals, as “The Weathermen” to make it seem more official.  But then I started to think- is there a band called that?  If there’s not I totally called it, no stealing!!!  It will definitely be an all-girl band.)

– Lola has uttered SO MANY hysterical phrases and malapropisms (is that a word?  there is some word like that that belongs there, but I don’t know what it is.)  that really deserve to be recorded for posterity.  And now I can’t think of ANY of them.  So I’m getting back in this blogging game if only for that reason.  If you see half-assed posts that just consist of one sentence that is only funny to a mom, you’ll know what’s going on.

– I became OBSESSED with the olympics!  I wish there was like an extra super caps lock option for the word “obsessed” there. 

  • I watch as much as I possibly can.  And in fact, when a truly newsworthy tragedy happened in my state, I discovered that I was a TERRIBLE person because I was really pissed that it preempted both beach AND floor volleyball coverage.  I’m still pissed about it.  I guess in the future I’ll be posting from hell.  I’m a jerk.
  • I have purchased (and actually wear) olympic rings temporary tattoos.  I kind of want to put one on the inside of my bicep like Ryan Lochte, but sadly, the inside of my bicep is SOOO not something I should draw attention to.  I also have been rocking gold fingernails because I saw them on Misty May.  Have you guys seen the female olympians’ manis?  Outstanding!
  • I have gone from admiring the athleticism all around, to getting super crazy nervous during a great many of the events.  I seriously don’t even know if I can watch Misty and Kerri’s matches anymore!  (Yes, we’re on a first name basis, yo.)  I look like Aly Reisman’s crazy parents during that one uneven bar routine.  (If you know what I’m referring to, we should totally hang out, because Yay, you’re also way too into the Olympics!)
  • I have devoted a stupid amount of energy to figuring out what olympic event Lola should go for.  Which SOUNDS crazy, but really, she’s 3 1/2.  Frankly, I’m behind on this. 
  • I say really obnoxious things like “Dude, I would totally medal in Eating While Breastfeeding.”
  • I can often be found giggling with delight at great pictures like these:

        Okay, that last one’s not funny, per se, but it DEFINITELY qualifies in the Great Picture category.  Jeah, indeed.  If you’re not drooling, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.


And in Things That Haven’t Changed:

Corbin is still a needy, fussy little guy who doesn’t sleep, like at all.  And I continue to alternate between rising to the challenge and crumpling in a crying heap at 2am.