Random Monday

In CategoryNavel Gazing, Random Monday

• Last week I had to mediate a fight over the babydolls in the playroom. We have two IDENTICAL babydolls in the playroom. One of them is called Jayme and one of them is called Yaher. (Or maybe it has the exotic spelling of Jaher? She’s never said. I don’t even know where she’s from.)

I have no idea where these names came from. NO IDEA. But in that unspoken way of children, those have been the names of the dolls since we brought them home 2 years ago. Somehow, the kids can tell them apart; and there is never any confusion when they are playing and jabbering away in their strange secret sibling shorthand. There is another one called ZeeZee, but she is shunned.

ANYway, Big had Yaher, but Little took him away. Much arguing ensued, and eventually I got tired of hollering at them to Work It Out, Already! and went in there. I told Little that Big had the baby first, and that she should play with the other doll, which once again, IS IDENTICAL.

She said, “But I don’t want to play with Jayme! He always pukes all over me!”

• Also last week, I was rassling with the kids and Big took a flying leap, landing on my back. Now that I am old, this hurt. We had to switch to playing Mama Needs Medical Attention, and Dr. Big solemnly diagnosed me with Bad Butt-itis. This was remedied by a trip to the Butt Hospital.

I don’t know why I am telling you this. I thought it was hilarious, but perhaps it’s one of those locational jokes. Or maybe I’ve been spending too much time with a 6 year old boy’s sense of humor.

• I got an email from Twitter this morning telling me that someone called Roman Sandals is following me. Apparently they are a “Fashion Blog Focusing On Gladiator And Roman Style Sandals & Shoes. Follow Us For The Latest In Gladiator And Roman Sandals!”

Here’s the thing. First of all, are there really people out there who MUST KEEP UP with Gladiator sandal news? Is there really even such a thing as Gladiator sandal news? Also, why would the Gladiator sandal people be interested in me? I mostly think Gladiator sandals are UNBEARABLY HIDEOUS.

What do I know, though? My daily outfit consists of capri cargo pants, a men’s white t-shirt (3 to a pack!), and either the everyday Birkenstocks or the good Birkenstocks. Every so often, the good Birks become the everyday Birks and I rotate in a new pair. It’s very Exciting and Fashion Forward.

• For the final gasp of Randomness, I have some trivia for you: It is generally inadvisable to caulk around a toilet.

A Whole Lotta Crazy

In CategoryNavel Gazing

I’m sure by now everyone has heard about that school in Chicago that bans parents from packing lunches for their kids. Because OBVIOUSLY the same people that operate the DMV are better parents than the rest of us. Duh.

Over in Boston, the mayor has banned anything sugary from vending machines on city property – except at Red Sox Stadium. They are exempt (or should we say More Equal?) and will be allowed to sell soda. And beer. It makes perfect sense to stop the sales of chocolate milk (the tool of the devil), but you can’t go around banning beer from baseball. That’s just crazy talk.  I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with tax revenue, though. It’s a moral issue. Stop being so cynical.

While we here in the United States are busy stripping the rights of parents to give their kids a freaking SANDWICH, the government of Bolivia is granting rights. To bugs. That’s right – they are drafting a treaty for the U.N. that would give “Mother Earth” the same rights as people. They just passed a law domestically giving bugs and trees the same rights as humans and feel the the entire world should follow suit. I don’t know why we haven’t done this before, really. It makes so much sense.  I mean haven’t we all felt angst stomping the errant spider that finds his way into the house? Now we will finally have some guidance on the subject.

Barely Relevant Side Story:
My local knit shop is run by a lovely woman, K, whose husband is the Head of Psychiatry at a State Mental Hospital. One of the other knitters is an Occupational Therapist who works there. One night, I was showing my ignorance by asking them what an Occupational Therapist is. After they explained to me OTs help people with injuries re-learn how to do things like brush their teeth or whatever, I apparently made a comment that contained the phrase “so it doesn’t have anything to do with the crazy people.”

Cut to a week later, and the phone rings with another knitter on the line. I thought she had called to set up a play date with her daughter.

But no.

She called to tell me that she was offended when I used the term “crazy” at knit night a WEEK BEFORE. A conversation that neither included her, nor was about her, offended her. And she took time out of her day to call and tell me, “hey, by the way – you suck.”

I was all, “why were you offended, are you nuts or something?” But not with my outside voice. That would be mean. I apologized profusely and felt bad that something I said offhandedly upset someone for a WHOLE WEEK.

The more I thought about it, the more concerned I became that I had offended the knit shop owner. I like her, and it’s her husband who is the shrink, and probably I should apologize. So I go to the shop and I start my spiel and she goes, “oh, I heard all about this already.” Because of course the offended lady had to spread the news of my suckiness far and wide. Who wouldn’t?

It turned out K. was not offended, but I did get a tiny speech about how just because people have a mental illness, it doesn’t mean they are crazy. Which I knew, and hello – COLLOQUIALISM anyone?

The offended lady was at the following knit night and I was all awkward and spazzy. (Oh wait – can I say spazzy? SOMEONE NEEDS TO SEND ME A LIST)

As I was recounting all this drama later to my husband, it occured to me that when I used the word “crazy”, I said it in reference to the people at the State Hospital. 

The State MENTAL Hospital.

Where they keep the Criminally Insane.

As in: People Who Are Too Crazy For Regular Prison.

INSANE being the operative word here. Contextually, the word “crazy” was not incorrect.

And then I was able to let it go (clearly), secure in the knowledge that I was, in fact, right.

So hopefully no one is upset that I used the words “crazy” and “nuts” to describe how I feel about the government telling me I don’t know how to make lunch….but if you are, I’m sorry (not really) and IT’S A COLLOQUIALISM FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Just in case…

In CategoryNavel Gazing

Should I ever get invited to participate in a Baby Name Focus Group, I’ve made a list of the names I would share with the group. I have actually suggested most of these already, to a rather ungrateful pregnant cousin.

Barnaby (so out, it’s in)

Thursday (hipper than Nicole Kidman’s Sunday)
Persimmon (fresher than Gwyneth Paltrow’s Apple)

Cougar (just. plain. awesome.)

I sent her several emails with some completely brilliant name ideas – I think I suggested Aquanetta (obviously for a girl), and Juniper. I thought about Feather, but that was a little too much. For a particulary painful birth, how about Pineapple? She had an almost violent reaction to the name Herman, which seemed a little harsh.

When we were choosing baby names, Jim had an uncanny ability to take practically every name and twist it into a cruel schoolyard taunt. He made elaborate rhymes involving either body parts or bodily functions. Is that a guy thing? On the other hand, a lot of the girl names sounded to me like I might as well name the baby Stripper and be done with it.

My mother-in-law pestered us constantly during my pregnancies to tell her the names, and I took a lot of delight in making up names that were crazy, but juuuuuuust plausible enough that she had to keep a straight face. It was fun. I had her almost believing we were going with Boutros-Boutros for a while.

Oooh – how about Celery? Nice and crisp. I predict a Celebrity Baby Celery in the future.

Bok Choy!

Random Monday

In CategoryNavel Gazing, Random Monday

• We had a gigantic garage sale over the weekend. It was scheduled for Friday and Saturday, and I laid awake all night on Thursday worrying no one would come and I’d have to make a zillion trips to the thrift store to get rid of everything.

I shouldn’t have worried. Cars were marching down the street by 7am, and we had gotten rid of most of it by noon, in spite of failing to get the signs up until after 10:00. I forgot to take Before pictures, which I regret very much. We met our goal, even though we gave a ton of it away to cute little kids and old ladies playing the “I’m gonna donate this to charity” card. I finally figured out that was a negotiating ploy when the third little old lady suckered me with the same line.

Every single thing, except about 4 books, was sold.

We all got sunburns, and we made over a thousand dollars. I am still amazed by that.

• On Saturday, I took advantage of a slice of unexpected free time to catch up on teevee. I have discovered the Best. Show. EVER. It’s called Pregnant in Heels and it’s about really rich, really stupid, pregnant women and the Pregnancy Concierge who caters to their every whim (where do I get a concierge? I could totally use one of those. or just a regular minion. either way.)


My favorite woman was pregnant with her third child. Sure, she knew all about strollers and car seats. What she didn’t know was what to name her baby. You see, a persons name is the very first impression you get of them. She was very concerned about developing the baby’s personal brand.

The Personal Brand! Of a BABY. What does that even mean?

And more importantly, did we make a giant personal branding error when we called our son The Super Puker for the first 18 months of his life? 

They hired a Think Tank to help them name their baby. The concierge assembled a team of “experts” (isn’t everyone who has named a baby an “expert”? Well, except for that one lady who named her little girl Latrine. I wouldn’t ask her for advice). They had a poet, a baby blogger, and a linguistics expert.

At one point the baby concierge offered her opinion and the mom was all, “we only want to know what the experts think. Know your place, lady.”

And I was all, “OH NO SHE DIDN’T!”

One of the experts was the vice-something-or-other at a Naming Company. Naming Company? Is that even a thing? Do people just make up job titles and then other people come running at them with buckets of cash? I could name stuff. How about Narcissistic Neon? Disingenuous Daffodil? Conceited Kiwi? Pathetic Pink? Self-Centered Sage?

In any event, the Baby Name Think Tank did not like the name the parents liked, so they dismissed them and got a focus group (I want that job. I would love to sit in a room and tell other people what they should do. or mock their choices. I would be great at mocking). The focus group also hated the name that the parents liked the most.

Obviously, these people didn’t “get” the parents or understand their “needs,” so they had a dinner party with about 16 of their closest friends.

Those idiots didn’t like the name either.

what to do, what to do….

In the end, they named the baby the horrid name that they liked (Bowen), in spite of what all the other people had to say. And it only cost them what – twenty-five thousand dollars?

Morons. I’d have named their entitled little precious for half that.