Charm School

I'm starting Rewind Wednesday. Because I can. 

In honor of Rewind Wednesday this is one of my favorite posts from the archive. 

CHARM SCHOOL

I have come to realize that at 30 I still don't really know how to dress myself, wear heels, sit up straight, dance the tango, or properly put on eye liner. While none of these things exactly falls into the 'valuable life skills' category, can I just ask what the heck happened to charm school? Where did it go, and can we bring it back? Seriously, I paid thousands of dollars for an education at a university that promised to educate 'the whole person'. My hair and nails do not feel educated. 

P.S. That woman in the picture clearly went to a very nice charm school. Her nails look educated. 

Menace

AWESOME BLOG

This is maybe one of the funniest blog posts I've ever read. There were actual tears.

Hyperbole and a Half: Menace

Sleeves

SLEEVES OF APPROPRIATE LENGTH

I love Fall. If for no other reason than the fact that I can now go back to wearing shirts that have sleeves. I once had a friend tell me I have too many cardigans. Blasphemy! You can never have too many cardigans. Ever. 

First of all, I have terrible looking arms. I'm not saying that so that you can then tell me I actually have pretty arms (really). I am also not terribly concerned about it and/or looking for free dermatological advice or skin care. I just think we all have things about ourselves we think are mediocre or just not great. My arms are not great. So summer is a little unbearable for me. I apply the lotions with bronzer. I exfoliate. I attempt push-ups. Still, somehow, the results are not good. I look like a woman in her 60's with a skin rash. 

I once worked at a place that was constantly 85 degrees. I complained to the management. The manager looked at me and said "Just wear a tank top!" All bright and cheery like that would just solve the problem. I told her that, first of all, that's a mean thing to do to the other employees, they shouldn't have to look at these ghastly pale arms of mine.  And secondly, this is America, the land of proper ventilation and air conditioning. Is proper ventilation really just too much to ask for? She did not seem impressed with what was obviously a very logical argument on my part. (I'll never know if it was revenge or not, but she proceeded to buy us a fan that was meant for industrial warehouses. You turned it on and were knocked to the floor by the gust. We used it once, then gave up.)  I wound up wearing very odd shirts in an effort to both have sleeves and not appear sweaty. It was not exactly a good phase in my life style wise. It's a good thing I was already engaged at that point. Husband hunting in those outfits would not have worked out well. 

The thing is, not only am I not a tank top person, I'm not really a summer person either. Summer just feels wrong to me. I'm bookish, and bookish people like the cold. It's in our nature. We want to be bundled up with a book, in a chair, with a blanket, wearing a sweater with sleeves that are of an appropriate length. 

So thank you, Fall, for showing up with your lovely leaves and mild temperatures. My arms and I really appreciate it. 

Grace Weston

I love Grace Weston's photography. It completely cracks me up. Some of it is a little weird, but it's also all completely brilliant. If you get a chance, glance through her portfolio.



Grace Weston: House of Atlas - miniature staged photography

Tired

TIRED

I'm tired. I know, I know, you are all tired too. We can all be tired together. Tired seems to be this inevitable part about parenting. This sort of club forms around being a tired parent. It's different than the I'm-in-college-and-stayed-up-all-night-reading-and/or-partying-and/or-making-out-with-my-boyfriend tired. It's a tired that's wrapped in sacrifice and filled with love. Or resentment. Whatever. Anyway, I'm tired and on days I'm tired I find that it is truly difficult to be funny. Or to find the funny in any given situation. Everything just turns into this giant gray ball of unfunny. The checkout guy at the store is not entertaining in his hipster snobbishness. He's just a jerk. My child is not adorably clamoring for my attention. She's just the kid that is in between me and my coffee. My shoes don't fit. The car won't start. All of these things seem to happen when I'm tired and my response is to want to crawl back into bed and fall into a deep and lovely sleep that no one dare wake me from. (In this story I'm sleeping beauty, but I'm also the dragon if you attempt to wake me up.) However, I don't get to sleep. In all likelihood neither do you. Do you know who gets to sleep? Our kids. And Daniel Tiger's Mom. Yup, Mrs. Tiger is never, ever, out of energy. She's like June Cleaver on steroids. This woman just had a baby (for those of you that are watching the saga unfold) and she is still humming sweet little songs, making equal amounts of time for each child, and she always, always, has what I like to call P.P.R. That's Perfect Parenting Response. She is always kind, always calm, and always knows just what to say. If you really want to feel bad about your parenting skills, just watch one episode, and you'll be ready to throw in the towel. I try to take comfort in the fact that cartoon characters don't actually need sleep, and therefore, I'm comparing myself to a fictional tiger that will never have bags under her eyes or unfolded laundry. But today the only thing I've got going is my ability to mock Mrs. Tiger and the hope that you will join me in deeply resenting perfectly nice cartoon characters simply because it makes me feel better.

Speaking 'Toddler'

SPEAKING 'TODDLER' 

Today at preschool I was talking to two little friends who couldn't come to an agreement. We have those little cars the kids can ride in and one of them has a trailer on it. Sometimes one kid will hitch a ride in the trailer. Today there was a little girl in the trailer and the little boy was trying to tell her that he didn't want to pull her and she needed to get out. The little girl reeeaaalllyyy did not want to move. So finally, after much deliberation, I said "Well, guys, this is what is called an impasse." And the little boy looks at me, points to the car, and says "No Hannah, this is called a car!" 

Facebook

FACEBOOK OVERLOAD

Sometimes Facebook is just like a really overwhelming coffee date. It's like having coffee with 25 people and they are all talking to you at the same time. Maybe it's just my spastic ADD brain, but Facebook just seems like a giant, ongoing simultaneous conversation; it looks something like this: "I hate Obama! I love Jesus! I have a funny cat! My kid is funny! World War 3 is imminent, arm yourselves! I am on a diet! I am on a better diet! This is a picture of my dinner! I did laundry! Go Ducks! I hate the Ducks! I hate my spouse! I mean, I love my spouse, I just hate doing his laundry! Inspiring Quote! Squirrel! It's my kid's birthday! Baby picture! Quinoa can kill you! Game request! Does your kid do this weird thing too?" None of which are bad topics in and of themselves, but you meld them all together into a distracting mass of words and you get "Obama, arm yourself with ducks on a diet, this is a picture of squirrels that love Jesus eating quinoa with a baby doing laundry and other weird things while inspiring others day by day."  I mean, sometimes I wonder why I can't concentrate and why the world seems so confusing, and then I remember that I keep checking Facebook, and you just can't do that without getting a little distracted and thinking squirrels eat quinoa. 

Bad Day

Ice Cream Cone Day

So far it's just been a ridiculous, awful day.  It started going south last night, when my daughter woke up with a soaking wet diaper and wouldn't go back to sleep (except, of course, in mom and dad's bed). It continued this morning when she woke at 5:30 a.m. (why don't children have snooze buttons?) Then she wet the bed again at nap time, and my house now looks likes 20 college freshmen and a team of toddlers stormed through and forgot to clean up. In my zombie state of mind I have accomplished nothing I set out to do today. So at this point, the only redeeming factor is that it's National Ice Cream Cone Day. I mean, the fact that ice cream cones somehow managed to make it onto the national calendar tells me that at least one bureaucrat out there knows what's up. So there's that. 

Stickers

STICKERS OF OURSELVES 

So I am all for putting cute stuff on your car, and those little stickers of each individual family member (mom, dad, and their 2 -9 children) fall into that category of cute, but have you noticed that no one has these stickers except people with children? It's like it's some kind of reproduction club...as in "Yay, we reproduced!" What I would love to see is some little old lady driving a car with a sticker of herself and her 47 cats...create some diversity in the stickers-of-ourselves community.

Glow

PREGNANCY COMPLIMENTS

Woman at party: "Oh, you have that pregnancy glow!!" 

Me: "Oh, no, this is entirely artificial, I just use a really good bronzer !" 

Fixing Things

FIXING THINGS 

I am a fixer. I did not warn my husband about this before we were married. So imagine his surprise when I tried to fix the sink and broke a pipe (which he then had to fix), or when I tried to fix the rearview mirror the other day and decided to cut a series of wires that apparently had a purpose and corresponded to a series of sensors that, well, no longer sense things. Lucky for me I married a man that finds all of this terribly amusing (to his credit he actually laughed when he realized what I had done to the car). Although I am pretty sure he will never let me near electrical wiring again. 

Accident Prone

ACCIDENT PRONE 

The new “International Delight Iced Coffee” commercial insinuates that klutzy people should stay home and have iced coffee rather than go out to get it because they may do something stupid like run into a glass door. Let me tell you, klutzes take this insult seriously. We demand the same right to public spaces as everyone else. Our numbers are large, and we are thinking of unionizing. We already have support groups, and have considered lobbying congress for rights to equal treatment. If you are a klutz (or just accident prone) you are not alone! You don’t have to stay home! Go out to buy your coffee! Go to dinner! Go to the movies! Just try not to sprain an ankle.

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Stick Figure

STICK FIGURE FAMILY OF ONE 

Yesterday I saw a man driving a car with a stick-figure-family of one!! 

Finally diversity has reached the stick-figure-family market! 

And you know what? No longer do the lovely ladies of The Portland Metro area need wonder if this guy is available. He is single and likes to kayak!

That's the thing, no longer do you need the internet to find a date! Simply post your marital status on your back window! 

And with today's bumper sticker selection you can advertise all of your interests: whether you want to hug a tree, hug Jesus, or hug a pug; whether you belong to the Save A Squirrel Foundation, the Arbor Day Foundation, or the Star Trek Federation; all of this can be posted for free on your vehicle! 

Now, of course there is no telling what kind of dates you will get, but I think we can all agree that just because that guy on Match.com told you he was a Swiss model that surfs in Australia doesn't mean he isn't actually a bouncer at a strip club with a drug problem. 

At least this way you save a lot money finding out. 

Check Out

IN THE CHECK OUT LANE

Check out lane manager: "Please come down to our express lane, it's much faster."

Me ( in my head) : " Yes, I realize that, I've been standing in check out lanes for more than two decades, I actually chose this one because the lady in front of me just bought enough food for a small country which means I can stand here for at least five minutes; that's five uninterrupted minutes of relative silence where I get to read a magazine that I won't buy but that provides me with important information like the fact that J.Lo really does have butt insurance, someone gave Katie her brain back and she is leaving Tom and wearing normal clothes again, and that I apparently need to be on Team Edward or Team Jacob. I was actually most of the way through an article about Will and Kate, so please leave me alone, you are messing with the delicate balance of my day."

What I actually said to the clerk: "Oh, of course, thank you!"

Injury Free

In Pursuit of a Mostly Injury Free Lifestyle 

According to a Consumer Reports poll the rate of accidents caused by simultaneously walking and texting has gone up significantly. 

Of course, the klutziest of us have been aware of this issue for some time, we have advocated for klutzes everywhere by suggesting pedestrians 'pull over' and stop walking while they text. 

Constant vigilance people! Constant vigilance! 

One lady fell right into a fountain while texting, which is hilarious, but bad for our cause as it only reiterates stereotypes against our growing klutz demographic. 

Represent klutzy constituents everywhere, show that klutzes can be responsible! 

Accident prone, yes we are, but we are capable, aware, and vigilant in our pursuit of a normal, mostly injury free lifestyle.

Klutzes Unite!

 Don't text and walk!

Save a life!

 (Or at least spare yourself public humiliation.)

Charm School

Charm School

I have come to realize that at 30 I still don't really know how to dress myself, wear heels, sit up straight, dance the tango, or properly put on eye liner. While none of these things exactly falls into the 'valuable life skills' category, can I just ask what the heck happened to charm school? Where did it go, and can we bring it back? Seriously, I paid thousands of dollars for an education at a university that promised to educate 'the whole person'. My hair and nails do not feel educated. 

Pioneer

Pioneer Women Annoy Me

There are days you feel like superwoman because you vacuumed the floor; then you watch a documentary about the Oregon Trail and it features all of these women with their seven children in covered wagons digging irrigation ditches and eaking it out in harsh winters. Damn pioneers and their perseverance and hard work! This is why people watch the Kardashians! Pretty easy to feel like loading the dishwasher is hard work when you're watching someone do nothing but apply lip gloss. 

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Shopping

Shopping 

I went clothes shopping and got fed up, so I bought pots and pans instead.

 I think from now on I'm just going to buy household items. 

 You can't ask your husband "Do I look fat in this strainer?"

Grown Up

Grown Up 

I am not exactly sure at what point one officially becomes an adult, but I just woke up at 6 a.m. on a Sunday so I could have some 'me' time...considering the fact that waking up this early on a weekend for any reason whatsoever is a completely unprecedented event in my life tells me that, in all likelihood, I am now officially a grown up....I feel like there should be cake, or glitter, or something...

Sick

Apocalypse Now! 

For years I have watched as countless parents have posted on Facebook that their babies/kids were sick. 

I always thought something along the lines of  'That sounds moderately inconvenient.' 

Little did I know!!

 Taking care of a sick baby is akin to running a decathlon during the apocalypse! 

(And if you were to run a decathlon during the apocalypse it would involve burning buildings, terrorists, firearms, and zombies...) 

I mean, hello parents, where was the warning? 

I didn't expect parenting to be all gumdrops and rainbows, but I could have gotten a heads up about the doomsday scenario that is caring for a sick child. 

And no, I do not think I'm being overly dramatic about this.

Good Choices

Good Choices 

Yesterday there was a woman featured on a show that had a very strange eating habit (where do they find these people?!) This woman ate 3300 calories worth of corn starch every day. Corn starch. Now honey, if you are going to add 3300 calories to your diet it better be 3300 calories worth of pie. I mean let's try and make good choices here!

Nursery Rhymes

NURSERY RHYMES

So I was given this book of old Spanish nursery rhymes and the other night decided to read some of them to Sullivan. They all seemed like pretty typical little kid poems until I got to this one " I am pretty, I am my mother's pearl, if I soil my dress she will beat me." I would like to note that the introduction of this book says that these poems will bring comfort to children. Apparently comfort used to come with a whack to the head.

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The End

THE END OF THE WORLD

Given that there have been multiple security breeches of major companies lately I have to say that I have become convinced that the end of the world is not going to happen like it does in the movies. We've all been expecting a big dramatic ending with zombies and genetic mutations, epidemic breakouts of disease and a nuclear holocaust. Well, my friends, I'm pretty sure it's just going to be billions of people endlessly standing in line at banks and credit card companies trying to convince some guy named Joe that their birth certificate is real and that no, they didn't spend $900 on gummy bears and used stereo equipment. Kind of a let down really.

Potato Head

My living room is the scene of The Great Potato Head Massacre of 2014. 

Arms and eyes and giant blue shoes everywhere. 

I feel like I should document this very serious moment in history. 

Tears

Questionable Products

So one of my recent baby product experiences brings up the question 'Who is vetting these products?' Because I put that tear-free baby shampoo in my own eye, and guess what? It stings like a b$&@. I mean, you might as well just use Pantene on your kid, because this was high end, organic, granola-head-approved, tear-free baby shampoo, and I thought I was going to go blind from pain! (I do these things because I believe parenting is 3 parts love and 1 part voluntary torture.) So, all I'm saying is, I want to know who they are trying these products on, because as far as I can tell it's babies with self cleaning teeth and nerves of steel.

Baby

Baby Toothpaste

This morning I used 'My Little Pony' toothpaste. Not by choice, but because Josh went on a business trip and took the last tube of regular toothpaste, thus forcing me to use our daughter's baby toothpaste. I'm pretty sure baby toothpaste is about as effective as rubbing frosting on your teeth. I might as well as have just eaten a cupcake.

Oprah

It's Called An 'Oprah Fail' 

That moment when Oprah announces you should NOT be looking for happiness - you should be looking for JOY - and you realize you've been looking for happiness for several decades and have thus inadvertently messed up your entire life. 

This is an Oprah fail. 

They should start a club or something. Actually, I'm just going to write a book about all of my Oprah failures. And my Martha Stewart failures while I'm at it. 

I'm going to call it 

"How To Fail At Divine Enlightenment and Cake Baking Without Even Trying." 

Move over Liz Gilbert, there's a new messy woman in town and she can't meditate or bake! 

Stranger Danger

Stranger Danger 

What complete strangers say to a woman holding a baby: "Oh my, she's beautiful, how old is she? Oh, does she walk/talk/sleep through the night yet? Oh well my Jimmy didn't walk/talk/ sleep through the night until he was 5. No really. And Janie started talking when she was 6 months old and never shut up! Ha! Well is this your first? Are you going to have a second? You should have a second! Do you stay home with this little one? Oh well aren't you lucky. When do you go back to work? Because you have to be a role model for her and society in general we can't leave that up to Britney Spears, oh no, I mean you know how celebrities are these days. Did you have a natural birth? Did you read that new book/see that new documentary on birth/breastfeeding/parenting/commercialized toys? Where do you want her to go to college?...."

What complete strangers say to a man holding a baby: "Cute kid."

Honest

Honest 

Rocking my daughter to sleep tonight I asked her if she would like a lullaby. I don't usually sing her to sleep, but she was having trouble settling so I thought it might help.

About half way through my rendition of 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' she suddenly places her cute chubby little hand over my mouth. I asked her if this meant she would like me to stop singing...and she fervently shook her head yes!

 As in 'Please stop torturing me to sleep Mama!' So basically, I can't sing, which I knew, but now it has been confirmed by a toddler. 

Really Honest

Really Honest

So yesterday I was giving my daughter a piggy back ride and all of the sudden she starts going "Ewww! Ewww!" Which of course means something is gross. So I ask her what is "Ewww!"? She points dramatically to this little mole right below my neck! (It's really very small and rather innocuous, but she kept coming up to me and pointing at it and going "Ewww!" all. day. long.) Um, thanks kid! So far this week I can't sing and I'm gross. Motherhood is turning out to be awesome for my self-esteem!