Saturday, August 04, 2007

I Should Blog More

It's been what, a million years?

The thing is, I get paid to WORK using my laptop. I do not, on the other hand, get paid to BLOG on my laptop. Some people do. Me, not so much; and I've pretty much given up hope of being "discovered" like some gangly coltish teenager plodding down Newbury Street, head down to hide her height and oblivious to how lovely she'll be on the runway. Nope, in order for that to happen you have to 1) blog more often than once every 3 months, and 2) make me want to roll my eyes*.

Since I don't know that I'll be blogging more often, that's pretty much out. And since I hardly ever roll my own eyes at myself, that's probably out as well. But hey, who knows, maybe I'll do something so exasperating that I cannot withstand it and am forced to partake in self-directed eye-rolling.

Baby is fine, husband is fine, pets are fine, it's hot, I'm bored.

There, now you're more or less all caught up.



*Yes, I'm sure that there are paid bloggers who would not make me want to roll my eyes. But I haven't bothered to read any of their stuff. Thus, i will continue my blogger-eye-rolling in earnest.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Things I Have Bought the Bug in the Last Week

Being a parent is an expensive proposition. When shopping for myself, I tend to be much thriftier (Ok, not really...), but when purchasing things for my adorable baby? Oh, nothing is too good. I've practically bought one of everything at Isis Maternity--it would really be easier if I could somehow arrange for our house to just annex the greater portion of the store.

Anyway, just for fun, I thought I'd share a smattering of my recent purchases.

First, since the Bug is a Giant Big Boy now, we finally broke down and got an Exersaucer. I think I was the very last mom from any of my moms' groups to get one, which is most unlike me. The pediatrician even suggested one. Still we waited. Finally, we broke down and bought the most expensive one we could find. Hey, if you're gonna cave, cave right. Bug loves it.

Now of course, we are in possession of the ubiquitous Winkel. And the Tizoo, which is really just sort of a foppish Whoozit. The Bug needed a little something different. I can't ever seem to resist anything dog-themed, so we are now the owners of a Take-Along Dog. He's not the favorite thus far, but is still a popular item.

Since you can never have too many Manhattan Toy items, we also picked up the Wiggle Ball and the Carosel Tiger Toy. Sadly, the other Manhattan Toy item we selected is not listed on their site. The salesgal thought it was called a "Ziggle". Who knows?

The Squish was out of stock, sadly. But we'll be back for you next week, Squish!

Now, moving on from toys, it was also time for us to get a new, more portable stroller. Since Sean is Unearthly Tall, no ordinary stroller would do. The Maclaren Techno XT happens to be just about the only umbrella-style stroller with adjustable handle heights, so the Techno XT it was. I've taken it for a spin around the block and can attest that it handles quite well for a midpriced stroller. Yay Maclaren!

Since the Bug has (happily!) finally deigned to allow himself to be fed from something other than boob alone, we were finding ourselves overrun in bottles and pumping accessories. Skip Hop Splash to the rescue! No more bottles rolling around the counter on a lame towel. We went with Poppy, of course.

We had planned to get another Baby Bjorn to supplement the old-skool one we got from Craigslist when the Bug was first born, either an Air carrier or Active. Neither one seemed particularly comfortable, however; and we read some slightly disturbing things about dangers of hip dysplasia and restricted bloodflow to the groin area when the baby is in a hanging carrier of this design for extended periods. It seemed like we'd have to settle for short spates in the Bjorn or longer ones in one of our Kelty Kids backpack carriers. Thank goodness I heard about the Ergo Carrier! I ordered this one, in black and green. I can't wait to try it out! The Bug has recently allowed something of a Renaissance of his Maya Wrap Sling, so I have high hopes that he'll welcome rides in the Ergo.

Between buying these things, there was of course the ever-present trip to Target for a giant box of wipes and a small package of diapers (although we use cloth almost exclusively at home, I do cheat and use disposables when we go out at times!) And probably some bottles and nipples of some descrip. And maybe numerous other things that I've managed to either forget or block from memory. Like the seersucker pants outfit and linen romper from Baby Gap. And the sun hat. And the sunblock. And the animal-print shortalls. And...

You Know You're in Boston When...

...out of the parents sitting in a circle and chatting at playgroup, it comes up that 4 of the 12 or so of them have PhD's.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

I Don't Know Whether to Laugh or Cry

The Rack, undoubtedly the very worst bar in Boston, has closed up shop and is now set to become a Hard Rock Cafe.

Now, I won't mourn the loss of The Rack. The Rack was one of those establishments that most people with an IQ over 40 outgrew their senior year of high school, the kind of place that got by on lame promos and appearances by "Boston Sports Figures". I went once and danced on the 10' square makeshift dance floor while people milled about the (covered up) pool tables. While I danced, a small latino man about 4'8" in height began repeatedly smacking my ass while yelling "Whee!

(I am not a carnival ride. But since I had never been treated as such before, I frankly was too flabbergasted to do much more than look surprised. Dude, that is so beyond the level of appropriate pickup behavior that I can't even begin to address it.)

So, yeah. I think that experience pretty well sums up The Rack.

But now, a Hard Rock Cafe instead? Yet another watered-down chain littering Faneuil Hall? Ick.

I'm literally sitting here mentally debating about which establishment I loathe more--The Rack or the Hard Rock Cafe. One is yet another representation of the Disneyization (is that a word?) and over-franchisement of America, one sucks with a virulent suckage generally reserved for things like reality TV and fast food. Really, I'm not sure you could win either way. Just avoid the area entirely. Nothing to see here. Look away from the carnage. Move along.

Friday, April 27, 2007

And So it Starts

While I was on the phone with my mother today, I happened to complain about the nasty, rainy weather we're experiencing in Boston this weekend. Incredibly nasty rainy weather of the nastiest, rainiest sort. She replied: "Well, if you lived further south, closer to here, than you wouldn't have to put up with such nasty, rainy weather. And then I'd be closer to you and could see my grandson more often!"

And so, let it be known that on this day, the genesis of Project Get Grandson Closer (PGGC) has commenced! Huzzah!

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Perfecting My Own Special Brand of Crazy

When your perfectly nice if a bit nosy neighbor offers you cuttings from her forsythia bush, and you don't want to offend said neighbor but also LOATHE forsythia with loathing that churns sickeningly in your stomach, what do you say?

Scenario #1: Brutal Evasive Honesty: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. I just FUCKING HATE FUCKING FORSTYTHIA is all! Pleasure to see you!"

Result: Neighbor is offended and thinks you hate her forsythia, when in reality you just hate all forsythia.

Scenario #2: Gentle Evasive Honesty: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. I just have never been a big fan of forsythia. Nope, really! Yes, I know it's not that hard to grow. Yes, I'll agree that the yellow flowers are splendid. Yes, I'm sure it would grow nicely over there by the fence. BUT I FUCKING HATE FUCKING FORSYTHIA! Pleasure fo see you!"

Result: Neighbor is offended and thinks you hate her forsythia, when in reality you just hate all forsythia.

See? Both of these scenarios bring about the very same result: an offended neighbor. Now I ask in all seriousness, is the following scenario an improvement?

Scenario #3: Letting the Neighbor See a bit of The Crazy: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. It's just that FORSYTHIA IS THE FLOWER OF THE DEAD! THE DEAD! DEAD PEOPLE! I SEE DEAD PEOPLE IN THE FORSYTHIA!"

Result: Neighbor runs away screaming, but does not feel that her forsythia is in any way lacking. Which it isn't, it's the most lovely forsythia I've ever seen, assuming of course that it's possible for forsythia to be lovely, which of course it isn't.

Finally, this brings us to the next scenario, the one in which I show the neighbor a bit of my tormented, (crazy!), endearing soul.

Scenario #4: Waaaay Too Much Information: "Hi neighbor! No, I don't want forsythia cuttings, thanks! Yes, I'm sure it's no trouble. It's just that for me, forsythia will always be the flowers I saw, stained amber from the windows of the cold black limousine, when we were on the way to the cemetary to bury (insert names of various dead people here). So it tends to make me feel a bit queasy. That's all! Yours are lovely, though! Pleasure to see you!"

Result: Neighbor knows her forsythia is lovely, but pities me because I am Crazy. And maybe is concerned for my son, having to grow up in a godless, forsythia-free home.

Stupid neighbor and her stupid green thumb.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Money is the New Goldfish

For that gal who has everything, Tip Jar platform heels!

Innovatively designed with a slot opening on the clear platform's side-wall, the collection allows tips to be conveniently inserted through the slots and retrieved from the accessible insole. Usually accompanied with attractive appliqu├ęs such as lips, butterfly or dollar signs in colorful neon and glitter materials, these playful slot openings offer novel and naughty ways for admirers to express their appreciation and gratification.


Wow. Seriously, wow. If I wore those, I'd be 6'7". Then I'd topple over and break something, probably something humiliating like my coccyx.

But, feel free to ask me about my accessible insole.

Sleazy Home Improvement

Now that spring and warm weather are well underway (FINALLY!), it's officially time to pay men in tool belts exhorbitant sums of money to do the things you said you'd do as soon as you bought your house, you know, a few years back. If you're us, that means a (partial) new roof, gutters, and some yard work. And maybe we'll finally finish up the painting we started last year, and hang some art on our sad, sad walls.

But hey, I don't want to go overboard just yet. Baby steps, people! I mean, we really only painted in the first place because there was a sale at Home Depot on paint; and because we had to paint the baby's room something other than bright purple (unlike the previous homeowners, we do NOT believe that bright purple is an ideal choice for a little boy's room, unless you're going for a Purple Unicorns Rule theme or something...)

I digress. If you're wide-eyed innocents like Sean and I, you could easily fall prey to Unethical Home Improvement Guys. These men prowl your neighborhood in their enormous Ford F-7659's, twirling their Simon Legree mustaches and giggling evilly at the many schemes they have to seperate you and your hard-earned cash. Check out some of Bankrate.com's suggestions as to what you should look out for!

I was especially interested in the claim that duct cleaning is an unnecessary scam, since we were thinking of having our ducts cleaned this spring. (Whether or not that's a euphemism I'll leave up to you, dear reader. I'm too busy CLEANING MY OWN DUCTS to explore this further.)

Monday, April 23, 2007

Two Birds, One Stone

When you're simultaneously overcome with the desire to occupy your 4 3/4-month old (I never know whether I'm supposed to discuss babies' ages in weeks or months--did I miss that memo while I was busy being all knocked up or struggling with sleep deprivation after the fact?) AND your incessantly energetic Jack Russell Terrier, don't despair. There IS a solution.

Bacon-scented dog bubbles!

Yes, it's true. This exists. Bacon bubble stuff. And the best part is that the 4 3/4-month old will be fascinated by the energetic Jack Russell Terrier as she leaps and twists and bounds and snaps at the bubbles.

It's a happy ending for everyone, really.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

True Story

So, I'm getting dressed this morning, and decide to put on makeup. It's like a light went off in my head--makeup! that is TOTALLY the answer! So I begin applying the makeup, all the while having a conversation with my husband in my head about it, something along the lines of "I've decided to start wearing makeup EVERY DAY now. I've decided to make time in the New Mom Crazy Confusion of Unattractiveness to be more attractive! So you can just keep the baby entertained for a little longer in the morning on weekends, ya hump!"

Then, distracted by my imaginary future conversation with my husband, I dropped my incredibly overpriced blush, sending little bits of incredibly overpriced blush rolling across our Dirty New Parent Floor. So, (obviously), I picked the cat hair off them, put them back in the incredibly overpriced container, and applied the incredibly overpriced blush remnants to the apples of my cheeks.

When I made it downstairs, my husband said I looked "Great!" with a degree of enthusiasm generally reserved for bacon.

I will consider this a happy ending.