Lessons Learned

The Memorial Day weekend is providing me with three sun-filled days of quality time with my family. It is also three days of catching up on homework, playing outside, several clothing changes and a whole lot of beer. Throughout all of it, a few things occurred to me:

1. Never sit down until you look at the toilet paper holder first.
2. For the first six months of life, the first kid lives in their parents arms, the second kid lives in a front carrier, and the third kid lives in the car.
3. That whole "five minutes until we need to leave" warning is a bunch of bullshit, especially when there is a hungry five-year-old involved that wants something to eat now. Like, now. Not later in the car, NOW!
4. My neighbor's lawnmower is incapable of starting before 8:30pm.
5. When the youngest child says "hey look at this I found a new way to show the number two" and then promptly holds up her two middle fingers, it's best to display no emotion.
6. Likewise, when the same kid says "wow the garbage smells like Doritos" it's best to just take their word for it and not "come and smell it" like they suggested, because I'm pretty sure that's not what Doritos smell like.
7. Junior high really hasn't changed that much and if anything there's more bullshit to deal with now than when I was that age. You know, back in the day when dinosaurs were kept as pets and we used a rock tablet and chisel to take notes about the latest fire starting techniques.
8. Just because a soon-to-be teenager gets up on their own before 9am doesn't necessarily mean that the kid is waking up in a good mood.
9. Rosie was completely taken for granted, and although I hate this phrase more than anything else, it makes me wonder: What the hell did Jane Jetson do all day anyway?
10. Not every day requires a cocktail. Some just require shots of tequila.

Anti-Crafty

Depending on who you ask, there are several adjectives that a person might use to describe me, but one word that would never be used is "crafty." Sure, I can assemble furniture, wrap a gift, follow the directions included in most kits and usually color in the lines, but when it comes to creating something out of construction paper, glitter, glue, styrofoam or popsicle sticks, chances are that the results will not be very presentable.

Yesterday I volunteered at the kindergarten Letter Luau. This event consists of games like Musical Chairs, a snack station and a table where the kids could make their own leis, which is where I ended up. I'm still trying to figure out why I voluntarily put myself at this station because the only thing I hate more than doing crafts by myself is having to help a bunch of kids with crafts, but I think it's because I thought that the assembly would be five-year-old friendly and just require some simple stringing skills. I was wrong.

I opened up my bag of supplies to find pre-cut lengths of black yarn, construction paper flowers in two sizes, 1" lengths of drinking straws and a box of Fruit Loops. After glancing at these items for a total of two seconds and thinking "Oh shit," the first kids showed up at my table, eager to get started. This is when I started cursing the fact that there wasn't a pina colada station at this luau.

No one had punched any holes in the construction paper flowers, so while the kids sat there and whipped each other with the black yarn, I hurriedly started punching holes. Of course the little paper-catcher thingie on the hole puncher was busted off, so there were little bits of confetti-sized paper flying everywhere, making the kids shout out like they were in a parade. No sooner did they grab the first flower and straw when I heard someone say "Zoe's mommy, I need help." This phrase was repeated no fewer than 8,752 times over the next 45-minutes. We also quickly discovered that black yarn does not thread through eight out of ten Fruit Loops because the hole is too small, and instead just mashes and frays. And I now know that trying to thread black yarn that now resembles a fuzzy black hamster through a drinking straw is no easy feat, especially when that black fuzzball is soggy with spit because some gross kid has been sucking on it.

Since I was strongly discouraging the kids from using the Fruit Loops, I decided to just drop handfuls of them on the table and let the kids eat them instead. Suddenly, my table was really popular. Kids were shoving those things in their mouths by the handful and in addition to "I need help," I was now hearing "I need some more Fruit Loops." At one point, I stepped back to observe the chaos as if I wasn't directly involved and saw: kids licking their hands, licking the yarn, grabbing cereal, wiping their noses, rubbing their eyes, picking at their ears, sucking on the yarn, eating cereal off of the floor, and then asking me for help. This is when I decided that soap and water just wouldn't do -- I would have to just chop my hands off when I got home.

I suppose you're wondering how the craft turned out, and let's just say that I considered attaching an apology note to more than a couple dozen of the leis. A few of the girls that were actually excited about the concept of wearing paper flowers somehow managed to make a pretty presentable craft. But for the most part, the kids sat there for five minutes of threading-induced frustration and ended up with, honestly, something pathetic. Even the girls, who had patiently threaded straws and flowers one after the other to make a pattern threw their arms up in frustration when they held up their leis, only to have all of the flowers slide into a clump because the punched hole is just that much bigger than the diameter of the straw. One kid, after finally succeeding to thread two things only to have them slide right off the other end of the yarn proclaimed that "This craft sucks!" All I could do was look him in the eye and say yes, you're right. Here's some Fruit Loops.

Now, let's compare: we all know what a Hawaiian lei looks like, and in case you've forgotten it looks like this:

And here's how ours turned out:

I don't know about you, but looking at this thing does not put me in the mood for a luau. It does, however, put me in the mood for a pina colada.

An Educational Experience

It has taken a few days, but I think I have finally recovered from attending the kindergarten field trip to the zoo, and it was definitely a good news/bad news kind of day:

Good news: Even though it was cloudy, it didn't rain. (At least not until right after we left.)

Bad news: The weatherman was wrong (again) about the temperature, so the kids in tank tops were freezing and Zoe is now the owner of yet another fleece jacket. This one has a polar bear on it, though.

Good news: We saw a tiger in action.

Bad news: It was eating action, and the vegetarian kids were a little freaked out.

Good news: Yay for monkeys!

Bad news: Apparently monkeys do some pretty great drugs, which contradicts what the DARE program is trying to teach our children.

Good news: We saw a baby orangutan swinging around.

Bad news: I had to stand next to a dad that insisted on speaking with falsetto.

Good news: There was a great photo op for a picture of Zoe with her friends.

Bad news: Four kids don't fit on a turtle.

Good news: We saw the giraffes.

Bad news: We smelled the giraffes.

Good news: We saw a buffalo. Or maybe it was a bison.

Bad news: The buffalo/bison was in the exact same spot/position/mental state as when I saw him last year.

Good news: After hearing animal sounds, we thought we were going to get lucky and see a monkey in the parking lot.

Bad news: It was just a deranged black-socks-wearing-dad making insanely loud monkey sounds at his kid while his butt was sticking out of the car door.

Good news: I remembered that lunch was going to be later than usual, so I threw a couple snacks in my purse for when the kids got hungry.

Bad news: A granola bar and a bag of fruit snacks split between four kids is not exactly satisfying.

Good news: Luckily, I knew to avoid some road construction on the drive back to the school, and therefore managed to not sit in traffic.

Bad news: The two bus drivers hauling 125 kindergartners with full bladders were not so lucky.

Bad news: Zach had a varsity tennis match and needed to get out of school early, so I had to race back from the zoo in order to get to the junior high. I got there just in time to deal with the fact that the front office completely screwed up his early release, which meant that unless I drove like a crazy person (which, fortunately, I manage to do most of the time anyway) he would be late for the tennis bus. I was so irritated with the incompetence of the attendance office that after we finally got in the car I said "fucking" for the first time in front of my kid, as in "I can't believe how fucking stupid the women are in that office."

Good news: Zach's brain was still in junior high mode, so he didn't even flinch when he heard me say it. After all, it was probably at least the 247th time he had heard it that day.

Good news: I managed to be a good person/mom and made it through an entire field trip surrounded by other people's children without having to bring a flask.

Better news: Since I hadn't brought any booze to the zoo, it meant that there was more booze at home. Or at least, there was more booze at home.

My Baby Has Zits!

A little over a week ago, at 2:30 am on May 13, my niece entered the world, changing my brother and sister-in-law's lives forever. Since then, she has been introduced to her new surroundings, the milk truck arrived just as she discovered hunger, my sister-in-law is finding out just how little sleep a person is capable of surviving on and my brother is tapping into new levels of patience that he never knew he had.

To say that the initial weeks with your first baby are a little bit of a shock to your existence is like saying that having your leg amputated might create a little bit of a limp. There's just no way to completely prepare for having a newborn in the house, no matter how organized you have the changing station or how much you used to babysit. And since attempting to read anything longer than one page causes immediate narcolepsy in a new mom (or in some cases, this mom), I thought I'd briefly cover a few newborn topics that Ali might need to address in the next month or two, but aren't always covered very honestly in those "how to care for your newborn" books.

Sleeping, or more specifically, not sleeping. Sorry to tell you this, but your baby will not sleep. There might be a night here or there that she manages to sleep for more than three hours at a time, but this will not last. She will fake you out in the beginning by sleeping for hours and hours, only waking up to eat and crap, and just when you're telling strangers that you have a miracle baby that is sleeping through the night before her belly button fell off, she'll discover that she can be awake. Really, really AWAKE. For hours at a time, in the middle of the night. After a couple months, you'll have something resembling a "bedtime routine," which probably means that by the time the kid is fed, bathed, fed again, diapered again, and finally ready for bed, it's 11:00. At this point, you'll wonder how in the hell you'll ever manage to have this kid in bed by 9:00, or even 8:00 so that you can have a fragment of your old life back. Eventually this happens, but for now you have a newborn. That doesn't sleep. And if anyone is dumb enough to say "How is she sleeping?" as a joke, you have permission to not laugh and instead say "You are an unfunny dumb shit and if I wasn't so tired right now I'd probably kick your ass."

Why is my baby in puberty? Around three weeks of age, your baby will wake up looking like a giant zit. Her once-perfect skin will be covered with an even smattering of baby zits and you will have to resist the temptation to pop and pick at them. Of course, there is no known cause of baby zits and if you ask an "expert," they will probably blame the zits on hormones. Because after all, everything that is unexplained and sucky is categorized as hormonal. Woman goes psycho at the gas station and tries to strangle the asshole at the pump next to her with the hose? She was just hormonal. Lady cries because she feels taken for granted and her day is going down the shit hole? She doesn't need a hug and a "thank you" because she's obviously just being hormonal. Anyway, the best way to treat baby acne is to just ignore the zits and occasionally wash the kid's face.

I've seen fewer flakes at a poetry reading. Around one month of age, your baby's hair will probably start to fall out. In addition to being partially bald, she will most likely develop the most disgusting case of dandruff, aka "cradle cap," that you have ever seen. The books will tell you that it is "mild flaking," which I guess is accurate, if mild flaking is defined as a thick, yellowish, scaly, scabby, falling-off-in-chunks, oily residue. Cradle cap (which, shockingly enough, is probably caused by a shift in hormones) can sometimes be treated by massaging a small amount of almond or olive oil into the baby's scalp and then washing it out. Unfortunately, in order to get all of the oil out you need to shampoo the baby's hair about 27 times, which ends up pulling even more hair out, and then the baby gets cold, so then you end up with an even balder baby that is now crying inconsolably. And most likely, within half-an-hour, the cradle cap will return.

I used to have a beer bong, but now I have baby equipment. Put a bouncy seat in the bathroom for when you take that every-third-day shower, since this is one age when your kid can see you naked without hearing her say "What's wrong with your belly, mommy?" Keep a swing near an exterior door, because it's a great place to put the kid when you want to sneak outside on a beautiful day, do a shot of tequila and pretend like you're on vacation in Mexico. Those Boppy pillows are really useful for nursing, propping up the baby in front of "Sesame Street," and also come in handy as a headrest when you're laying on the floor doing crunches in an attempt to get your abs back. Front carriers are great to have when you bring your baby to parties, and don't worry if a little bit of your cocktail dribbles out of your mouth onto the baby's head. After all, the kid is probably hot in that thing and the cold beverage probably feels good. And who knows, massaging a little bit of booze into the kid's scalp might be good for the cradle cap.

Does she need a snowsuit in June? Here is where you have to use common sense and not listen to nosey strangers. Is it kind of coolish outside? Then put some socks on the baby and a blanket over the car seat. Is it 80 degrees and humid? Then the baby probably doesn't need a hat, sweater, blanket, socks and an extra blanket just in case. And this summer, when some pain in the ass know-it-all says "Goodness gracious, you should really have a hat on that little baby!" you can tell them to shut it.

My baby is crying! Yes, babies cry. A lot. Some more than others, but all of them cry at some point, and the crying may or may not be for the following reasons: tired, not tired, over-tired, hungry, too full, gassy, constipated, constipated and gassy, overstimulated, hot, cold, just right but felt a draft, too bright, kind of dark, too noisy, needs white noise, wants to be held, wants to sit in the swing, wants to lay on the floor, doesn't like the barking dog, doesn't want to be held by the woman that smells like Ben Gay, is being poked by a tag on her outfit, doesn't like that you ate onions before nursing, wants motion in the form of being held while you walk 35 miles in your pajamas. And sometimes, they'll cry because they can.

Who fed my baby cottage cheese? If, after two months of nursing, you're suddenly tempted to rip off your nipples because they itch uncontrollably and you notice that your baby doesn't seem to enjoy eating, chances are that both of you have thrush. Thrush is a yeast infection of your baby's mouth and your nipples. It's really super fun and is often something you don't hear about until you are suffering from it. If you look in your baby's mouth and see white chunks on the insides of her cheeks and on her tongue and if, when you scrape the white chunks away you see a red, raw patch that may or may not bleed, that is thrush. It's completely treatable with antibiotics, but if you don't treat yourself, too, you'll end up passing it back and forth, and back, and forth, and back, and forth. Like I said, really super fun. So, when you get the prescription for the little person, grab an Rx for Diflucan, too. And then when you're waiting for the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, use that extra time to drive across the parking lot to the liquor store.

It's really hard to believe that a bald seven pound baby that cries, doesn't sleep, is covered in zits and has a yeast infection in her mouth can be so easy to love. Maybe that's why they get the hiccoughs, because honestly there is nothing cuter than a baby with the hiccoughs, especially when that baby isn't mine.

What? We Don't Live in Cupertino?

Since we live in Minnesota, spring weather is never predictable and sometimes it seems impossible to dress appropriately. One day it will be 75 degrees, but the next day might include snow. Therefore, I never fall prey to the first nice day and instead delay storing the long & warm and pulling out the shorts. But now that it is the end of May and the daytime temperature is consistently above 70 degrees, I have pulled out the sandals, stocked up on sunscreen and completed the laborious task of switching the clothes over in my kids' closets.

Since I'm trying to encourage a little bit of self-sufficiency and also didn't want to be known as a fashion bitch for an entire month, I decided to put a few pairs of shorts in the boys' rooms and told them to start checking the weather forecast on their phones each morning. If the high for the day was over 65 then by all means, wear shorts. Otherwise, pull on some pants.

Even though the weather has been nice lately, a couple weeks ago it was the absolute opposite of nice. Rainy, windy, gross, cold, depressing, a little bit of snow, below-freezing mornings, basically a typical Minnesota spring. So sure enough, one morning when it wasn't quite 40 degrees and the high was supposed to be 43, Charlie came down the stairs wearing shorts.

"Why are you wearing shorts? The house is freezing! (because I refuse to turn the furnace on in May) Didn't you check the weather? You have your phone in your room and I told you two weeks ago that it has to be over 65 for you to wear shorts."

"Duh, I did check my phone. It says it's supposed to be 74 and sunny today." This was one day that the alarm clock managed to wake up Charlie's body, but obviously not his brain.

I didn't say anything, but instead gestured toward the window. The snow-specked, soaking wet window that looked out onto a saturated yard under nothing but gray skies.

"Oh. Well that's weird. I checked the weather, see? It says 74 and sunny in Cupertino. And why does it say we live in Cupertino, anyway?" I am not making this shit up. He was being completely serious.

After I pointed out the fact that Cupertino, CA meant CALIFORNIA and added Minneapolis to his weather forecast app, he looked at his phone and discovered that it was nothing but 40's and rain in the forecast for the next week.

"Crap. I guess that means I have to go change. I kind of wish we lived in Cupertino."

I said yeah, that would be nice. But then we would have missed out on having this whole conversation, and what would I write about then!?