Once upon a time, I was in a video store with my then boyfriend trying to pick out a movie to watch. I picked up John Carpenter's Vampires, and proceeded to tell the boy about the coolest scene in the movie, where a guy uses his hot-from-being-fired gun to cauterize a wound he received. Said boyfriend looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "You're not like other girls, Betty."
Name::Braindead Betty From::Indy, Indiana, United States
I signed Bean up for tumbling classes. When people ask me why, I give them all kinds of reasons that sound real good, like she needed more interaction with kids her own age, or she needs some type of structured fun, or what have you, but the plain and simple truth is that it was good old-fashioned bribery to get her to use the potty. Which is not to say that those other reasons aren't bonuses.
Really, it is nice watching her make new friends, though. I tell you what, though. Play dates are definitely called "dates" for a reason. I feel like I'm on the singles market again. Trying to find parents that you can deal with to hang out with while your kids are playing is tough. There's one little girl who's a total princess, and her mom's nose is so far up in the air that it's amazing she doesn't drown when it's raining. There's another kid who cries through every class while his parents do nothing at all to console him. There are two little boys who are already best friends and won't have anything to do with Bean. Fortunately, there is one little girl that Bean gets along with fabulously whose mom seems pretty cool.
The next step, asking if they would like to get together sometime, is still like the dating scene, too. I don't want to come on too strong, or I might seem overbearing. But I don't want to seem too blase about it either, or they might think I'm not interested.
I'm sure all the other parents out there are familiar with their local sex offender registry, and have checked their address. This is just a friendly reminder to check all the addresses where your kids spend time. My MIL watches the girls while Jay and I are at work, and she recently moved. Her new neighborhood is great, and there's even a little boy next door just Bean's age. Unfortunately, we just found out that the little boy's grandfather, who lives with him, is a convicted child molester, who's only been out of jail for 3 years. So this is just a note to other parents to never take anything for granted.
Oh, and for those not familiar with their local sex offender registry, just google "sex offender registry" and the name of your state, and it should pop right up.
So yesterday was Bean's birthday. She's a whole wopping 3 years old now. It's crazy. When I look at her I still expect to see my little baby, but she's not anymore. As she likes to remind me several times a day, she's a big girl now. The problem with this is that I sometimes overestimate her capabilities. For example, she knew her birthday was yesterday, she just doesn't understand the concept of the future well enough to know that her birthday party is on Saturday. She went to the store with 2 of her aunts yesterday, and apparently made the lady behind them in line think she was horribly deprived. "It's my birthday and I got no presents, I got no party, I got no cake."
But at other times her logic astounds me. The other day I caught her trying to give Daisy a gummy worm. We've discussed before why she can't give food to a newborn, but I thought I'd go over it with her again. "Remember, we can't give food to Daisy; she doesn't have any teeth." The argument for: "Her can just lick it!" Hey, she may not have pronouns down yet, but at least she wants to share. Be thankful for small favors, huh?
She definitely knows how to turn a phrase. The other day she threw a tantrum over something, I'm not sure what. (Which, by the way, everyone who said 3 is worse than 2 is soooo right) What I do remember though, is her coming up to me after she was done to tell me "I got crying in my eyes." Poor girl.
Bean just started sleeping in her big girl bed. She's doing really well with it so far. Honestly, I don't think she realizes she can get out of it by herself. We'll see how long that lasts.
We also bought her her first fishing pole this week. She hasn't had it in the water yet, but we took it in the backyard to teach her how to cast. She's got pretty good form, she just has problems with the timing on pushing the button. One time she had the pole behind her head when she pushed and released the button, so the weight dropped to the ground behind her. Then she whipped that pole forward and tried to look for where it landed in the yard. She looked at me with eyes big as saucers and said, "Wow! That went far!" not realizing that it was actually right behind her.
Pregnancy is going well. Jay and I still haven't decided on a name, but we'll get there. If the baby hasn't gone head down by my appointment later today, they're going to try to manually turn her. I'm kind of nervous about that, because I've heard that it's pretty painful. And, honestly, I'm a wuss. I have all the respect in the world for women who do all-natural child birth, but it's just not for me. The doctors have the drugs, whey the hell shouldn't I use them? My fondest memory of Bean's childbirth is still when that 4'6" woman burst in my room announcing, "I'm Dr. Lee. Anesthesiology!" That was quite a digression, but I think I made it pretty clear that I'm a big wuss, so any well-wishes for today would be appreciated!
Someone found my blog the other day by searching for "pro vs. con driving curfew." Sorry that I probably wasn't any help, but Bean keeps me on my toes enough without having to borrow trouble worrying about what to do when she gets old enough to drive. Whatever I decide to do at that point in time, I can garauntee one thing: Bean won't like it. What 16 year old ever thinks that their parents' rules are fair? Plus I've already been told that I'm strict with her. And that's coming from my own mother, the one who took me for a tour of a working convent when I was in high school. So for now I'm just enjoying the ride, and we'll worry about dating and cars and cell phones and all that crap somewhere down the line.
Every holiday, I try to get a picture of Bean with "that look" on her face. You know which look I'm talking about - the look that says "I'm so excited I can't possibly contain it in my earthly body." I finally got it on Easter when she walked out of her room and saw her basket. So without further ado, may I present to you: Easter by a 2 year old.
If you want to check out the bigger version, or any of my other pics (they're not all of cute kids, I promise), you can always check out my Flickr page.
Major news on the homefront: I HAVE LANDSCAPING! I'm so excited! Jay and Bean planted 5 mini-spruces yesterday while I was at work to surprise me. Bean was so excited to have helped. She's claimed one tree as her very own and calls it her baby tree. Say it with me now....AAAWW.
One thing I must say about Jay being out of work; while it's made our budget much tighter than is comfortable, he and Bean have gotten quite close. It's awful cute watching her tag right along behind him, Daddy's little shadow. If you want to know the honest truth, I'm kind of jealous. I know it's gender-typing, but I feel like, being the mom, I should be there kissing her booboos and teaching her the joys of vegging out and playing Halo all day. Okay, so maybe he is teaching her different things than I would.
I don't really grudge him the time with her, though. She's happy enough to see me when I get home, and he's happy enough for a break by that time. (Let's face it, no matter how cute the 2 year old, they're still pretty demanding.) And I know it's important for little girls to have a good relationship with their dad. Besides, once she starts dating, I know I'll be the favorite again.
We're enjoying a stretch of nice weather right now. It's so much fun taking Bean outside to play. She got her first taste of playing with sidewalk chalk yesterday. It brought back so many memories for me. I specifically remember one time my grandpa caught me and the little neighbor girl using sidewalk chalk to make a homemade ouija board. (Yeah, I was a weird little kid.) He got so mad at us for that one.
I made Bean a hopscotch board and taught her how to hop on it, which she loved. I realized, though, that I don't know the actual rules for hopscotch. When we were kids, we never bothered with playing it the way you're supposed to, we just jumped back & forth until we got bored with it. Did anybody mess with the real rules? If so, could you explain them? I'd hate to have my daughter be the only girl who doesn't know the rules when she gets to elementary school.
Jay and I are both amazingly laid-back people. This is why other first-time parents sometimes crack me up. Some of our friends recently had a baby, and made both sets of grandparents watch a video about the 4 "S's" of swaddling (whatever those are) before they could hang out with the baby. I'm personally of the opinion that if my parents got me to adulthood, they're not gonna' screw Bean up too badly. So when she spends the night with them, I hand her over with one hand, the diaper bag with the other, and then run like the denizens of Hell are behind me. My sister, on the other hand, leaves my parents with two pages of instructions and calls every half hour to check up.
Bean is ruining Janis Joplin for me. Whenever we're in the car, she just wants to listen to "Mercedes Benz" over and over again. At least it's not a Care Bear CD, I guess.
Yesterday Bean was fed a bunch of candy and wasn't given a nap. So when bedtime came around, she resembled nothing so much as a sugar-charged demonically-possesed tornado. Generally I don't do this, buy I let her lay in our bed with me until she fell asleep. Jay was sleeping on the couch (guess why). The girl was cracking me up. When I told her I'd put her back in her own bed if she didn't lie still and be quiet, she promised to be quiet, rolled over and proceeded to fake snore. This is a new thing for her and it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. Because, of course, if you laugh, they know they've won.
A few things I want to talk about, none of which are long enough for an exclusive post:
Bean takes after us so much. Driving to dinner Friday night, I popped in a Suicide Machines CD, and the first thing she yells is, "Louder!" I'm gonna' be in such big trouble when she's 14.
Watching a movie this weekend on TV, I thought it odd that the FCC allows the phrase "tap that ass" to air on network television, but not the word "tits." Does anyone else think that's odd?
It's been 9 months since our wedding, and our photographer still has not gotten our pictures to us. Somehow I doubt there would have been this many delays had we not paid up front. It's getting sooo frustrating.
This is one of the weirdest things I've heard lately. How many off-the-cuff jokes can we come up with involving sausuge?
Along the same lines, Purity Balls are creepy little gatherings where girls pledge their virginity to their fathers. I get the meaning behind it, but surely there's a better way to accomplish the same means than host a lavish, wedding-like reception where everyone gets to witness your father vowing to "war for (your) purity."
Everything in my city has been Colts and Superbowl -centric for the past week. I can understand it for the most part; I mean, it is pretty exciting. I don't know if it's take-up-20-minutes-of-the-30-minute-nightly-newscast exciting, but it is exciting nonetheless. I saw Colts bandwagonry jump to the next level this morning, however. As I was stuck in a horrible traffic jam, I realized that the box truck in front of me had the Colts' horseshoe and the words "Go Blue" scratched out of the dirt on it! Now that's a fan.
I mentioned in my 2006 year in review that I loved the movie Talladega Nights. Unfortunately, so does Bean. One of the funnier things she picked up from the movie is that she will now at random times, run around in circles screaming that she's on fire. That'll be amusing until the neighbors call CPS on us. The not-so-funny thing that she has picked up is the phrase, "oh, fuck it!" This is still slightly amusing when you take into consideration the fact that the first time she said it was while she was at the pediatrician's office with Jay's mother. Unfortunately, I had a medical emergency and had to spend the day of Bean's well baby visit in the hospital, (don't worry, it's no big deal; I'm fine) so Nana got to take her to the doctor, where she broke out in cussword heaven. At least she didn't threaten to come at somebody like a spider monkey...
Halloween was pretty good. Bean was the cutest cowgirl ever. She was really into getting free candy, but would've been just as happy to stay inside Grandma & Grandpa's house where it was warm. I'll get pictures up here sooner or later.
The weekend before Halloween was fantastic. Went to a great show. Got to see "almost" some of my favorite bands. Okay, so they were cover bands. But it was the Pixies, the Ramones, the Misfits, NOFX, and Social Distortion. But even more exciting, Jay's band got booked for next year's Halloween Rip-off show to be the Subhumans.
Then on Sunday I got my hair cut. Yay for it no longer being in an awkward growing-out phase! And the guy who cut my hair is the sweetest thing ever. In addition to being a hair stylist, he's also a sideshow performer and a bass player. I love having interesting friends even though I'm so boring. I'll have to get pictures of my new hair up here too, but I think I'll wait until my giant zit has given me back control of my chin.
Jay and I are both animal-lovers, so it's really no shock that Bean is as well. From the time she could crawl, she's been chasing both dogs and the cat all over our house. I try to encourage this love of the wild kingdom whenever I can. Unfortunately, our house and schedules don't allow for the type of menagerie I would like to have, but we do what we can. We watch Discovery's Animal Planet, we have a family pass to the zoo, when she gets old enough I plan on taking her with me to volunteer at the Humane Society, etc.
Recently an opportunity to expose Bean to another approach to animals presented itself. The State Fair is currently going on here in Indiana. And could we really call it a State Fair if it didn't cause some type of life-long trauma in the kids?
Bean was most excited about seeing the horses. Before we had even parked she was yelling that she wanted to see horses NOW! She was singing a different tune when we actually got in the draft horse barn. I don't think she realized how big horses actually are, and it was overwhelming for her. Not to mention the crowds, the heat, and the stink. She took it fairly well in stride, though, and even started to put her hand into the horse stall to pet the horse... ...at which point my over-protective mother instinct kicked in. I pulled her hand back from the bars and said the horse might bite her. (I know it probably wouldn't have, but it's the same principle of petting a strange dog unless you've asked its owners. You never know what an animal might do. But I digress.) Bean screwed up her forehead, looked at me, and asked "Horse bite?" I told her, yes, it might. She looked back at the horse, then back to me, and her eyes got as big around as saucers. Her leap in logic became apparent when she asked me, incredulously, "Horse eat?" At that point I started laughing too hard to reassure her that horses are not merciless child-eaters. And from that point on she became petrified of the horses. At least, the real ones. She didn't have a problem with the horses on the carousel...
And that was our year at the fair. I wonder how much it's going to cost me when she tells this story to her therapist years down the road.
I'll be the first to admit that growing up, I was a weird kid. I remember some of my oddest habits included shaving with my dad (he would put shaving cream on my face and I would scrape it off with a spoon. Not that weird except for the fact that I was a girl. Shaving. My face.), liking Richard Simmons, going through phases where I thought I was a different species (like a horse), & thinking that my dog could talk to me. I guess it shouldn't be any surprise to me that my daughter's picked up a few odd habits of her own.
Honestly, if she wasn't only two years old, I would probably be sending her to a shrink. She has long, in-depth conversations with people that aren't really there. And not imaginary friends, real people. This morning, for example, I heard her talking to her Aunt Mimi.
I don't worry about it too much though because, honestly, how much of a grasp of reality can someone who's in love with a 6 foot tall yellow bird really have?
I spent a good bit of this evening ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink in order to jump on the bed with Bean.
She had a great weekend. It was her 2nd birthday yesterday. (Yep, born on the fourth of July) She spent all weekend telling anybody who would listen "Happy Birthday Cake!" We're not having her party until this weekend, but we went ahead and gave her her big birthday gift yesterday. She got a Barbie vanity. My inner feminist cringes about giving her stuff like that, but she genuinely enjoys it. She's such a girly-girl. She's all about shoes and purses and playing dress up. I really don't know where she gets this stuff from, because to this day if asked to describe myself, one of the first words that pops up is "tomboy."
I like to rationalize her obsession with looking into mirrors as her learning about action and reaction rather than vanity on her part. Really, how can a two year old be vain? Especially because I'm very careful about how often I compliment her on her beauty. I make sure to tell her how smart and special she is just as often.
The trait I love seeing in her the most is definitely one she gets from me, though. That's her independence. Mixed in with a good bit of old-fashioned bull-headedness, might I add. She never wants you to do something for her that she can do herself. And when she decides she wants to learn to do something new, she practices doing it over and over until she has it perfect. My little girl certainly doesn't settle for good enough. (Which can be a pain in the butt at times, I admit.) I just love the look of pride and accomplishment in her face when she finally masters a new skill.
Oh, and in the "sometimes bad things happen for a good reason" department, Jay found a new job, paying quite a bit more than he was making before. So things are looking up on that end. And I've also gotten wind of a new job opportunity, that will end up with me pretty much doubling my pay. I'm not so sure about the job itself though, so we'll see how that ends up. I'll keep you updated.
Jay is my husband. He can be a total jerk, like when he told his little brother the way to get rid of a hard on was to punch it as hard as you can, but he can be the sweetest guy ever, like when he rushes to kiss a boo-boo on our little girl. He's in a punk rock band called Pipe Bomb. He's a total blue collar guy. He's worked in construction for years. There's nothing that he wouldn't do for his family. He's the only guy I've found that can consistently put up with my shit, so I think I'm gonna' keep him.
Bean is our daughter. I refer to her as Bean because she never walks when she can hop. She's like a little jumping bean. I could go on & on about her, but it'd just be the same things every moms say about their kids. Suffice it to say that she's reasonably cute, smart & funny, and we'll just move on.
Sicko is my best friend, simply because she's just as big of a dork as I am. We have a blast every time we get together. 9 times out of 10 we end up having conversations about penises. (Penii?) Regardless, "Dance like noone is watching" could easily be her life motto.
And then there's the band. Left to right it's Eeyore, Jughead, Trippy & Jay. Eeyore suffers from a lot of mental problems. Depression, anxiety disorder, etc. He's also a junkie, which I'm sure doesn't help the problem at all. He's an effing genius when it comes to the bass, though. I've never seen anyone as talented as him. Jughead is, simply put, an idiot. He can't multiply 2 and 100 in his head. Seriously. Trippy's just your average guy, wife, two kids, 9-5.
These are the names you will more than likely see crop up most often in the course of the blog. I'll add other people as the need arises.
I hope these little "mommy epiphanies" never stop. For those of you that don't have kids, a mommy (or daddy) epiphany is when time stops for just a few seconds, and you're filled with part extreme pride of your child, part amazement that you could produce something that wonderful, part fear for your probable life span once they hit the teen years, and part affirmation that you must be doing something right.
Today I was washing a load of dishes when I noticed things seemed just a little bit too quiet in the living room. I went in to check on the two legged baby and the four legged babies to see what mischief they were into now. There was Bean, lounging on the couch with an afghan pulled over her lap, sippy cup at hand, holding a novel upside down. I just had to laugh, she looked so serious. Then it hit me; replace the sippy cup with an adult bevarage, and that could be me, any night of the week after she's gone to bed.
