Things They Don't Tell You: Volume 2

I’ve mentioned before, that there are, indeed, many things people don’t tell you when you have a child. Something I never heard much about prior to childbirth was the nature of your child to gravitate to any and everything you find annoying. By annoying, I mean worse than nails on the chalkboard; let’s say I’m going to down an entire bottle of ibuprofen with a gallon of Vodka if you don’t cut that shit out. NOWSTOPITASSHOLE!

One of those types of things for me is Barney. I cannot stand that stupid, purple fucker. I can’t hear his voice. I can’t look at him. He is Satan in this household. I used to be one of those moms who swore their kid wouldn’t watch TV. Then, I realized I needed to do things like shower and make dinner so that went out the window. Once we began embracing the TV, I was very careful to select educational programming. Sesame Street is welcome with open arms as is pretty much any PBS program. Barney may actually be educational; I don’t know as I’ve never seen it. I CANNOT GET PAST THE PURPLE SUIT AND THAT VOICE! So, I just decided that Barney would not exist in our household. If we didn’t talk about him or turn him on, Bird just wouldn’t know. Right.

The first time Bird saw Barney, she had climbed the stairs to our bedroom and turned on the TV. I knew where she was, and what she was doing. But, I did not know what was on! After a mere two minutes, I went to check on her and low and behold she was absolutely glued to the damn TV. She was completely mesmerized by that rotten SOB. No! No! No! You would have thought she’d found the Playboy Channel or something. I was completely devastated.

For the next couple weeks, she asked for that show. I pretended like I didn’t know what she was talking about and eventually she stopped asking. I know, I’m a terrible person, but I had to draw the line somewhere. I figure now, before she goes to school, is the only time I’ll be able to control this. Once she goes to school, it’s over. It’ll be the newest Hannah Montana or Justin Bieber all the time. Then I’ll really want to cut myself.

So, Wednesday night, due to inclement weather (in summer for me, this equals anything over about 85 degrees with humidity-I do not like to perspire if I’m not trying to do so), we went to the library. I took Bird to her section and what did she find? You guessed it! A giant Barney storybook! That thing is brimming with all things purple and nauseating. I tried to distract her by showing her other books. It did not work. She was smitten. I even went so far as to tell her that if she got that one, since it was so big, she wouldn’t be able to get anything else. Her mind was made up.

Bread came along to find us when he was finished with his book selecting and immediately sensed my displeasure. He raised his eyebrows and I nodded toward the contraband. He took the same route I did by offering up a super-cool polar bear book. Alas, our stubborn child could not be deterred. Shit.

As we were checking out, I was still traumatized and shaking my head thinking about how life was ended as I’ve known it. Barney! No! No! No! I can’t! I will do all kinds of crazy shit. I swear. But this is terrible. I frowned, looked at Bread and, with a pout, I said, “I’m not reading that book to her.” He gave me is best sympathetic look and said, “Oh?” I said, “No way. I’m telling her it doesn’t have any words.”

The Way We Are

Back in the day when I was richer and thinner, I used to constantly buy new clothes. I read tons of magazines specifically for the fashion advice and loved any reason to dress up. I never really had a specific style icon; I tried lots of different looks. When I look back on it, I don’t know that I was ever really as fashionable as I believed I was. I have had many “what were you thinking” moments. I suppose we all have. I still love all that stuff. My current style resembles Jennifer Garner’s (and I don’t mean the red carpet Jennifer Garner-I’m talking the jeans and t-shirt version), if any celebrity. I’m okay with this because it’s comfortable and the older I get the more comfortable I want to be. Sigh.

My tot has become quite the little fashionista. I don’t believe I forced this on her. She has to have a choice from her wardrobe every day. This means: she has to approve of what I’ve selected for her. She always has to pick out her own panties. This is a huge deal. She likes me to polish her nails. She believes she puts make up on daily. She must have the final say in what shoes she’ll wear (did I mention she has nearly as many shoes as I do). She loves her sparkly Converse Mary Jane’s. I find it to be fascinating that, while she has many items she loves, she does not wish to only wear the beloved things. She isn’t demanding to wear the same shirt each day; it’s as if she knows that would be too much of a good thing.

She has her own style icons already. Until last week, when she got her first haircut, her hair was down the middle of her back. Her favorite hairstyle was twin braids ala Judy Garland in the Wizard of Oz, or Rainbow, as Bird calls her. She’s also a fan of every Disney Princess but specifically Belle, Cinderella and Tiana. There are many days when she requests a “beautiful gown and dress” like Belle or Cinderella or Tiana…

As I’ve mentioned before it’s great to see a little piece of yourself in your child. Raising children brings out the vanity in us all, I suppose. Like many women, I always wanted to have a little girl to do girlie things with. Now I do. This is one of the great parts of parenthood; the part you dream about before you have a kid. The type of thing you can envision when you think about what your life will be like once (if) you have children. What they don’t tell you is that the little fashion lover/hunter/sports fanatic you once dreamed of, may climb into your bed at 6 AM, on a Monday morning, proceed to throw up all over your bed and you won’t mind on little bit. Good morning!

I'm NOT Watching Trashy TV All Day

I thoroughly believe that all things relating to babies and children fall into one of three categories: Things We Knew, Things We Thought We Knew and Things Nobody Told Me. The biggest category, in my experience is Things Nobody Told Me. I will probably write several posts on this subject because it often baffles me. I often find myself wondering how it was possible for me not to know about something or other prior to giving birth. Perhaps I was thinking about how when it comes to some things, ignorance is bliss.

Recently, my friend Jackie, who frequently texts me from her job, sent me a message saying she was done working, she was ready to quit and sit on the couch watching trashy TV all day (until I typed this up I didn’t realize this but, is she implying that’s what I do all day? WTF?). Now,this was one of those days where parenting and Chinese Water Torture feel like the same thing. My words to her were something along the lines of, “No actually, keep your job. DO NOT QUIT. I dedicate entire days to this child and she does this to me. She is a demon. Go to work. Pay somebody to watch your child and keep your sanity.”

Jackie tells me she thinks this is funny. I love an audience and for me she’s easy so I keep it up. I know she’s laughing. I know she’s at work and she’s having a bad day so I offer up some comic relief. Finally she tells me I have to stop because people are staring at the crazy lady who is hysterically laughing to herself. I tell her she has to stop because she might wet herself. This is another side effect of having kids. THINGS THEY DON’T TELL YOU. Yes, it’s true. After you have a baby, you might leak a little bit (or hell, I don’t know, maybe even piss your pants) when you laugh, cry, cough or sneeze. Yep, it happens.

So ladies, when you are exercising to try and get your pre-pregnancy body back don’t forget to work “those” muscles too.