Mother's Day, 2015

Don't get me wrong.  I love Mother's day.  This year, Sean bought me 200 feet of soaker hose and helped me build an irrigation system for my vegetable garden! I'm all for any holiday that celebrates my awesomeness, and almost guarantees that I can go to the lawn-&-garden store and buy irresponsible amounts of shade perennials, but still--- the whole idea of celebrating all mothers on a single day seems fishy to me.

I think the traditions of mother's day-- the brunches, the flowers, the truck-loads of horse manure* ** ***--- should take place on the birthdays of that mother's children.  After all, she was the one who endured hours and hours of horrific pain in order to bring them into this world, and then, once her prenatal yoga class was over, she had to have childbirth! Shouldn't we celebrate mother's day on that child's birthday?

* I have a weird family ok.
** Yes, that is a real mother's day present my mother received from my father one year.
*** she loved it.

But instead, we live in a messed up world where, rather than relaxing on the anniversary of their child's birth and perhaps enjoying celebratory cocktail for keeping that child live for another year,  mothers have to spend that day experimenting with unnatural color's of frosting for their toddler's birthday cake.  It seems unfair, right?

That's why next February, I will insist that we celebrate mother's day early.  On Millie's birthday, I will enjoy 8 hours of relaxing-while-reading-heirloom-seed-catalogs, in order symbolize the 8 hours of time I was in labor with her. Then, I'll go to a prenatal yoga class and shout encouragement at all the expectant mothers. "Don't worry!" I'll lie,"Those will go back to normal!" and, uproariously-- "It's going to be hard work, but the pain is manageable!" Finally, we'll wind up the day with a little party in which all Millie's friends can all bring her shade perennials in lieu of traditional presents. I have a feeling they are really going to like the outdoor activity---a rousing game of "Spread the horse manure on Millie's Mommy's Garden!"

My New Years Resolutions Now That I'm Sober.

It's New Years Day, which means you all better get straight to work on making some New Years Resolutions. If you haven't even started working on your resolutions yet---GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.  If you don't act soon, all the good gym memberships will be gone. 

I find it's best to avoid procrastination, which is why I always write my New Year's Resolutions on New Years Eve while I'm drinking. Nothing gets my creative juices flowing like guzzling cheap corbel out of plastic champagne flutes. The only potential drawback to this strategy is that my resolutions are occasionally a bit lofty and un-achievable.  For instance, here are a few of the new years resolutions I came up with last night: 

1. Meet Michael Pollan

2. Ride on a Unicorn

3. Keep the Baby Alive

Now, I know what you're thinking: numbers 1 and 2 might be a bit grandiose.  I KNOW RIGHT.  It's always best to revisit my resolutions in the morning with a sober and critical eye, which allows me to ask myself the tough questions. "Katie, is this really realistic? Would you really be able to RIDE a unicorn?  Of course not.  It's probably never even worn a bridle before."  That's why this morning I changed resolution number 2 to say.

2. Ride Pet a Unicorn

Much better. Now, you may also be wondering about resolution number 3: Keep the Baby Alive.  I find it's best to adopt at least one resolution that I was planning to do anyways, just to give me a sense of accomplishment at the end of the year.  That's why in years past my list has contained resolutions such as: wash the dog, and buy cilantro. 

Last year, Sean and I decided to take the pressure off of 2013 by making only one resolution: keep the baby alive. Whatever else went wrong in our lives, we figured as long as that baby was alive we were doing a bang-up job.  We found this approach to be wondrously successful.  When our plumbing backed up and we found our basement flooded with sewage (aka: Lake Shiticaca), we just smiled and said, oh well-- at least the baby is alive!  When it took us four months to refinish our deck, we said-- "Great job team! That baby is alive!" And when our list of needed home repairs got too long to fit on a single page, we even wrote "KEEP THE BABY ALIVE" on that list list to remind us that the most important thing was getting done.

 Last night, Sean and I sat with our champagne flutes watching our baby-- who was happy, healthy, and (woot woot!) ALIVE---playing in the living room with the other children.  We felt a warm sense of New Year's accomplishment spreading through us, (which feels like regular accomplishment, only bubblier.)  As we watched her, Millie looked up at us, gave us a dazzling smile, then crammed a tiny metal car in her mouth. 

Our baby can't exactly talk yet, but I know she's making some resolutions for next year too.  They probably involve riding the dog and shoving nickels into the DVD player.  I hope I'm able to instill some of my sense and reasoning into her goals (Don't be ridiculous Millie, what kind of a bridle do you have for that dog?!") But I know in 2014 no matter what her resolutions are, I'll be there-- focused on mine. Millie-- your mommy may not get to meet Michael Pollan, but you bet your ass I'm going to keep that baby alive in the coming year.* **

*Mommy's only joking.  Of course I will meet Michael Pollan.
** Take that nickel out of the DVD player young lady!

My sick baby, Lethal Weapon, and the Blue Snot Sucker Cartel

I'm at home with a sick baby today.  I thought she was sick a few months ago, but I realize now that I was wrong.  In my arrogance and naivety, I mistook a few sniffles and coughs 4 months ago for the "sick baby" that is so feared by parents around the world. My current self looks back at my 4 months ago self with the level of disdain Lethal Weapon's Sergeant Murtaugh may show to a wet-behind-the-ears, rookie cop wanting to swap war stories at his retirement party.

For one thing, I never realized how much snot Millie has.  Until recently, I assumed that her little baby folds, chubby thighs, and plump cheeks just contained extra "baby fat."  I assumed wrong.  These folds contain her strategic snot reserves, which are saved up for times of emergency, when they gush forth from her nostrils in flows sufficient for generating hydro-electric energy.

"Not to worry" you may think-- "this must be why all parents come equipped with one of these devices:" 

I foolishly thought the same thing. It is impossible to deliver a baby in today's modern society without being given at least five of these snot suckers by the time your baby is born.  In fact, some women are given a new snot sucker at each of her monthly OB visits, just as a precaution.  It is only after your baby is born that you will realize how utterly useless they are.  Millie thinks of these devices as the BLUE SNOT SUCKERS OF DEATH, and (if anything) they only increase the amount of snot she is producing, due to her excessive crying with each torture session use.

An assortment of BLUE SNOT SUCKERS OF DEATH, selected at random from Millie's medicine drawer.

The only way I can account for the powerful hold these devices seem to have on our nation's obstetricians, is by assuming that our medical community has been infiltrated by the seedy and ruthless Blue Snot-Sucker Cartel, a powerful organization with an uncanny knack for obtaining incriminating photos of your obstetrician or mid-wife.

This is why I have an ingenious idea for a new Lethal Weapon Movie. In "Lethal Weapon 5: Beat to Snot,"  Sergeant Riggs and Sergeant Murtaugh have to thwart the powerful Blue Snot Sucker Cartel, which has an evil plan to torture the babies in daycare centers across Los Angeles and capture their snot for use in hydro-electric energy production.  The Cartel's sophisticated and brutal leader will be played by Jane Lynch from Glee, and the young rookie cop that goes undercover in the daycare center will be played by the e-trade baby.  The trailer will just be Murtaugh looking at one of the snot-sucking devices and muttering, "I'm too Old for this Shit."

Can I wear jeggings now that I'm a Mom?

This is embarrassing to admit, but I want to wear jeggings SO BAD.

You can't tell me that jeggings aren't stylish, because I know they are.  I see the cool kids wearing them downtown all the time. But everytime I put on a pair, there's a little voice in the back of my head that says "you can't go grocery shopping in these-- you look ridiculous, now go and change!"

For those of you reading this, saying WTF are "jeggings?"  I'm referring to a combination of "jeans," and "leggings."  My sister Kelly wears her jeggings with stompy little Cowboy Boots and looks FABULOUS. So my question is this:  Can I still wear jeggings now that I'm a Mom?

I know the answer is yes. It should be yes.  I want it to be yes. And yet-- I'm not sure. It's not like I normally care what other people think, but, when it comes to fashion, I've always found it hard to be courageous. And, if I wore jeggings before I had the baby, I think it would be a non-issue, but I'm finding it hard to transition to new fashions now that she's here. For one thing, all of my parts have sort of shifted around. For another, I have a new 15 lb accessory that is constantly puking on, drooling on, and motorboating me whenever I go into public.   Basically, I've just been wearing what I feel good and comfortable in, is that so wrong?

Have I reached the point where my sense of fashion, along with my musical taste has just been frozen in time?  Is this the reason my friend's fathers still wear sweaters that look like they are straight out of The Cosby Show?

Oh sweet Jesus.

I tried to ask Sean about the jeggings but he wisely did not have an opinion.  Cricket was equally worthless, having nothing constructive to add to the jegging conversation.  Millie responded by throwing up on my normal jeans-- which I'm choosing to interpret as her encouraging me to be fashion forward.

Today I've decided that I really need to overcome my jegg-phobia.  I want you all to know that I'm wearing the jeggings RIGHT NOW as I'm typing this.  Any minute now, Millie will wake up from her nap, and I'm going to walk to the grocery store in them, not caring who might see me.  So, for those of you who are locals, when you see me coming towards you in the linguine isle in my sassy, jegging-driven ensemble, I want you to high-five the shit out of me.  Because, the truth of the matter is that I CAN wear jeggings now that I'm a mom.  You bet your ass I can.