An Unofficial Mommies Group

It turns out that 4:00 on a Wednesday afternoon is prime-baby time at Safeway. I think they might not even let you in the door if you're not toting a wee little one. Too bad I don't know any of these ladies. We could be friends. But since my only opener is "OMG! How old's your baaaaaby? Can I see how cute?!" I think I'd be considered a weird creeper and not friend potential. Well, there's that, and the fact that the other moms seem to be able to get their act together enough to be properly attired out in public. Me, on the other hand? I'm wearing sweatpants, I've got toothpaste on my sleeve and spit-up on my shoulder, I'm sporting mis-matched Christmas-themed socks, and my only makeup is that I have 2-day-old mascara flakes still lingering on my eyelashes.

I don't belong to any mommies groups, and honestly, I'm not sure what the hell they're about or if I'd have anything at all in common with them. But as a working mom, I don't really have much of a choice. All the baby-mommy events seem to be during the week. Story time at the bookstore? Mid-morning on Tuesdays. Story time at the library? Mid-morning on Thursdays. Breastfeeding support group? It's on Wednesday mornings. Kindermusik? That'd be during the workday, too. Baby swim classes? I can barely get to work and home on time, nevermind scoop her up and get her to a swim class that starts at 5:00 and is half an hour away. I keep thinking about how much of my time with Baby is spent taking her for walks to the park or to go see the duckies in the canal, and how that activity probably won't even be possible once it gets hot (which is Any. Minute. Now.)

I've got to figure out how to make some mommy friends so, if nothing else, she (and I) can have some friends over for indoor playdates once it gets hot. But they better be mommy friends who don't make me feel inadequate since I seem to be the only one here not sporting skinny jeans, a fluttery but immaculate tank, and hair that doesn't look like it's been poorly corralled with vaseline after six hours in a wind tunnel.

The Problem(s) with Craiglist

I have mixed increasingly negative feelings about craigslist. Like all websites, its utility has faced a diminishing law of returns - its usefulness declines the more people use exploit it.

I used to think that what would help was if there were some kind of buyer/seller pricing app or plug-in, a tool that would mine craigslist listings for any item and recommend a fair selling price based on the pricing data and how long the listing lived on the site. A Kelley Blue Book-style tool for craigslist, if you will, like the ebay seller tools. But then I realized that all that would tell you is what the seller asked for. Not what the item actually sold for, if it even ever sold.

Craigslist suffers from the same problems as Yelp: the lack of any oversight means that there are no standards to ensure any consistency or quality. On Yelp, there's no rhyme or reason to what 1, 3, or 5 stars means. What constitutes 4 star service to me might be 3 star to someone else. And what I think is 1 star food might get rated as 5 star by some reviewer suffering from ageusia.

The other problem they both have in common? There's no floodgate to control the number of identities or postings one can make. Are these sites assuming we're dumb enough to believe the number of users is representative of the real number of unique users? Twitter, anyone? Just because there's "Bill," "Wee Billy Winky" and "Will-e," all of whom go gaga for the food doesn't mean that some fanboy hasn't logged in under 3 different identities. And that's not even counting all the self-promo 'reviews' planted by corporate hacks, owners, bots, and paid reviewers. Likewise, some craigslist yahoo might think their ugly-ass orange chair is worth $500 when I wouldn't pay $5 for it. Or, just because someone lists their chair for $500 and it sells doesn't mean it sold for $500. Hopefully the buyer negotiated to trade it for their mean cat.

And all of that is setting aside all the many, many other problems. You have the flaky buyers/sellers. You know, the sellers who, when you text to let them know you're at the apartment complex gate, text you back to say "oh, sorry. Just sold it to someone else" even though they knew you were on your way 10 minutes ago. And the buyers? Don't get me started. Texting at all hours, berating you in ALL CAPS EMAILS for not having responded to their other grammar-poor email from 10 minutes ago, never showing up for the agreed-upon exchange. You have the sellers that abuse the listings, listing their item multiple times every single day, making sifting through the listings about as effective as flushing the display toilets at Home Depot. And let's not forget the whole recent spate of craigslist-based crimes that make the buyer/seller exchange just downright scary. Even if you could eliminate the criminal element, the site is just useless these days.

Related: where am I going to offload my old loveseat now?

The Great House Hunters Mystery

A couple years ago when I was visiting my folks, my mom got me hooked on House Hunters. And now every time I see it, I can channel their reactions. Their biggest mystery for most any episode is "How can someone who's only in their 20s afford a $400,000 house?!?!" See also: "How can someone who works as a [occupation] afford a [dollar amount] place?" It's true - it is odd that for so many episodes the math just doesn't really make sense to me. And that's not even counting the episodes where it's some spoiled 20-something whose mommy and daddy are footing the bill their place. Other frequently cited mysteries include: What is the big deal about a double sink? Why do all of you need your own sink? (Seriously. If someone can explain this to me, I'd be grateful). And, Why are you hinging the purchase of a HOUSE on whether or not it includes a $750 dishwasher?!

But for me, the greatest mystery of all is the home visit at the end of the episode after they've settled in to their new place. How the hell do these people afford their new furniture? I just saw an episode where the couple needed a bigger house, so they selected a large 4 bedroom place that was at the upper end of their price point, and yet in the after segment, they've got it furnished with a brand new high quality giant leather sectional, accompanied by oversized plush recliners, and a super modern coffee table. WHAT. THE. HELL. If you can barely afford your house, how did you come up with an extra money to furnish it?! You might be thinking that I'm just jealous. And you'd be right.

Walk. Repeat.

I am exhausted. Despite baby sleeping longer and longer at night, I am about to face plant into my keyboard. Baby is super alert during the day, which is not necessarily new or tiring in and of itself, but she also requires something NEW. Every. 10. Minutes. That toy? I've played with it before. That cute baby in the mirror? What, like I've never seen my reflection before? That book? I've CHEWED IT ALREADY. WHAT ELSE YOU GOT?

One of the few activities that distracts her from the same old, same old is going for a walk. Maybe it's because a walk is different every time. Even though I have established markers to hit - the school, the park, the other park, the fancy 'hood with the horses & ostriches - I just take whatever street suits me, going whichever way something catches my eye as long as it advances us towards one of the markers.  Maybe she, too, notes something different every time we go around the neighborhood even if the highlights are usually the same. The good news is it buys me some time - whatever time is spent walking is time I don't have to be coming up with some new game, activity, or destination. So we go for walk after walk on the weekends, especially. Certainly it could be worse. It's beautiful outside. Not too hot, not too cold, and it's nice to get some fresh air & exercise. Besides, we gotta compress our enjoyment of the outdoors while we can - before long I'll be bitching about how it's too goddamned hot to put on pants.

The bad news is it requires me to be both awake and moving. Don't think I haven't questioned at least one of those requirements - somehow strapping her stroller to the treadmill and turning it on while I go  take a nap, but I think that kind of "walk" wouldn't have nearly the same effect on her. So til I figure out a way around the whole awake AND moving at the same time thing means that I am very, very tired.

Unfiltered Thoughts: Poor Grammar

Is it wrong that what bothers me about what I found on my morning walk is the poor grammar?

In Which My Netflix Recommendations Get Screwy

My dad just got a Kindle Fire. And since he doesn't have a Netflix account, I logged in as me on his Fire so he could stream whatever he wants to watch. And he's been enjoying it a lot, watching all kinds of things.

The problem is that now Netflix thinks I want to watch all kinds of things that I really, really don't. To be fair, that was already an issue because My Better Half™ watches all kinds of archaeology & nature documentaries that I couldn't care less about. But now my Netflix recommendations are SO off it's laughable. I might enjoy Jane Eyre? Hells to the no. Hello Dolly? Goodbye Netflix!

I like to imagine that someone was standing by some giant dot matrix printer spitting out something like a seismograph chart that plots out everyone's likes and dislikes and when mine came along, they noticed something so off that they hit an alarm and are now have hired herds of people to work around the clock to recalibrate their suggestions algorithms.

Unfiltered Thoughts: Words

The guy who works in the cubicle next to me is disgruntled. Can someone be just gruntled, though?

Bitter, Party of Two

Daycare is right next door to Trader Joe's. That produced the following conversation this morning.
My Better Half™: I HATE the people who come to Trader Joe's first thing in the morning.

Me: Why?

My Better Half™:  Because. They are just there to shop for lavish things. They clearly have nowhere they have to be right now. All they have ahead of them today is a leisurely schedule of making extravagant meals out of their delicacies. Do YOU spend your mornings menu planning for the day and then leisurely shopping at Trader Joe's?

Me: Uh, no?

My Better Half™: Right! Because you have to be somewhere. At a JOB. My point is this: they don't have to go to a JOB. I FUCKING HATE THEM.

A Crisis of Confidence

On good days, I know that being a parent is something that I am great at. I take pride in my ability to read my baby, to anticipate her needs. I see her squeal with glee at seeing me arrive at daycare to pick her up and I know that I am doing a damn fine job. The mornings make it so easy for me to know that I'm the shit, as far as mommies go. On mornings when I wake before her, I let her wake on her own and, once she has stirred, come in to find her quietly investigating her binky, turning it over and over, vetting its quality, usefulness, and tastiness but the moment she sees me, she springs into a beaming smile, extending her arms as far upward as she can muster as a request to be held RIGHT NOW because it's been HOURS since she's been cuddled by me. I scoop her up and devour her with kisses, gobbling her ears and chin and neck and those cheeks. OH those cheeks. And the mornings when she wakes before me? I wake to her soft coos as her tiny hands explore my face, and as I slowly open my eyes, I see her inquisitive gaze erupt into luminous, pure, unabated joy and exuberance. And I know that this is going to be a great day. And all I've done to deserve this is be a good mommy.

But there are also tough days. On bad days, it can be hard to quiet the doubts. Daycare had a chat with me today about how "she only naps for half an hour!" On a confident day, I would respond with "And I'm supposed to be able to do what about that?" But after 3 days in a row of no more than a daily 30 minute snooze, I start to question what I'm doing wrong. Should I cut out coffee? Switch her to formula? Somehow take her to work with me so I can shove her in the sling (a surefire nap inducer)? Tell them it's okay to duct tape her to the mat? I start to run down the list of all the possible ways I could be getting it wrong, starting to think it really could be my fault that she sucks at napping. And then, when daycare learns that not only does she not nap well, she ALSO DOESN'T SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT YET, I can hear them looking up the number for Child Protective Services. But on bad days, even an innocent & simple passing remark can make me question my baby's development. When they say that babies move up to the next nursery "when they're crawling so she probably won't be in there for at least a couple more months," I immediately jump to my brain's index entry Crawling, why ISN'T SHE DOING IT YET?

If my BFF were here, she would say that I'm being too hard on myself, that I'm doing my best, and that I'm being way too sensitive to daycare's, uh, advice, and that baby is developing at a healthy rate on her own time, and that all babies are different. And on good days, I know that's true, and I trust my instincts. But on those tough days, sometimes it seems like maybe daycare does know more about my baby than I do, because they get to spend more time with her. Hopefully the smile on baby's face bright and early tomorrow morning will remind me that that can't possibly be true...and that I'm damn fine at my mommy job.

As If I Needed Another Reason to Work For Myself

There is an issue at work. A bathroom issue. The first time I encountered it, I decided to just hold my breath and deal with it because I really, really had to pee. I thought, Yikes! Someone isn't feeling well today.

Unfortunately, time has proven it's not just a "today" thing. It's become a recurring issue.

To say it's foul is not nearly strong enough. In fact, it's as if an aged gorilla from the zoo ate some bad cabbage. When I really have to pee, I think, "Well, I could just rush & hold my breath...But then if anyone comes in, they're going to think I'm the culprit here. And I AM NOT."

So I've resorted to using the bathroom on another floor.

Unfiltered Thoughts: Hockey

Why do hockey games go into overtime only to end tied anyway? Isn't the point of overtime to determine a winner? Just another one of the many stupid things about hockey. (Need a hint on another? How about how each season lasts about 14 months?)

Yes, Virginia, There is Such a Thing as 'Too Much Coffee'

This morning, baby woke up to feed at 2 a.m. and, as is her usual pattern these days, just needed a little top-off to get her back to sleep, so she was back out within 10 minutes. Me, on the other hand, could not get back to sleep.

At all.

So when it came time to get up, I stumbled into the kitchen to get the coffee that I so desperately would require to make it through a workday. I poured a gigantic mug full and drank it, and packed another mug for the road. Drank most of it en route.

When I got to work, I poured another cup.

And now I feel ill.

In Which I Discover the Effects of Living in Arizona Too Long

My Better Half™: "Her little dimple is SO cute!"

Me: "She has a dimple?! Where??"

My Better Half™: "Right there!"

Me: "Oh my God, she DOES! It IS cute! How have I not noticed that before? Do you have a dimple?"

My Better Half™: "Yeah, over here."

Me: "Do I have a dimple?"

My Better Half™: "I can't tell if that's a dimple or a wrink-le..."

Me: "What?? A WRINKLE??"

My Better Half™: "uh, nothing..." <walks away>

Note to Self: More sunscreen and moisturizer. Daily.

Unfiltered Thoughts: Websites that Should Exist

Sites that follow up on flash-in-the-pan news stories that caught my our collective attention but about which I have heard nothing since. Remember the kid from UCLA who joined the Libyan revolution? Well what the hell happened to him? Did his parents beat him senseless? Is he back to life "as usual" in LA as a student?

A website where you can post the subtext behind all-too-polite resignation letters. Like the chick here who was demoted a couple months ago who resigned abruptly with: "I just wanted to send a note to you that I wish each and every one of you Much Success and Happiness  personally and professionally and certainly Much Success  to the organization overall, best wishes!" C'mon. Really?

Caveat: These might already exist. I just don't have time / energy to investigate whether they do.

Winter Hibernation

It's funny how the universe gives you exactly what you need. The night before last, I woke at 2 with baby, and couldn't get back to sleep. At all. Which meant I had been up for 16 hours straight by 6 p.m. last night. After we picked baby up from daycare, we went home and she was fussy, so we put her down, and here's what unfolded:

6:30 - asleep. Totally, utterly unconscious.
40 minutes later-

Me: "I guess she didn't get a long enough nap this afternoon."

My Better Half: "mmm."

30 minutes later -

Me: "Jeez. I guess she was super tired. Do you think she's getting sick?"

My Better Half: "Nah, just sleepy."

1 hour later -

Me: "Do you think she's...okay?"

My Better Half: "just tired."

2 hours later:

Me: "I just checked on her again. Do you think she's, like, getting sick or something?"

My Better Half: "She's just tired."

3 hours later:

Me: "IS SHE OKAY?"

My Better Half: <eyes rolling>

4 hours later:

Me: "Uh, well, I wouldn't so much call it a problem as totally out of character for her. She's, um, well. Sleeping."

My Better Half: "ARE YOU CALLING THE DOCTOR?!?! GET OFF THE PHONE!"

My Childhood Home

My parents sold my childhood home today. Sigh. It had to happen. It just makes me all nostalgic for all those memories. Using the clothesline for a GI Joe zipline (Yes, I was a tomboy). Playing in the backyard, the tire swing, the "forest" down the road, and the field behind the house. Staying inside on snow days and watching the snow fall through the enormous dining room windows.

I guess this will have to do for whenever I want to revisit that place.

Monday's Off to a Good Start

As is often the case, I had no time for a shower this morning, but I ran the shower anyway to get my hair wet & steam my pants (because I had no time to iron either). And when I turned on the shower, I thought that there was a strange funk to the water. But whatever. Continued to get ready. Came out of the bathroom to grab coffee and get the baby ready and I thought, Actually the whole house has some strange funk to it.

Me to My Better Half: "Do you smell something?"

My Better Half: "No."

Me: "Are you sure???"

My Better Half: "Yeah. What am I supposed to be smelling?"

Me: "Almost a moldy smell mixed with poo."

My Better Half: "Definitely not."

We get loaded in the truck, drop the baby off at daycare, stop for gas. While My Better Half is pumping gas, I still smell it. I roll down the window: "Does the whole city smell??"

My Better Half: "uh, no." [eyes rolling]

I roll up the window. I smell my shoes - did I step in poo? No. No poo. I smell my sweater - did I get some nasty diaper action on my sleeve? No. Nothing. I smell my pants.

DEAR GOD. It's MY PANTS. Since we are too far away from home to turn around, I just febreze myself before I get out of the truck. That should be fine, right?

Too Cool for Cool Tunes

My friend Doug once famously said, "I'm over trying to be cool anymore. I'm too old. I just don't have time for it. It's fucking exhausting." It's funny because it's true. Especially when it comes to music.

I happen to live in a really kick-ass part of the Phoenix metropolitan area. My 'hood has the best independent bookstore in the valley, great restaurants, and one of the remaining independent music stores.

Wait. What was that last one? Did you just hear the needle scratch sound effect too or was that just me?

I almost never buy CDs anymore, and obviously I'm not alone. I remember being seriously annoyed when I had to replace all of my tapes with CDs to maintain and replicate my collection of tunes. Then I was annoyed again when everything went to iTunes, but I sighed and dutifully went about uploading all my CDs so I could listen to my music on my iPod. And then I went to eMusic, but am now considering dumping the whole iTunes world altogether in favor of Pandora & Spotify. Why? Well, Pandora is like the independent radio station the friends who used to make me mix tapes and introduce me to artists & tunes I wouldn't have otherwise known. And in today's musical landscape, it can be hard to separate the How did I live before I knew about these guys (think: Foals) from the Don't even try to tell me THIS SHIT is 'music' and so help me God, if you do, I will unfriend you (I'm looking at you, insipid Ke$ha). And Spotify to replace the idea of iTunes and the record store - giving me access to my shit 24/7 without me having to deal with the upkeep. But, lest you think I am contemplating this shift without exasperation, I give you an audible "harumph."

I am Officially Old™, because I am too tired to keep up with good music. So please, please. Don't ask me to switch platforms again. I am done.

All This Thinking is Counterproductive

Yesterday's work day was simultaneously one of the best and worst work days ever. Our network was completely down (and remains largely down today), giving me a very limited subset of tasks I could work on. Simple tasks that I blew through in just a few minutes. So I basically goofed off on the web all day.

I feel guilty about that in the sense that I know I'm not getting paid to just goof off. But I also feel guilty about it in some other, more profound way. That I don't give a sh*t that that's how I spent my day.

After months of un- and under-employment in 2010 and 2011, I finally landed this job. And I was, and continue to be, grateful for that. Even more grateful for the fact that I was more than 6 months pregnant when I started here. And that my workplace is so accommodating and understanding of the new rhythm of my life. Like needing some time to adjust to the schedule of getting to work with pants on. I have a lot to be thankful for: I have an amazing boss. I make a decent living. I have benefits. But I don't love my job. I don't love the line of work I'm in. It just doesn't excite me or inspire me. If it's too much to ask to do work that you're really designed to do, that you are enthusiastic about, that provides the work environment and work style you desire, and at which you are driven to excel, then honestly? I'd rather just be home with my baby.

Having nothing to do but idle time to pass away in my cubicle yesterday was not a good thing because it sent me down a path of re-examining my career and life path yet again. I sat there in my cubicle thinking. And while thinking may be dangerous, it's all I could do. Well, I mean, besides watch youtube videos of dogs.  Or babies. Or dogs and babies.

The result of all that thinking was a deafening cry inside my head: I want to be productive. I want to work hard. But I want to work for myself. If nothing else, if I worked for myself, woke up one morning, and the network was completely down? I wouldn't sit there and stare at a blank screen all day like an automaton. I'd go out and live life. Read, nap, go for a hike, take a scenic drive. The possibilities are endless. Bonus: a little break would have reinvigorated me for when it was time to work again.

Coincidentally, I happened to read a blog post last night by someone who talked about losing his job suddenly and needing new work ASAP, who wrote "All I need is to be working with smart passionate people, flexible hours and the ability to work from anywhere. A cubicle is my death. I’ll take it if it’s all I can find, but I’d prefer to work from home and fly anywhere for meetings/face to face time." Well said, my friend. I work in a cubicle, though that, in and of itself is not the problem. The last museum I worked for, I worked in a cubicle and worked with some of the most talented, funny, amazing coworkers friends ever. If we could have run away to found our own creative firm offering our services as a web designer, writer, graphics/visual artist, and editor, I totally would have. Except that we would have needed insta-clients, and lots of them, because all of us have piles of bills to pay.
Some of it has to do with the stupidity of playing working by the rules. Whether it's that I have to show up & sit here in a cube for 8 hours even though none of us can get to a single work file, or that I can't install Flash because I don't have Admin user privileges even though I produce Flash videos for my job, or that I can't listen to music on my computer even though I work at a music museum, whatever the workplace is, it has inane, inexplicably dumb rules. I want to live life by my own terms and work by my own rules. Work when I'm ready to work, rather than staring at a blank screen trying to get motivated because I haven't yet had my coffee and had to be at work at 8:30 even though I've been up with a baby since 3:30. Or that I didn't get to bed with the baby til 3:30. Cuz everyone knows, if you work from 11-7, your quality of work is just total sh*t compared to the quality of work you produce on no sleep between 8:30-4:30! Write about topics that I'm interested in, rather than digesting & regurgitating the most boring information to a general audience. And produce deliverables that match my expectations of high quality rather than pass off "meh, it's ok, but at least it's on time" stuff because of someone else's constraints.

That could be the biggest thing. There's nothing more frustrating at work than having to compromise, or even abandon your vision. That's been one of my frustrations with everywhere that I have worked since grad school: not being in control over the quality of the work products I deliver. In grad school, I was in total control over the quality of my research sources, the level of my analysis, and the craftsmanship of my writing. But working for someone else is a whole different story. It's awful to have a product "represent" you that you don't feel is the type or quality of work you do best. Because I have worked only for nonprofits, I'm always on a shoestring budget, but I don't always know the external constraints. Like when your boss tells you you've got a $25,000 budget for an exhibit, and you spend $4,000 only to be hauled into her office and told that you've "gone over budget." How? Because she was working on the assumption that $22,000 of that "budget" was for your own salary. (And you were working on the assumption that budget = money one can spend. Because that's what the word means). Or how you get "voluntold" at work to produce a professional instructional video in 3 months but you get told by the videographers that they can't work you into their schedule in that time frame, so the best they can do is hand off some B-roll footage and let you work your own magic. When you're in control of your own product, you know what's within your abilities and limits and don't overextend that by taking on projects and agreeing to ideas that compromise your vision. And you're clear on the rules of engagement.

Here's the thing: I feel like I finally deserve to find work that works for me. Until this job, I spent my work life trying to make a career out of museum work, and it's just not there to be made. Museum work is tireless, thankless, and undervalued. It demands a lot of your time, your efforts, your patience, and your resources, but does not deliver equivalent opportunities for personal and professional growth, upward mobility, and, most importantly, work-life balance. Sure, you can rise through the ranks. Either incrementally and over a long period of time, working your way up in a large institution where you must summon the patience to spend years doing menial work that inexplicably demands a Master's degree waiting for a vacancy for which you have been groomed over time to materialize. Or you may rise through the ranks at a tiny institution well before you are equipped with the skils, abilities, leadership, and network to tackle the frequently insurmountable problems of a small and increasingly irrelevant institution. I gave both a shot, and neither path worked out for me.

Then, when I was laid off by the last museum, I spent my time scrambling, trying to find any job that fit my existing skill set, hoping things would work out for the best. And the side effects aren't shabby: a steady job that uses the skills that I learned used in museums - research, writing, editing, teaching, and a little design  - a decent paycheck with benefits, and the best boss I've had since 2006.
But I want more. I don't want to try to squeeze myself into a new career that doesn't fit me exactly right. All that thinking time yesterday reaffirmed that I've got to figure out how to make my next work move be to work for myself.

Productivity at Work

Today, all of us at work are offline because our login/password files have been hacked. So until they assess the damage & repair whatever it is that needs to be repaired, we are offline. Which means the only things I have access to are my desktop and the interwebz.

If it weren't for the interwebz, I would have stabbed my eyes out by now. Back to streaming Netflix on my phone, I guess. Nah, that would be wrong. I'll play Angry Birds instead.

This is going to be a loooong day. Not a bad day, just a loooong one.

More Pink, Please

Why, oh why, is everything in the world of baby girls' clothing pink? Pink is a fine color. But it is only one of thousands of hues. It's kind of ridiculous. Once you get to toddler sizes, there's a beautiful world of whimsical purples, playful oranges, and bold, vibrant primary colors. So why is it that clothing manufacturers presume I'm insecure about people asking me how old "he" is or telling me "he's" a cutie, and insist that I clothe her in all pink? Why don't they let that be my problem. They should worry less about my "need" to demonstrate to the world that my baby is a girl and more about the sewing needles left in the hem of her garments, or the tiny, unbuttonable buttons on the back of her shirt (when there should be only snaps, and only on the front of the garment).

Whether it's the sweetly subtle pink of her soft fleece swaddle or the muted pink of her floral onesie, or the pink fawns on her forested waffle tee, or the pink ice skates on her pajamas, or the solid pink ballet tee, or the pink polka-dotted onesie, or the pink stripey outfit, or the pink snowflakes shirt, or the pink daisies onesie, or the pink stripey hoodie, or the pink pants, the other pink pants, the other other pink pants, the hot pink pants, or the other hot pink pants, or the other other other pink pants, I'm just not tickled pink.

It's Not So Great to Have a Baby When...

You have 4th row tickets to Wilco Saturday night but cannot for the life of you find a sitter. Damnit!

It's Great to Have a Baby When...

You show up to a work party at someone's house and discover that they have 7, that's right SEVEN, cats. And you are allergic to cats. And one of the cats helps itself to making a bed out of your baby's carseat the moment you put it down. And the homeowner tells you "The only cat you wanna watch out for is Bitsy, who tends to attack without reason or warning. And, yes, he has his claws. So you might want to watch your baby around him."

Oh, would you look at that? It's the baby's naptime! So sorry I can't stay longer! Or something like that. And by "something like that," I mean I need to get the HELL out of this crazy ass cat hole.

Unfiltered Thoughts: Guest Bathrooms

I think someone should make a poo-scented gag candle specifically for guest bathrooms. The person comes in, does their thing, and then lights the "fresh'n'clean" scented candle to cover their tracks...only to make it far, far worse.

Flying with an Infant, Take 1

Tomorrow is my first flight with baby, and my anxiety is basically at a fever pitch. If you were to read my list of worries, it would go something like this:

What if she cries the whole time? What if everyone shoots daggers out their eyes at me for having a baby on board? What if my plane suddenly becomes a convertible? What if she thrashes around and refuses a bottle on takeoff and landing and her ears are killing her as a result? What if she has a poopy blowout on the passengers seated next to me? How do you change an infant on a plane? Is there a changing table in that tiny cramped lavatory? What if I sh*t myself because I'm so stressed out? Where do I change? And how do I do that with an infant?

You get the idea. I deliberately chose a short flight to visit my friend Mari, so that I could get the experience of flying with baby over with. Well, and see my BFF! Which I am very excited about. But I've yet to find useful info online about how to pack, so I'm not exactly sure how I'll manage a carseat, the carseat carrier, the breast pump, the bottles (both those that are yet to be filled and those with milk in them already), a changing pad, diapers, wipes, toys, a blanket, spare clothes, mittens, her hat, my phone, my iPod, a pacifier, and my own coat & gloves, plus my checked bag all by myself, so I'm a little frazzled. Right about now I'm picturing that I get to the gate unscathed only to find that I've forgotten baby at security and I get called on the intercom. I'll let you know how it turns out!

Seeking Personal Intern

I'm catching up on email after the weekend, and there is a tremendous amount of it. I should clarify: personal email. I have found that I do not have time to get online on the weekends. At all. My hats off to those professional mom-bloggers who do have the time have hired help to watch their little ones. But I don't have time to check (and, more importantly, respond to my email), write a blog post, or just scroll through gawker. And while I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything, it does feel overwhelming to open that inbox come Monday morning. Just another reason I've decided I could use a personal intern to help cope with everyday demands (read: anything lower on my priority list than (1) hanging with baby, (2) walks with baby, and (3) napping with baby) on my time and energy. So, here goes:

Funky-Ass Monkey, Inc.
Position Description: Funky-Ass Monkey, Inc. is a small, privately held company focused on writing and editing. Our mission is to help call attention to items that deserve both rants and raves. We're looking for an intern who is genuinely interested in helping us grow comedy, baking, photography, babies, and reality tv that is of the highest quality of the lowliest, most awful television life form.
This entry-level position is ideally suited for a student wishing to gain experience or someone interested in a career change in web-publishing and/or writing and editing making coffee, checking email, dropping off and picking up dry cleaning, vacuuming, and running errands as needed.
You might be the right candidate if you possess:

• Excellent written and verbal communication skills
• Strong organizational and time-management skills
• An eye for detail
• The ability to proactively identify and solve problems
• A sense of humor
• A strong understanding of the importance of naps, diet coke, and dog walks
• A music catalogue that enables you to dispel any earworm that gets stuck in my head with a better replacement
• The ability to draw the wickety wak scenes that spring forth from my imagination

While this position is unpaid, I can offer a flexible work schedule, close proximity to my awesomeness, nearly unlimited coffee, diet coke, and leftovers, yummy baked goods, my dogs' undying devotion, and a casual work environment.

Interested applicants should submit a cover letter that tells me why you think you'd be the right fit for the position.

Dude Looks Like a Lady

It's so hard to tell Steven Tyler from his American Idol co-host J. Lo these days.

6 Months, 6 Life Lessons

Now that I've got a 6 month old on my hands, I think it's time to reflect on what being a mom has taught me thus far. So here are the 6 things I've learned so far from baby, one for each month:

1. Be Yourself. Having never been a parent before, I had no idea that there were formal parenting styles out there - Attachment, Slow, Ferberization. I don't know about you, but if someone asked me "what kind of person are you?" I'd just look at them dumbfounded, and it seems just as strange to confine and box in my parenting role. Do what feels naturally; that is what you will excel at. Trust your instincts. Use common sense. Whatever works for you? Do that. Your baby wants you to be you, accepts you as you, and loves you for who you are. Being your authentic self is all your baby asks of you.
2. You Can't Fix Everything. Sometimes you will not be able to sort out what's wrong with baby. You've changed the diaper, you've fed, you've held and rocked her, you've sung to her, you've walked her, and yet? Still crying. You will try everything in your bag of tricks. Your family, friends, and neighbors will try different things. And yet, nothing seems to help. Then? All of a sudden, the clouds part and your happy, content baby returns. You may never know what was wrong in that moment, but just know that your very efforts to try to console her are what matters. That brings us to:
3. This, too, Shall Pass. Right after we first brought baby home from the hospital, some friends brought over their 6 month old, and gave us some of the best advice we could have heard: Don't spend too much time trying to sort out what is "wrong", because baby is ever-changing, and so her needs and development dictate that it will always be something different. One week, it might be that she seems hungry every hour and that you may never sleep again, but then the next week she seems to have settled into more of a feeding routine and goes 3-4 hours between nursing. One month it might be that she needs to be held an awful lot and you may never be able to eat anything that isn't hand-held again, but the next month she seems slightly more independent. Just in the past 6 months, I've seen baby go from sleeping only an hour or two at a time to sleeping 6 hours at a stretch; from eating only an ounce or two at a time to hoovering a 5-oz. bottle; from not wanting to be put down to wanting to play by herself on her rug for a bit. Every phase is surpassed by the next, and you don't want to miss a moment, so don't spend your time wondering what's wrong. Instead:
4. Take Every Moment at Face Value. I'm not about to tell you that every single instant with your little one is a blessing or that you should try and cherish every. single. minute (and I thank Momastery for stating that so well). But there is something to be said about the application of mindfulness meditation to being a mom. If you are thinking of what's next, you might miss that funny look you're getting right now. And if you're stressed about the fussiness from last night, you might be stressing out your baby, too. They're very sensitive to you. So try to just take life moment by moment. And see what unfolds. Just being a keen observer of my baby is, in itself, fascinating. One moment she'll be crying, then that cry will turn into a babble, then that babble into a smile and half-hearted giggle, then all serious. There's no predicting, and it's fun to go along for the ride.
5. Make Time for Play. I often hear or read about baby routines, and it's usually all about when baby sleeps or eats, but what's important to me is not a routine, but to be sure and make time for the small stuff. I find playing with baby to be the most joyful experience I can imagine. Her contagious giggles, her wide-eyed smile, and her desire for you to "do it again!" are all I need as a reminder for how pleasurable life's smallest moments (and people) can be. Play is when I discover the new moves she's got, new facial expressions, new reactions, and the things that she enjoys the most. It's also fun for us - she has a magical ability to make all adults around her behave like utter goofballs.
6. Dismiss All Unsolicited Advice - including this post. Take everything as it is - close friends and family offer advice with only the best intentions of offering you some tried-and-true tips that worked for them. Your pediatrician may have some great insights for you on why your baby might be behaving a certain way. Folks at daycare will offer their helpful "suggestions" for you. And total strangers will come up to you to offer their two cents. If it sounds ok and the source is good, something to think about. But the most important rule is #1 - Be Yourself. So if any advice you get seems a little odd to you or just doesn't gel with your style? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Babies are not just Tiny Adults

Today, my girl had her 6-month checkup, and now that she's 6 months, of course the favorite question for everyone to ask is, "Is she sleeping through the night yet?"

The yet part is, by far, the most annoying part of that inquiry. And when I say no, it's always followed by unsolicited advice that frequently leads to a discussion of her "schedule." As in, "what's her nap schedule?"

This question used to make me feel like an inexperienced and unqualified parent. It initially made me rack my brain, but the only entry I ever found under "schedule, baby" was a blank page. Now that I'm much more at ease and confident with my own parenting skills and talents, it just makes me react with "schedule? WTF schedule are you talking about?!" When I can't even nail down a routine for myself, how about we just roll with life, as it presents itself? Maybe that's just the meditation practice talking, and I'm getting better at staying in the moment (ha!) or, more likely, maybe it's just that I firmly believe that babies are not just tiny adults.

If I know anything about myself, it's that I think it's time I stop spending so much energy alternating between ruminating about what has happened and worrying about what's yet to come and start focusing more and more on the moment. Every day is new, every moment is different. And that's how I've spent the past 6 months. As a result, her "schedule" is as follows: she eats when she's hungry. She sleeps when she's tired. I know baby experts say again and again how important a routine is for baby. But, following my own parenting logic of "do whatever works," our "routine" of addressing needs as they arise, is working just fine. She's doing very well, growing and developing. Right on schedule.

Resolution FAIL

My loyal reader might note that it took exactly one day for me to break my New Year's resolution to blog daily. What was I thinking when I made that resolution?!

Oh, right. That I needed to allow myself a no-rules creative outlet, a space for me to play in. And in order to continuously get better at my creative craft, it's a well-known fact that you gotta practice, practice, practice. So I'm going to forgive myself for skipping out already and keep plugging away. Every. Day.

Chocolate Monster

Thanks to all the holiday goodies, I find myself back at work, sitting in my cube jonesing for my next fix. It's 2:00. Where the bleep is my sugar?! How will I get through this day?! This is bad.

New Year, New Blog Entry

So I have made it my 2012 resolution to blog as much as possible, getting back in to the habit. My only update for today, though, is that I have the cutest baby on the planet. Not exactly breaking news, I know. After all the hubbub of family in town for the holidays, it was time to just enjoy the day with my girl. Which was incredibly easy, since it is 80 degrees and sunny. Btw, I do feel slightly guilty announcing that, when I know how it is on January 1 almost anywhere else, but it was just contagiously nice. A little alarming given that 2012 is off to such a warm start, but not alarming enough to keep me from enjoying it. So we drank it in, taking 3 walks in between naps.