Daddy or Mommy's Girl--it's a toss up

Today, Sam went to the doctor.
She is in the 98% for her height and 56% for weight.
Way tall and kinda skinny.
Talk about stats that have never, ever, ever, in my entire life applied to me. I was there when she was born, but I can't help but wonder sometimes where she came from. Not to mention, she's still pretty bald, completely opposite her monkey-looking mommy's baby pictures.

Just when I was trying to figure out if Daniel's genes are really that much more powerful than mine in every respect, she held up a W flashcard to the doctor and said "Wha! Wha!"
He looked at her and said "What did you say?"
I said, "She telling you what a W says."
Doctor turns back to Sam and says: "How would you possibly know that?"
I said, "Sam knows all the letter sounds--if you count that 'Q says Quack.' It obviously doesn't actually, but that's what she thinks so we go with it for now."
Apparently that's good for 18 months. Sam responded by holding up an H card with a Hat and saying "Hah, Hah, Hat!"

Then it hit me--Sam is a know-it-all!!! She may be a little beanpole, but she's all mine after all! If she ever yells at a guy for buying booze at the grocery store, and reminds him not to drink and drive, the circle of life will be complete (and yet another generation will mortify my mother).

So, you're saying this is a big deal?

I saw a commercial the other day that I just didn't get. It was for those new Purex sheets that go from the washer and dryer with the soap and stuff already in them. Sure, it's kind of a cool idea, I'll listen. The lady in the commercial went on to say something like this:

"I mean, I'd take a small improvement to my day, but this makes my life a thousand times better!"

My first thoughts went something like this: "Um. Okay. Really? A thousand times better? Do me a favor and let's NEVER trade lives, okay?"

Soon, however, I saw the light. This can not possibly be a insane marketing ploy, this must be true! They wouldn't say it if it wasn't true! Firstly, laundry is in fact--despite the near magic washing machine and electric dryer--the worst thing that has happened to me or anyone else in the world--move over AIDS in Africa. I can not tell you how many times I have cried myself to sleep over the burden of being able to afford decent clothes that I am nearly crippled by the responsibility to keep clean. The weight on my soul is crushing. Also, while I'm pointing this out--if I were to change just one thing about how I do laundry it wouldn't be the pre-treating, the sorting, the folding or hanging up of clean clothes, or the touching of other people's dirty skivies. Oh, no! It would be to eliminate the 10 seconds it takes me to fill the little cup and downy ball with soap and fabric softener, and the .5 seconds it takes me to reach up to the shelf to grab a dryer sheet and toss it in the dryer with the clothes. Ten point five seconds saved equals a one thousand times better life.
Who wouldn't take that deal?
Besides, the fact that it will take an extra hour of overtime to pay for the difference in price between the liquid and the 10.5 second saving miracle sheets, is my husband's problem, not mine.

Thank you so much, marketing world. You have once again offered some much needed perspective and shed light on a true tragedy--ten second increments of precious time going utterly wasted.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch some more commercials. I hope that one with Kelly Ripa tossing cookies to kids while closing the dryer with her toes comes on so I can get even more cranky!

Not it.

I'm not usually a fan of making up increasingly lame excuses to justify behavior. If you believe something is right, just do it, and don't make up a million dumb reasons to make yourself feel better. If you have to make up a million justifications to feel better, maybe you aren't making the right decision after all.

Today, however, I thought of a perk to going back to work putting my kid in daycare that suddenly doesn't seem like a lame justification at all.

It would be really nice to be able to assume someone else taught my kid to yell "Me Nakie!!!!" and run around the house like a lunatic, and leave it at that. Because as of right now, I honestly don't know where she got it...and she pretty much only hangs out with me...and I have no memory of yelling about nakedness. Plus, she was fully dressed at the time, so I really have no idea what new concept got completely twisted around in that little mind of hers. She's definitely coming up with weirder and weirder words and things these days, and when Daniel looks at me like "where did she come up with that?", so far my only response is to defensively shout "Not it!"

There has to be a better, more adult way, to shift the blame for my bizzare toddler.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

As I write this, my daughter is watching Yo Gabba Gabba, her first and only true love. She adores this show, and I don't mind the episode she's watching because Jack Black is on it, and he totally cracks me up. Another reason I like this episode is because of the song that's on now. It's a show aimed at preschool kids, and here are the lyrics:
You can't always get what you want
(no, no, no, no you can't)
(no, no, no, no you can't)
You can't always get what you want
(no, no, no, no)
It won't help if you keep on asking!
(la, la, la)
It won't help if you whine!
(la, la, la)
It won't help to complain!
Repeat repeatedly.

As a mother, it's a message I appreciate being passed on to my kid. Nothing drives me crazy faster than whining. As a human being with a sense of humor, I find the song hilarious in and of itself. Of course, Sam is only a year and a half, so thus far the message has fallen on deaf ears, but someday...she'll get it. I hope.
Hearing this song quite a bit (we watch this episode A LOT), brings two things to mind. First of all, I wish it wasn't quite so true. It is though--gospel truth. You can't always get what you want, no matter how much you ask or whine. I have yet to whine myself into a size 6, and let me assure you, it's not for lack of trying. As it turns out, I have to work for the things I want, and even then, there's no guarantee.
Secondly, why are they marketing this song to preschoolers only? From looking around the world we live in, it seems to me it should be required listening for everybody everywhere. After all, where to we think our kids picked up the whining and complaining? All too often, I see people going crazy about other people's choices. Usually, that person is me. So, I'm adopting this mantra--I can't always get what I want, it won't help to whine or complain. Sometimes when you are dying for justice, you see mercy, and the reverse is true too. Sometimes I am hoping against hope for mercy only to feel the swift kick of justice squarely in my behind. And although I've given whining more than ample time to work out in my favor, it hasn't panned out. There are truly things in this world that you just can't control, I can think of nearly 7 billion of them off the top of my head. It just took a slightly creepy kids show to remind me. So thanks to you, Yo Gabba Gabba--they should play this song on every radio station, every morning. Spread the knowledge around a bit, you know!

By the way, for the record and the continuation of this blog, pointing out injustice is not the same as complaining about it. As much as I am trying to let things go, no amount of singing will turn me into a lie down and take it kind of person. I still am what I am, but now I will focus on attitudes I do have a shot at changing.

Let's do the Timewarp

Today I was driving in the car for an appointment with the Optometrist, and the song "Jumper" by Third Eye Blind came on the radio. Suddenly, from the words "I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend..." I felt exactly like I was transported right back to Jr. High. I can't explain it, but it was almost an out of body experience--all the emotions of that time came flooding back as if they were happening right then. I was in Jr. High again (shudder)--forget the fact that I was driving, with my daughter in the backseat no less, and she was trying to poke me with the crocs she had removed from her feet against my protests yet again, while wearing a paper Krispy Kreme hat.
*May I just interject here to admit to one thing--no, we hadn't been to Krispy Kreme that day. My car is officially what my husband would consider "disgusting." On the plus side, we went yesterday, and what my husband considers "disgusting" when it comes to car cleanliness is probably what most people would call "perfectly acceptable." I maintain the fact that no matter how long it's been since you went to the donut store, one paper Krispy Kreme hat on the backseat does not a "pigsty" make. *
Back to the task at hand, for one moment I forgot that I was older, fatter, and considering my errand, even blinder than I was then--I felt 14 again. In a word, it was bizarre.
Now, it's no anomaly for me to hear songs from my Jr. High or High School days on the radio. I exclusively listen to the radio stations for people who don't quite qualify for the oldies station yet, but crave the familiar while lying to themselves that they have some semblance of relevance today. The truth is, I find Lady Gaga's appearance unbelievably frightening, and know nothing more of Rihanna than the fact that her ex-boyfriend is a scumbag and the repeated syllable "ella...ella...ella." Listening to stations that mainly play songs I recognize while throwing in the occasional Taylor Swift number (take that, Kanye!) or even the rare "Just Dance" is as modern as I get, musically speaking. A song has to be pretty far ingrained in the mainstream before it reaches my ears these days. Sheesh, just writing that makes me feel like a geezer.
The point is, every song I hear from my formative years does not have that effect on me. This experience got me thinking about the songs that I hear rarely enough that they give me a instant trip down memory lane to Jr. High or High School. You might be confused by the fact that a lot of these songs came out in all different years, thinking I don't even know my own age, but these songs didn't necessarily come out when I was in this age group, but it was in my formative years that I discovered them, listened to them ad nauseum, and cemented them in my memory. If the timeline confuses you, well, deal with it.
Here is what I came up with:

"MMMMmmmbop" by Hanson. Am I proud that this song is in my age group's legacy? Heck, no! Every time I hear it (which is thankfully rarely), does it totally take me back? You bet! (Also in this category, but still too soon to talk about is the "Macarena." I have very embarrassing memories of my only Jewish friend's bat mitvah I'm still not ready to dredge up.)

"I Want You" by Savage Garden. Anyone else for a Chicken Cherry Cola? By the way, if you are thinking about telling me that I am wrong and feel the need to inform me of the actual lyrics, you are years too late. I know it's probably not correct, but Chicken Cherry Cola is a part of me now.

"Leaving on a Jet Plane" originally by John Denver. Yeah, it's a classic, and from way before my time, but I didn't fall in love with the John Denver version. I fell in love with Ben Affleck singing it to Liv Tyler in Armageddon, which is still one of my favorite movies. Discovering the song was just a bonus.

"Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" by Green Day. Yes, this one came out just before my senior year and was therefore used in every video montage documenting this time in my life or anyone else I knew. Every. Last. One. Oddly enough, I still like it.

"Stay" by Lisa Loeb. Actually, pretty much anything by Lisa Loeb takes me back instantly, because I listened to her stuff constantly, but they don't play it on the radio much anymore--not even on my "still want to be hip, but only listen to songs from at least a decade ago" channels. That makes me kind of sad.

So there you go. You now know just how out of touch I am with music. If you've been paying attention, that means I have recently done posts about my lack of fashion sense, mentioned my embarrassing TV habits, and this just in, copped to listening to "a shade shy of geezer" music. You will have to conclude from the evidence that I am just not cool. In fact, I am starting to have a sneaking suspicion that I will soon surpass my mother--who used to time her work by cleaning the entire bathroom during one play of "MacArthur Park"--by journeying into uncharted areas of uncoolness. Speaking of which, some Journey would really cheer me up right now...
Yes, I just upped the uncool factor again, what of it?

Stick around, this could be epic.

An Overdue Thank You Note

Although I have told them this individually several times, it is about time the rest of the world knew how I feel. I would like to send a virtual thank you note to my parents. Not a thank you for driving me to school and activities, or keeping me in clothing, food and shelter throughout my life, although I appreciate all those things!

The very best thing my parents ever did for me was pointing it out when my head seemed to be inserted into a very different body part and telling me to knock it off. They called me on it when I was being a jerk to someone else. At the time, I most certainly did not appreciate it, but as I look back now, I am insanely grateful to have had a trusty barometer. My parents always supported me, but never led me to believe I was perfect or above reproach. My mom and dad understand the vital truth that it is better to watch your children trip a little than to make them feel invincible and watch them fall completely flat the remainder of their lives. It is always better to scrape a few knees now and again, than to end up in traction.

I remember doing something as a teenager that perfectly illustrated this point. I don't remember what I said about someone else, but I do remember that it was extremely self-centered and rude--like I said, I was a teenager. My mother just looked right at me and said, "Carly, the other six billion people on this planet are not just here to cushion your fall. You. Shape. Up." This hit right on target as my mother is usually more the sweet, touchy-feely type than the straightforward-don't-make-me-come-up-there type.
Did it hurt to be checked like that? Yes. Did it teach me the value of others in a way I will never forget as long as I live? Abso-freakin-loutely. And finally, was she right? Painfully so. The rest of the planet is not here to make me feel better about myself, to serve me, or to honor me. If anything, I am here to serve others and make the world a better place. Lesson learned.

I feel the need to thank them for this now, as recent events I've encountered have forced me to come in contact with more and more people who clearly were never told, not once in their formative years, that they are less than perfect. No, not even perfect, they must have been told that they are what perfection aspires to be. So, operating under the untempered delusion that all should worship at their feet, they go through life demanding, rude, and selfish. They are driving everyone around them, even the people they love, absolutely nuts (although no one in their inner circle will ever call them on it). Everyone meets one of these people, eventually--they are the people that show up late because "the party won't start without them any way. How could it?" They make Narcissus look like Mother Theresa. When they need something, they tell, they don't ask. Frankly they don't ask because they consider you lending them a car to be a favor to you, not from you.

My brother encountered one such person recently. I happened to be on the phone with my parents when he came in the door and said, "Mom, Dad, I just want to say a big thanks for doing everything in your power to keep me from being a total selfish jerk!!!" My dad had to laugh and say "yeah, that's what your sister says when she runs into one." Now I am so far from perfect, the highway milage signs only read as far as "suitable." I do not, however, for one minute, feel like I am more important that other people just because of who I am. I do not think my views are better because I am better, I am most certainly not better. I do not think that everyone in a room with me should count their blessings just to be near me. Ever.

So, I just wanted to say thanks again, mom and dad. Thanks for being parents, not just mindless cheerleaders. Thanks for understanding that a dose of self-esteem without the ability to back it up, is simply off-putting ego. Thanks for telling me that the other six billion people on the planet matter too. Thank you for knowing that me thinking you are my cool best friends pales in comparision to your responsibility to make me into a decent person. I didn't realize how rare parents like you really are. As an added bonus, I do think you are both cool and my best friends, so it worked out on your end too.

"NaNaNaNaNa NaNaNaNa...LEADER!"

As it turns out, I'm a trendsetter. Now, I'm very much aware that anyone who has seen me at church in my worn-out Target shoes, or worse, walking through Wal-mart in workout pants coupled with Mary Jane Crocs (yikes!) probably would disagree with that. They would be glaringly correct, as at least in regards to all things fashion, I'm not exactly leading the way. Nor am I cutting edge unless the "edge" is slightly mismatched, poorly-fitting clothes for women who rarely leave the house and refuse to go update their wardrobe "until the baby weight is gone--pass the Ben and Jerry's please." My idea of an accessory is hanging the handle of Sam's sippy cup on my jeans pocket so I can leave the diaper bag in the car while we stop at a store. Let's just say that although it would be most unwelcome and beyond mortifying, it would not be at all surprising if the duo from "What Not to Wear" sprang up on me and tried to cure me of my apathy to all things fashion. What would surprise me is how they would manage to get secret footage of me--they probably have a better shot of filming Bigfoot than catching me out of the house and/or car. By the way, this isn't a cry for help, and no amount of money on a gift card would induce me to parade myself around on TV and get yelled at by "fashion experts," so please, don't even think about it.
So I am not a trendsetter in that sense. Nor am I particularly cool in regards to music, movies, or television shows. My guilty pleasure is watching reruns of "The Nanny" late on Nick and Nite, and I was inordinately thrilled to find a channel on our satelitte had brought back my favorite show from when I was a kid, which I actually DVR and watch every single weekday. I'd tell you what it is, but it would make me even less cool than I am now, and that is saying a lot, because I just admitted to watching "The Nanny," and anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I know way too much about "Saved by the Bell."
Where I am an apparent trendsetter is the blogosphere. Despite the fact that I joined WAY late in the universal blogging game and haven't garnered a huge following or anything, I was the first on my husband's side of the family to start a blog, and now my family is getting in on the act as well (over a year later, we're not fast movers). In fact, the title of this post is a tribute to my brother's new blog, which relates Simpsons quotes to his life experiences. (If anyone is interested, my quote is from the episode where they after several failed brainwashing techniques the Movementarians get Homer to join their cult simply by substituting the word "leader" into the Batman theme song. As a leader, I found it appropriate.) You can check out his blog, "The Quotin'ist Blog You Know" here. If you want proof that I come from a whole herd of "smart mouths" you can check out my Dad's blog "My View From the Cheap Seats" here.
You might end up deciding that we put the fun in dysfunctional, but our quirkiness is what I love about us. No matter what you think of the other blogs, just remember that I was the first. Oh, did I mention that we're really competitive, and I'm the oldest? Can't help but claim my turf!

One more thing, for the record: My dad has a really good eye for fashion, and would be completely embarrassed by my workout pant/Mary Jane combo. I'm embarrassed too, frankly, but that doesn't seem to stop me. I just wanted to place blame where it lies--yes, I was raised better than that, the shame is all mine.