On Little Girls and The Pain of Shopping at Xmart*

Tomorrow I'm taking Miss Bean (and her sister because N is working) to a doll and tea party at our local rec center. I'm a little nervous because Miss Bean is on the young end and it more or less starts at her nap time and it might be a huge American Girl fest. The Bean is not yet hip to AG, but apparently I want to keep her away from it as long as possible. I guess they're expensive, but honestly they seem a little better than Barbie and Bean is definitely hip to that.

Today I was shopping and I felt like stores like Xmart and the grocery stores would soon become battle grounds with my kids. Everything is princess pink crap this and Dora crap that and SUGAR SUGAR SUGAR. I can imagine having to say no a million times as we walk down the aisles and really who can blame the kids? The crap is pretty and pink and sweet. And I have to battle myself too. Like, Bean loves princesses and I wanted to get her some new summer pj's and they had a set of horrible Disney princess ones and I bought them because I knew how much she would like them. For a while I considered buying her the "boy" ones, which were a much cooler orange with a tractor, but in end I went for the princesses because it was more bang for the buck and I thought it was a cheap way to make her happy.

But am I feeding into this? Should I have bought the tractor set in defense against the princess thing?

Shopping today made me feel worried about having girls and the issues ahead of them. I feel like it's them against these ginormous corporations that want them to buy all the princess stuff and then buy all the sweet stuff and then worry about being too fat and not princessy enough and then drink nothing but Diet Coke and fat-free pretzels when they're 19.

Maybe I'm projecting.

But shit. I'm a 35 year old woman and I still feel like I have to deal with body issues and materialism. And now I have to deal with what stuff I should and shouldn't buy for my girls too.

I don't know. There's no real ending for this post. Cuz it aint no fairy tale.
*Not Walmart.

Books? Wednesday?

Yeah, I know. But I wanted to let you know that I have been reading a bit. At my mum's house back in early July I read Home Game by Michael Lewis and Bad Mother by Aylet Waldman in about 2 days (1 day a piece give or take). The Lewis was really light and I honestly can't remember that much about it except that they seemed to have a lot of babysitters and once his baby son got sick and was hospitalized. I was more interested in the fact that Lewis is married to Tabitha Soren, who was a VJ on MTV back when MTV played videos.

The Waldman book was a little more controversial and thus slightly more interesting. She got blasted a few years back for writing an article in which she said that she loved her husband more than her kids. Anyway, in this book of essays she talks about her decision to abort a fetus who potentially could be, uh, sick? Retarded? I can't remember, but there was the possibility of serious genetic problems. She also talks openly about her depression. So yeah. Good vacay books, but you don't need to fret about not having read them yet.

In the Adirondacks I obsessively read Alison Bechdel's The Essential Dykes To Watch Out For, which I didn't even like but for some reason couldn't stop reading. It's a compendium of almost all of Bechdel's comics from like the past twenty (more?) years so the characters are the same, but sort of change. Times change, but the main character Mo doesn't really change---she wears the same striped shirt all the time and she's always bemoaning The State of Things. She gets a little annoying after, um, ten strips. But I had to read it because of the soap operaness---the affairs, the articifial insemination, the girly crushes, the token lesbian man dude, etc. If you want to a really good Alison Bechdel book read Fun Home. That's 100% amazing.

While we were in Shelter Island I read like a crazy lady Beautiful Boy by David Sheff. I read it like crazy because I had to read it when Susie wasn't since it was her book and she was reading it. Now that I think about it, it must have been really annoying to her that I kept doing that. Sorry, Suze. At least I didn't lose her place or anything. BB is Sheff's account of his son's battle with drug addiction, specifically crystal meth. It's harrowing, but well written for about 200ish pages and then gets really old. There's no real ending for the book because you know, with addiction it can be up and down. The writing starts to get all weird too, much too detailed and too many choppy, for-effect sentences. Susie and I agreed it feels like Sheff couldn't end the book because he was too in love with his son. And if I had to read the name Nic one more time! Put a freaking k on it, dude.

Anyway, now I'm reading Three Freaking Cups of Tea because it's for school. It's actually not terrible, but I never feel that compelled to read it so it's pretty slow going, but it's all I'm allowed to read until I finish it.

Hey, you know what? With these books I got the mother, the father, and the son. Okay. Long post. Love ya. Bye, bye.

Why I Hate Garrison Keillor

Hard to believe now, but you know, there was time, back when I was in my (foolish and boozy) 20's, living in Seattle, when I found "A Prairie Home Companion" comforting. I'd listen while through Seattle's cute rainy neighborhoods, on route to brunch or at home, drinking my coffee or folding my laundry or some other mundane thing. I'd laugh at the ketchup commercials and smile at the English Major riffs. That Guy Noir....he'd just crack me up. When I moved back to Brooklyn I didn't listen to it as much--one, because I didn't drive anymore and probably because I sent my laundry out and also because it just didn't seem to be on when I was drinking coffee, etc. But when I did catch it, I was cool wid it.

One effect of living in NH is that I now HATE APHC. I find Garrison Keeler's voice smarmy and annoying and sometimes N has to physically restrain me from throwing things at the radio. Maybe I dislike the show because I live in the country rather than a metropolitan hot bed like Seattle or New York. Maybe I think Keeler is a bit of an asshole because of this. Maybe a white person living in white people land can only take so much whiteness in a given day. Or maybe I hate APHC because IT'S ALWAYS ON HERE.

We get three NPR stations in this area and on the weekends when we're all chillaxin' and in the mood for some good listening it's APHC on all 3 stations. It kind of makes ya wanna kill yourself. Or maybe just blast some gay rap.

Have yourselves a APHC-free weekend, kiddies. Do it for me, cuz you know I won't.

Rugs: A Saga or: How Much $ We've Spent On Not Getting A Rug At Pottery Barn

Pretty much from the minute N. and I moved into this place we wanted to get a rug for the living room. Our parents had generously bestowed some nice, but small Oriental rugs that worked fine when we were young and childless in Brooklyn. But childed in NH? We needed more of a carpet. So we made do with this weird 3 rug aesthetic until we got our tax return and decided to buy us some rug. We decided upon Pottery Barn since we had a gift card and PB is like the married with children version of Ikea.

First we had to get a swatch of the rug we wanted because N. in his infinite wisdom said it would be dumb ass to buy a $$ rug we hadn't felt. A swatch o' rug from PB costs $25.00, but it's "refundable" if you mail it back. So we did that. And N. in his photo-shopping genius created a whole rug from one swatch and we realized we couldn't get the color we liked on the computer, but we could get that rug in a different color. Cool, right? It cost me $7.00 to send that stupid rug sample back. And then we got all crazy and decided that we also needed a rug for under the dining room table and once again had to get a swatch and then send that back so now we've sent $14.00 JUST RETURNING things to PB.

But the rugs come and we're happy. We don't even care that we have to move EVERYTHING out of the living room to roll it down and then move everything back all while trying to prevent the Bean from chewing and pulling on 1,000 cables.

Because N. and I are no dummies, we had measured the living room and dining room a lot of times to make sure the rugs would fit. And yeah, the living room rug fit. But it completely absorbed the whole room. We actually have nice wood floors, why not show a little? We put the rug down at 8:30 in the morning and even though we decided that we would sleep on it and make our decision about the rug being too big the following morning by 10:00 AM I was on the phone with the PB people ordering two more rugs---smaller, of course and finding out how to go about returning 8 x10 and 9 X12 foot rugs.

We were too tired to move everything out and roll up the rug so I scheduled the UPS pickup for Monday, which meant we had a good three days looking and walking (and crawling) on the too-big rug. I should mention that it costs $16.00 to return a rug, which means we're up to $46.00.....

Except we noticed that the rug in the dining room was shedding. A lot. Like ten minutes after N. vacuumed, which is not good. After googling, we discovered a very long thread about PB and their shedding rugs. In a matter of minutes it was decided that I could not live with a shedding rug so I tried to cancel the order, but it had already shipped. N. and I spent a whole night looking at new rugs because now that we've tasted the wine, we need to drink it. We find, after 4 hours of searching, a nice, seemingly unsheddy rug at ABC carpet. This rug was quite different as it was bright and lively compared to the PB one, which was dark and foreboding. So we ordered it.

Monday came around and we quickly rolled up the shedding carpet while the baby napped (we got smart) and had the UPS man take it away. Only he brought the two new ones. Luckily, the one for the dining room table seems good although our table weighs 800 pounds and for the past two days N. and I have been too tired to move it so the dining room table rug is now alongside the table rather than under it.

To continue the saga a friend tells me that she owns a PB rug and yes it shed, but only for two months and we should keep the rug because it will be fine. So....now we have the smaller PB living room rug in the garage while we wait for the one from ABC Carpet because you know what kids....we're gonna compare them! And then we're gonna have to send one back and pay yet another return fee.

Oh and wouldn't you know I had to call PB with the tracking numbers from the sent away rugs so they could credit my account and it was going fine until they wanted to give me a SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLAR GIFT CARD. Because you know we paid with a gift card....I had a minor melt down because it was only a hundred dollar gift card not $700! There's some message when you first call PB about their excellent customer service and I have to say it's true. The people are really nice and very helpful even if they retardedly try to dupe you into spending $700 dollars in their store. Thank goodness for that and the fact that after a long wait Mary Jo returned to tell me a $100 gift card would be sent to me, but the rest of the money would indeed be credited to my account. Whew.

Still, we're going ended up spending over $60.00 bucks on not buying a rug. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there might even be rug saga update. As if this isn't long and boring enough....

And Then You Realize That You're One of Those People Who Never Updates Their Blog Any More

But we've been away, kiddies. Got a touch of the cabin fever so The Bean and I spontaneously headed down to NYC for a few days. We got to swing in baby swings for the first time in Central Park no less and momma got to go shopping and out to dinner, practice yoga, see a movie and take long walks and all kinds of fabo things. Most importantly there was a lot of chillaxing with the grandrents and Unkie who even changed a diaper! It was nice to get out NH and see black people in addition to all our Upper West Side activities. N met us there on the weekend and then we came up to the country to the in-laws where we are now. So yes, this is a lame post, but at least I'm posting unlike some people.

This week (and next and next) we're attempting to sleep train The Bean. She's 7 months and eating three meals a day and while they may not be square (orange color food only!) she's getting enough in the belly to sleep through the night. At least we think so. For the last two nights when she wakes up at 2, N goes in and comforts her and gives her water in the hopes that she'll go back to sleep till 6 AM...6:30...7!!. For the past two nights I've nursed her at 2:30 and 3:30, but doesn't everything take time?

This week I realized with the help of my styling brother and mama that I've been dressing like a pregnant pilgrim for the last year and half. When Ms. Bean was in utero it was more forgivable, but no longer. Good by nursing bras! Hello my old friend under wire! Good by ill fitting pants and loose top! I can't tell you how happy I am to be packing up all my old clothes and either donating them to the local second hand store or putting them up in our storage space otherwise known as the death trap that is our attic. While N and I will be psyched to give the Bean a sibling to boss around in the future, I don't know what scares me more: the thought of going through labor again or having to wear awful clothing for another year +. Maybe the latter, since as far as I know, there's no epidural for depressing, pilgrim inspired, post-pregnancy New-England winter fashion.

Notes on Yoga

Today I realized that I've been doing yoga pretty regularly for ten years. You'd think that I'd be pretty decent at it, right? I should clarify and say that I realized that it's been a decade of Down Dogs in the GERIATRIC yoga class I went to at the gym this morning. I know I can go for the hyperbole here, but I'm really not kidding about this. And even though I did not have to do the seated positions in a chair or check my oxygen tank at the door, I wasn't even the best person in the class. You'd think being forty to fifty years younger than the other yogis might have give me an advantage but again you'd be wrong.

It's all about flexibility, which I just don't have. I'm the least flexible person I know although my PARENTS might be close in the running, which might explain things.

I know everyone says that they're not flexible, but I once had a yoga instructor ask me if there was a STEEL ROD in my spine. I bet no one has asked you if there's a piece of steel where your spine should be.

My favorite yoga teacher used to say I had PHENOMENALLY tight hamstrings. The way she said it, I actually felt proud unlike the steel rod comment, which made me depressed for weeks. The only positive thing about that comment is that I've been able to describe just how inflexible I am.

What's weird is that if I did anything else (at least once a week) for ten years, I'd probably be much better at it today than I was in 1999. Tennis, baking bread, chopping word, salsa dancing...really is there anything other than yoga that I would just be at a complete PLATEAU for a decade?

On a positive note I really like yoga even though I'm so sucky at it so I guess I'll be in it for another ten years. The Bean must have her daddy's genes because she has a kickass Down Dog and she can put both feet in her mouth at the same time. Then again, her dad is so flexible he makes GUMBY look stiff.

Namaste, y'all , namaste!

All About N.

The Bean and I think N. was a little hurt that he wasn't included in the last "what's going on" post. I mean we even mentioned the wonderful post office! Again! So this post is dedicated to N. We're also curious as to when he discovers this dedication as he's sometimes neglectful of his favorite Brooklyn blog.

N. has been working really hard. The days when he used to sit on the couch and stare lovingly at his iPhone are long gone. His new school is very awesome so he has to be awesome while there, which means going to work on Saturdays and Mondays when doesn't even have to. N. wakes up very early in the morning while the Bean and I snooze till about 8:00 or 9:00. (I should say this is the only snoozing we do all day and I'm like way more tired than N. so don't feel too bad for him). After N. has driven into the sun to teach his awesome students at his awesome school he has to deal with making the program better which involves a lot of meetings and various other things that apparently quite involved. Then he has to go to this really huge (for us, apparently for locals it's the small one) Hannafords to pick up the various things I've texted him to buy which always seems to include: diapers, turkey, and batteries. Then he has to drive home into the sun and come home to a very messy house, a very tired wife, and a very cute, overtired baby who needs a bath and be put to bed.

Once he came home to a wok that was on fire but that's probably best for a post that's more removed from the actual incident.

After N. has bathed the cute baby and put her to bed, he eats a dinner that consists of frozen things that are partially reheated because his wife likes to cut corners when it comes to meals these days.

After the wife has collapsed in her semi-frozen soup, N. must deal with the dishes from the entire day and put together whatever terrible plastic baby sleep-aid/toy his wife has gotten that day even though the directions are often only in Chinese.

Weekends require N. to spend loads of time putting big wooden things together or hanging cumbersome clocks and 80 pound mirrors. For fun, wife and baby have N. take 8,000 pounds of garbage and recycling to the dump before going to mobbed box stores to buy more things they would like him to put together.

So while you might feel a bit sorry for N. and his two full-time jobs, don't feel too bad. He, unlike, some people can still have a stiff drink at the end of the day and not be concerned as to what it might do to the cute baby's development when ingested by the cute baby from her mother's milk.

The First Step to NH

Was trading in our styling yet totally gas devouring VW for a Subaru Outback, which if it's not on stuff white people like it should be.

I have yet to see a person of color anywhere near a Subaru. (And yes, I've been looking. What do you think I do when I'm not blogging or going to the library?)

Anyway, our VW aka "Ruthie" had over 130,000 miles on her and we just kept emptying our bank accounts getting her fixed this year. The a.c. got fried when we were up in NH (where it was surprisingly balmly) and it's just not legal to have a pregnant woman in a car with no a.c during the summer. It had to be done. Yesterday N. went in with Ruthie and came out with the car who has yet to be named. There was no question of not getting a Subaru for NH because we're white, listen to NPR, like Barack Obama, and will probably join some kind of food Co-op. Plus it has all wheel drive which I hear is helpful during the occasional New England snow flurry.

I heard from the gays that Subarus are a very lesbian car, which I guess is something. But still, those crazy kids just picked themselves up a super cute, city-friendly Honda Fit. It feels a little bit like they got a Mac and we got a PC. Our new(ish) Outback has made me feel really married, kind of boring, and less black than ever.