Blocked Channels

Posted on September 20, 2011 by Mrs Odie

I feel blocked. Not just creatively, but physically. I have an 11 week baby who hates to be put down. I can put her in a carrier, but then I can’t bend over and pick things up, so inevitably, I drop everything. It seems like a good idea to vacuum while she’s in the carrier because she likes the sound and it involves constant walking. I didn’t realize how much vacuuming necessitates bending over to move things out of the way. And she doesn’t like to be in the Ergo unless she’s sleepy, while the Bjorn kills my back. The Moby Wrap is too hot. She refuses to go in the sling at all.

You’re going to tell me to pick up everything and get it out of the way before I start vacuuming. Or recommend another carrier I try.

Stop giving me logical and creative solutions to my problems! I’m trying to complain!

Why do I feel like 95% of the mommies out there have babies who nap happily in a crib? Last night, I spent two hours intermittently walking and/or nursing my daughter. She kept going to sleep, then waking up within a few minutes of being put down in her swing. She used to sleep three hours in her swing! And don’t even try to give me that “put her down drowsy but awake” bullshit. You should see how fast those drowsy eyes fly open.

I’m blocked in what I can do around the house. I want to clear out our junk room and turn it into a play room. Books need to be packed up. We have to move some furniture out. Junk needs to be thrown out or go to Goodwill, but my Hoarder Husband will insist that he “go through it,” so I’m just going to box it up and put it in the garage. Damn, I need boxes. There is a big closet in that room full of things that need organization, relocation, or eradication. Every day, I feel this task pressing on me, but I can’t do it alone. Odie works so hard during the week, I am loath to give him “projects” on the weekends, and we both need to play with and supervise our kids on weekends anyway, so where the hell is the time going to come from?

Blocked.

I know this sounds ridiculous to some of you. Keep in mind that we’ve only had two children for 11 weeks and we are still getting our feet under us. If you only have one child, or if you have no children, you are as in the dark as we were about how different it is to have two. I had a daughter, and I thought, “How hard could it be to have another?”

I can see how having a third would be less of an adjustment than going from one to two, because we already have no extra time, so how could we have less than no extra time?

But we are NOT having a third because nobody here wants that. Nobody.

Blocked as a writer because my creativity is sometimes stunted by the pressing concerns of my day-to-day hustle. How am I going to get Viva to eat vegetables ever? Will Pringles become one of those babies I have to hold during naps like her sister was? If I buy curtains, will the cats destroy them? Can I destroy the cats first? At least emotionally? Maybe post humiliating videos of them on YouTube? Like of puppies humping them? Where was I? Oh, yeah, the play room. How the heck am I going to get the play room cleaned out? Why does Viva’s diaper only leak when she climbs into our bed? The waterproof mattress pad is on HER bed (shopping list: king-sized waterproof mattress protector). How do I have eight sippy cups but only six lids? Where do the lids go? That guy won “Hell’s Kitchen”? THAT guy?!

Then I remind myself, I get to be home with Pringles until mid-January, and it’s still September. Sweet September. It’s time to be all Buddhist and shit and be here now. Is that even Buddhist? Maybe it’s more Eckhart Tolle (can you imagine what the relatives said when they found out she was naming her son “Eckhart”?) than Buddhist. Wait, is he Buddhist? I remember a story a friend told me of reading “The Power of Now” on an airplane and someone commented, “I want to read that, but I don’t have time,” and my friend replied. “How ’bout NOW?”

Nothing needs to get done today. I’m dreading something that is happening later today, but it’s stupid to let it ruin my whole day. I’m doing it anyway, knowing it’s stupid. Intellectually I understand that worrying about something that is going to happen later wastes “right now.” And that worrying changes nothing about the future. It makes us feel like we’re doing something, but forgetting about it and worrying about it have exactly the same effect: nothing. Only forgetting about it is actually fun.

Wish I could forget about this obligation I have to fulfill later today. It will turn out that the fear and loathing of the past two days will actually be worse than the 90 minutes the obligation requires. And the euphoric rush I will feel on minute 91 will be exhilarating.

Right now, there is absolutely nothing I have to do. There may be things I would like to do, or even should do. But nothing I must do. Well, one thing I have to do right now.

I had two cups of coffee.

Posted in Flourish: The Housewife Project | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Stupid Stuff People Say

Posted on September 17, 2011 by Mrs Odie

I read the comments on a blog written by two grieving parents and found myself stunned by the stupid shit people say. Maybe they truly think these platitudes help, or maybe they just don’t know what to say, To that end, I have come up with a list of phrases I’d like to retire.

“God has a plan.” If you say this to me in my time of grief, ever, you will discover that you being punched in the neck is apparently also part of this plan.

“God must have needed another angel in Heaven.” When I saw this written over and over  in the comments on the blog I speak of, I cringed every time. I was so glad when she wrote that this is hurtful and she wishes people wouldn’t say it. I get the kind intention behind it, but seriously. It is horrible. As though God looks around one day and says, “Hmmm. I think I need more angels in Heaven. I’m going to give a baby cancer.” Say this to me, and I will bite off one of your fingers and then pronounce that “God must have needed more fingers in Heaven.”

Because He clearly has enough insensitive morons.

“I’m hugging my baby a little tighter tonight because of your loss.” Presented without comment.

And on a lighter note, “Just saying” or the even more offensive “Just sayin'” is intended to mean “I have just said something rude, mean, offensive, racist, misogynist, or evil and I intend to take no blame whatsoever. Because you see, I am JUST SAYING IT.” It’s like it flew out of me all on its own. I am merely the conduit of mad truth. What can you do? Nothing! I have no free will here. I am JUST SAYIN’. I am clearly not just thinking before I open my just sayin’ mouth.

This phrase is also taking the place of legitimate rhetoric. If a person says “Just saying,” then the supposition is that no support or evidence is necessary for what is being said. That it somehow stands alone in its truth. In my business, we call this an unsupported warrant. A warrant is a claim that must be proven. It cannot be presented as proven fact. People with weak argumentative skills throw it in at the end as a catch-all disclaimer of responsibility or a way of saying “and that, my friend, is the truth.” When it is actually just an opinion. Or as if to say that “talking” cannot be wicked or hurtful because it isn’t an action and only actions are evil.

Maybe we could take this to the next level. I walk up to you, grab your purse and yell, “Just stealin’!” and then you can’t call the police.

It did have comedic value, back before it was overused.

“Wow. That sweater is old. Not like vintage old, but like Hugh Hefner old.”

“Are you saying my sweater is ugly?”

“I’m just saying.”

Last night, on our first date night in three years (I’m just saying), Odie and I decided we should just randomly invent new platitudes.

Every aardvark has its suitcase.

Most chandeliers are hard to clean.

There’s a reason grizzly bears don’t fly airplanes.

Or we could combine some overused sayings to come up with new ones:

God must have needed another fish in the sea.

No one can make you feel inferior without taking lemons and making lemonade.

We’re not out of the woods in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Try not. Do. Or do not. Myeh. It is what it is (pull this out when you want to give no advice whatsoever).

There’s a fool thrown under the bus every minute.

Good things come to those who get the hell out of Dodge.

And that, my friends, is the truth.

 

Posted in Pure side-splitting comedy | 7 Comments