You know, now that I think about it…

One of the greatest things about being a new parent to a baby is that you can dress them in whatever you want and they don’t get a say in the matter.

Most of the great stuff I’ve collected to dress her in she’s not big enough for, yet, so we pretty much stick to the exact same type of outfit for her while she’s small and it’s cold outside: the all in one footed pajama.

You find when you bring that first baby home that you end up preferring some types of clothing over others. We ended up not wanting to deal with socks and pants on a newborn, and snaps take a backseat to the zipper. What can I say, the girl has two parents who pretty much wear the same uniform everyday (t-shirt, jeans) – tights and bows and bloomers and whatnots just weren’t in the cards for her.

I bought a ton of onesies and pants and “outfits” at a consignment sale in August – before I knew we would prefer the easy, all-in-one, albeit extremely informal “footie pajamas at all times, bitches” style we chose for our daughter.

I believe I had bought a whopping ONE of these pjs we ended up preferring at the low low prices of the consignment sale, so, we’ve thrown a lot of money at Target buying these zippered footed onesies, while all these other great outfits I got for like two dollars remain unworn.

The other day, as I unzipped these pjs for the approximately 49,786th diaper change so far, it occurred to me that while adorable when being worn, as evidenced here:


It’s actually pretty messed up, because you are opening up the face of an innocent animal every time you unzip it, splitting it horribly in half. And, when you dress your baby in pretty much nothing but this specific kind of clothing:

Yeah, you all look happy now...
Yeah, you all look happy now…

It starts to seem excessively cruel.


But, I’m afraid until the weather warms up and we can move one to other brands and types of clothing, the slaughter must continue.

Don’t Actually Do That

Trying to squeak in a quick post so that I don’t go a whole month without one…which you know means you’re in for a literary masterpiece. AND, I have to get it done during the short window I have while the baby is sleeping – I’m pretty sure that’s how all the great novels are written.

The other day I was making (by “making” I mean opening the box and dumping it into water) pasta and because I’m a dork with no memory, I always check the directions, but I never noticed this until now:

Boil Taste

I realize “to taste” means more “to your liking” or “however much you want,” but I just don’t think “to taste” is the wisest direction to use in conjunction with boiling water.

And at the grocery store, because these are the kinds of things that are important to me, I checked some other brands and they said the same thing.

In a world where IKEA specifies that you NOT put babies inside storage bins, you’d think that the wording about tasty salty boiling water would be different. Maybe:

“Add between one grain and a coffee mug of salt,” or, “salt it like you mean it but don’t get too crazy.” I’m just throwing those out there, I’m not a pasta box directions writer. But, if you’re in charge of hiring for that position and have discovered me, I’m open to it.

1977 JC Penny Catalog – People had serious dressing problems that year

I was looking around, which I love to do a disturbing amount, and decided to flip through the 1977 JC Penny Catalog, even though I already did that a little bit before. Here’s what else I found:

JC Penny was really the place to get clothes if you were dead but didn’t know it yet. These days I’m not sure where the dead-but-don’t-know-it crowd get their wardrobes:

1977 JCPenny Christmas page007
They took a break from unknowingly haunting their former house to model for the catalog.

You gotta get a CB radio just in case you have an emergency.



First, “I’d like some sugar” could seriously be misconstrued. Second, if I were that horse, I would probably say “please free me from this torture device.”



There’s just not as many nightmare children’s toys these days. Tell me where you can find a good “horrifying clown plays peek-a-boo where you sleep” toy in 2013.



On the other hand, a Redd Foxx talking doll that says gems like, “Your daddy sat on me” and has two faces? I will give you all my money for one of those.



Now we get to the apparent inability for women to dress for cold weather.



The uncomfortable strangle-y feeling of a turtleneck combined with the more cumbersome bathroom experience a leotard brings topped with the 70s version of Uggs and then also freezing cold thighs. Fashion!



And then these people just don’t know what the hell they’re doing:


I guess maybe since it’s two of them they kind of egged each other on? Then they went out in the cold and died of hypothermia, I’m guessing.

I gave birth to a baby and an amazing hair rat nest.

Two weeks ago yesterday, on November 5th, Tom and I welcomed a bundle of joy covered in goo into the world and she returned our hospitality by making me push her out of my body. Rude.

That’s her – the one that lived inside me for nine months and couldn’t come up with a better way to get out despite having all that time to plan.

I spent roughly 8 of my 10 hours in labor in a bathtub filled with my own filth. And I do mean filth. My hair was in a bun at the top of my head and stayed that way for three days, marinating. When I got home and finally felt up to taking a shower, I took a deep breath, and removed the rubber band.

If you’ve ever worked in dog rescue, you know that quite often, long haired dogs arrive with their coats in such terrible, matted shape that they have to be shaved as there’s no saving the mangled, tangled hair. I thought my hair had reached that point. I tried to take a picture of it and it really doesn’t do it justice, but you CAN see a nice big chunk that sits away from my head of it’s own volition.


I’m glad I wasn’t so sleep deprived that I just went right at it with a pair of scissors, although I was close. I doused it in about a half a cup of conditioner in the shower and managed to salvage it.

I do realize that I’m spending most of this post about the best thing to ever happen to me harping on my hair but you guys, it was REALLY impressive.

So now you’re all caught up on where the baby is in regards to inside/outside of my body and the state of my rat’s nest.

Pregnancy Observations

I’ve got five weeks to go. Here’s my observations and truths based on the past few months of being pregnant:

1. You can always get bigger. I look back and laugh (but not really because it can be uncomfortable) at the past me at 25 weeks who thought, “I don’t see how I can get bigger than this.” Stupid, stupid fool.

2. Crumbs. I think it’s the combination of lower cut maternity shirts, pregnancy pant stretch panels, and truly more slovenly eating habits that have caused me to have to empty out my bra, shirt, and pants of leftovers on a regular basis. I don’t know how I haven’t been attacked by a colony of ants, yet.

3. “That’s where that stays now.” If anything ends up on the floor – money, trash, clothes, remote controls – that is their new place where they belong. It’s fate.

4. “Washing your hands is overrated” and other such disgusting compromises you make with yourself. I’m starting to have trouble reaching the faucet knobs. People don’t have to shower EVERY WEEK, for Christ’s sake. I’m just going to pretend I don’t see the dog eating the cat vomit. The five second rule becomes the 10 minute rule, Etc.

5. My niece is very flexible when it comes to still being able to play with her aunt. “Ok, let’s pretend we’re napping and we hear the pirate bear in the distance.” Done. “You can walk and I’ll run from the pirate bear.” Deal.

6. I’m completely screwed if I encounter a real pirate bear.

Pirate Bear
“Argh, when ye ‘r nappin’ is when I get to treasure grabbin'”

7. A LOT of plots of TV shows and movies involve children and babies and pregnant ladies in peril. Almost every show I’ve been watching: Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, The Bridge, Luther, Orphan Black, The Blacklist pilot, The Walking Dead, has had terribly perilous situations for kids and babies. After a century of film making it’s good so see people can still come up with creative horrible ways to put children in the line of danger.

8. No strangers have touched my belly so far. One of my biggest anxieties about being pregnant was this idea that obnoxious women would be lurking around every corner, waiting to feel me up and ask invasive questions – like that’s what they do for a living somehow. I feel fortunate that no one has done this but that could also be that I rarely leave the house, am covered in crumbs, and haven’t showered.

9. Tested truth: If I go to the Wizard of Oz theatrical re-release (which I did), and you bring your adorable twin three year old daughters dressed as Dorothy and the Wicked Witch (which someone did), I will have to work hard not to break down in tears. This is despite my continuing to be pretty even keeled and robotic even through pregnancy.

10. Tested truth 2: Driving two and a half hours to the nearest Ikea and then spending 6-7 hours there, only to find out they don’t have the couch and loveseat you chose in stock, can be an unpleasant experience for all involved, pregnant or not. Also, wandering around an Ikea for hours on end can get you a little dehydrated and cause Braxton Hicks contractions (harmless contractions named after Toni Braxton and Bill Hicks for some reason). Your only comfort is seeing about 3 other pregnant ladies in the same situation, testing every bed and chair they come across in an attempt to make it a little more tolerable. FYI, when you hit the textile/frames/shelving areas – that’s where you’ll find the largest chair testing shortages.