Friday, April 25, 2014

Dumb Things People Say to You After Having a Kid

While in the shower this morning, my mind started wandering about all the crazy/bold/funny comments people have made to me since having a child.  I am not the type to become easily offended, but just for kicks, I’ve included in italics what I would’ve liked to have said to the various speakers.  If your quote made the list…no harm, no foul! :)

·       “Why don’t you come hang out after the baby’s asleep?” Okay…sounds great, but I can’t just leave my kid here.

·      “I’m sick of the boring you; I think you’re hiding behind breastfeeding as a way not to drink.”  (At a loss for words…)

·      “Don’t you get bored being at home all day?” Do you think I just sit on the couch and watch TV and eat cake all day? There is a lot involved with taking care of a helpless and dependent human!

·      “Why does it look like you have a buzz cut in the front?” Because it’s called the I-just-had-a-baby-and-my-hair-fell-out-and-now-it’s-growing-back look.

·      “You shouldn’t have fed your baby bananas first because now he’s only gonna want sweet things.”  Hey, I really appreciate the advice—NOT—but it’s a little late now.

·      “I just don’t believe in flu shots. I’ll just rely on washing my hands.” Well, then I believe I’ll just keep my baby to myself, thank you very much.

·      “Oh, just wait till you have TWO kids.”  I realize you are oh-so-much-busier than I with your TWO kids, but my ONE kid still counts for something.

·      “Hey, remember when you used to say, ‘What do you do with a baby all day long?’?” This is funny; but it gets thrown in my face about once a month and, blame it on the baby brain, but I don’t even remember saying it.

·      “It seems like you’re just always too busy to talk now.  Every time we’re on the phone, it seems like you have to go right away.”  Maybe because I’m between diaper changes/feedings/clothes changes/spit-up cleanup and it’s 5:00 and I’m trying to make dinner!

·      “I’m tired.”  Really, honey? Were you up nursing our baby twice last night because he’s going through a major growth spurt or something?

·      “He’s starting to fuss.  I think he’s ready to wake up.”  Okay, then go get him!  I need to eat my breakfast because we all know what happens when I don’t eat.

·      “Do you miss working?” I am working harder than I have ever worked in my life.

·      “The best part about your baby sleeping through the night is that your husband isn’t disturbed.”  Are you kidding me?  That man could sleep through Hurricane Katrina.

That’s all for now.  I’m sure I’ll have a fresh supply in no time!

Friday, April 18, 2014

Sometimes I Suck As a Wife

Sometimes I think my husband just does millions of thoughtful things for me every day to make me feel bad.  He is so good that it sometimes makes me mad.

The other night, my girlfriend and I went out for dinner and I got a text asking me to bring home a simple side salad with ranch dressing.  Easy enough.  I asked our waitress for one and told her to hold the tomatoes and cucumbers, meaning that it would apparently just be lettuce.  My internal dialogue went something like this: It will be iceberg lettuce, which he hates, and I just bought lettuce today…so I will just make him a salad when I get home.  I bet he just wants the ranch anyway.  So I did not get the salad.  Fast forward to me walking in the door with a lone soufflé cup of ranch dressing and explaining my dilemma.  He looked crushed and explained that he really sometimes just feels like the crunch of iceberg lettuce and that this was one of those times.  Wife fail #738.

Another reason why I sometimes suck involves my cooking.  I try really, really hard and I make healthy and interesting meals, but I just am not the best.  Maybe it’s because I don’t always follow the recipe; maybe it’s because I don’t really care about food that much and would rather eat cereal anyway; maybe it’s because I’m not creative.  Whatever the reason, I would say that at least one meal per week is a fail.  He is usually a brutally honest critic—like The New York Times to the tenth power—but pretty much always eats it.  My dearly beloved, on the other hand, is a fantastic cook.  He likes food and is creative and adventurous and everything he touches turns to culinary gold. (Just like King Midas). So. Annoying.  He also always catches me when I leave the oven on accidentally.  But that’s another story for another day.

I also sometimes get “hangry” (hungry + angry) and I don’t always like to let people have a bite.  I’m like a food aggressive dog.  King Midas will sometimes say (of course, very nicely), “Hey…have you had breakfast?” I (not so sweetly) respond, “WHY DO YOU ASK?!”  I basically turn into Aretha Franklin in the Snickers commercial; I’m just not me when I’m hungry.

Also, I suck because I do not willingly share my pillow.  So sue me; it’s a legit down pillow (sorry, all you PETA fans) and I’ve had it since I was a little girl and it’s perfect and doesn’t have any lumps and somehow it never gets hot and itchy on my head.  The other night, I noticed that King Midas had my pillow; so when he woke up in the night to go get a drink of water, I made a quick and stealthy switch.  Premeditated and sneaky selfishness.

I also complain when he wants to watch this stupid treehouse show on Animal Planet.  Like, who would really make a full one-hour program on treehouses?  Is the demand really that high?  And who would possibly want to watch a full one-hour program on treehouses?  Oops.

Well, I think that’s enough examples for now.  I think I’ll go read How To Be a Better Wife for Dummies or something.  Right after I grab a Snickers.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Lost 8.7 Hours

While doing what seemed like 74 loads of laundry the other day, I came to a realization that I waste just far too much time turning clothes from inside-out to rightside-out (if that’s even a word).  I now get it why my mom used to fold the clothes as is, whether or not the tag was on the outside. With the help of a calculator (because, like any good Catholic school girl, I am fantastic at grammar, while my math skills are lacking), I estimated that I waste spend about 8.7 hours per year on JUST this small task!  Ridiculous.  There are 8.7 million things I could do with 8.7 hours, like:

·      Run three half marathons and then cool down with a nice leisurely 10K.

·      Drive to Washington, D.C. or Nashville or even good old Sparta, Wisconsin (in case I cared even a little about that place).

·      Attend two baseball games and then another one that goes into extra innings.

·      Drink a 24-pack of Miller Lite by myself, at an easy pace of about a beer every twenty minutes.  And then go to hospital to get treated for alcohol poisoning.

·      Have about six C-sections.

·      Go to the movie theater and see four chick flicks.

·      Get eight massages and still have some time left over to get a manicure.

·      Read three James Patterson novels, cover to cover.

·      Burn over 14,000 calories on the StairMaster…and then go eat McDonald’s till I throw up.

·      Scarf down 105 hot dogs at a doable speed of one every five minutes…and then most likely go throw up.

·      Listen to about eight Jay-Z albums.

·      Watch The Sound of Music three times.

·      Take a direct flight to Paris and still have time to claim my luggage, assuming it makes it there.

You get the point.  So the next time you’re undressing and throw your clothes in the hamper inside out, just don’t do it!  Assuming you are the laundress in the family, you are only screwing yourself out of 8.7 good hours!