Thursday, February 23, 2017

Date Night

Since Theo's birth, date nights are more rare than... I'm trying to think of something rare but the first and only thing popping into my brain is a Wully-Wully, because that's all I've read today: Babar and the Wully-Wully, about a rare creature the elephant children find that the mean rhinoceros named Rataxes (wtf?) keeps trying to steal. I'm so dead inside I've almost circled back around to feeling again.

Anyhow, Bryan's family was in town so we left Theo with his grandmother so we could go bowling with Bryan's brother and girlfriend. I don't know who decided this would be fun. In my humble hometown, the bowling alley was old with disgusting green carpet, some barely functioning arcade games and a sleazy bar that served Miller Lite and frozen pizzas. This bowling alley was brand new, with a restaurant, two bars, giant screens above each lane showing music videos, and SO. MANY. LIGHTS. There were black lights, blinking lane lights, disco lights, a top floor full of flashing arcade games. The place smelled like sweat, germs, and seizures.

My idea of a good time is either napping or sitting on the couch alone in silence. So needless to say, the visual overstimulation was too much for my brain. I gave air hockey a shot, but the lights blared and the puck made a loud ding! every time it hit the side. I nearly short-circuited. And that's how I end up in the restroom. If I had a memoir it would probably be called Hiding in the Restroom, because that's what I do when I panic in public places. I lock myself in a stall, put my head between my knees, and engage in wishful thinking. As in, I wish when I walk out of the bathroom that my bad date will be gone. Or I will suddenly be sober. Or there won't be a rave outside. It's enough to calm me until I can rationally think of a plan to get the fuck out of there.

After ten minutes when I reemerged, the thrill of shoot-basketballs-at-a-tiny-hoop-until-the-clock-runs-out was over and they were ready to leave, thankfully. Then I made everyone wash their hands and get froyo, because I didn't want us to contract any weird diseases. And also I wanted froyo.

Thursday, February 16, 2017


Your child has finally unlatched after 45 minutes of breastfeeding in the night but then lays his heavy-ass head on your chest. Do you:

A. Try to stealthily move him off your body ninja-like at the risk of waking the sleeping giant who will scream and latch back on?
B. Say fuck it and Pinterest brownie recipes
or C. Agonize between whether you should do A or B until he wakes up and screams for milk anyway.

The answer is no matter what you do, you have a toddler. So you're fucked.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Do Not Knock

Anyone with a child knows that nap times are sacred, which is hard for my boyfriend who would not be described as quiet. Our bedroom is on the main floor a handful of steps away from the kitchen so any noise there is somehow amplified. Theo once woke up from the Bryan's coffee grinder and there was hell to pay. After that I made him grind his afternoon coffee in the bathroom during nap times. He's not as bad as the Century Link people though. There's a sign on our door that says Do Not Knock!! Baby Sleeping!! and then our phone number. They knock anyway, saying their boss tells them to knock no matter what. WHAT? That's how you plan to get customers? Waking their baby up and somehow having WORSE customer service than Comcast?

Luckily the last time they came Bryan answered the door with his kitchen knife and probably threatened to sever their limbs. I have a problem with poor boundaries and I know this about myself but I'm still way too nice to people. That's why I leave things requiring assertive responses to my more aggressive half although I'm working on it. The other day we were downtown and an obnoxious canvasser with scripted lines and a cheese dick smile tried to shake my hand and get money for his cause. I was holding Theo and said "No thank you!" as we continued to walk into Sur La Table. I said to Bryan, "Aren't you proud of me? I didn't shake his hand and get sucked into his spiel." To which he replied, "Aren't you proud of me? I didn't punch him the face and get charged with assault."

We high-fived, proud of our teamwork toward becoming more evolved humans. And then we bought a lemon squeezer.