Rule of Threes?

Do you believe that things happen in threes? Births, deaths, bad things, good things, etc.? Well, if you do, stop that nonsense right now. I mean it. It's for my safety. Here's the deal. In the past two weeks (week and a half, really), I have been to the ER twice. First it was with the baby (he's fine now), and today it was with my husband, who has a kidney stone, but will be fine. So, I do a little math and think, huh, with the rule of threes, we should have one more visit to the ER soon. Family of three...two of whom have already made their visits...let's see, I think that means...I'M DOOMED. Now, I'll happily go on record as saying that it's shocking that I've never in my life been to the ER for myself. However, I'll also go on record as saying I'D LIKE TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.

Now, here's a concern I have about the ER that is practically in our back yard (well, we can see it from our backyard, at least): the security guards who serve as the first person you see when you walk in have no sense of urgency whatsoever. I mean, I was really alarmed by their lackadaisical attitude on both of my visits (two different guards). The guard today couldn't even multitask. I really think that's essential for even the lowest man on the ER totem pole.

Here's another concern I have about the ER that is practically in our back yard: utter lack of hot doctors. Well, let me take that back. Both doctors that I've met now were pretty hot...females. There was no Dr. McDreamy to speak of, so I really don't want to have to go. Please keep me in your thoughts. I thank you.

Because if I take away the pacifier, someone might accidentally serve him ALCOHOL.

Where, oh where has my baby gone? Because that kid there is at least thirteen.

P.S. Nevermind the fact that we (I) make the poor kid wear a Cubs hat. And nevermind that that picture was taken in October, when the Sox were about to play in the World Series. HE JUST DOESN'T HAVE A SOX HAT. OK?

Parenting Tips?

In Target tonight, I decided to take a glimpse at my future and check out the selection of Elmo/Sesame Street DVDs (see previous post). I noticed that one of the DVDs had a little sticker on the outside that read, "Parenting tips inside." I had a little chuckle to myself as I imagined what the parenting tips could possibly be. In my mind, they went a little something like this:

1. Put Red Crack in the DVD player.
2. Quietly back out of the room.
3. Enjoy 53 minutes of free time.
4. Visit http://www.sesamestreet.org and donate your hard-earned cash. Remember, time is money, and we just gave you 53 minutes. Fork it over, fat man.

Red Crack

What is it about Elmo that toddlers absolutely cannot resist? I didn't even realize that Eric could pick Elmo out of a crowd, but just this morning, the Elmadness began.

Shortly after his normal wake-up routine of getting out of the crib and looking out the window to see what's happening on our street, Eric spotted Limbo Elmo on his book shelf. He pointed up to him. "elmo." "Elmo." "ELMO." "ELMO!" So, we got Elmo down and played with him for a few minutes. Then I announced it was time to eat breakfast, and Elmo was instantly tossed aside.

Immediately after we finished breakfast, it started again. "Elmo?" "ELMO??" Hmmm...think quick, mom! It's 8 am and "Elmo" doesn't come on until 10. We have a couple of Sesame Street DVDs, but I couldn't remember how prominently Elmo was featured. Thank god for Comcast On Demand! It's Elmo you want? Elmo you get.

Elmo came on the screen and Eric was enraptured like I had never seen him before. This is so strange to me, because he really never paid that much attention to the TV before. I might turn Sesame Street on a few times a week, but it mostly ends up being background noise. Anyway. Whenever Eric would see Elmo on the screen, he would happily and lovingly say his name over and over again. When Eric didn't see Elmo on the screen, he would ask for him, more and more frantically. I mean, the kid was nearly in tears by the end of a particularly long non-Elmo vignette.

It's almost disturbing how quickly he became so attached to Elmo. The strange thing is, he really doesn't want anything to do with his stuffed Elmo, just TV Elmo. Dancing Elmo dolls seem to be OK (lucky me). So, based on what I can tell right now, our Christmas lists will look a little something like this:

Eric:
All things Elmo

Me:
Hip Flask
Vodka
Mixers

Finally, some good news

My house will soon be clean. Isn't that the best news you've heard all day? Well, it is for me. You see, the other day, I was minding my own business, just trying to sweep the floor. But that darn baby of mine kept getting in the way, grabbing at the broom, throwing tantrums and being a general nuisance. I tried giving him the broom. He just stood there with it, looking a little bit happier, but that didn't really make my sweeping go any faster. Then I tried letting him help me sweep, but he wasn't too into that. Then I tried taking him to toys r us and buying him his own damn broom. All I could find was this entire cleaning kit:

I'm thinking, wow, now there's a win-win situation, wouldn't you say. So, now I'm sitting back with my feet up, eating bon-bons, while my 18-month old is scrubbing grout in the bathroom. Don't tell my husband. He'd probably make him clean at night, while I am at work, and then he'll be too tired to clean during the day for me.

A New Family Member

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to announce that I am the loving new owner of an iPod nano. Not only that, but it was a completely unexpected gift from my employer! How exciting!

Here's the deal:

I work at a law firm (ahem, where my mom is a partner *cough*) as a part time evening secretary. I work usually work from 4 to 7:30-ish. I have worked there since March, and I love it. It works out perfectly for us, in terms of making extra money and not needing a babysitter. Anyway, last week, I noticed the Office Administrator and her secretary in one of the conference rooms, with the door shut, but the blinds on the window open. It was after 7 and very few people were left in the office. I noticed that they had little gift bags spread out all over the table. I wondered what they were up to. I figured it was something for the upcoming holidays. I asked one of the attorneys if she knew anything about it. She said that she thought it was the holiday gift. She said that they usually give everyone a pointsetta, but this year she overheard that they were doing something different. She didn't know what--just something different. I assumed that whatever the new gift was, it would be on par with a pointsetta. So, when I got the all-staff email about the meeting at 3 pm on Monday, I contemplated skipping it and just catching up later, when I got to work at 4. Then everyone started encouraging me to come. "It's OK, you can bring the baby." So, I ended up coming to the "party" and Chris ended up getting out of work early because it's a really slow week for him.


One of the partners starts out the meeting by saying that this year was their 15-year anniversary. They never expected the firm would grow so much and that they would end up with so many exceptional employees (there are around 40 employees now, from 5 originally). They wanted to get everyone something nice to thank us for being so wonderful. So, they got everybody a 4GB iPod nano. Oh, and also a commerative silver box with the company's name on it. I thought that was really cool!


I have to admit that I don't know a great deal about iPods. I just knew that I couldn't really afford one, so I kept my distance so as not to be tempted. This one is really cool. It's teeny tiny. It is the same size as that picture, and maybe an eighth of an inch thick. It only took me four hours last night to get a few songs onto it (because I'm slow, not because it's difficult). Anyway, that's my latest excitement. I guess it's time to go write some thank-you notes.

Are you there Blog? It's me, Kristi.

Dear Blog,

I want to apologize for being so reticent as of late, and so remiss in coming to you. But, don't you see, Blog? It's times like these that I need you most! I know, I know, if I look at the internet history tracks in the sand, I will most likely see that this is the time that you carried me. But it doesn't always feel like that. No siree. And perhaps I don't deserve it. I've been a Blog sinner. I have coveted thy neighbors Blog. I have taken the Blog's name in vain. I have also killed, but that is a different story altogether--a story for the Blog, don't you see? So, Blog, here I am apologizing to you. Asking you to keep me in your good graces. Have faith in me, Blog, and I won't let you down.

Remember, Blog is love.

Yours,

Kristi

I am the eye in the sky

I've have this sneaking suspicion that someone who seemed completely uninterested in my not-secret-but-not-widely-publicized blog has, in fact, been reading my blog. And I don't know why, but it kind of bothers me. I mean, it would be one thing if he read it and acknowledged that he read it, but it's another thing altogether to read it on the sly, pretend like you're not reading it, then bring up a topic from my blog like it's just been on your mind.

It's not like these things couldn't be on his mind as well, but it's just the way he says them. We generally have different ways of talking, and when you turn a phrase in a way that you usually wouldn't, and in a way that would be a DIRECT QUOTE from my blog, well, I just can't help but wonder. So...let this just be a little warning. I'm on to you, Seaton. I'm on to you.

P.S. I love you. Stop secretly reading my blog. It makes me feel dirty (as in UNCLEAN).

Gratuitous Baby Pictures

Because he's so damn cute...

Also, now just know that this is very unlike me because I'm a CUBS FAN (unlike a certain someone who happens to be married to me). But, you know, play offs don't really happen too often in Chicago, so, OK, Go Sox. There. I said it. Go and do your baseball thing.

Inquiring minds want to know...

I don't fully understand; what does this MEAN??

They're a lot like people, only more so.

For those not in the know, it's a line from the Berenstein Bears cartoon theme song. I mean, what do I tell Eric when he gets old enough to wonder what it means himself? Forgive me if, once again, I just don't get it.

Oh, the bitter, bitter irony

Have you ever noticed that at the store, the birth control and pregnancy tests are all neatly stocked in the same place? I guess it makes sense on one level, but on another level, if we could've found the damn condoms in the first place, we wouldn't be looking for pregnancy tests, now would we? Why rub it in? I personally think it's somebody's sick little joke.

The Woman at the Rock Show

A couple nights ago, Chris and I went to the Weezer/Foo Fighters concert (which was awesome, by the way). It felt like we were the oldest people there (well, except, of course, for the band members themselves). Luckily for me, Chris is five years older, so I knew that I, personally, was not the oldest person in the crowd. The guys sitting behind us were *maybe* 16 and kept talking about "the Weeze" like they were old friends of the band. These boys were in diapers when Weezer's Blue Album came out. That alone nearly put me over the edge.

When I think of Weezer, and the Blue Album in particular, I am taken back to a much simpler time in my life. A time when I was in HS and my greatest care in the world was whether or not the boy I had a huge crush on knew that I existed. My friends and I called this boy (who was a big Weezer fan, hence the connection) "Hank." I can't even remember his real name, but due to my friend Erica's tendancy to loudly and accidentally talk about my crushes within earshot of them, he was ONLY to be referred to as "Hank." Obviously, judging by the fact that I can no longer remember his real name, I did not ever end up dating this chap. But, I still admire the way he got a black eye from crowd surfing at the Weezer concert. That's real devotion. Devotion that the boys sitting behind me thought they had, but didn't, judging by the fact that they were sitting in the last aisle in the arena, rather than crowd surfing down on the floor.

Anyway, after a while, I realized that Chris and I were far from the oldest people there. In fact, the more I looked around, the more old people I saw. Most of them were chaperoning their children, whose diapers they were changing as Weezer was suggesting that they looked *just like* Buddy Holly and/or Mary Tyler Moore. Hmmm...I wonder if Hank was there?

The funniest simile I've ever heard at Church

"Happiness is like wetting your pants. Others can see it, but only you can feel it's warmth."

I just don't get it.

As a small "reward" for working the past two weekends, and one upcoming weekend, Chris took today off. I thought, "Oh, that'll be nice. We can go do something fun with Eric, as a family." Wrong. When he first got up, he did suggest an excursion to the Northwest Cutlery, to get his knives sharpened. Either that fell by the wayside, or it's in the works for this afternoon--I'm not sure which (although, mind you, I still have to work this afternoon, so it likely no longer includes me...whatever). Anyway, so far the majority of Chris' day off has been spent in the bathroom--and not becuase he's sick or anything like that. He just keeps going in the bathroom for at least 45 minutes, presumably to read the book that sitting in there, and to escape any sort of dad duties that might arise were he out of the bathroom.

I think he got out of bed around 9. It's now quarter to 1, and he's spent at least two hours in the bathroom, probably more. The whole morning went to pot. (har har) Why is the bathroom a black hole for men? Like I said, I just don't get it.

Dr. Strangelove

One of the major downfalls to becoming hooked on blogging is that I have recently spent A LOT of time reading other people's blogs. People I know, people I know only through the internet, and people I don't know from Adam (except, I know Adam--hi Adam). It seems like I've come across a huge pool of bloggers who have nothing but interesting things to write about, and they all write the most fascinating, funny, witty, poignant observations about random randomness. I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated by this. I think of something that I want to write about and then I think, no, that's not important. I've been doubting myself, and hence, avoiding my blog. But, tonight I finally realized that it's MY blog. Who cares if what I write isn't important/fascinating/funny/witty/poignant? So, that's that. I'm going to learn to stop worrying and love the blog.

Why don't you just rip my heart out while you're at it?

Today started out like your average Tuesday. We got up, had some breakfast, played, watched some Sesame Street and ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things. That's where things went horribly, HORRIBLY awry.

Because I am, like, the LUCKIEST woman alive, my local supermarket just so happens to have a branch of my bank nuzzled gently into the corner of its confines. I didn't plan it that way--it just happened. This means that I get to do my banking and my grocery shopping in one fell swoop, which, with a toddler in tow, is absolute unadulterated heaven on earth. Perhaps the best thing about it, though, is that although there are people on staff who can answer your questions and open accounts for you, all of the actual transactions must take place through the ATM. The joy of this, for me, is that I don't need to have unnecessary human interactions or wait in obnoxious lines. I just whip out my little card, push a couple of buttons, and I'm good to go. Whoever thought of this is a god in my book. I mean, she is just one tiny step below the person who invented the Visa Check Card.

While we're on the subject of the Visa Check Card, let me just mention to you my new mantra: "Cash? Who needs it!" At any given time, I'm lucky if I have $1.12 on me. I use that damn card for everything. I only feel bad for the cute little kids standing outside the grocery store selling candy bars for Cub Scouts. I used to be a sucker for those damn kids, but now I have to blow them off because they don't take plastic (just give that a couple years, though).

OK, back to my horrific story. This morning, in a moment of apparent delirium, I forgot to remove my precious debit card from the ATM when I was finished making my deposit. I didn't realize this until 15 minutes later when I went to purchase my groceries. Thank god there was no one in line behind me because I literally dumped my purse out onto the conveyor belt looking for my baby. But, alas, it was nowhere to be found. For a moment I went into panic mode--how am I going to pay for my groceries! Then I remembered the emergency credit card. With a heavy heart, I broke that bad boy out.

I then went over to the banking area and explained that I had just used the ATM but could no longer find my card. I asked if anybody had turned in a dropped card. No. "Does the ATM keep the card if you forget to take it out?" I ask the girl. She stares at me blankly. Then a guy comes out from the back. She explains what I just told her and the guy says, "Oh, if you forget to take your card, the ATM keeps it." OK, this should be simple--open up the ATM, look in the left behind card compartment, and give me my card back. Apparently they can't do that. WHAT GOOD ARE THESE PEOPLE? DON'T THEY KNOW THAT MY LIVELIHOOD IS AT STAKE?????

The guy then says, "Well, if you're sure you don't have the card, we'll just get you a new one." Oh thank god, now this man is talking some sense. They bring up my account in the system and the guy says, "There are three cards showing up--do you know what the last 4 digits on your card were?" I'm practically hyperventilating--can't you ask me a less important question? "I'm not sure," I say, "Can't you look at the name the card is issued to? And by the way, there should only be two cards on the account." "Well, there are three and they're all issued to you." First of all, WHAT??? Second of all, clearly only one of them has ever been used, so that's the one. We get it all figured out and then he drops the bomb. "Great, you'll get your new card in five to seven business days! Have a good one!"

Excuse me? Have a good one??? Did you not notice the myriad $3 to $5 charges on my account? Do you not know how my life depends on this card? I haven't felt this helpless since I was all but shoved out the door of the hospital with a one-and-a-half-day-old baby in my arms. "Good luck with the kid! We're sorry about that thing where we insisted that you would have to spend the night tonight and then revoked that offer at 7 pm and promptly sent two strapping men to your room to pack your bags and physically remove you from the premises! Have a good one! Oh! Don't forget your stool softener!"

How am I going to survive the next 5-to-7 business days?? Oh no! Am I going to have to go to the actual bank? Please say it isn't so! This is terrible, just terrible! Oh my god--what if I actually had to write a check, IN PUBLIC? How horrifying would that be? What if people saw me? Would they whisper behind my back? "What on earth is that woman doing? Doesn't she know she's holding up the line? Poor thing...she's stuck in the '90s! "

I might as well just crawl into a hole and die. I'm suddenly reminded of one of my favorite movie quotes of all time (from My Girl): "Get outta here! And don't come back for five to seven days!"

Hip Hop Has Blown My Mind

Curling my birthday hair.

Letting my birthday hair down.

Letting my birthday hair swallow my birthday neck.

Wearing my pink birthday dress.

Rockin' the Casbah Since 1979

Donning my birthday tiara, fresh out of my birthday shower!

Kinda Pleasantly Satanic

Because last night's blog (and most others from the past few weeks, for that matter) sounded, well, depressing, here's an update to say that I am having a kick ass birthday. I went shopping with Eric this morning and found an outfit that a) I love and b) actually fits! As an added bonus, there were very few screech monkey noises coming from my offspring during the shopping excursion. I also found my Ike Reilly cd a little while ago, and popped that in. It really takes me back to a time when I used to be a lot cooler than I am now. Other than that, I'm pretty much just determined to have a fun day, and it's working. Yay!

On this, the eve of the twelfth day of September

I sit here and I reflect upon my life and the fact that tomorrow will mark the completion of my 26th year of it. If you had asked me a few years ago what I thought I would be like on my 26th birthday, I'm pretty sure the description I would have given you would be vastly different than the reality of today. First off, I probably would not have predicted that I would be a mother. In fact there are still some days when I wake up and it surprises me, despite the fact that my baby is 16 months old. Although, the role of "mother" has become deeply ingrained in me. Today, I went shopping with some birthday money I got over the weekend. All in all, I would say it was a pretty successful shopping trip. I bought a pair of shoes, a pair of pajamas, a pair of pants and a backpack--all for Eric. Oh, I got myself a cup of Starbucks.

I never would have guessed that my birthday would prove to be such a depressing event for me. Well, I suppose depressing is really the wrong word. It's more that it is no longer a big deal, where it used to be something I really looked forward to. I would start reminding people months ahead of time. I would have an idea of what I wanted to do to celebrate. I would make a list of things that I wanted as gifts. Now I feel like I couldn't care less. I want to do something to celebrate my birthday, but I don't know what. Everything I think of just sounds like more of a chore than it's worth. Due to poor planning, I didn't do anything with my friends this weekend--just my parents. I figured I could celebrate with the friends next weekend, but I just found out that my parents are going out of town and can't babysit. The weekend after that is another friend's birthday.

Oh yeah, that's the other thing. From August 29-October 30, six of my very close friends have birthdays. There are also several less-close friends who have birthdays in there too, and I may or may not get invited to celebrate those as well. I have a very limited window of time in which to celebrate my b-day before it's somebody else's turn. In the past two years, I've taken to convincing myself that all of my friends are pretty overwhelmed with birthdays this time of year, so no one will really care/notice if I don't do anything to celebrate. But they do notice and then complain that I'm not doing anything. If it bothers them so much, why don't they throw me a damn party? Then all of our problems are solved!

OK, now I am getting depressed. Better quit while I'm ahead. Happy birthday to me. Yay.

Hmmm...my birthday would probably be better if I had this get-up: