A random mom at the kiddie gym sees that Nora is using a pacifier in the stroller.
Random Mom: “I just started weaning my kid off his pacifier. It’s been brutal.”
Me: “Yes– we’ve been weaning her off too! It’s so hard. She whines the entire time she’s in the stroller, but I try to ignore it. Now I only give her the pacifier if there’s a REALLY good reason to.”
Random Mom: “So what’s today’s reason?”
Me: “I just can’t.”
Yesterday, around 5:50pm, I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment lobby, on my phone:
Doorman: “Let me guess– your nanny gets off at 6?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Doorman: “I’ve noticed you usually get home around 5:30 and then sit on the lobby couch until about 5:58.”
Me (laughing): “Ok, I know what you’re implying– but I’m not avoiding my kid! It’s just that I have work emails to send, and I’m better off doing it now rather than trying to do it in the apartment. Too many distractions. Nothing ever gets done.”
Doorman: “I see.”
Me: “It’s actually annoying to have to send all these emails, because honestly I just want to go up there right away and squeeze her.”
Doorman: “Well, don’t let me interrupt. Get back to that email.”
Me: “Thank you.”
My phone screen:
(Related to Nora Left Eye Lopes, Nora Left Eye Lopes Part 2 and Nora Left Eye Lopes Part 3)
Facetiming with my mom….
Mom: “You know, I’m noticing now that YOUR right eye looks like it droops a little….”
Me: “Yes. I’m aware. It’s worse when I’m tired, which I am right now. Thank you for pointing it out, though.”
Mom: “Ok, well. I’m just saying.”
Me: “Uh huh.”
Mom: “There’s a surgery for that, you know.”
Testing my 4-year-old nephew’s understanding of familial relationships:
Tyler: “Moms are always the bosses.”
Steph: “That’s right. And who is MY mom?”
Tyler: “Cha Cha!”
Steph: “Good. And who is YOUR mom?”
Tyler: “You are!”
Steph: “Yes.”
Me: “Hey Tyler- who am I the mom of?”
(Thinking….)
Tyler: “Uncle Eric.”
Correct.
Our annual 2-week Outer Banks vacation (the one Eric and I missed last year due to the minor inconvenience of birthing a human) begins tomorrow, and so on Thursday, out of NOWHERE, Mom decided to inform us of a new vacation policy, which I think we can all agree was definitely deserving of the eye-catching, panic-inducing headline below.
Ok.
Cool idea– I mean, we’re all down for reducing waste and making Mom feel better about her trip to Cambodia.
But unfortunately, Zack took a different approach to the huge grocery shop we do once we get down there, and decided to think ahead this year:
Bummer. (Also hilarious).
But Mom, steadfast in her desire to save the planet one luxury beach vacation at a time, did not let this hiccup deter her.
Zack, who spent his childhood tending to a trunk full of worm composting in our basement, was in no mood for a lecture.
Regardless, he was down.
But he also wanted to be realistic about the fact that our desire to go green might directly conflict with our desire to not gag on what is essentially tepid toilet water.
Mom would not be deterred.
We thought the issue had been put to rest, but then Jeremy chimed in with his thoughts. And by “chimed” I mean he went on a Ranty McRant diatribe that he might as well submit for his PhD thesis. Pretty sure he wore a monocle while typing it.
Yeah, I know.
Dad then expressed exactly how he felt about the entire situation and basically let us know that we can all go fuck ourselves:
Ok….
Eons later, when we had all completely moved on with our lives, Steph found time to respond.
Her only concern was that her nanny be provided with her own tumbler.
But what was super exciting about Steph’s response was that, for the first time in her life, she had used an exclamation point.
Sadly, as you can see, it was a mistake. But least now we can rest assured that she knows where the ! key is located, should there ever be an emotive emergency.
Dad then took Steph’s query as an opportunity to remind us again how cool he is, in case we forgot:
Ok, Dad. We get it.
Mom remained undeterred. Hell or high (tap) water, this woman was getting us green.
So there you have it.
Meanwhile, on the sibling text chain:
Our past three weeks, by the numbers:
Family babies born (cousins): 3
Family deaths: 3
Britot (bris) attended: 2
Funerals attended: 2
Shivas attended: 3
Pounds of whitefish salad consumed: 82309123900982389308931
Last year, I changed an autocorrect setting on my iPhone because every time I tried to write “fuck” or “fucking” (often and always), the phone changed it to “duck” or “ducking.” Since I’ve used the words “duck” and “ducking” in conversation all of NEVER times, I decided to change the setting so that instead it autocorrects “duck” to “fuck,” because fuck is clearly the word I want.
Until this ONE TIME.
Yesterday there was a family email chain discussing meal options for our upcoming Outer Banks vacation.
So….you probably realize what’s about to happen. What you don’t realize is exactly HOW MUCH god hates me:
Yup.
It’s the emoji that really makes me want to head down to city hall and register for a new family. I clearly don’t deserve to be in this one.
Moments later my Dad replied with this:
I can only assume that’s because he read my words and had a stroke.
My brothers were equally distraught.
Anyway, let this be a lesson.
I don’t know what that lesson is.
I just need this to not have happened in vain.
Given the various issues we experienced during my last pregnancy and in the past year, Eric and I thought it would be wise and responsible to make a list of factors we need to very seriously consider before having a second child.
Here’s the final list:
Talking with an someone I rarely see, but who has been following my social media since college:
Her: “How’s your nephew Tyler? Or as you guys call him, The Boog?”
Me: “He’s good! I love how I haven’t seen you in like 15 years but that you know my nephew’s name AND nickname.”
Her: “I mean….you posted about him a TON. Way more than you even post about your daughter.”
Me: “Yeah well I feel like it’s way less obnoxious to be like LOOK HOW CUTE MY NEPHEW IS than it is to say it about your own kid. Like when you say it about your own child, it’s annoying.”
Her: “Agree.”
Me: “But when you say it about your NEPHEW, it’s not annoying.”
Her: “DISagree.”
Oh.
Therapist: “How has the motherhood balance been going?”
Me: “Actually much better lately. I’m definitely finding my groove. There’s still just like a constant underlying worry/anxiety, though.”
Therapist: “Right. But I think it’s fair to say that’s just what it is to be a parent.”
Me: “So the worrying never goes away?”
Therapist: “I’d say maybe around age 70.”
Me: “I have to wait until I’m 70?!”
Therapist: “No- until Nora is 70.”
Me: “But I’ll be dead.”
Therapist: “Exactly.”
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