OMG! I'm a Suburban Mom!! Archives

Procreation with Piper

September 28, 2013 By ace 4 Comments

Well, hello there!

I’m up in Portland at the moment, visiting my best bud Jen and her houseful of children and animals.

Speaking of children, remember how Jen looked a year ago? Let me remind you:

Awwww…isn’t that cute? So fresh and youthful, celebrating her new husband with a sentimental dance to something by Journey, so alive and full of energy, with great muscle tone to boot!

Here is Jen one year later:

pregnant-jen-waking-up

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS, KIDS, WHEN YOU DON’T USE A CONDOM.

Just kidding. They TRIED to make the baby. So it’s all good. She mentioned last night that she was going to put on her wedding dress as a joke on her and Rob’s first anniversary, which led me to one of those thinking moments like, WHAT THE HELL IS SHE TALKING ABOUT I’M SO CONFUSED. Because if she tried to do that, the bodice of that white dress would be stuck somewhere up near her nose.

It is lots of fun to visit your 41-year old pregnant best friend. She pees every ten minutes and eats Tums like they are Skittles. We got to go shoe shopping yesterday because none of her boots will fit over her ankles and calves. (See Jen, I did NOT say the word CANKLES. You do not have cankles. They are just a bit swollen.) At the shoe store, I was like her personal assistant. I was on the floor zipping and buckling shoes on her feet, as well as taking them off because she can’t bend over too well at this point.

Did I mention that Jen still has seven weeks to go? Yowza.

Anyway, I bought myself two pairs of new boots because I figured I earned them through all the hard work crawling around on the floor and such.

We also get to play fun games while Jen is pregnant, like Peek-A-Boo and Scare Your Teenage Son Into Keeping His Willy In His Pants By Complaining Your Vagina Hurts.

big-belly

That fifteen-year old son of hers is actually really funny. He will also watch “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo” with me and ask hilarious things like,

“Are these people for REAL??”.

While Jen and I were beached upon her king-size bed yesterday, he wandered in to chat and Jen reminded me that I was not allowed to walk around the house in any sort of tank top that showed my nipples, because it really freaks Carter out. Which got us to talking about the new baby and nursing and all, so she asked Carter what he was going to do when she had her boob hanging out with a baby attached to it for half of her waking hours.

And he responded, “Well, I don’t know…but at least I got to breastfeed when your boobs were young and fresh because I was first!!”

Now that shit is funny. Carter and I laughed even harder when I told Jen that this new baby is going to be getting sloppy THIRDS when it comes to mealtime. This is love and sacrifice, people. Because I imagine those nipples* are a little tired.

I brought my camera with me, so today we are going to take some belly shots. This is something I really haven’t done, and since I’m a pregnancy-photo novice, my instinct is to make it funny, because most of the time when you try to make it pretty it comes out something like this**:

awkward-pregnancy-photo

DUDE. I mean, it looks like this couple went into an Olan Mills studio with their beloved (?) tire to get this shot, so I wonder what the Olan Mills person was thinking when the pregnant lady started to strip down to…NOTHING.

I don’t want Jen to become an Internet laughingstock because of the bump pictures I take of her.

OK, maybe a small, little, miniscule part of me does.

But I won’t do it. I promise. I will get NORMAL, everyday, 8-month pregnant pictures of my best friend. She didn’t really like the idea of me sitting her outside in the backyard and dumping a bucket of water on her head to symbolize how hard it is to try to get an outdoor shot in Portland, where it rains every minute of every day. This idea made perfect sense to me.

I would really, really, REALLY love to re-enact this picture with Jen and Rob, but I know that penguins would be sledding in hell before it happens…

awkward-pregnancy-photo-2

OH. MY. GOD. There aren’t even words for the brilliance of this shot. Ok, I guess one word comes to mind.

CREEPY.

But funny.

It is a metaphor for life!! And having a human being growing inside your body!! And giving birth to a very large human being out of a very small hole!!

CREEPY, but FUNNY.

I really cannot wait for this baby to be born. We all think it is going to be a boy, but damn…a girl would be so much fun. A very loud and opinionated baby girl who never shuts up and has an extremely loud volume, just like my little November Scorpio. If Jen has herself a little female Scorpio, she can look forward to lots and lots of moments like this in the car…and she will have ME to call to vent to, because I’ve been there!

I’ve been there, sister! AND I’VE SURVIVED.

mom-having-great-time-in-van

That’s what friends are for.

*Jen, your nipples are NOT tired. They are perky and young and wonderful.

**Thank you, Awkward Family Photos, for existing.

Counting the Summer in Meters

July 6, 2013 By ace 3 Comments

I’ve never thought of my website as a mommy blog. Maybe you have, but I think of my website as more of a place where I can talk about turds and fake teeth.

This summer I feel more like a mom than ever. Actually, I really feel like a chauffeur, and one of those black caps would pair quite nicely with the dark circles under my eyes. My kids are constantly asking for ice cream and entertainment and they are also constantly arguing about who gets to push the elevator buttons. ELEVATOR BUTTONS.

That kind of bickering makes you want to lay on the elevator floor with your eyes closed and hum “We Are the World”.

At this point, a walking IV drip loaded with Valium would be nice. However, I don’t think the metal IV pole would fit inside my tiny Mazda 3.

One thing we are attempting this summer is the competition swim team at the Jewish Community Center where we are members. Beatty has always loved the water and swimming, but he’s never had any formal stroke instruction. I knew by signing him up for the team that we were looking at practices four days a week as well as weekly swim meets, but I figured this would be a great way to tire out his 8-year old ass. I’ve had to endure some complaining about getting off to practice by 7:30 in the morning, but this is easily rectified by plugging him into his iPod Touch and earphones. Instant happiness.

I love the JCC swim team. I love the coaches. I love going to swim meets and being the parent who kneels at the end of the lane bellowing, “GO, GO, GO, GO, GO!!!” at my son or any other little JCC swimmer.

I have a very loud voice. It feels good to bellow.

Fifty percent of my Instagram pictures this summer have been devoted to little kids at swim team events. I must share some of my favorite shots.

The itty bitty 6-and unders just kill me. I mean, look at this little munchkin diving into the water. Half the time they stop mid-way down the lane and hang on to the ropes just to catch their breath. It’s the cutest thing ever.

I die over this last picture of the diver during his team practice. It’s just so damn cool. My kids and I like to sit out on the pool deck eating bagels and watching the dive team do their thing. I tried to talk Beatty into doing BOTH swim and dive team at the beginning of the season, but now I’m pretty relieved he said no because those added practices may have just sent me over the edge of scheduling mania.

Our JCC coaches have a pretty sweet sense of humor. In the picture above, they all dressed up for our swim meet at the Salt Lake Country Club with golfing attire and golf club props. I immediately got the joke and ran over to snap a picture of the fun. Throughout the meet, they coached our kids while still carrying around those clubs. I half expected them to use them to prod kids in the pool who were moving too slow. That is costume committment, people.

About a week later, I heard that the Salt Lake Country Club people were not happy about our golfing costumes and they actually wanted to file a formal complaint against the JCC swim coaches. SERIOUSLY?? Holy shit. SOME PEOPLE CAN’T TAKE A JOKE.

So after that whole fiasco, the coaches took a different approach at our meet against Willow Creek Country Club.

It’s nothing but peace and love, man. Kumbaya. Share your falafel and pass the roach clip. FLOWER POWER.

I have some very, very favorite photos of my own little swimmer. He gets a bit nervous at meets and continually asks me if his event is next – IS IT NEXT, AM I NEXT, IS IT NEXT, WHEN AM I UP???

…which I find so cute. I love watching him dive in and feel so PROUD seeing him finish those races. I just want to grab his wet little body in a big hug and run around the pool with him in celebration.

That’s my little stud in lane three.

Being a swimmer is really an individual sport; the ultimate goal is to beat your own best times in an event. But the JCC coaches have done an amazing job at making the kids feel part of a TEAM – a group that has fun together and supports each other. I love it. It is worth all the hot drives, waking up early, whining for a seven dollar breakfast burrito at the pool snack bar, and the wad of dough we are spending on gas. It is worth it because of moments like these –

And yes, Beatty, you will be swimming again next year. OR THAT iPOD IS HISTORY.

Ocho

May 31, 2013 By ace 5 Comments

Dearest Beatty –

I was supposed to write this Internet love letter two days ago, on your real birthday.

But then instead of going out for sushi that night to celebrate your eighth year, you informed me at 7am on May 29th you would rather stay home. So I could pick up the house and cook dinner (and a birthday cake) for the whole family. What I’m saying is that it’s your fault this blog post is so very late. It’s not my fault.

🙂

Since your birthday party with your school friends is today (your very first sleep-over party!), we can pretend I’m not tardy writing this and the date today is May 29th. Your mommy likes to pretend a lot.

Your mommy also likes to think about your birth every year. I really do.

Your birth was the coolest thing ever. It is probably about the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I loved giving birth to you. Some women like being pregnant; I like giving birth. Your dad and I (as well as Aunt Shea) went to our Hypnobirth classes every week for almost two months, and I very religiously put on my headphones and listened to that Hypnobirth CD every night before bed. That shiz worked. I fell asleep listening to “Rainbow Relaxation”, and I visualized being relaxed and calm during my labor and delivery with you. ME! CALM!! I totally did it, Beatty. I did it partly because I felt icky thinking about having a needle inserted into my spine, but also because I wanted to feel what it was like to give birth. Feel everything and do it the way nature created me to do it.

So I had to wait for you to be ready to come out, because when you are planning on a natural birth, you have to go into a natural labor.

I waited.

And waited.

Even though I became pretty uncomfortable the last few days, it was OK. I was willing to let you sit in my uterus, smoking a cigar, eating Cool Ranch Doritos, and getting fat. I loved you that much.

I went into labor the evening of May 28th. We went to Amy and Neil’s house (you know, Gage’s parents) for a barbeque to celebrate Neil’s birthday, which is on May 29th, same as yours! Right when we got there, I felt sick to my stomach. I sat and watched everyone chow down on ribs and potato salad, the whole time thinking how disgusting it all looked. When Amy told me it was alright to go inside and throw up if I needed to, I took her up on that. Barfing helped me feel a little bit better and I was able to eat a small piece of ice cream cake. It really hit the spot.

So dad and I went home and went to bed, because I forgot that the whole vomiting thing could be the beginning of labor. I woke up at about 2am with cramps. Like bad menstrual cramps. I realized at that point I was in labor, and like my teachers had instructed me, I stayed calm because I knew I probably had a long ways to go before you actually came. I woke up your dad and we watched a very strange movie on TV – some movie about a psycho truck driver who was chasing and trying to kill these teenagers who had teased him over the CB radio.

Then the “cramps” became strong enough that I couldn’t concentrate on the TV anymore, and I told your dad to go back to bed and get some sleep so I could get into the bathtub and relax. Leo the cat sat on the edge of the tub the whole time in the darkened bathroom, listening to music with me. And you.

We stayed in the bathroom for quite awhile. Pretty much until your dad and Aunt Shea hauled me out of the tub, dripping, at 10am and drove me to the hospital. It was a good thing they did that, because when I got to the hospital I was already dilated to 9 centimeters. It wasn’t long until I was in another place mentally. Nothing else mattered and no one else mattered. Just me and my breath and the knowledge that THIS TOO SHALL PASS. If you just chill out and breathe, you can trust that you get a break after 60 seconds of crazy sensations.

However, Mr. Cigar Smoker, it took me TWO AND A HALF HOURS TO PUSH YOUR CHUBBY BUTT OUT.

Oh my god…it was such a relief when that head of yours finally popped out. Pure relief. I was so high on adrenaline that I couldn’t go to sleep until 11pm that night. And right after I was stitched up and before they even moved us into our regular room, I walked out to the nurse’s desk to ask them to turn off a beeping machine. The four nurses at the desk looked at me in disbelief and said,

“DIDN’T YOU JUST HAVE A BABY??”

That’s a Hypnobirth for you. Feeling awesome. Walking around. With lots of ice in your underpants.

I love having a son. You are crazy, active, funny, loud, and great at digging holes.

You still love playing in holes.

You are at a magical age, an age where you are still innocent and crazy and fun, but also an age where I can have a good conversation with you because you GET IT. You are kind. You have a great sense of humor. You can be empathetic and sensitive. You don’t want for me to be hurt or upset, and I love that you made a picture for me a few weeks ago with hearts and flowers that said, “it will all be OK”.

Be still my heart.

Every time I come to my blog and see you up there on the masthead in those fake Billy Bob teeth with a chicken in your arms, I smile.

You have the most beautiful thick hair and huge, clear blue eyes. Someday a girl will look in those eyes and think she loves you as much as I do.

Thank you for being mine. Thank you for loving me and still holding my hand in public. Thank you for wanting me to come volunteer in your classroom and telling me that I’m the prettiest mom. Thank you for teaching me about life, love, and boys. I love being your mom.

I hope you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. Actually, I know you enjoyed it because who doesn’t enjoy getting BOTH pancakes and a chocolate donut at seven thirty in the morning??

I even hand-made your party invitations this year. I should get an extra gold star for that. I can’t believe we got you a recurve bow, but it’s all you wanted and after watching you at a couple of archery lessons, I think you have a natural talent with a bow and arrow. Perhaps we are heading to the Olympics one day.

In any case, you and your friends are going to have so much fun tonight at your private archery lesson, and I am going to stuff your little faces with pizza and popcorn and soda pop. I am going to let you boys go nuts. Now I need to go make a duplicate of that confetti cake I made two days ago. You are right, it was DANG GOOD.

Happy birthday. I love you so much.

xoxo,

Mom