An open letter to the mothers in the news who have lately been making up kidnapping stories..

Hey assholes.  STOP IT.   For reals.

To clarify, I'm not talking about what actually happened to each of your kids.  That part is incredibly sad, but not why I'm here.    I'm here about this whole "Oh, someone took my kid" thing.   Yeah.  STOP IT.   

Do you have any idea how much you are freaking out mothers across the country?   At night, my house now gets a zombie lock-down equivalent to Will Smith's I Am Legend.   As I parent, I realize it is logical to be careful in securing the safety of your child, and that there is nothing wrong with a locked door.   But you guys KEEP REPORTING these scary fake stories about babies being stolen from cribs, which is giving us an irrational level of fear about zombies child thieves breaking into our houses.   And also?  We're going to be weird FOREVER about putting gas in our cars with our kids inside, even when we are right next to the car.    Jerks.

In addition, I must say that you are giving me a very, very weird internet browsing history at work.   The network guys are going to start wondering why I keep obsessively googling "missing 2 year old" over and over and OVER again.   You are making me be WEIRD about this.

And I have enough things to be weird about.   There is that awful business at Penn State, where there were real life monsters who were actually hurting people.   I am starting to attempt frantic "no one should be touching your penis unless they are changing your diaper... and you're poopy...and the poop is on your penis" conversations with my 2 year old, which totally does not accomplish anything other than causing him to say "This PENIS... THIS penis." 

On behalf of all mothers, I am begging you.    Stop making that awful stuff up.   I mean, stop doing the horrible stuff in the first place, obviously, but REALLY really, stop cooking up these horrible scenes with imaginary baby thieves coming in and taking your children away.   I'm just trying to give my kid a normal, happy childhood.   And it is really hard to have a normal, happy childhood when a kid's mother is afraid.

Potty over here, potty over there, wave your hands in the air, shake ya deriere.

We've started thinking about potty training LJB.    Okay, not really.  But I needed some sort of opener.  Shut up.   Here goes..

Due to the incorrect assumption that a toddler could use a toilet simply because he knew what the word "potty" meant, we recently had our first teensy tinsy potty training attempt with LJB.   Wildly unsuccessful, of course, because he obviously needs... something else first.  (To read a cute book about it?  To be a girl?  To not be two and a half feet tall?  I guess I'll know it when I see it.)   As a result, we had an unhappy and naked toddler fleeing the bathroom.  

The real fun began when he reached the kitchen, where he stopped, peed on the floor, and then slipped and fell backwards into his pee puddle.    We whisked the unhappy boy away and plunked him into a warm bath.. where he promptly pooped.

The moral to the story is: always have a cocktail before doing anything with your child, ever.  

The End.


Kidding, kidding (kind of).   Moral is now I have a sparkly bleached tub, and I earned me a blueberry pancake, which I ate today.

And they all lived happily after.    The End.

Like, SUUUUUPER happy.

So, this article happened.  Then, the internet exploded with comments from the two divided sides, summarized as follows...


Side One (or "I agree with the article.  It's science."):
"I am totally sick of all the mommy posts all over my facebook news feed.  And stop telling me I want babies.  I for-reals don't." 

Side Two (or, "This article is stupid, the author is stupid, and I hate science"):
"Oh, but you dooooooooo want babies.  I can't remember what life was like before my daughter Dakota was born.   And I am sooooooooo happy, and you should be this happy with me, stranger-I-have-never-met.  Now.  Here are 500 pictures of my child in her car seat."

And then everyone just yelled at each other, with accusations from each side about how the other will never understand what it means to be happy.

So.   There's that.   

I'd like to offer an objective commentary on this whole thing.   I am an educated woman with a child, husband, and walgreens.com account, and I pride myself in my ability to analyze tricky issues in a fair and unbiased manner.   With that said, I firmly believe that I have managed avoid this whole "delusion" of which the article is implying.  With that,  I can safely say, without lying to myself or to you, that I am 100% happy.   The article has a valid point, but I do not believe that it applies specifically to me.

So, I'll just wrap this up right about now, and just reach on up here to close this lap top riiiiiiiight about....

...What's that?  Oh, you want to know if that is still true after I cleaned poop out of my tub for the THIRD time this past week?   Shh, I say.  Shhh...


Did I hear someone ask about the second ear infection within a 14 day stretch?   La la la la... can't hear you.


Oh, this crusty layer of boogers all over my shirts?   It's fashions.   FASHIONS!!

I like my house this messy, I totally don't miss my friends, and I prefer to only have sex during the kid's naptime on the weekends.


See?   No need for delusion, and I'll just wrap this up riiiight abooooout now--OKAY OKAY FINE.   Quit yellin', geez!   Of course I am delusional in my happiness!   Does this shit sound like FUN to you??    Granted, there are a whole lot of cute and lovely things that really do make the kid worth it.  But all of those are totally lame to the outside world without some embellishment.  

Non-Exaggerated Example:
So the baby farted the other day, and I was all "Oh boy, Levi."    :chuckles to self.:

Exaggerated Example:
Levi brings new joys to our lives all the time, and the days are just packed with baby giggles and chubby toddler feet.   He's also super ahead developmentally, and I think we are going to sign him up for music lessons soon...

See what I mean? 

So, to be completely honest...Would I really recommend this whole "mom" gig?    If you're so inclined to take it, yes I do.  Do it, do it, DO it.   But do I blame or judge other people who opt out of this whole deal?    Of course not.    We're all fine just the way we are.  And plus, I still need all you non-parents to take your fabulous vacations so I can live vicariously through you..   

Now.  On to finish uploading these pics of Levi onto facebook.

...497....498...499...

Hands Free

My days of nursing and pumping are long behind me, so I cannot decide if I am bummed or relieved to have missed out on this functionality. Behold.

'I've Been Krogering' is delicious.

Lesson learned, Linda.

LJB was fussing at grocery store, so the checkout dude gave him some stickers to occupy his attention while I fumbled with the credit card signy-thing. Out in the parking lot, as I was putting him in the carseat, I gave him a big talk about how we do NOT eat stickers. You may HOLD the stickers, Levi, but do not EAT them. Not in your mouth, Levi, blah blah, etc.

I looked into those big blue eyes staring up at me and became 100% certain that my brilliant child understood me and would listen. No stickers getting eaten today, no way. To be safe, I talked to him all the way home, hoping to keep him engaged enough to prevent him from getting bored to the point of becoming inclined to, say, eat a sticker. He babbled all the way home; no problem.

Fast forward 15 minutes to when I go to take him out of his seat.

No trace of stickers. None... except for one tiny wet glob of something papery (and perhaps, formerly "stickery") on his chin. Oh well.... Fiber, right?

La Liberación

Last night was our department Christmas party. It went well and all had a good time, but that's not why I called you here today.

As I was getting ready, I thought back to this same party last year, when I had a 6 week old baby. I was a liberated woman. We left Levi with my parents for the evening (first time), and I left house in a NON nursing bra (another first). I allowed myself one tiny glass of wine, and ended the night with full boobs. Freedoms all around! Right? Right???! (holds hand up to Evan for high five)


Fast forward to this year. I have a 13 month old. I wear whatever bra I want. LJB actually SPENDS THE NIGHT with my parents. I have more wine and less boobs. We pick the kid up in the morning, and within an hour he is snuggling and ready for his nap. (actually receives high five from Evan)

I want 2009 Linda and 2010 Linda to hang out together for a couple of hours.

2009 Linda simply has no idea how much change happens within 1 year. I want to tell 2009 Linda that it only totally sucks (which it totally did) for so long, and that it gets DRASTICALLY better with this child. 2010 Linda can buy 2009 Linda a drink (just one, mind you), fix her a sandwich, and then fold mountains of laundry in the 2009 laundry room. All the while, reminding her that real freedom is just 1 tiny year away.

Back Atcha

Would you like to know one of my pet peeves?

Dormant blogs.

If I’ve invested the time and energy into becoming obsessed with your writing, the very least you can do is write something awesome. On every single day of your life. Preferably with picture and/or video accompaniment. And a cool background so I don’t get bored.

Can’t do it? Well, as it turns out, neither can I.

Here are some things I've wanted to write about in the past 10 months since I peed my pants in February. (Side note - you will be happy to know that has all stopped.)

Baby cows

Pancakes

Poopy pants (Levi’s, not mine.)

Skinny jeans

Consignment stores

Baby food

Levi crawling

Levi standing

Lots of mentioninings of Levi doing something cute

Amy Grant’s Home for Christmas album. (more of a thanks to all who remained friends with me in the early 90’s in spite of aforementioned album)

Hair removal creams

Scandalous toe polish color names

Post-nursing boobs

Superheroes

So. Let's just forget about these past 10 months of silence, and instead pretend that I wrote a killer set of blog entries on the above subjects, chock-full of witticisms and JUST the right amount of word plays. So you'll all be thinking stuff like...

"You're right, Linda! That WAS a cute story about Levi!"

"Pink Fornicarnation?! That IS a silly nail polish color! You so crazy."

"So does the cream remove ALL the hair from your belly button?"

And so on. Don't you feel refreshed? I know I do.

While we're here, I should note that another pet peeve of mine is when people put up their "I'M BACK!" blog post proclamation, and then proceed to immediately disappear again for another number of months.

I will do my best not to do this. I will do my best to say interesting things, and do so on a somewhat regular basis. Thanks for sticking with me.