mamaloo

You know you're on a parent-date when

Your outfit is determined not by fashion but by what was clean.

You consider your inch-and-a-half heels "high" and, although you will never cop to it, you find them difficult to walk in.

On your way out the door, you notice and remove from your purse a weeks-old string cheese and two Gerber baby spoons.

You "apply" your makeup in the car. Which means you dig out the dregs of the lipgloss you keep forgetting to replace with the stick of the lollipop you keep in your makeup case for bribery.

At the bar, you blank out when the bartender asks, "what'll you have?" it's been so long since you ordered a drink.

There is absolutely no chance of running into somebody you know.

You keep smelling baby poo, even though this is technically impossible.

While you were getting wasted in college, the rest of the room was in the hospital getting born. This includes the band.

The glass your second drink is served in (in your own defense, the drinks are vodka martinis) through no fault of your own (mm-hmm) is returned to the bar in three pieces.

(E's interjection: When retrieving said glass pieces from the floor, your immediate and only thought is that "kids could get hurt." Then you realize everyone's over 21 and wearing shoes.)

You are relieved when nobody offers you a third drink.

You are yawning and clock-checking before the headliner even hits the stage.

3191

If you have not yet checked out 3191 (it tops the list to the left there), I heartily encourage you to do so. 3191 is a "visual blog" -- no text, just daily photographs taken by two friends each morning, 3191 miles apart. They do not coordinate the photos in any way, they each simply photograph their morning and post. Yet the photos are invariably and amazingly complementary to each other, and they're always serene and simply beautiful. It's like a little visual breath, each day.

Please hold

I have nothing to say, really, but figured you're all tired of looking at dental floss and I'd better get that off the "front page."  Not a whole lot going on, we're kind of in a holding pattern as we decide (ugh) whether or not we are staying here in our perfect but terribly overpriced rental, or God-forbid MOVING in five weeks. Believe me, I do not want to move. The last move almost did me in. But it is true, we are paying more or less a mortgage payment here and that's depressing. We have resolved that either we'll find a better rental that is significantly lower in price, thus making the hell of moving worth enduring, or, we'll stay here and just suck it up for six more months. Financially, I am willing for the former although emotionally and physically I am praying for the latter. Well not praying really but you know what I mean.

The first weekend that we figured out that this moving decision was looming and not in the distant future like we'd like to think, we looked on Craigslist to see what there was to see. I found the ideal rental. No really, the IDEAL rental. It was several hundred dollars less than this one, in a great neighborhood, walking distance to three households that we know and love, had a great landlord and the backyard, oh the backyard. An artists' studio connected to the house by a breezeway constructed of vintage windows and doors on hinges that opened! A huge tree. A drive-in gravel parking area, gated. GATED! With small children, being able to drive into your own yard and gate up behind you before letting them loose is no small thing. Two baths, one with a clawfoot tub with windows (E's fetish). BUT. It was a Victorian. With the bedrooms up-stairs (steep ones) and a vintage Wedgewood gas stove. And old sash windows probably crawling with lead paint. And if you've been reading here for a while you'll know we just moved from a Victorian with bedrooms upstairs and a vintage gas stove, and lead paint, because of those very things (among other reasons). Sure, you can make any house work with baby proofing and the like, but it has been really really nice NOT to have to be on guard so much in our own home. The rental really tempted us, we absolutely love appealing outdoor spaces, and so we thought about it hard but had to pass. What a shame but you know, being balanced is a good thing. In the past we'd have fallen in love with that house and yard and despite reservations we'd have moved in anyway. Instead we were honest with ourselves. No more Victorians. They are lovely and if E and I had no children, well then yeah. But we are living for these boys now, and our housing has to reflect that. So the search continues.

In terms of me, I've been really reclusive and probably not too healthy (mentally) -- no cause for alarm, I mention it only to explain why I'm not blogging much. Just totally blah inside. Hurry up sunshine, I need more of you.

PSA

If you never thought you'd hear the words "this floss freakin' rocks!" come out of your mouth, do yourself a favor and buy this kind next time:

It has a whitening toothpaste in it. In the floss. Doesn't that make perfect sense? I've been using it a week and my mouth is so clean, I like want to suck my own face!! My gums are doing push-ups!! And I swear it's whitening my teeth. Just forget about carrying a toothbrush around with you, keep a pack of this in your purse or pocket and you can be mint-tingley fresh all day long.

I don't even work for them or anything.

Seriously addictive (of all things) floss! Who knew?

feeling just a little bit SAD

Spring is trying. It's stretching, waking up from its deep sleep. Yesterday was positively balmy. But we didn't get out in it because we're sick/run-down and maybe a little bit SAD.

I wonder how much the rainy winters/lack of sun affect us as a community. E told me all the workers downtown seem gloomy and short-tempered and immediately I wondered if it's the weather, wearing us all down. I always thought the SAD thing was bunk, but anymore, I don't know. I know that these days, I feel like receding within myself until you can't even see me anymore. And I won't need to talk to you. I'll just be dug in, deep inside, invisible and non-interactive. Catatonic. And that sounds good to me. I think I need some sunshine. 

Here's a day last week when there was some. B'Doo sure does love to swing--don't all babies? God he's cute. I want to eat him.

"Hey baby, that's a nice swing you got there. Maybe we can grab a sippy sometime, yo. I'll check you later--peace."