22.25 Months – The Disaster Oracle

Yes, this is my second post this month.

No, I didn’t sell Maddi on eBay, I just seem to have had an extra minute this week. Sorry.

Before installing a behind-the-head-rest multimedia holder for long car rides, first check that child won’t suffer from motion sickness. A 35 pound toddler can projectile vomit the full three feet between the car seat and head rest and effectively disable an iPad with surprising accuracy. Just sayin’.

Child-Proofing as a Full-Time Career

It seems I’ve made that unfortunate slide backwards from “ESP” child-proofing to “Picking-Up-The-Pieces” child-proofing. When she first started to crawl, I could survey the room with my Robocop vision implants and give you any and all possible dangers. I was the Disaster Oracle. It was pretty annoying for all those around me because not only would I refuse to take my eyes off her, I was already calculating possible escape routes and backup plans for anything from spilled juice to alien invasion. I’d say things like “if you have to use the bathroom, don’t forget to take your wine glass off the coffee table” to no one in particular at random intervals.  It seems now I’m more of the Town Safety Committee mentality – “Right, so there have been thirty-seven accidents at this intersection so far, maybe we should put up a stop sign or something?”. I’m pretty sure I must have used up my Oracle Juice allotment in her first year and the universe simply handed me some bubble wrap, duct tape and gave me a pat on the ass with a half-hearted “good game” before sending me on my way. I’m hoping if I get to the next level, I’ll get more Oracle lives?

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Flashbacks

I’ve been doing computer updates and re-arranging my files, which means looking through 2 years of baby photos. Reminded me of a few things I should pass along about being pregnant and pregnancy-type-stuff (to anyone interested in pregnancy-type stuff) before my mind is completely lost.

Shoes. I wanted to die every time I bent over, so on my few and far between “good days” – when I could actually reach my feet- even mundane tasks seemed huge.  For instance, taking a razor to my legs in the shower was less like shaving and more like deforestation by the time the next “good day” came around. The solution for foot wear was Uggs in cold weather, flip flops in warm weather. No brainer. Anything with laces or buckles went to the back of the closet pretty damn fast. The solution for jungle knees? Pants. Always.

Maternity clothes that don’t suck. Those fold-over yoga pants are THE BOMB. They can fold UP as well as DOWN. so they make an awesome maternity waist band. Then they transition right into asleep-awake pajamas so you can pass out or go to the store  (or any combination of the two)  at any time of the day or night without having to change. And then they even transition into work out wear when you realize that you can no longer keep telling people you are still really “swollen”.

Work outs. While standing in the kitchen eating frosting out of the can, do leg lifts. It doesn’t actually help you lose any weight (or even slow down the gaining of weight by confusing the calories) but at least you feel better about the whole event afterwards. You can even say you “worked out today” :)

Jewlery. My personal opinion is to refrain from getting those cutesy connecter things that attach your wedding bands to a necklace while pregnant. They might as well come with a baseball cap that reads “look how much friggin’ weight I gained since I got married”.

I gained so much weight during my pregnancy by the end of it all I could fit into was my perfume. Not that I could wear my perfume without (again) wanting to die. It took some time to loose all that weight, especially with my Stupid Cyborg Ankle Implant… but I’m down 60 pounds so far. Most of that has to do with chasing Maddi while simultaneously running the obstacle course that is a full size and completely co-dependent Great Dane behind me at all times – so close – that he is constantly stepping on the back of my flip flops sending me flying into things. Let me explain why there is quite a bit of physical endurance needed here-

Stupid Cyborg Implants
Stupid Cyborg Ankle Implants

 

A typical 10 minutes in my world looks like this:

Pour coffee.

Turn quickly and trip over dog.

Put down coffee cup containing whatever coffee is not now on the floor.

Reach into fridge looking for fruit for child.

Find fruit.

Turn quickly with fruit and trip over dog.

Find knife.

Find bowl.

Open and log in to laptop from kitchen counter.

Notice counch-bouncing child from kitchen and attempt to circumvent child’s collision into coffee table.

Trip over dog on way to child.

Save child.

Trip over dog on return crossing to kitchen.

Yelled at dog to go lie down.

Open email window.

Find bagels.

Put last non-stale bagel in toaster.

Vaulted over dog (that did NOT go lie down) on the way back to the fruit on the kitchen counter, with mental thumbs up to my own cat-like agility.

Resumed cutting fruit while reprimanding dog for wiping his nose on my pant leg.

Cross floor to let dog outside.

Wrestle cup from child who is screaming at its empty contents in horror.

Cross floor successfully without incident while dog is outside.

Fill water cup.

Cross back into living room to give cup back to child who is now upset that Seasame Street is over.

Look for remote.

Que next episode.

Let in dog.

Attempt to get around thankful dog to make my way back to the kitchen.

Resume cutting fruit.

Smell bagel burning.

Turn quickly to resolve burnt bagel episode and yet again trip over dog.

Grab scorched bagel bare-handed and toss on counter to cool.

Pick up dog’s bowl to fill (maybe he’ll go away if he is eating).

Remember that I didn’t finish child’s breakfast.

Put dog’s empty bowl on counter.

Glance at ringing phone with annoyance.

Finish cutting child’s fruit.

Fight dog for clear floorspace to deliver fruit to child.

Trip over crazed dog on way back to kitchen who is now excited (and hopping in place like a cross between a bunny and a rhino) waiting to be fed.

Yell at dog.

Dance around psychotic dog to fill dog’s bowl.

Check voicemail while balancing phone on shoulder.

Get bare foot stepped on by dog.

Yell at dog.

Notice child throwing grapes at television, cross floor to explain that fruit projectiles are bad.

Head back to counter to get dog’s bowl narrowly avoiding puddle of “feed me” drool on kitchen tile.

Place dog’s full bowl in laundry room and run in the other direction.

Pick up liberated crashed arial grapes on way back to kitchen counter.

Take bite out of cold dry bagel.

Open first email.

Look down to find child hitting me in the shin with Winnie-the-Pooh book.

Follow child back to couch to read Winnie-the-Pooh book.

Child forgets reading said book and goes back to her fruit and ignoring me in favor of Elmo theme song.

Cross floor back to kitchen.

Take second bite of cold bagel.

Reply to email with one hand while holding coffee cup (holy grail) in the other.

Child realizes she is NOT being read to and flips out.

Dog finishes breakfast and comes back with a mouth full of Kirkland Select Choice encrusted slobber to wipe on my pant leg. “Now with real chicken” even.

Child comes into kitchen wielding book like Thor’s hammer and screams at the wall of dog blocking her way.

Dog freaks out and darts down the hall in fear, knocking over child on his way.

Child is now doing her angry-pouty scream from the kitchen floor.

Dead lift child and carry to couch.

Drop child on couch.

Cross floor to hallway to find out what happened to the dog.

Dog is too big to turn around in hallway and found himself stuck in an indecisive position not knowing where to hide from child.

Re-taught dog how to back up and attempted to escape his gratitude with the remainder of my semi-clean clothes.

Crossed floor back to kitchen.

Take third bite of bagel.

Open next email.

 

So if I can lose that much weight with my “Dane Disability” and my ankle junk. anyone can :)

 

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Riddle me this –

Am I the only one that suffers from an unreasonable amount of shin-bruising when using a jogging stroller or do I just run like a flamingo?

Why would auto correct turn “child” into “chip” but not fix “domething”  on my damn iPhone?

Is it a coincidence or sheer marketing genius that Starbucks’ pricing is directly proportionate to a young professional’s bar tab? For example- a “low-maintence” individual that gets a $2 black coffee in the morning will also typically buy a $2 domestic beer when they go out that night. This creates a perfect and predictable budget to stick to when calculating their pay check divided by “drinks” per day? This also works for the “high-maintence” individual ordering a $7 mocha-frappa-organic-soy-with-room-double-shot who would also very realistically be found ordering a $7 Apple Martini.  Gives the term “Coffee Bar” new meaning. The in-between realm of $2 through $6 could be an incredibly accurate and viable personality type study. Don’t even get me started on the sociologocal implications of choosing between Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks.

I don’t know what is more bizarre- the fact that I never grew out of Mani Panic hair dye or the fact that after all these years I still haven’t developed the skills for keeping my bathroom form looking like a paint-ball tournament afterwards.

So anyway, that is this week’s rant.  So far. I’ll post more right after I create a clone and teach her to make non-burnt bagels.

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amazon.com/author/julianneblack

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