There are certain things I would rather travel without: small children, baggage fees, plane delays, stomach flu...
I guess I should have reminded myself of that last one before I spent the night preceding our cross-country flight trying to decide which end of my body needed most immediate access to the toilet. Luckily, the bathtub was within conversational distance of the toilet, if you know what I mean. And luckily there was a bathtub, because I slept in it. Literally.
Ugh.
The next morning David requested a late checkout from the hotel after the only responses I could give to his questions were along the lines of those Wesley gave Count Rugen after having been subjected to "The Machine".
After achieving the Olympic feat of keeping down a sip of water for more than two minutes (an encouraging development, as total dehydration is not recommended when one is nursing twins) a few hours of rest, and a priesthood blessing, I was able to get out of bed and into some clothes about twenty minutes before we had to head to the airport.
We made it through check-in without having to pay $90 for a bag that was two pounds overweight (who does Delta think they are kidding?!), and we made it through security even though I had forgotten to empty one of our water bottles ("This is for the baby, right?????," the TSA agent asked while vigorously nodding at me).
Our flight was delayed by an hour, and then another. I laid down on the dirty airport floor and wished I had the ability to apparate. Delta started offering $600 vouchers to take a different flight, but the thought of hauling a truckload of luggage and three small children back out of the airport was too exhausting to contemplate, so we waited. By the time we got on the plane the babies had worn out their good behavior and were both screaming at the top of their lungs.
Once on the plane flight attendants started offering $800 in vouchers. (Oddly, several people in our immediate vicinity volunteered to be bumped). Then the heavens smiled upon us and a flight attendant shifted things around so we could have the entire back row of the plane to ourselves. Unfortunately, the angelic chorus that had started playing in my head was drowned out as we made our way to the back of the plane and were greeted with a huge collective groan from the other passengers. Several of them jumped up and demanded new seats as they didn't want to sit next to "those people". (I felt a burst of empathy for lepers). As I sat down the man in front of us turned around and asked me, accusingly, "Are they sick or something?!" as if babies never have reason to cry after having been stuck in an airport for four hours.
Soon after take-off the babies settled down enough to eat and then immediately fell asleep. Michael joined in the snooze fest and slept the whole flight. And, with the peace of mind that could only come from sitting right next to the lavatories, I was able to rest as well. Ah, Divine intervention. It works wonders.
But seriously, I've paid my dues. No more stomach flu for me for at least ten years.
Okay, I'll settle for five.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Bubble Wrap Brigade
Sometimes I think it would have been a lot easier to be a parent 50 years ago - you could send your kid out to play by himself without being paranoid that someone was going to call the police on you for child endangerment, adults in your neighborhood weren't afraid to correct your child's bad behavior and help him learn what was acceptable and what wasn't, and your child didn't have to ride in a booster seat until he was 8-years old.
But then, 50 years ago I wouldn't have had my boxes of disposable diapers and wipies, my groovy double snap 'n go stroller, or my glorious minivan. Yes, now is definitely a better time to be a parent.
But, I do find myself being annoyed now and then at the pervasive idea that we must protect our children from everything, whether it's scraped knees on the playground (playgrounds which became boring ever since the slippery metal slides got banished when the lawyers came out to play) or losing a game of soccer (no keeping score anymore - we must spare the feelings of our little ones!) It's like parents want to send their kids into the world swathed in bubble wrap. We must prevent all accidents!
So I read this article with interest. The gist is that car seats should only be used in the car as injuries are more common when the car seat is set on a counter or other elevated surface.
What struck me was not the article itself (of course babies will be safer if they are strapped in and sitting on the floor instead of the counter - we didn't need a study to tell us that), but one of the comments on the article which said:
"I see parents with car seats sitting on the front of shopping carts every time I am shopping. A warning against this practice is posted on car seats as well as on the front window/door of many stores. I know new parents are tired, but I wish more would use some common sense."
Several other commenters agreed with this person and it made me curious - how many people would not put their child's car seat in a grocery cart (more to the point, how many people are judging me as I walk around the store this way?) I have always done it without worrying too much. Is it ideal? Probably not. But the seat clicks in and is stable enough that it is not going to fall off without some pretty serious assistance (I do check to make sure it is secure before I move the cart).
Honestly, how else am I supposed to get my grocery shopping done, especially with twins? I can't carry both babies, and I'm not about to pull my stroller along with the cart - that is just impractical and annoying. And there is no way I'm going to hire a babysitter so I can run to Wegmans by myself.
So, I'm curious: am I the only one who thinks the car seat on the grocery cart isn't a big deal? I have posted a poll for your input. Take a second to tell me what you think.
But then, 50 years ago I wouldn't have had my boxes of disposable diapers and wipies, my groovy double snap 'n go stroller, or my glorious minivan. Yes, now is definitely a better time to be a parent.
But, I do find myself being annoyed now and then at the pervasive idea that we must protect our children from everything, whether it's scraped knees on the playground (playgrounds which became boring ever since the slippery metal slides got banished when the lawyers came out to play) or losing a game of soccer (no keeping score anymore - we must spare the feelings of our little ones!) It's like parents want to send their kids into the world swathed in bubble wrap. We must prevent all accidents!
So I read this article with interest. The gist is that car seats should only be used in the car as injuries are more common when the car seat is set on a counter or other elevated surface.
What struck me was not the article itself (of course babies will be safer if they are strapped in and sitting on the floor instead of the counter - we didn't need a study to tell us that), but one of the comments on the article which said:
"I see parents with car seats sitting on the front of shopping carts every time I am shopping. A warning against this practice is posted on car seats as well as on the front window/door of many stores. I know new parents are tired, but I wish more would use some common sense."
Several other commenters agreed with this person and it made me curious - how many people would not put their child's car seat in a grocery cart (more to the point, how many people are judging me as I walk around the store this way?) I have always done it without worrying too much. Is it ideal? Probably not. But the seat clicks in and is stable enough that it is not going to fall off without some pretty serious assistance (I do check to make sure it is secure before I move the cart).
Honestly, how else am I supposed to get my grocery shopping done, especially with twins? I can't carry both babies, and I'm not about to pull my stroller along with the cart - that is just impractical and annoying. And there is no way I'm going to hire a babysitter so I can run to Wegmans by myself.
So, I'm curious: am I the only one who thinks the car seat on the grocery cart isn't a big deal? I have posted a poll for your input. Take a second to tell me what you think.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Random Thoughts
Yes, it is after midnight, but I'm blogging because I just got back from seeing "Eclipse" and had to write about how good it was!!!!! I heart Edward! Sparkles + Bella 4 Ever!
Okay, not really. (That was just a test to see how well you know me. If you believed it, you should try reading my blog more often.)
However, David and I actually did watch "New Moon" tonight. Well, he watched it. I started it solely because I wanted to blog about it, but gave up after an hour of painful dialogue (and even more painful acting) and fell asleep.
After my nice little snooze I am wide awake, so I guess that means it's time for some late-night random thoughts:
Why is it that there are no children's clothing stores with aisles big enough for a stroller to pass through?
Baby shoes are a giant nuisance. They are cute, but trying to put them on is like stuffing wiggly sausages into barbie shoes.
I have used a magic eraser to get lipstick out of carpet and burnt-on grease off the stove top. I'm convinced these little beauties will save the world.
Why do they make newborn baby clothes with collars? Newborns don't have necks and collars just get up in their faces and drive them crazy.
I think SAG Harbor is pretty much the worst name ever for a clothing line. What woman wants to buy an outfit that makes her think of waist-length boobs?
In the words of my sister: "All Cyndi Lauper songs are better sung by someone else."
If you have a dozen pacifiers sitting on the counter they will all disappear by the time you need one.
They should make bags of Starbursts that contain only strawberry-flavored ones.
Bananas do not belong in fruit salads, period. They just get slimy and mushy and overpower the flavors of other fruits.
David and I went the entire month of June without eating a single bite of ice cream. Elsewhere in the news, hell has frozen over.
There is a direct correlation between how late a parent stays up and how early the kids wake up, so it's off to bed for me.
Goodnight!
Okay, not really. (That was just a test to see how well you know me. If you believed it, you should try reading my blog more often.)
However, David and I actually did watch "New Moon" tonight. Well, he watched it. I started it solely because I wanted to blog about it, but gave up after an hour of painful dialogue (and even more painful acting) and fell asleep.
After my nice little snooze I am wide awake, so I guess that means it's time for some late-night random thoughts:
Why is it that there are no children's clothing stores with aisles big enough for a stroller to pass through?
Baby shoes are a giant nuisance. They are cute, but trying to put them on is like stuffing wiggly sausages into barbie shoes.
I have used a magic eraser to get lipstick out of carpet and burnt-on grease off the stove top. I'm convinced these little beauties will save the world.
Why do they make newborn baby clothes with collars? Newborns don't have necks and collars just get up in their faces and drive them crazy.
I think SAG Harbor is pretty much the worst name ever for a clothing line. What woman wants to buy an outfit that makes her think of waist-length boobs?
In the words of my sister: "All Cyndi Lauper songs are better sung by someone else."
If you have a dozen pacifiers sitting on the counter they will all disappear by the time you need one.
They should make bags of Starbursts that contain only strawberry-flavored ones.
Bananas do not belong in fruit salads, period. They just get slimy and mushy and overpower the flavors of other fruits.
David and I went the entire month of June without eating a single bite of ice cream. Elsewhere in the news, hell has frozen over.
There is a direct correlation between how late a parent stays up and how early the kids wake up, so it's off to bed for me.
Goodnight!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Fat Insanity
I will fully admit that most of my attempts at dieting have been half-hearted at best. Whether this is due to a love of chocolate or just to a lack of awareness of how bad my thighs look in a swimsuit, I'm not sure. I mean, I've seen myself in the mirror and it's not pretty. But I don't obsess about it. I just figure the pile of doughy stretchmarks that passes for my mid-section these days is what some might refer to as "taking one for the team."
And while I remain convinced that the camera adds forty pounds and not ten (because, really, that can't possibly be my double chin) this generally doesn't affect how I feel about myself. Certainly I might glance enviously at that cute embroidered skirt from Banana Republic and wish I could fit more than one leg into it again. But the skirt is, like, a size nothing, which happened long before my hips had ever heard of pregnancy. (The skirt dates back to my "skinny period" [ca. 1996-2003], which, incidentally, was the same time my metabolism had apparently entered into a pact with the devil that allowed a Snickers bar and a bag of potato chips to masquerade as a balanced meal that added as much fat to my thighs as if I had consumed a single carrot).
But, in spite of my loathing of all things diet, when it comes to losing weight the fact remains that I actually would like to be healthier. And, having had a taste of how difficult it is to navigate my normal responsibilities when carrying around a huge amount of extra weight (I spent the last two months of my pregnancy with the twins having to sit down every time I changed levels in my house), I can't imagine why in the world someone other than a size 0 would set a goal to gain more weight. Especially not someone who already weighs 600 lbs.
But, that is the heart's desire (well, maybe not the heart's desire; more like the stomach's) of a New Jersey woman whose goal is to reach 1000 lbs. in order to become the world's heaviest living woman.
I am not making this up.
Just reading about her makes me almost sure I will never want to eat fast food again. Besides being horrifically unhealthy (though she insists that she isn't unhealthy, sounding much like a toddler who declares himself to be "not tired!" as he screams himself into oblivion because a piece of lint is stuck to his shirt), it seems that if you were struggling with basic tasks like taking a shower and cooking you might reconsider the idea of adding 400 lbs. to your already elephantine girth.
But maybe it's just me. After all, her fiance declares her "full belly and generous hips" to be "very sexy." (Not sure how he can see the hips under the Jabba the Hut exterior, but that is beside the point).
And that does it. This story grossed me out enough that I think I'm ready to take the plunge.
Bring on the diet.
And while I remain convinced that the camera adds forty pounds and not ten (because, really, that can't possibly be my double chin) this generally doesn't affect how I feel about myself. Certainly I might glance enviously at that cute embroidered skirt from Banana Republic and wish I could fit more than one leg into it again. But the skirt is, like, a size nothing, which happened long before my hips had ever heard of pregnancy. (The skirt dates back to my "skinny period" [ca. 1996-2003], which, incidentally, was the same time my metabolism had apparently entered into a pact with the devil that allowed a Snickers bar and a bag of potato chips to masquerade as a balanced meal that added as much fat to my thighs as if I had consumed a single carrot).
But, in spite of my loathing of all things diet, when it comes to losing weight the fact remains that I actually would like to be healthier. And, having had a taste of how difficult it is to navigate my normal responsibilities when carrying around a huge amount of extra weight (I spent the last two months of my pregnancy with the twins having to sit down every time I changed levels in my house), I can't imagine why in the world someone other than a size 0 would set a goal to gain more weight. Especially not someone who already weighs 600 lbs.
But, that is the heart's desire (well, maybe not the heart's desire; more like the stomach's) of a New Jersey woman whose goal is to reach 1000 lbs. in order to become the world's heaviest living woman.
I am not making this up.
Just reading about her makes me almost sure I will never want to eat fast food again. Besides being horrifically unhealthy (though she insists that she isn't unhealthy, sounding much like a toddler who declares himself to be "not tired!" as he screams himself into oblivion because a piece of lint is stuck to his shirt), it seems that if you were struggling with basic tasks like taking a shower and cooking you might reconsider the idea of adding 400 lbs. to your already elephantine girth.
But maybe it's just me. After all, her fiance declares her "full belly and generous hips" to be "very sexy." (Not sure how he can see the hips under the Jabba the Hut exterior, but that is beside the point).
And that does it. This story grossed me out enough that I think I'm ready to take the plunge.
Bring on the diet.
Friday, June 18, 2010
My Dad
I am supposed to be having quiet time but I asked my mom if I could write something on the computer for my dad. She said I could so I pulled out a pencil and almost wrote my name on the screen, but she caught me just in time and showed me how to use the keyboard to type. Of course I know how to do that already, I just really wanted to see what would happen if I wrote my name on the screen. I guess I'll have to find somewhere else to write my name. I think I saw a good spot on the wall. AND I found a Sharpie to do it with! I can't wait!
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I wanted to write about my dad. He is so much fun! Every day I count down the hours until it's time for him to come home from work. Then I watch out the window for his car so I can be sure to meet him at the door when he comes in. Sometimes I run away from him as fast as I can, because when I do that he will chase me and try to tickle me and that is the best! I love to play chase with my dad. I wish he could stay home and play with me all day, but Mom says he has to go to work to take care of our family. I wish Mom would go to work instead. Dad is way more fun!
I have two babies at my house and I tell them all about the things that Dad likes. I know he likes the house to be clean so I tell Matthew to stop spitting up on the carpet, and I know Dad doesn't like it when I cry for no reason, so I tell the babies not to cry. The most important thing I tell them is that, if you cuddle with Dad, you can stay up past your bedtime! It is awesome! Sometimes he'll let you watch a movie, and sometimes he'll even let you eat popcorn or have a treat, too! All you have to do is sit with him! It works great!
I have the best dad in the whole world! Matthew and Leah are so lucky they came to our family because now they get to have the best dad, too.
Anyway, I have to get off the computer now because Mom wants to check the email. (She is always doing that). I told her not to read what I wrote, but you know how moms are... I'm sure she'll read it as soon as I turn my back. Dads are much cooler about stuff like that.
I love you, Dad! Happy Father's Day!
Love,
Michael
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I wanted to write about my dad. He is so much fun! Every day I count down the hours until it's time for him to come home from work. Then I watch out the window for his car so I can be sure to meet him at the door when he comes in. Sometimes I run away from him as fast as I can, because when I do that he will chase me and try to tickle me and that is the best! I love to play chase with my dad. I wish he could stay home and play with me all day, but Mom says he has to go to work to take care of our family. I wish Mom would go to work instead. Dad is way more fun!
I have two babies at my house and I tell them all about the things that Dad likes. I know he likes the house to be clean so I tell Matthew to stop spitting up on the carpet, and I know Dad doesn't like it when I cry for no reason, so I tell the babies not to cry. The most important thing I tell them is that, if you cuddle with Dad, you can stay up past your bedtime! It is awesome! Sometimes he'll let you watch a movie, and sometimes he'll even let you eat popcorn or have a treat, too! All you have to do is sit with him! It works great!
I have the best dad in the whole world! Matthew and Leah are so lucky they came to our family because now they get to have the best dad, too.
Anyway, I have to get off the computer now because Mom wants to check the email. (She is always doing that). I told her not to read what I wrote, but you know how moms are... I'm sure she'll read it as soon as I turn my back. Dads are much cooler about stuff like that.
I love you, Dad! Happy Father's Day!
Love,
Michael
Friday, June 11, 2010
I'm Too Sexy for My Diaper
There are lots of things that go without saying: don't drive with sunshield in place, this product is hot when heated, never iron clothes while they are being worn, that sort of thing. We all know what certain products are for and how to use them without having to sit through a how-to demonstration, and, despite what many companies may think, there are lots of products that come with instructions we would all prefer to read quietly in our bathrooms and not be exposed to on our television. Especially, but not limited to, romantic enhancement products that come with four-hour-emergency warnings.
Naturally it follows that we do not need our sitcoms interrupted with detailed instructions for any product that handles bodily functions. We all know how tampons and pregnancy tests work; therefore, EPT, we do not need a commercial which tells us that your product is the "most advanced piece of technology [we] will ever pee on" complete with visual demonstration.
Thank you, but TMI.
So, I've been happy that, for the most part, commercials for diapers involved cute, chubby babies crawling around and giggling. We all know what diapers are for; the happy, contented baby is all we need to see. No discussion of bodily functions (or fluids) is necessary.
I guess Huggies missed my memo. For those who haven't seen their latest commercial, Huggies is touting a new "jeans diaper" with the slogan, "The coolest you'll look pooping your pants." Really.
It features a toddler turning heads as he walks down the street in his blue jean bottoms. The voiceover tells us that "my diaper is full... full of chic. when it's a number two I look like number one. I poo in blue."
Okay, I get it. I see why people think it's funny. But must we be so crass about everything? Maybe I'm reading too much into it (or maybe it's just the fact that I'm fresh off of reading Wendy Shalit's excellent book Girls Gone Mild) but the way the wind blew through the lunching models' hair as the catwalk music bounced the baby down the street - they aren't just trying to imply that the baby is cool; they are trying to imply that he is sexy! A toddler, for crying out loud!
That said, I think the reason this commercial bothers me is not so much that it is a diaper advertisement talking bluntly about poop (or trying to make a baby look sexy); what bothers me is what it represents: a lack of refinement that has threaded its way through our society so completely that we no longer know what is appropriate or what is actually funny.
I don't know about you, but it makes me want kick up my feet and watch an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show. Or at least raise my pinkie as I drink my afternoon tea.
If I drank tea, that is.
Naturally it follows that we do not need our sitcoms interrupted with detailed instructions for any product that handles bodily functions. We all know how tampons and pregnancy tests work; therefore, EPT, we do not need a commercial which tells us that your product is the "most advanced piece of technology [we] will ever pee on" complete with visual demonstration.
Thank you, but TMI.
So, I've been happy that, for the most part, commercials for diapers involved cute, chubby babies crawling around and giggling. We all know what diapers are for; the happy, contented baby is all we need to see. No discussion of bodily functions (or fluids) is necessary.
I guess Huggies missed my memo. For those who haven't seen their latest commercial, Huggies is touting a new "jeans diaper" with the slogan, "The coolest you'll look pooping your pants." Really.
It features a toddler turning heads as he walks down the street in his blue jean bottoms. The voiceover tells us that "my diaper is full... full of chic. when it's a number two I look like number one. I poo in blue."
Okay, I get it. I see why people think it's funny. But must we be so crass about everything? Maybe I'm reading too much into it (or maybe it's just the fact that I'm fresh off of reading Wendy Shalit's excellent book Girls Gone Mild) but the way the wind blew through the lunching models' hair as the catwalk music bounced the baby down the street - they aren't just trying to imply that the baby is cool; they are trying to imply that he is sexy! A toddler, for crying out loud!
That said, I think the reason this commercial bothers me is not so much that it is a diaper advertisement talking bluntly about poop (or trying to make a baby look sexy); what bothers me is what it represents: a lack of refinement that has threaded its way through our society so completely that we no longer know what is appropriate or what is actually funny.
I don't know about you, but it makes me want kick up my feet and watch an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show. Or at least raise my pinkie as I drink my afternoon tea.
If I drank tea, that is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)