Archive for May, 2013
The awesome thing about Republicans is that you don’t have to hear their birth stories. For some reason, liberals seem obsessed with getting their fetuses into this world in the most high maintenance ways possible and making sure to tell you every detail.
Republicans who spawn, sure they’ll tell you how much the kid cries, eats, shits, sleeps etc. That’s what people do when they have babies. They don’t, however, tell you about their birth tubs, midwives, doulas, decisions to eat or freeze or taxidermize or whatever the kid’s placenta or what music they had playing to welcome the fruit of their loins into the world. Thanks to liberals, I now know way too much about the process of squeezing a squalling mass of fragile sleep deprivation through one’s genitals. Hey gals, you don’t care what happens in or around my vagina, why should I care about yours?
I can always count on my stepmom to say the right thing! When I told her how I was going to be unemployed in September, and how I don’t have any marketable job skills, she said “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that job thing anymore [she’s retired]. Thank god you don’t have kids to feed!” TRANSLATION: if you starve to death in the gutter, at least you won’t drag anyone down with you! Also: if you starve to death in the gutter, at least you won’t have to care about anyone giving a shit! I love it when people imply that when I have problems, they don’t count because I don’t have kids.
Once I was stressed out around Chronikah; having about 47 people on my X-mas list (this was back in the days when I had to get stuff for step-siblings and their kids plus cousins etc.) I was working overtime at a stressful minimum wage job to make ends meet already. My aunt said to me “I don’t see why you’re stressed out. You don’t even have kids. Explain to me what your problem is. Wait until you have kids and then you can bitch.” Of course, needing to buy presents for YOUR kids isn’t stressful at all! That’s the thing. I like giving presents. I’m a compulsive present-giver. It’s just one of those things. Anyway…
I already have issues with my dad and stepmom considering me a “real” person. I mean, as a female, my role in society is defined by my husband or at least my kids (neither my sister nor stepsister had kids in wedlock to begin with). Since I’ve never had either of these, I technically don’t exist (except when I forget to send cards for the appropriate Hallmark Holidays in which case I’m in hot water).
I’m not one of those anti-kids people. In fact, there was a time in my 30s when I thought I’d like to have a baby. However, since I’ve never had a job that paid more than beans, and have never had a steady relationship, I wasn’t prepared to make the lifestyle changes necessary to make that happen. Also, I was already living paycheck to paycheck, I didn’t think it was fair to subject my slackertude to the next generation. Well, now that I’m 40 and still not married, I doubt having kids will ever happen, so I don’t have think about that at least. I will never be able to afford to adopt kids (you apparently have to spent tens of thousands of dollars to import them from other countries unless you want a foster kid and they generally don’t give those out to poor single women living with sloppy roommates). So I guess I’ll continue not-existing. plus, babies. eccchhhh! I already have spent the last 4 years taking care of the Kid. Seriously, if I never have to deal with potty training and kids learning the word “NO!” for the first time, I won’t shed a tear!
For a time, my dad and stepmom thought I was a lesbian. Dad kept dropping hints like “so I’ve been listening to Melissa Etheridge. I hear she’s a l…. l…. one of the Ladies.” It was kind of hysterical. I denied it at first, but then let it go because it made for amusingly awkward dinner conversation. I’m not sure what the ‘rents make of my boyfriend, but at least they still religiously watch “Ellen.”
Between my dad and stepmom, they have 4 kids, 9 grandkids and 6 great-grandkids. They should just be happy they don’t have to remember the birthdays of *my* kids! Also, seeing as my sister, stepsister and one step-niece all started having kids in their teens while unmarried, jobless and generally aimless, they should be happy I’m not going to hit them up for money!
So, this is my justification of sending my stepmom a card I bought instead of making one. She’ll probably be inundated with cards already, she doesn’t need to be annoyed I didn’t get her a present! (on a side note, I bought her card form Papyrus and it was artsy and expensive and required extra postage. Isn’t it the thought that counts?) Yes, I’m a compulsive present giver, but I just can’t think of anything my stepmom would like that I can afford. Last year I made her a card that she loved, but I am out of creativity. Blame it on my stupid healthcare being cancelled and me being on a 1/2 dose of anti-depressants, blame it on apathy, whatever. At least my cranky grandmother died. Every year I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to do the mad dash to find the one stupid card that Hallmark puts out every year that says “Nana” instead of “grandma.” Yeah, it’s not easy in a neighborhood where 1/2 the local cards in your drugstore are in Spanish. I had to run all over town, knowing that was my trademark. If I didn’t come up with the “nana” card, I would hear about it! Also, my sister never did anything for her for Mother’s Day. So, although she was grouchy and annoying and didn’t really like me that much, I felt kind of sorry for her. God I hate Mothers’ Day.
Juice boxes were invented sometime maybe in the 1980s? I don’t know. I remember it started with the Capri Sun Mylar pouches and then de-evolved into cardboard cubes. I vaguely remember this invention. My mother, whose normal reaction to technology would be to run away screaming, actually bought some. Shocked that she didn’t shove a mason jar full of grape juice (frozen concentrate, store brand, no sugar added) at us (with an extra can of water added to make it last longer), I found myself staring at it at school. It was apple juice, which normally I didn’t particularly like. I was used to cider, with its cloudy color and occasional chunk of apple pulp. This was the early 1980s; you could still get unpasteurized cider, so to me the clear, highly filtered apple juice tasted weird and hollow (it still does to me). I was fascinated. I unwrapped the straw and shoved it through the little foil hole, causing sticky juice to squirt everywhere. The juice was warm and tasted as weird as ever. Even as a kid sampling new technology and forbidden consumer goods, I was underwhelmed.
Which brings me to my next rant. As a nanny, I see plenty of juice boxes. Here are a few reasons why I am anti-juice box:
- Waste: seriously? Do we need more disposable containers in the world? Would it kill you to just fill up a water bottle? I know it takes twice as long to drag one over to the sink, but really.
- The straw: kids under 6 seem to have problems getting it out of its little plastic wrapper. It requires much haggling. At school, a teacher must go around and help each kid. Once the straw is liberated, the plastic covering almost always ends up on the ground. Even if you have a conscientious child who throws it away, the wind will whip it out of the bin like it was a dress on a tiny Marilyn Monroe and it will still end up on the ground. A straw wrapper’s native habitat seems to be blown up against a chain link fence and it will seek this at all costs.
- Poking the straw through the foil hole is not always easy. Often the straw will bend, and upon repeated stabbings, will develop a hole or shred. If you have an OCD toddler, this is as good a reason as any for her to break into hysterics.
- The straw has a tendency to come loose from the box and get lost, prompting small children to freak out. I have seen parents throw away entire unopened juice boxes because of a missing straw. If you have a child who will consent to drink juice from a box sans straw, you have to find an object tiny enough to poke a hole through the tin foil straw hole. Once you find one, you will spend time and effort getting more and more frustrated as you repeatedly stab at the tiny hole that refuses to yield to your improvised device. Meanwhile, a small child is pulling on your limbs and shrieking with impatience.
- The straw makes an effective weapon. True, a pre-schooler can turn anything into a weapon, but sometimes I like to make warfare slightly less convenient!
- The Fountain Effect: Oh yes, the best part. It takes only a tiny little squeeze (often accidental!) to turn a juice source into a geyser of stickiness. This running river of juice may be directed at a person (the straw makes an excellent aiming device) or at furniture, the drinker himself or other inconvenient receptacles. EXAMPLE: I hear gleeful squealing in the back seat of my car and turn around to witness a cascade of golden liquid arcing over the seat. My car still smells like feet. Why did the apple juice dry into feet-smell? It’s a mystery of the ages. At least it was apple juice and not *other* golden liquids, I guess.
- Childlike curiosity will prompt a kid to at least once in his or her life attempt to dismantle the box while it is full.
There you have it. If you really MUST have your juice in a cube, get a reusable one? http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/juice-in-a-box