What To Expect When You Are Expecting v. 2.0 Reality

A friend and I were texting this morning about our children and I realized that there are no textbooks that can prepare you for the onslaught of parenting. Yes, What To Expect When You Are Expecting might tell you about preeclampsia and low birth weight, it might guilt you out of drinking copious amounts of wine and eating hotdogs, but it doesn’t prepare you for the reality of becoming enslaved to your little darling/s.

Here are some things that should be included in WTEWYAE:

1. Stock up on stain remover and buckets. You should have an 18-year supply of carpet cleaning solution and whatever will remove vomit, feces, spit-up, urine, blood and snot from your clothing, furniture, purse, skin and hair on hand at all times.

2. You might give birth to an experiential learner. In that case be prepared for the Brown Glove: “Mama, my hand is a brown glove!” Never allow the experiential learner to shit unattended. You may also experience the Yellow Wall: “Mama, I paint pee!” Never allow the experiential learner to be naked unattended. Also the White Mouth: “Mama, I eat clay!” “Mama, I eat toothpaste” And, more than likely, the Mouthful of Something Unidentifiable: “Mama, I dog food!” “Mama, I cat food!” “Mama, I no know what ish is!” Never leave experiential learner unattended around pasty substances or at PetSmart.

3. You may give birth to a child who is on “The Spectrum.” Since being on the spectrum does mean sliding down a rainbow or riding on unicorns or fairies, prepare yourself for years of wondering if your child is simply a lovable dorky oddball or someone with a diagnosable challenge. Set aside thousands of dollars for therapy with psychologists, neuropsychologists, therapists, speech pathologists, and occupational therapists. Be prepared for the possibility that after years of therapy your child will more than likely remain a lovable dorky oddball who now has a diagnosis.

4. As much as you completely love your child, there will be times that you feel gasp disdain, irritation, mortification, disillusionment, boredom, withdrawal, anxiety, depression, elation, joy, and humiliation as a parent. Your friends may think you have a drinking problem because you really love, think, and talk at length about that one glass of wine you drink every evening.

5. Each month as your write out the loan payment for your graduate education that has rendered you unemployable, you will be subjected to the tones of your child’s “friends” and wish that you could be rendered unconscious at will:

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6. Summers will no longer be a time of frivolity, sunbathing, and carefree, sexy vacations. You will now be considered the vehicle for entertainment, the planner of play dates, the manufacturer of fun. You will beg various relatives to come for visits. You will count down the days until school begins.

7. You will pray for your own death when you sink your bare heel into a tiny Lego piece that has been strategically left in the carpet. This will happen in the middle of the night so you must learn to weep, scream and curse silently so you don’t wake up the children.

8. Your relationship with your partner will be different. Sex appeal and charm may take a backseat to her/his ability to A. Catch puke, B. Distract screaming children, D. Kill spiders, remove rodents, E. Retrieve ice cream, cupcakes, cake late at night F. Make strong coffee. Rather than seduction for seduction’s sake, you may find yourself seducing for more time to sleep, a day without children, time out with friends.

9. You may give birth to a gay child. Prepare your best gay friends to expect texts asking for parenting advice. You may be thrilled (I love gay people!), you may be scared (life is challenging enough!), you may fall in love with this child even harder because she/he is so uniquely, authentically, beautifully human.

10. Nothing about parenthood will be Expected. Many things you think you will not do, including co-sleeping with your child, breastfeeding your child past a certain age, and giving up sexual freedom, you will do. Expect it.

Uncovering Mob Activity & Other Goals for 2012

I really hate New Year’s Resolutions. Nothing squelches my ability to change than committing to doing something within a year. So I thought I’d shoot for some truly important things in 2012.

1. Lobby for valet parking at Target
2. Lobby for childcare at nail salons
3. Get PhD and write dissertation revealing scientific proof that bacon is derived from unicorns
3. Create yogurt lids that don’t splurt yogurt upon opening
4. Bring back rainbow suspenders
5. Orchestrate a flash mob at the DMV
6. Create a drive-through that offers healthful Quarter Pounders with Cheese
7. Moving sidewalks, or bike bells!, for slow walkers

8. Mute option for annoying people
9. Create the virtual marital sex experience
10. Encourage more world glitter use
11. Convince gay neighbor to be my friend
12.  Continue to pluck and catalog gray hairs in special Mama’s Getting Old album
13. Ask the cashier at Walgreens if she’ll take baby teeth instead of change
14. Send World’s Longest Pubic Hair to Guiness Book of World Records
15. Lobby for candidate who will promote National Kegel Day with explanatory ad campaign
16. Encourage kids to call me Maw
17. Learn banjo
18. Learn various Asian dialects so I can confirm malfeasance at Nail Salon
19. Use knowledge of mob activity at Nail Salon to get free pedicures
20.  Borrow a seal from the zoo
21. Convince daughter that pet seal will poop on her bed
22. Get nomination for What Not To Wear
23. Bring back R2D2, unicorn rainbow and What’s Happening!! t-shirts.
24. Cure pathological need to keep dead mother’s big white underwear
25. Experiment eating Oreos in places other than closet, laundry room and in the dark

Oppressive Thoughts

I have a dear friend who is having anxiety, so I thought I’d share this list of Oppressive Thoughts as an alternative to things she can’t stop thinking about. Feel free to leave your own in the comments section.

1. The kids’ toenails are too long
2. I cut the kids toenails too short
3. That brown stuff under the Middle Guy’s pinky finger
4. All the masturbating
5. One of my kids might be gay
6. None of my kids might be gay. Disappointing.
7. That smell coming from the sofa
8. That smell coming from my daughter
9. Why the dog’s head frequently smells like my husband’s balls
10. My husband’s balls
11. The dog’s licking problem
12. The toothbrushes need replacing
13. I can’t remember which toothbrush the dog was running around with
14. We aren’t having enough sex
15. We are having too much sex.
16. Kids watch too much t.v.
17. I can’t get anything done when the kids don’t watch t.v.
18. I am a whore for reality t.v.
19. The squandering of my education
20. No one likes me?
21. Too many people like me?
22. I hate my iPhone
23. I love my iPhone
24. I want the new iPhone
25. I want the iPad
26. I want too many things
27. There’s a family of squirrels living in the mini van
28. I should donate to PETA
29. I like fur
30. I should clean out the mini van
31. I am a disorganized pig
32. I crave cleanliness and organization
33. The weird sounds the Middle Guy makes with his mouth
34. That strange thing the Littlest does with his penis
35. The whining
36. My dead mother
37. The possibility of my septuagenarian father getting an STD
38. STDs, what is the dormancy period for them
39. The Littlest licking the counter at McDonald’s
40. The amount of ketchup the kids consume in a typical week
41. Fear of Calliou
42. Fear of sponges
43. Strange sexual fantasies
44. Jeff Probst
45. Poetry
46. Will I ever publish
47. Is it that important to publish
48. I am What Not To Wear
49. The last ten pounds
50. The rig
51. The muffin top
52. The drooping
53. The chins
54.  Bacon
55. Chocolate
56. Salted caramel
57. Self control
58. Lack of self control
59. Slow walkers
60. Slow talkers
61. Student loans

Mama Llama Humping Papa

It’s Saturday night and Little Llama Llama’s mama is randy.

All week long Mama Llama has been schlepping Little Llama Llama and his whiny siblings wearing red pajamas all around the desert.

Mama Llama just wants her llamas to go the heck to sleep so she can have a beer and do the nasty with Papa Llama.

But Llama Llama One wants to talk about earthquakes. Llama Llama Two wants to discuss the ramifications of infinity. And Littlest Llama Llama is exhausting all of Mama Llama’s teats.

By the time Mama Llama has all three little llamas fast asleep in their beds, Papa Llama is drooling on the sofa.

Mama Llama either has to wake Papa Llama or resort to her favorite vibrating llama toy.

Mama Llama decides to leave poor, exhausted Papa Llama to his sleep, but she soon discovers that her llama toy has dead batteries.

So, Mama Llama gets undressed and wakes Papa Llama. It takes a little convincing, but Papa Llama rises to the occasion.

Mama Llama is so happy. She’s old, but not dead. She is a horny llama in her forties. It is odd that lady llamas get so horny at a time in their life when little llamas are so darn exhausting.

Anywho…Mama Llama and Papa Llama are on their way to happily humping.

Papa Llama begins to feel around for Mama Llama’s happy place. Uh-oh, thinks Mama Llama. He’s about to get lost in the post c-section pudge that some llamas get after three c-sections.

But Papa Llama has done this before, and lucky llama that he is he navigates the c-section pudge fold without confusion.

Then Papa Llama seeks out Mama Llamas teats. Where could they be? OH! There they are, hanging over the sides of Mama Llama. Silly teats! Get back up where you belong. Stop slipping off of Mama, teats!

Before long Mama Llama and Papa Llama are making love, Llama Style.

Mama Llama suddenly feels a little spanking feeling. This is fantastic she thinks. Papa Llama is so naughty!

But before long she realizes that it is actually the slap of her own butt cheeks that is causing the spanking.

Papa Llama is getting winded. His back hurts from carrying the little llamas around. Papa Llama’s knees are creaking

Now that Mama Llama is a middle-aged llama it takes her longer to reach the Frosted Cookie.

Mama Llama changes position. Mama Llama and Papa Llama are working hard. They are making excited sounds. The Golden Cookie is just within reach!

Oh no! Suddenly Mama Llama’s thigh muscles begin to burn and twitch. She feels as though she’s at the 22nd mile of the Llama Marathon. Her toes curl in a painful cramp. What will she do?

Papa Llama is so close to getting his Golden Cookie that Mama Llama must persevere. She huffs and sweats and swears under her breath that she will start a yoga class as soon as possible.

And just as Papa Llama is about to get his Golden Cookie Mama Llama and Papa Llama hear the faint cry of Littlest Llama. Everything comes to a screeching halt.

Mama Llama and Papa Llama stop in mid-hump. They are very still. They listen to see if Littlest Llama will fall back to sleep Their hearts are beating very fast. Then Mama Llama’s burning thighs give out. She collapses on Papa Llama. Papa Llama groans.

Mama Llama and Papa Llama hear Littlest Llama cry again. He’s not falling back to sleep.

Oh fuck me says Mama Llama.

Maybe next week sighs Papa Llama. Maybe next week.

My Beef With The Whang

House Hunters. House Hunters International. I love hate hate love to hate these shows.

This Would Be So Much Better Than Where You Live Now

I love the idea of moving my messy, chaotic life to a new home, or better yet a new country.

(The kids could be bilingual! We could have a châteaux where I could microwave the kids’ chicken nuggets in style. We could get an Au pair! I could invite Nate Berkus to gay Paris and we could divulge our deep, dark secrets over a glass of champagne. We could have a love child and name him Jacques!)

But honestly, I can’t stop watching House Hunters and House Hunters International because of host Suzanne Whang.

In House Hunters The Whang walks backwards while talking. She is amazingly good at walking backwards. This fascinates me.

The Whang bangs are also very interesting. But even better is how The Whang is the virtual host of House Hunters International.

You never actually see The Whang during House Hunters International episodes, but you hear her voice. And it is judgy. Super judgy. There seems to be a dark commentary going on underneath the smooth NPRishness of The Whang’s voice overs. I am repulsed and yet oddly fascinated by her judgy darkness.

You Are A Poor Decision Maker

Take this episode, “Moving To Madrid, Spain,” as described by HGTV:

“Kelsey and Miguel first met when she was studying abroad in Spain. After returning to Chicago, they maintained a long-distance relationship until she made the permanent move back to Europe. She settled into a new life with Miguel in Zaragoza, but then a new job took Miguel south to the capital city of Madrid. Once again, they were long distance. Now Kelsey’s on her way to Madrid, where she’ll be studying for a master’s degree and hopefully finding a permanent home with Miguel. But her program is in central Madrid, and Miguel’s work is in the north–finding something that’s well-situated for commuting to both will be tough. Not to mention securing a place that fits Kelsey’s traditional taste and Miguel’s more modern sensibilities will be another challenge. Are they up for it? Find out when House Hunters travels to Madrid, Spain.”

If you watch the episode and listen closely you will hear The Whang Subtext in her voice overs. You should imagine her getting drunker and drunker as the episode unfolds. And you, yourself, should have a shot every time someone says the word “journey” or “adventure.”

“Kelsey and Miguel first met when she was studying abroad in Spain”
The Whang Subtext: Kelsey is annoying. She looks like a young Martha Stewart and she won’t put out. It is hard to ignore her nasal Chicago accent. Her family and friends were relieved when she decided to leave the country. Miguel is a perv for petite blonde Americans. No one would hang out with Kelsey in Spain, so Miguel made his move.

“After returning to Chicago, they maintained a long-distance relationship until she made the permanent move back to Europe.”
The Whang Subtext: Miguel fell in love with Kelsey because Kelsey was so into the fantasy of sleeping with a native that she put out. A lot. They maintained a relationship over Skype, but Skypesex wasn’t satisfactory to Miguel. Miguel begged Kelsey to move back to Spain. Kelsey was flattered. She was up for the adventure. It would be quite a journey. Kelsey’s family encouraged her to go to Miguel because preferred seeing her only once a year.

“She settled into a new life with Miguel in Zaragoza, but then a new job took Miguel south to the capital city of Madrid. Once again, they were long distance.”
The Whang Subtext: Even though he was getting laid a lot, even Miguel began to tire of Kelsey’s whiny, annoying Martha Stewartish ways. He moved south to get a breather and have his own adventures with women who were open to having oral sex. After messing around with hookers for a short time he began to miss being ordered around by Kelsey. He began to reconsider the benefits of Skypesex.

“Now Kelsey’s on her way to Madrid, where she’ll be studying for a master’s degree and hopefully finding a permanent home with Miguel.”
The Whang Subtext: (Eye rolling.) Can this girl be any more desperate? Can’t she see that Miguel is really a loser? Now Miguel is stuck with her for the length of her master’s degree program. Can’t Miguel grow a pair and cut this chick loose, or will he move to another part of Spain when he needs to escape Kelsey’s high-pitched voice again?

“But her program is in central Madrid, and Miguel’s work is in the north–finding something that’s well-situated for commuting to both will be tough.”
The Whang Subtext: Will Chelsea’s whining about the commute wear Miguel down? If he chooses a place closer to Chelsea’s school will she shut up and cook him empanadas?

“Not to mention securing a place that fits Kelsey’s traditional taste and Miguel’s more modern sensibilities will be another challenge. Are they up for it?”
The Whang Subtext: Kelsey wants a “girly” apartment. She likes a flowery tile backsplash in the kitchen. She turns her nose up at Miguel’s love of modernism. Kelsey would rather live in a super unique loft with ceilings so low that Miguel has to walk around like The Hunchback of Notre Dame in his own home. She figures he can spend most of the time on the veranda. These two could not be any different. Why are we even following these assholes around with cameras when they are going to break up as soon as Kelsey stops giving Miguel frequent booty?

Next up? The crazies who go on House Hunters expecting a mansion for the cost of a Big Mac.

Crunchy Bangs, Sex and My Impending Faceplant

Since I’ve had enough coffee this morning to fuel a small boat I actually have the energy to think about sex. I’ll probably think about sex all day (it’s not just you, guys), will send some suggestive texts to my husband, and by the time he gets home the caffeine will have worn off and I will be sprawled on the dog hair covered sofa with kid goop in my hair, a stinky snorting pug sitting on my chest, and three children begging for dinner.

How anyone with small children manages to have sex is miraculous thing to consider. Take Michelle Duggar, for example. How Michelle Duggar is pregnant with her twentieth child is beyond me. First, how does Jim Bob penetrate all the layers of her long skirts to cop a feel? How does he get past the big stiff crunchy curling ironed bangs? Why does she wear big stiff crunchy curling ironed bangs? (The Discovery Channel could least have the decency to give Michelle Duggar a Kate Satan’s bitch Gosselin makeover.) And how does one get hot and horny over someone named Jim Bob? Does she call him Bobber? Mount me, Bobber! Do me doggy, Bobber! Golden Shower, Bobber!

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Maybe her long crunchy curls are like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Feed Me, Jim Bob. Feed me all night loooooong. You can do it! Perhaps Michelle’s stiff locks come to life behind closed doors, capture Bobber and pin him down so she can have her lusty way with him?

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The only way I can make sense of having twenty children is that Michelle Duggar keeps pumping them out so she doesn’t have to take care of them. Free babysitting! I mean, come on, there is no way any woman who doesn’t have a small army of people entertaining her children could ever have that much sex. I mean, isn’t that why anyone has more than one kid? So someone, anyone besides me will entertain these children. Or, so they can eat whatever the hell they want when they are pregnant and blame their fluffiness on pregnancy weight gain?

Anyhow, since one of my children is sitting on the kitchen table putting oatmeal and applesauce in his hair as I type this, I am am not one to talk about not watching over one’s children. I have done my part toward overpopulating the country. And now I’m just another kvetchy mother blogging about it. How’s that for sexy?

Kvetch With Me! What are your feelings about super-sized families? How much sex are parents really having these days? What is the history of your bangs?

Things You Never Wanted to Know About Your Father

My father and I recently had a conversation that made me barf into my mouth a little. It was about sex. About his feelings regarding sex. It’s been about a year since my mom died and dad has begun to dip his toe into the dating world. Or rather, he has begun to skinny dip his body into the dating world. It’s a weird situation. I want him to be happy, I want him to have companionship and to have his, um, needs met. But I don’t know if I want to hear about it.

My family has never been one to hold back on details of anything. Not that I talked to my parents about the details of their sex life, but my dad would always be super excited to go away for long weekends with my mom. When they would return he would crow across the dinner table, “We had sex in every city!” My brother and I would cover our ears and yell, “ARG, NO!”

My dad is an interesting fellow. He is an engineer. He has an MBA from Wharton. He was in the military. And he sometimes has the maturity level of a zit-faced sixteen year old. He can also be pee-your-pants funny and very kind (when not unwitting stepping on someone’s toes due to his quirky sense of humor). He has many friends, plays hearts and bridge, and has a weekly poker game with a bunch of 90 year men at a local nursing home. I love him dearly.

During my childhood I remember my dad leaving for work before the sun was up, and returning for dinner every night at 6:30 on the dot. We all ate dinner together. I don’t have many other memories of him other than sitting on his lap and learning how to count change, fighting over math problems, and his helping me write my Bat Mitzvah speech (which, the rabbi said, was legendary). Basically, my mom ran the show at home. And I was a big time mama’s girl. Most of my childhood memories revolve around my mom, my grandmother, and fighting with my brother. My father was always present, but more as side-kick to my mom.

When the time came that my mom required in-home hospice care after a long battle with breast cancer, my father and I were suddenly thrust into a new relationship with each other. I had the unique opportunity to get to know him on a much more intimate level. I saw what a marriage is in the truest sense. I saw my dad’s tender side, his vulnerable side, his stressed out side. I saw him as a real man, a real person, not just that one-dimensional guy in a suit who sat down to dinner every night at 6:30.

Since my mom’s death, I’ve been hanging out with my dad more often. I’m watching him make his way in the world without his rudder of 48 years. Like I said, he’s dating. He’s often like an excited, love-struck boy. This is where the vomit in the mouth part happens. He is an over-sharer. On one hand, I sort of like hearing about my dad’s exploits because I want to be someone he can talk to and I like that he talks to me. But I also sort of hate hearing about his dating life because, obviously, he is my dad. I mean, it’s awkward, right?

This all leads to the greater question: How do you relate to your parents/or parent now that you are an adult? Have you transitioned into more of a friendship relationship, or does your parent still hold a strictly “parental” role? And, for goodness sake, how much do you know about your parent’s love life? I’d love to hear your thoughts.