Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Dog or Baby? April 24, 2013

Filed under: Lessons in Parenting — Scribbling Dame @ 10:50 am
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It’s been a while. I’m working on an amazing project–soon to be announced. I’m going to be a more attentive blogger again–promise.

My first-born is Chachi. He is a 6 year-old Havanese and he taught me almost everything I needed to know about parenting, roughly a year before I became one for reals. You may think this is reaching, but the below quiz will confirm that if you are considering a baby, a dog is a great first step that is near identical to parenting a human child.

I bring you the quiz “Dog or Baby?” Your challenge is to read each statement and determine if it was achieved by a dog, a baby, or both in my household. Good luck.

  1. Ate so many sticks off the floor leading to projectile vomiting all over my couch. Dog or baby?
  2. Growls incessantly. Dog or baby?
  3. Withholds poop when parents go away for extended periods of time. Dog or baby?
  4. Needs a drink from mommy’s bathroom every night before bed. Dog or baby?
  5. Does not believe Daddy is in charge. Dog or baby?
  6. Does not believe Mommy is in charge. Dog or baby?
  7. Farts all damn day. Dog or baby?
  8. Wakes up religiously at 6 a.m. due to starvation or thirst. Dog or baby?
  9. Loves to spoon, especially to fall asleep. Dog or baby?
  10. Licks everything. Dog or baby?

Answer key:

Baby,Both,Dog,Dog,Dog,Baby,Both,Both,Dog,Baby

In some ways, my dog is the devoted snuggly baby I’ve always wanted, and the baby is the adventurous goofy dog I always wanted. Huh. 🙂

photo

Don’t let these cute faces fool you…

 

Where Schrodinger’s Cat takes a Dump… March 6, 2013

For those of you not up on quantum theory, see Wikipedia. My blog title will be way funnier then…

Nothing distorts time like being a parent. It is akin to going to the currency office and trading in a minute, an hour, a day, a year, in exchange for some completely foreign mystery measurement of time. Since currency exchange is kind of like math and I hate that stuff, I have conveniently provided you with some simple translations.

An hour becomes 7 days:

  • While at the gym when you realize that you have had your ass handed to you and are simultaneously realizing you are only 10 minutes into the class.
  • Waiting for the sitter to show up: you are so close to freedom yet so far.
  • Waiting until bedtime, which is when you can have a marriage, a personal life, maybe even some alone time if you are privileged.

Three hours becomes 10 seconds:

  • This is date night. You’ve actually been gone for hours but it never feels this short when you are taking care of the kiddos…
  • Planning to leave the house with your children. You swear you started the process of evacuating with so much advance time, yet you are still mysteriously running late.
  • Realizing your baby isn’t a newborn/baby/toddler/kid anymore. Weren’t they just born? Now they do things and have opinions.
  • Realizing that’s how much sleep you are getting for the night. Following somebody else’s body clock is a bitch.

I won’t even get into how the time warp effects the aging process…at least not while I’m blogging in a cafe and not a bar.

 

Baby Dream Killers January 12, 2011

Filed under: Mommy Issues,Vagina — Scribbling Dame @ 10:09 pm
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It’s human nature to think in terms of grass is greener, but have any of you noticed that while you are trying to conceive, it suddenly seems that every asshole who looks at their partner gets knocked up?

And by assholes I mean beloved friends and family. (Kisses!)

Seriously though, it is annoying. The first couple of announcements are okay–we all know we are having sex with our partners and babies tend to go along with that. But I was talking with a girlfriend today who has had no less than 10 friends have a baby in the last year while she is trying to conceive. That is just a big middle finger from the universe if you ask me. It’s an incredibly bizarre phenomenon. It happens with single women and marriage also.

On the outside, most of us are gracious friends and we will of course attend showers, supply pickles and whatever other duties will make us remain good friends, but internally let’s be real–whiny hater brat comes out and says, “But it’s MY turn! You are stealing my vaginal thunder! You didn’t even try that hard!”

This phenomenon only adds to the already predominant trying-to-conceive dilemma, prevalent in all things motherhood: it is not as easy as we were raised to think it is. Sometimes the old in-and-out does the trick but for most of us these days, since we are conceiving later in life, we have to be more intentional. After only a year of trying with no success, the medical profession labels you as “infertile.” If you are over 35, your pregnancy is “geriatric.” There are few other processes we will encounter in our lives that are less forgiving than parenthood in all it’s stages.

I always come around and try to look on the bright side–after whining internally and then blogging about it of course.  Parenthood will happen when it is meant to and how it is meant to. Also, “failing” to conceive is probably one of the only things in life that provides a pretty nice consolation prize. If failure was always so awesome, who’d want to achieve?

Get along little doggies.

 

Lessons in Parenting from Willy Wonka June 25, 2010

Filed under: Lessons in Parenting — Scribbling Dame @ 10:37 am
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Parenting Expert or Creepy Pedophile?

Have any of you realized how weird and fucked up your favorite movies from childhood are?

In my memories, movies like Willy Wonka and Disney’s Alice in Wonderland were totally awesome kids movies. Now, watching them as an adult with my own daughter, I am like, WTF?  This movie is messed up. Alice in Wonderland doesn’t even make sense, which, given that it was written by an opium addict I guess is appropo. Willy Wonka is a psycho or a pedophile–can’t figure out which. Don’t even get me started on The Secret of Nymh or The NeverEnding story. No wonder I am such a weirdo–these are the films that raised me!

Anyway, tradition is tradition so Sofia is totally into “Willy Honka” as she calls him. Watching it with her, it struck me how much of that film is directed towards parents and parenting.

Lessons in parenting from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, sung by Oompa Loompas, summarized by le moi…

Lesson 1) Don’t let your kid be a fatty, or he will surely be stuck in a the chocolate river piping; a fate we all hope our children avoid. The lesson here could also be don’t let your kid be German. Not sure.

Lesson 2) Don’t let your kid chew gum all the time, and make sure they listen to grown-ups (even if they are candyman weirdos). No one wants to have to be juiced.

Lesson 3) Don’t let your kid be a spoiled shit or someone might throw them in a furnace. Nuff said.

Lesson 4) Make your kids read books more than they watch T.V.–or creepy movies about pedophiles and midgets and disappearing children. Hmm.

Lesson 5) Read everything you sign, especially if you plan on stealing something. If Charlie had kept that Everlasting Gobstopper, he would have been out a lifetime supply of chocolate plus a candy empire!

Lesson 6) When you get everything you want in life, remember to be happy. Ok, so this one is totally on point.

Of course, the oddest thing about this film is that the kid who has the most moral capacity is in fact the one with the least parental presence. Charlie’s mom busts her ass all day doin’ laundry, no dad around, and only teachers and old crips spend time with him. What are you trying to say Willy?

No matter. You had me at chocolate river.

 

 
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