Had a very good conversation with a good friend about how vices and parenthood co-mingle.
What makes one a good parents vs. a bad parent? What makes one a good wife vs. a bad wife? Struggling with the fact that getting fucked up with my hubby is actually very good for our relationship aka good for our marriage. But wondering how a hungover mommy is good for my kiddos.
Maybe Dooce knows? I think a good marriage is probably one of the best things for children. Hopefully this doesn't offend anyone. A serious question though.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Magical
Once again, it's been a very bad month for blogging. The all-encompassing job thing continues to interfere.
The mini family reunion in my hometown of Melbourne, Florida was a nice diversion though. There may be no pleasure greater than watching your kid groove in the sand and waves at the beach.
We also gave in to the inevitable, infamous Disney World visit. Was it magical? Yes, if you consider lines that lead to other lines, hundreds of thousands of fat people with children on leashes, and foreigners gnawing on smoked turkey legs magical.
For roughly $300, the hubby, Jackal and I spent about 5 hours in that magical place. The day's events: 2 rainstorms, 3 spinny rides, 1 over-sized lollipop, 2 artifically colored and flavored popisicles, 1 fake treehouse, 1 major meltdown, 25 what-the-fuck-were-we-thinking moments, and 4 greasy tacos.
Priceless? Seeing the glee in the Jackal's eyes as he got to drive his first race car and catching a crazed mother yelling "IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M CAUSING A SCENE AT DISNEY WORLD" in the middle of Main Street as we we leaving.
The mini family reunion in my hometown of Melbourne, Florida was a nice diversion though. There may be no pleasure greater than watching your kid groove in the sand and waves at the beach.
We also gave in to the inevitable, infamous Disney World visit. Was it magical? Yes, if you consider lines that lead to other lines, hundreds of thousands of fat people with children on leashes, and foreigners gnawing on smoked turkey legs magical.
For roughly $300, the hubby, Jackal and I spent about 5 hours in that magical place. The day's events: 2 rainstorms, 3 spinny rides, 1 over-sized lollipop, 2 artifically colored and flavored popisicles, 1 fake treehouse, 1 major meltdown, 25 what-the-fuck-were-we-thinking moments, and 4 greasy tacos.
Priceless? Seeing the glee in the Jackal's eyes as he got to drive his first race car and catching a crazed mother yelling "IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M CAUSING A SCENE AT DISNEY WORLD" in the middle of Main Street as we we leaving.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
It's in the Jeans
It's time to fess up. I've gotten so spoiled lately.
I remember when I was 8 we had no money to buy clothes. My 4 sisters and 2 brothers eagerly looked forward to that day when another family at church would give us hand-me-downs in big brown paper shopping bags. We'd take the bags home in our beat-up Volkswagon van and wonder what it would be like to have new, store-bought clothes and be one of those kids who's "in style" and gets to go back-to-school shopping.
At some point in high school -- when I got a job at Footlocker at the local mall -- I was able to squirrel away enough cash to pay for gas AND blow $40 bucks at Wet Seal on brown denim Bongo jeans. (I was supposed to be saving the money for college. Don't think my parents didn't chastise me for making such a "foolish purchase.")
Throughout high school and college, it was much more normal for me to make any clothing purchases at a thrift store or Goodwill or Salvation Army. Even shopping sprees were focused on the clearance sale racks at the very back of the store.
At some point after college and a few years into receiving a regular paycheck, I started feeling comfortable shopping at the Gap. Mainly at the sale rack, but sometimes venturing to try on something in the front of the store that was full-priced. If full-priced Gap jeans were my gateway drug, designer denim became my habit. Six years ago it was a $100 pair of Lucky Brand Jeans. Now it's a new pair of $200 Citizens of Humanity or 7 for All Mankind or Chip & Peppers or whatever else makes my ass look good just about every season.
And so as hubby and I pore through our bills and finances and ask ourselves the following questions -- Why haven't we saved for the boys college? Why are we still living paycheck to paycheck? Don't we make good money? Where does all our money go? -- I have to admit that it's probably all gone to "foolish purchases".
Maybe mom was right all along. But goddamn, who wants to wear hand-me-downs, or even worse, mom jeans?
I remember when I was 8 we had no money to buy clothes. My 4 sisters and 2 brothers eagerly looked forward to that day when another family at church would give us hand-me-downs in big brown paper shopping bags. We'd take the bags home in our beat-up Volkswagon van and wonder what it would be like to have new, store-bought clothes and be one of those kids who's "in style" and gets to go back-to-school shopping.
At some point in high school -- when I got a job at Footlocker at the local mall -- I was able to squirrel away enough cash to pay for gas AND blow $40 bucks at Wet Seal on brown denim Bongo jeans. (I was supposed to be saving the money for college. Don't think my parents didn't chastise me for making such a "foolish purchase.")
Throughout high school and college, it was much more normal for me to make any clothing purchases at a thrift store or Goodwill or Salvation Army. Even shopping sprees were focused on the clearance sale racks at the very back of the store.
At some point after college and a few years into receiving a regular paycheck, I started feeling comfortable shopping at the Gap. Mainly at the sale rack, but sometimes venturing to try on something in the front of the store that was full-priced. If full-priced Gap jeans were my gateway drug, designer denim became my habit. Six years ago it was a $100 pair of Lucky Brand Jeans. Now it's a new pair of $200 Citizens of Humanity or 7 for All Mankind or Chip & Peppers or whatever else makes my ass look good just about every season.
And so as hubby and I pore through our bills and finances and ask ourselves the following questions -- Why haven't we saved for the boys college? Why are we still living paycheck to paycheck? Don't we make good money? Where does all our money go? -- I have to admit that it's probably all gone to "foolish purchases".
Maybe mom was right all along. But goddamn, who wants to wear hand-me-downs, or even worse, mom jeans?
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Day Out with Thomas
It was slightly absurd - getting the whole family up and out of the house by 7:30 this morning to attend a Day Out with Thomas at the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad Museum in Baltimore. Even more incongruous was driving through the Baltimore ghetto -- crack addicts, street walkers, police cameras, etc -- to get to the museum where Thomas was making his appearance.
Once inside the fenced parking lot, we became one of hundreds of upper middle class white families parking mini vans, juggling strollers, and buying Thomas-branded conductor hats for screaming toddlers. As hubby pointed out to me, trains should be added to the list of stuff white people like .
The highlight of the Day Out is supposed to be a 25-minute train ride on a real train pulled by Thomas. The Jackal is easily impressed with a simple metro ride, so this particular train ride had been talked up and eagerly anticipated (and used as a potty training reward) for many weeks.
The train ride started out as expected -- waiting in a long line with other families. I came to realize that even though I might have 2 kids of my own -- I am not really a kid person. Rarely is it that I find stranger's kids even remotely bearable.
But it was the scenery outside the train window that lead to this:
Hey kids, let's take a ride on Thomas!
Yeah, okay!
Mommy, why do those people live by the train tracks?
Mommy, why is there so much trash?
At least the Jackal got a good lesson in the fact that Baltimore is no Sodor Island fantasy.
Once inside the fenced parking lot, we became one of hundreds of upper middle class white families parking mini vans, juggling strollers, and buying Thomas-branded conductor hats for screaming toddlers. As hubby pointed out to me, trains should be added to the list of stuff white people like .
The highlight of the Day Out is supposed to be a 25-minute train ride on a real train pulled by Thomas. The Jackal is easily impressed with a simple metro ride, so this particular train ride had been talked up and eagerly anticipated (and used as a potty training reward) for many weeks.
The train ride started out as expected -- waiting in a long line with other families. I came to realize that even though I might have 2 kids of my own -- I am not really a kid person. Rarely is it that I find stranger's kids even remotely bearable.
But it was the scenery outside the train window that lead to this:
Hey kids, let's take a ride on Thomas!
Yeah, okay!
Mommy, why do those people live by the train tracks?
Mommy, why is there so much trash?
At least the Jackal got a good lesson in the fact that Baltimore is no Sodor Island fantasy.
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