There was no online shopping in the 80’s.  So as a 5-years old when I really wanted Teddy Ruxpin for Christmas, my parents had to drive around for hours searching for him.  After a whole day of their lives was spent frantically going in and out of Toys R Us’ they finally found my precious talking bear- only to find out that the reason I had wanted him was to see how he worked, and then didn’t give a flying fuck about him anymore.

Okay, that was a dick move on my part.  But it wasn’t totally my fault.  Teddy Ruxpin looked so seductive in the commercials.  Like he was the Charmin bear come to life.  Once I realized you just stuck a tape in his ass so he could tell you some asinine story, the novelty quickly wore off.  But don’t blame me alone.  Blame the marketers! The ad guys! I was not a spoiled little shit!

The Munch lives a pretty sheltered life, I am willing to admit that, but one day I mentioned the concept of buying something online for her.  She really wanted foot pajamas like her cousin Calvin, but Target didn’t have any.  So I explained I would get the jammas on the computer while she was sleeping. This was a strange concept for The Munch to understand, but once they came in the mail she was pumped.

My issue with online shopping is that there is no effort involved.  I mean besides flapping your fingers around on a keyboard.  This breeds a disconnect between the thing you think you want, and what you are actually are buying.  The idea of material objects is irrationally seductive. Hey computer, I WANT ALL THOSE LEGGINGS!

But when you are actually shopping and holding something in your hand, you have to identify with it more than if it were just on a screen.  Of course there are extreme cases of shopaholics where the act of spending and acquiring goods is a rush, but even if you have a semi-normal relationship to consumerism, it can still be corrupted in the ethereal world of the Internet. Not only do I want all those wrap-around dresses, but I WANT THEM TODAY!

I didn’t realize that this concept had been so deeply imprinted into The Munch’s psyche until she was visiting with my mom this weekend.  She saw a doll catalogue that my mom (who The Munch calls Manna) had lying around.  Why my mom has doll catalogues floating around her house is yet to be determined, but once The Munch found it she was flooded with things that she desperately desired.

Munch: “Manna, I want this doll right here.”

Manna: “Well, there is no store to get that doll right now.”

Munch: “You can get it on the computer.”

Manna: “Oh I can?”

Munch: “Yes go on the computer and you can pay for it.”

Manna: “Okay.”

Munch: “I wanna see.  I wanna see too!”

Manna: “Alright well sit next to me.”

Munch: “I want that baby too!”

Manna: “Munch, you already have that baby.”

Munch: “NO I DON’T!”

Manna: “Yes you do, that is the same as Water Baby, just with a different outfit on.”

Munch: “NO THAT IS A DIFFERENT BABY”

Manna: “Pretty sure I know my babies and that is the same as the one you have.”

Munch: “Can I get that baby then?”

Manna: “Okay but for your birthday.”

Munch: “Can I get the stroller too?”

Manna: “The running stroller?”

Munch: “YES!!”

Manna: “Okay.  Done.  The baby and the running stroller on their way.”

Munch: “But I want to have them now.”

Manna: “You can’t have them now they are coming in the mail.”

Munch: “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I WANT TO HAVE THEM NOW!!!!!!!!”

The proceeded to fight about The Munch wanting her toys now and my mom saying she had to wait.  So my mom calls me on the phone to fill me in..

Manna: “Your daughter is absolutely insane did you know that?”

Toni: “I did.  But why now?”

Manna: “Well she made me order some things for her online, and she was angry that they weren’t here right away.  So then she used my phone to have a pretend conversation with you and said ‘Mamma, get me my fucking stroller now!’”

Toni: “Maybe the new family rule should be no more online shopping.”

Manna: “Maybe you should stop swearing around her too.”

Toni: “Maybe I fucking should.”

The other element that has been impeding my fashion choices these days is my attachment comfort.  It is hard to prioritize a really cute pair of pants that ride up my ass to the point of creating a canyon between my cheeks, or shoes that feel like foot binding. I kind of would rather wear a fleece onsie.

So when I was trying on “skinny jeans” today that were supposed to make me look….ummmm skinny I guess… I couldn’t get over how restrictive they felt.

Toni: “Are you sure these are the right size?”

Sales girl: “Yeah…. Totally”

Toni: “Do you have them a size bigger.”

Sales girl: “Yeah…. Totally.  But those are totally the right size.”

Toni: “There are just so tight around the waist.”

Sales girl: “Yeah.”

Toni: “Its just that I am used to wearing maternity jeans.  In fact those are the only jeans I wear these days.  They have this roomy elastic waistband that is stretchy and without buttons to constrict your flesh.”

Sales girl: “OH when did you have your baby?”

Toni: “3-years ago.”

Sales girl: “Ummm seriously dude.  Buy those jeans.”

There were three lollipops.  At first The Munch was actually quite generous and wanted to share them with me and my friend Gita.  We each had one, and were eating them at our own pace- hers being the fastest.  She soon realized that her lollipop was smaller than mine.

Munch: “Mamma, lets trade.”

Toni: “Hmmmm okay…. Not sure if this is exactly what you would call a fair trade. But I love you so….”

Soon after our “trade” The Munch and I had both finished our lollipops, but Gita still had hers.

Munch: “Auntie Gita lets trade.”

Gita: “Munch, your lollipop is finished.  So we can’t really trade.  But I can share mine with you.”

Munch: “Okay lets share.  But it’s my turn now.”

Gita let Munch have a turn, then Gita took a turn, then Munch and eventually Gita and I forgot about the lollipop and started having a conversation.

Gita: “Did you read that article I sent you?”

Munch: “Mamma, look, look, look, watch me.”

Toni: “Wait, what did you say?”

Munch: “Mamma, did you see me jump so high?”

Gita: “The one about the artist who….

Munch: “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, do you like spiders?”

Toni: “What? Which article?”

Munch: “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, I need a new pair of tights, can you go get me some?”

Gita: “You know the one….”

Munch: “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, my shoes are falling off can you fix them?”

Toni: “Wait what?? Munch I am trying to talk to Auntie Gita you need to give me a moment.”

Munch: “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, Mamma, look I took off my shoes and tights to jump.”

When The Munch finally went into the other room, I wasn’t questioning what she was doing.  Suddenly everything was quiet and I could talk for a moment.  It was a luxury to have 10 minutes of uninterrupted conversation.

She then came back with the lollipop stick, sans lollipop.

Toni: “Hey! What were you were doing in there?”

Munch: “I ate the lollipop all up!”

Gita: “Munch, I thought we were sharing the lollipop?”

Munch: “Yeah…. Not any more.”

In case it isn’t clear, I am in a really shit-tastic mood. So you can imagine how pumped I was to go grocery shopping with The Munch at the stupid organic store, only to realize that I didn’t bring my own eco-friendly bag.  I don’t know if you know this, but needing a bag at the hippy store is about as offensive as taking a shit in the middle of the aisle and then refusing to wipe.  When the cash register lady realized I had the audacity to admit I didn’t have my own $30 hemp bag, she acted as if I was single handedly responsible for destroying the planet with my selfish needs.

Cashier: “Wait, so you didn’t bring your own bag?”

Toni: “No I am sorry.  I didn’t plan to go shopping today, but then I realized I had time so….”

Cashier: “So you don’t leave them in your car?”

Toni: “Well, I guess the last time I used them, I left them in my house and forgot to bring them back to my car?”

Cashier: “Well that is what you have to do next time.”

Toni: Okay… sorry.”

Cashier: “Yeah, well you should be.

Yeah I get it lady!! I agree with you…. but I made a fucking mistake! And then of course, as The Munch and I were walking to the car, the stupid hippy paper bag broke and all my groceries fell into the dirt – because a pavement parking lot isn’t organic enough!  It made me feel like the cashier pissed in the bottom of the bag specifically to make it tear on me.  So then I had to shove dirty groceries in my car that was just cleaned as The Munch demanded to eat her muffin on the ride home.

Toni: “Please Munch… the car just got cleaned… please don’t make crumbs with your muffin.”

Munch: “But Mamma, it is already all dirty.  See!  See how the groceries are dirty?”

Toni: “Yeah, I see Munch.  Thanks for pointing that out.”

The only thing that made any sense to my day was that I would have at least an hour to make voodoo dolls and stab them while The Munch napped.  But of course she didn’t nap because she “wasn’t sleepy” and wanted to show me something downstairs.   That something being a half eaten lollipop she wanted to finish.

Munch: “I don’t want to sleep.  I want to go down stairs with you.”

Toni: “Munch, you need to go to sleep.”

Munch: “Can I lay on your tummy? I want to lay on your tummy.”

Toni: “Fine…”

Munch: “Mamma tell me a story.”

Toni: “Once upon a time there was a little girl named Adelia and her Mamma really wanted her to go to sleep.”

Toni: “Ummmm yeah… tell me another story instead.”

LOVE YOU! I am going to go find someone to karate chop.

Even though we had made the show 18+ because there was nudity, I thought this was something The Munch had so see.  I want to share art with The Munch because I feel like learning to appreciate the idea of someone pouring their hearts out for you to observe is an important practice.  Going to performances and participating in that energetic exchange are meaningful life experiences.  I feel like the earlier she gets exposed to creativity, the more likely she will honor and want to partake in the artistic process.  I am not saying I need The Munch to be an esoteric abstract artist who uses bat wings to paint herself in sparrow blood while chanting Rumi backwards to the sounds of humpback whales humping as an expression against materialism – but I want her to at least be able to appreciate those who do.

I also thought it would be cool for The Munch to see my performance so it could contextualize why I spend all this time dancing.  I was a little nervous about how she would behave, so I thought I would explain to her what was going on before hand just to make sure we were on the same page.

Toni: “Okay Munch, so tonight not only are you going to watch all of Mamma’s friends dance, but you are going to watch Mamma dance too.”

Munch: “I wanna dance with you!”

Toni: “Okay! You can! But today you have to watch Mamma dance and clap for her okay?”

Munch: “And then when you are done I am going to dance and you clap for me.”

Toni: “That sounds really fair.”

As I was waiting to go on back stage, the announcer of the show was saying our names and our bios before each performance.  Now, when my partner Cyndal had emailed the other dancer and me asking for our information for the show, I had assumed Cyndal knew my bio and didn’t really need one from me.  So as a JOKE I said “oh and my bio is Toni Nagy once went on a plane and farted really loud.”  You know TO MAKE HER LAUGH.  As I was waiting in the wings to go on stage I hear “blah blah blah Erink Lovett Sherman yadda yadda director of Arts Fest… and Toni Nagy, who once went on a plane and farted really loud.”

Toni: “Cyndal!! I was fucking joking about that!!!”

Cyndal: “Ohhhhhhh it totally seemed like something you would say!”

Toni: “Touché….

When I went on stage I couldn’t stop giggling thinking how the audience must be wondering if I would once again would fart really loud, and if they would be able to hear it over the song.

After my dance I went to sit with Munch for the last performance.  My friend Elise was doing a piece to “In the Light.” She came out draped in brown robes like a monk and honored the four corners north, south, east and west, with candles.  Then she disrobed and entered into a kiddie pool full of mud.  While Elise danced naked in the soil, the audience was invited to embed these seeds with hopes, dreams, wishes and love for mother earth and themselves, then blow the seeds onto Elise and into the pool.  I thought this was a really beautiful concept and The Munch and I sent up together to blow our seeds in.

Munch: “Mamma, she is getting all dirty.”

Toni: “Yeah, you are right.”

Munch: “Her hair is getting dirty.”

Toni: “It is.”

Munch: “Is she going to wash it in the shower later?”

Toni: “Yes Munch I am sure she is.”

Munch: “But we don’t get to watch her get clean in the shower.  We only get to watch her get dirty.”

After the performances we had a dance party and of course The Munch didn’t want to leave because it was her turn to dance and my turn to clap for her.

Gita: “Thanks for coming with me.”

Toni: “Can you check that the power cord for my computer is back there?”

Gita: “Yeah its here.  Toni, I really don’t want to lose my nail.”

Toni: “Gita its no big deal.”

Gita: “But then I am going to have to wear a band-aid all the time.  You can’t expose a nail-less finger to the world, can you?”

Toni: “No way… the skin underneath will just get all rough and sandpaper-y.”

Gita: “Gross.”

Toni: “It will be fine.”

Gita: “Maybe if I lived in the country. I live in dirty New York City.”

Toni: “Touché …. Touché….

We got to the hospital and were brought back to the room where we did what you do in hospitals.  Wait for an hour for someone to poke you for a bit, write some stuff down, and then come back an hour later.  Luckily I brought my computer…we got a lot of work done!

The plan the doctor and Gita come up with was he was going to burn a hole through her nail to drain it.  He went and got a tool called a cauterizer, which is basically like a small blowtorch.  Then he went straight for Gita’s hand without any warning.

Gita: “Wait wait wait… are you going to do it right now?”

Doctor: “I sure am.”

Gita: “Is it going to hurt?”

Doctor: “Yeah.  I am burning a hole through your thumb. And by the way, you are probably going to lose the nail.”

And with that, he scorched a hole through her thumb and the room filled with the wafting scent of burnt human.

I also move my body around quite a bit – dancing, practicing yoga, running away from The Munch.  So it is safe to say that it is common I have a slight funk.  As a consequence most people who are close to me, are familiar with my stench.  I wouldn’t say it was vomitus, but it has a distinct musk to it.

So my friend Gita is visiting and was coming to dance class with me.  She asked to borrow a shirt and I gave her one I assumed was clean because it was on my clean laundry pile.  I knew I had worn it over the weekend, but I was Monday… so it had to be clean right?

We were sitting in the car driving to dance class and Gita looked uncomfortable.  She kept making weird faces, looking around confused, and opening the window.

Gita: “Oh my god.”

Toni: “What? What’s the problem?”

Gita: “Oh my GOD!”

Toni: “Gita what is it? What’s wrong?”

Gita: “I kept smelling something.  And wondering what it was.  Because it was so unmistakably the smell of your armpits – yet it seemed impossible that I could smell you all the way from here.”

Toni: “Hey! I took a shower yesterday! And put on deodorant!”

Gita: “Well, its not you.  But it is you.  It’s your shirt! I just smelled the armpit of your shirt!! And it reeks of you!”

I guess it wasn’t a clean shirt after all. Then all during dance class Gita kept saying how the stench of Toni wafted into her face every time she lifted her arms.

Gita: “I feel the need to announce to the class that that smell is coming from me, but it isn’t me.  It is actually the scent of Toni that has been imprinted on to this shirt.”

I know the responsibility is on me to be the change I want to see in the world, but I already changed my underwear today -isn’t that enough?  It is a lot of pressure for me to always make the right decision when there is so much crappy crap out there that is way crappy, but easier to get.  My main question is, why is there so much temptation to poison ourselves with toxic shit?  We have so much access to such a vast variety of products, but the majority of them are actually semi dangerous.  Major corporations are exposing us to some sort of poison, subjecting employees to horrific working conditions, and sometimes secretly feeding people rats they think is lamb.

So there is plenty of incentive to be conscious consumer.  In fact I consider myself to be a PROsumer with all the positive shit I buy.  Get it? PROsumer rather than CONsumer? Am I lyrical genius or what?  But sometimes I want to be just like ahhh fuck it! I mean I got The Munch this hippy sunscreen because I read that sunscreen, although may protect you from getting skin cancer from the sun, actually just gives you another kind of cancer.  So I slapped the eco stuff on her, and it worked in the sense that she didn’t get burned, but it wouldn’t absorb into her skin.  She was walking around looking like Casper the Ghost the entire day.  I mean that is fine for a kid and all, but there is no way as a self-respecting woman, I can go out in public like a member of the Adams Family.

Of course when we are talking about green products, food is the one I am most committed to.  But sometimes I get sick of being healthy.  Over the summer I am part of CSA (community supported agriculture) and get all my organic vegetables delivered to me.  They are grown in the most fertile soil and picked by a bearded farming angel.  Yet by time September rolls around all I want is to eat cheeseburgers and doughnuts.  I get so sick of vegetables I want to throw them against the wall, and then waterboard them.

I know I should probably find a balance and feel peace knowing I am doing what I can and all that…. But what the fuck world?  Why can’t eco shit just be the only shit we can buy so I wouldn’t have to compare it to the other shit?

(Here I am…. saving a spider and bringing her outside so I don’t murder her…. because I am environmentally responsible!)

Yesterday The Munch and I went to the beach because she wanted to go swimming.  Forget that the lake was ice 3 weeks ago.  The Munch has no concept of time and as far as she is concerned its summer.  I figured she doesn’t have balls that are going to get all small and silly looking, so why not swim in 50-degree water.

At first we are the only ones there. Her little naked body skittering across the sand like a crab.  It was a peaceful scene.  I felt like the animals weren’t disturbed by our presence.  The trees embraced us with their shadows.  We weren’t interfering with the Zen of place.

Then this father came with his two sons.  At first I thought it might be fun and The Munch would have others to frolic with, but the dad instantly got really annoying.  He would not stop barking orders at his kids.

“Josiah! Josiah! Don’t climb up there.  That’s not yours.  Come down and get in the water.  No. Noah! Don’t go over to those swings.  We have crap like that at home.  Get in the water.  We came here to play in the water.  Josiah!! Josiah!! GET OUT OF THAT BOAT! Don’t sit in there.  Noah quit it! Don’t go on those docks. Josiah, stop poking at the sand like that.  NOAH! I told you to get in the water.  We have a slide at home.”

All the meanwhile he was on his phone emailing! Now I am all for entertaining yourself with your phone when your kids are boring you, but then pay attention to your dumb phone.  If I am on my phone looking at Facebook do you think I give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut if my kid is sitting in a docked boat that safely nestled on the sand and is pretending to drive it?  Not at all.  As long as you are not bothering me, I am not going to bother you.

Of course I didn’t know these kids, and maybe they are total terrors and extremely destructive – but there really wasn’t much you could have damaged.  It’s not like they were going to tear down the swing set with their bare hands and crap in the sandbox.  They were just having fun.  I really didn’t get why the dad had to micromanage and dictate their every move.  Rather than spending all that energy yelling at them how to play, he could have just played with them.  Or hung out on his phone and be preoccupied with that.  I would have so much rather heard the noises of children enjoying their time then some 40 year old man screaming at them.

And you know what? The kids, although rambunctious were perfectly nice humans.  The older one even came up to talk to The Munch and me:

Josiah: “Did you know I was at my uncle’s house today?”

Toni: “No actually I didn’t.

Josiah: “Yeah. My cousins were there.  I have one cousin Mark who is 11, and he has brown hair.  Then another cousin Kevin ,who is 8 and his pants got really dirty.  Then Lydia who is 9 but I don’t really talk to her that much. I am 5.  Then my dad came and got us.  But I am pretty sure my uncle stayed at home.  Because he didn’t come with us.  I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Then the dad came up and said, “Watch out.  He can talk your ear off all day.” And I was like … ummmmm he is sitting right there dude.  He can hear you.  Fine this wasn’t the best story I ever heard, but now I know all about this kid’s uncle and cousins so there wasn’t nothing gained.  The dad didn’t have to put down his kid because his son chatting to me embarrassed him.  He should have been embarrassed by his behavior of being a bossy prick for the past half hour.  I would talk to Josiah all day about dirty pants brown hair, Mark, Kevin, Lydia, and this absentee uncle if it meant you would shut the fuck up dad.