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Toddling
Category

  • Ma’am Can You Stop Yelling

    You know what is a really good time? Waiting on hold for a corporation to talk to you. Especially when you tortured every five minutes with an automated messages that says “The wait is taking longer than usual to talk to a representative. Someone will be with you shortly.” So you sit there eating rice one grain at a time contemplating the second time you lost your virginity because the first time really didn’t count.

    I had one of those moments the other day waiting to talk to Fairpoint. Now that I live in the sticks the internet here is about as reliable as a hammock made of silly putty, and Fairpoint is the only provider in the area. They are like an internet dictatorship. They treat you like crap, never come when they say they will, and will eat a ham sandwich then tap a nap while you are on the phone because they know there is NOTHING you can about it. I don’t know how to work the internet! I can’t talk to space and get a signal through my armpit. I don’t even know what the internet is? I just want to turn my computer on and magically watch Youtube videos and troll around Facebook.

    So after being on hold for 40 minutes I finally get on the phone with a representative. Now… keep in mind, this ENTIRE time I am on hold The Munch was SILENTLY playing with her blocks totally content and unaware of my presence. The second I start talking into the phone, she takes notice of me and wants in on the action.

    “Hi yes… thank you Fairpoint. I appreciate your taking my call, and I am bowing to you as we speak. Can I invite you to Christmas dinner at my house? Or would you like my first-born? Any way… I am having an issue with my internet…..”

    “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Mamamamamamamamama. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Nananananananananananana. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

    The Munch just started yelling into my ear and subsequently into the earpiece of the phone.

    “Ma’am. You are going to have to stop yelling in my ear if you want me to help you.”

    I tried to get away from her, but she kept following me like a baby ninja.

    “Yes of course. I am sorry and I worship you. But that is not me yelling… it is my…”

    “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Dadadadadadaadadadadaaddadaadadadadadadada. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Nanananananananananananananananananananana. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

    “Ma’am. If you don’t stop yelling in my ear I am going to hang up.”

    “No! Please don’t hang up! It is not me!! It is my……”

    “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

    Click.

    “Hello? Hello? Hello?”

    Silence for both the phone and The Munch who was already back at her blocks.

    “Ahhhhhh well… maybe if you put some clothes on me I wouldn’t be yelling in your face…”

    August 10, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures • Views: 1432

  • Don’t Flick Your Kid

    Discipline is a tricky concept. There is self-discipline, where you are responsible for monitoring your own behavior… but since you are the one disciplining you, who is going to tell if you end up letting yourself off the hook?

    “Hey Toni, you need to work out.”
    “Okay Toni, but I don’t feel like it. Can’t we do it tomorrow?”
    “Good idea Toni!”

    See?

    We discipline our dogs, because telling a cat what to do is about as effective as trying to get out of a cell phone contract, but there is no real moral quandary around that.

    “No Fido, don’t shit on the rug.” Pretty simple.

    But disciplining a kid is a whole new life experience that I am not sure I am very good at.

    For example… The other night my cousin was visiting and we were giving The Munch her nighttime bath. The Munch was being supremely cute playing peek-a-boo, further proving her genius status. She hid behind the tub so we couldn’t see her, and then she would pop up and we could. Truly next level thinking.

    “Well, Toni… this is wonderful and all, but I am going to fall asleep soon and we still have to watch Jersey Shore…”

    We do have priorities after all.

    So I started to bend over to find the towel to get The Munch out of the bath and out of nowhere she sunk her teeth into my shoulder and bit me. Now, this wasn’t the run of the mill ordinary bite. This was a Hannibal Lecter style of commitment, and she was not letting go penetrating deeper and deeper by the second. She was like a lock-jawed rabid pit bull Cujo from the depths of Stephen King’s nightmares.

    “Ahhhhhh… ow ow ow!!” But she didn’t seem to care, and just hung on.

    So I flicked her.

    I am not saying this was the best idea I ever had. But she did let go… and boy was she mad.

    Moments before the fateful bite…

    August 9, 2011 • 1 year old, Parenting • Views: 733

  • Life’s Little Pleasures

    Do you ever feel pressure to be happy? Or obligated to have fun? Do you find yourself looking longingly through Facebook thinking that everyone has a better time on vacation than you? I cannot tell you how many hours of my life I have spent looking at pictures of other people’s good times wondering if the whole world enjoys life more than I do.

    Come to think of it… wouldn’t it be funny to post really unflattering pictures of yourself where you were just miserable on Facebook? Pictures of you fighting with your boy/girl friend, or hungover with dried puke on your collar, or laying down with a double chin eating cupcake crumbs out of your belly button. I think that would be awesome.

    Sometimes I feel like as humans we plan these extravagant happenings to ensure our happiness. A paid for experience like sky diving, snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef, or snorting coke off of some hookers tits. But isn’t it the little pleasures in life that bring true joy? Those tiny unexpected moments that make you smile because you didn’t even see it coming.

    Maybe that is what life is all about… the commas between experiences rather than the exclamation points.

    Like blue toenail polish

    Or Girls Veggie Extravaganza Dinner Night!

    Or when a moth lands on your finger

    August 8, 2011 • 1 year old, Musings • Views: 1173

  • Why Do Babies Walk?

    One of the first major accomplishments of a baby is walking. If you think about if from an evolutionary standpoint it is a really big deal, after all walking is what distinguishes us from our monkey cousins. Although are we really that different from monkeys if we share 96% of their DNA? If I gave you a brownie that was 96% poo, would you really eat it because that 4% chocolate? Just saying.

    Okay, so walking is a major milestone. People ask you all the time “is your baby walking yet?” even when you are still pregnant. I was excited for The Munch to start walking. It meant that she was a real human and not just this baby I was carrying around to be fashion forward.

    Now that she is walking, I am asking myself “why do babies walk?”

    These are not rational, thoughtful, considerate people… these are babies. Babies who don’t care about handprints on your tv, if your computer falls, or that when you pull on a table cloth everything on the table will fall off. It doesn’t matter to them what your camera is used for. If they can reach it, they will grab it, throw it, put it in their mouths, and sometimes quite endearingly try to hand it to you… but then immediately get upset when you actually take it.

    Babies shouldn’t be walking. They should just stay totally subordinate to your whims until they are old enough to have a reasonable conversation about what is and what is not permissible to man handle. Although, watching a baby learn to walk is one of the most adorable things ever. It is like watching a drunk college coed stumble around looking for more beer. SO cute!

    “You can do it Munch!”

    August 5, 2011 • 1 year old, 1st time for everything, Baby Body, Baby Brain • Views: 879

  • Feeding a Baby Sucks

    Feeding a baby is the equivalent to feeding the Lochness monster who recently came out of hibernation so his dexterity is compromised even more than the fact that he doesn’t have any hands or fingers! And that monster craves independence and wants to show you how he can feed himself even though half the time he mistakes his mouth for his nose. And then when the monster is finished eating, rather than telling you politely “all done,” he just throws everything on the floor to make sure you get the message. Yeah, feeding a baby is just like that.

    In order to deal with the psychological trauma, I suggest that you coat everything within a 3-foot radius of the baby with food from the beginning… including yourself… because that way you beat them to the punch and can feel like you won. I find the feeling of having victory over my baby is very important to my overall psychological wellbeing.

    Part of me wants to feed The Munch nothing but the neatest of foods. Like Styrofoam, or wood chips. You really can’t make a mess with those. But according to “doctors” you are supposed to feed your child a variety of fruits and vegetables and other food groups. The problem with feeding your child actual “food” is that it is sticky, and smears easily, and can wind up in the crevice of your toes.

    Even if you try to control the situation and be the only one doing all the feeding, the baby will keep trying to take the spoon, or dip there fingers in the bowl. They LOVE to play with food. They touch it, see what it feels like in their hair, mush it around, take a bite, ball it up in their fist, see how far they can throw it. It brings The Munch so much happiness how can I deny her?

    Maybe my problem is that I am too neat of an eater. Maybe I have something to learn from The Munch and lighten up a bit.

    “You see, first you have to feed your knee cherries…”

    “Then you got to feed your toes…”

    “Then maybe eat some… I personally like to match my food to my outfit by the way…”

    August 4, 2011 • 1 year old, Baby Body, Baby Brain, Parenting • Views: 689

  • Am I Boring? Or is it You?

    Have you ever been talking to someone and there is just nothing to talk about? Maybe you try at first and ask them a few questions, but they only give you one-word responses… which are hard to turn into a conversation.

    “So, are you having a good summer?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Cool.”

    Maybe they then ask you a few questions, but you are so worn out from thinking of the previous amazing question you just asked “How is work going?” that all you give them is one-word answers too.

    “So Toni, do you like being a mom?”
    “Sure.”
    “Right on.”

    I used to really care about whether or not people were having a good time in my presence. I would feel personally responsible for their fun. I could feel the heaviness of someone who was momentarily bored, and it would be my crusade to liven up their experience. If there was an awkward silence in a group conversation… forget about it. I couldn’t stand more than five seconds of people looking down at their plates listening to clinking silverware. I often would say the most personal and embarrassing antidotes just to amuse people and make sure everyone was having fun.

    Clink
    Clink
    Sip
    Clear throat
    Sip
    Fake cough

    “You know what guys? There was once this time when I was at a job interview and the person interviewing me farted. In order to make them feel better, I said “excuse me, I farted…” Doesn’t that just make you think about our own mortality and how at the end of the day we are just these sacks of bone and tissue that releases smells and secretes fluids? Anyway, I have been having these boy issues lately… probably because my dad never loved me. We fight all the time and he has these really strange sexual fantasies that involve melted butter, nunchucks, and a wizard hat. Can you pass the salt?”

    But you know what? Now I really don’t give a care if people are having a good time around me. Don’t get me wrong, I will put in 50% effort, but if you aren’t willing to meet me half way, then I will totally let an awkward silence linger like a stale fart.

    Maybe it is getting older and realizing I have no control over someone else’s happiness? Understanding that we are all responsible for our own inner joy. Or maybe it is because I put so much into my writing everyday that I get emotionally exhausted? Or maybe because I spend my day entertaining a baby that I already know happens to think I am fascinating!

    “…and then get this Munch… I said ‘No, but that is an awful nice ski mask.’ Ha ha ha! Isn’t that outrageous!”

    August 3, 2011 • 1 year old, Mommy Mind, Musings • Views: 670