I rock as a mom
One of the first things I have learned in the world of parenting, there is no such thing as an unloaded question. Mothers may seem like they are genuinely interested in your child, his age, weight, but really it is all to make a comparison with their own. Yes we all do it... I admit it... Here is where I find a problem- if you get two similar comments (relatively negative) in a day, you get freaked out! Let me explain.
Last month Finnagen and I stopped to do a bit of shopping before his 9-month checkup. We were minding our own business when another mother came up and asked the age of my adorable son (note the baiting). I of course proudly announce his ripe old age of 9 months. She looked very surprised and told me how small he was. HER son was only 5 months old and HER son wears 12 month clothing and HER son weighs in at a whole 27 pounds. Now I never once worried about Finn being too small. He has always been on the higher end of the growth curve. My son is FINE... HER son is a freak. Off we go to the pediatrician thinking nothing of the event.
First order of business in doctors office- stripping and pinning of child to get height and weight. After multiple tries we get the same weight and height he measured during our last visit. He didn't grow at all. Not an ounce or an inch difference from before. The nurse informs me Finn is too small, he hasn't grown, YOU HORRID MOTHER, other kids are the size of houses by now... The doctor showed some concern, but not nearly the same amount as the nurse... fatten him up I was told. Toast with butter, food, more food, just feed him... Appointment made for a month later. Goal: fatten up child, stretch him out, and make him grow. GROW DAMMIT GROW.
The month follows trying to fatten and stretch our child. Buckets of pure lard as he's strapped to his highchair, hours of being tied and stretched on the rack... all appeared to have done the job. Our son weighed in at a whole 20.5 (post turd) pounds. (Jere is positive he would have weighed at least 21 pounds prior to enormous poop). His height increased as well. The doc is proud, no other comments about Finn's size (from mothers or nurses).
What I learned from this whole experience... kids have growth spurts. Finn didn't want to grow between those two appointments. Don't worry so much about others perceptions of YOUR child. Finn is healthy, he is strong, and he is a smart walking 10 months old. He is fucking perfect.
Safety in the workplace
Conversation overheard at work in the "Tea Room"-
UWMC Security Officer: So you got soft serve ice cream now... what is it?
Nice Hippy Tea Room Worker: Ice cream that is soft.
USO: What?
NHTRW: Like ice cream, just a bit softer... like whipped cream.
USO: So it tastes like Cool Whip?
NHTRW: No, it tastes like ice cream. It is just like ice cream, just soft.
USO: Ohhhhh, ha ha ha ha ha ha. I don't get it.
To all the people in charge of our security here at the hospital... thank you. Ha ha ha ha ha, no really... thank you.
I see dead people
This has been perhaps one of the hardest, longest, most tiring weeks at work in the history of time. We had 12 cases this week, the first 11 being done by Thursday afternoon. To top things off I had the flu. Luckily just a 48hr bug, but still a horrible, achy pain to be added to my already horrible achy workweek.
Death definitely did not take a holiday this week, which I suppose is good job security. I am now on call for the next month to take out brains... so crossing my fingers I can have just this weekend with a quiet non-active pager. Please oh please hear me brain pager gods... no paging.
It is Friday. I have survived. I am going out tonight with a friend for drinks. Drinks... that would be plural, more than one, drinks being many.
Context
Big Burly Hairy Man: You really have some nice looking meat.
Young Thin Clean Cut Man: Thank you.
BBHM: Really. I mean it. Your meat... so big, thick, firm… beautiful.
YTCCM: Wow, that really means a lot, thank you. My meat, I look at it as a piece of art really.
Actual conversation I heard in Top Foods near the meat department. Context really does mean a lot in a story doesn’t it…
Au Revoir Suburbia
Clean house. Check.
Begin to pack up nonessentials. Check.
Sell house. Check.
Find new house...
Worrisome
I was following an older red BMW yesterday that had three passengers. There was the driver and two others in the back seat. At first it looked like they were all either having an extremely heated discussion, or they all were using their hands to illustrate a point. I finally realized they were signing. What I find worrisome is that they were all extremely engaged in their conversation. Point being, the driver would have to look into the rearview mirror to see what the others were saying... so exactly how was he watching the road. Well, he wasn't... this was shown by the lack of control over the car, all the weaving, car jerking, and need for instant stopping to avoid hitting the car in front of him. After my near death with the white Subaru I am extremely sensitive to crazy drivers. I guess I should be thankful; at least it wasn't an old half blind woman who could only see looking THRU her steering wheel. Yeah that was this morning... It sure is hard being perfect.
Pet Peeve Du Jour
Do not feign interest in a story that I am telling, only to then say ten minutes later... "What the hell are you talking about?" It pisses me off!
Burrito Loco
During a work luncheon I flung a small cherry tomato onto my lap. This is normal for me... I wear half of what I eat. No one saw me this time, no need for embarrassment. After another person dumped a bunch of stuff on her lap, a conversation was started about sloppiness and eating with people you don't know. This reminded me of an event that has haunted me for years...
When you first begin a friendship it is easy to feel uncomfortable with the other person. You are just beginning to learn about each other, trying to make a somewhat normal impression. For me eating is always the biggest challenge- trying to balance conversation while eating, not dropping food all over myself, and not looking like the complete glutton that I am. As all my friends know I like to eat. I eat all the time. I have been known to make a mess when I eat. Not food fall out of my mouth type of mess... no I am more of a lady than that. Just dump food on myself type of mess, mustard on the shirt mess.
In College there was another girl in two of my Anthropology classes. We would study together for exams, and having many similar interests started to spend more time together at school. We decided to walk down to The Ave for some lunch one day. We hit a burrito place, ordered up a couple HUGE burritos and sat down. I must repeat myself; I said HUGE burrito... meaning REALLY FAT HUGE burrito dripping with salsa, sour cream and guacamole.
This is where time seemed to stand still for me... she was taking her first dainty bite of burrito as I began my first cut. In one smooth motion my knife cut thru the burrito... hit the plate... and somehow I proceeded to launch said burrito thru the air. My burrito... the size of a rolled up New York Times... flew thru the air with the greatest of ease and hit the wall, and ever so slowly slid down until it came to its final resting point... the floor. My god the horror of it all! Beans and sour cream smeared on the wall! Beans all over my backpack, beans on my shoes! I'm telling you, burrito viscera EVERYWHERE... and she watched the whole sorted affair!
Though I lived thru this event, our friendship did not surpass our final year at school. Perhaps it wasn't the flying Burrito debacle, but to this day you will never find me ordering a burrito with people I don't know.