I really like talking about reality tv, have I mentioned that in the last five minutes? Cause I really really do. The Housewives of NJ finale was pretty great and you all KNOW how much I love me some Bachelorette -which is why I recap it here. I’m just sayin’. All this not drinking has been leaving me with more time for writing which I haven’t been doing. I should. I’m going to. Really. But weekends are soooo long with three kids. Have I mentioned I have three kids in the last five minutes? I know! I can’t believe it either! Right now they are all three watching Jack’s Big Music Show in the other room while I quickly type this out. And now, I must go eat their cookies -at least, Sadie’s because you know she didn’t eat hers.
Archive for June, 2009
I’m sitting here at my desk wearing a puke covered bathrobe – the best thing about it is that it’s a white robe which is now complemented smell wise and aesthestic wise with brown splotches of vomit. Are you thinking my robe was covered with puke because I got crazy drunk and am walking around my house dazed and hung-over with the remnants of a late night Kung Pao Chinese food binge after my night of debauchery? Sorry to disappoint but no, I’m covered in chocolate Pediasure. Sadie, who recently weighed in at a plump 18 lbs. 11 1/2 oz (a month ago she was 17 lbs 10 oz), has proceeded to throw up every day since her weigh-in.
If she weren’t 18 months-old I’d swear she was bulimic. She’s all, “Yeah, you’re putting me in the 12 month pants now but I know I could still get into the 9 month pair. Do not throw them out. I need them for incentive!” I think she refuses to drink Pediasure not because it tastes like ass but she somehow knows how many calories are in it. Maybe I’ll make up some labels that say Pediasure Lite! Now with less fat for babies trying to watch their figures! And see if she’ll partake. Then when she gains weight I’ll laugh and say “Ha ha! I totally fooled you!” thus ruining any trust we’ve built up in our short time together. But bulimia would explain why she always cries like a maniac when we try to put her on the scale. I can relate.
Sometimes it feels like just when I get into a good place about Sadie’s weight and I’m really Zen and telling you guys how I hardly even think about her weight, she goes on a hunger strike or a run of puking and pulls the rug out from under my sanity. Plus, even though she put on a pound in a month, she is stubbornly refusing to get any taller. She’s 28 inches. If she doesn’t gain a few inches by the end of the summer we are being sent for sure to see an endocrinologist. Whatever. Listen, I know a lot of short people and they seem to have no trouble getting dates or buying clothes (sure the cost of hemming is a bitch but still…). Plus, I’ve seen that TLC show with all the Little People and they pull more tail than most single normal height friends I have. So her height can suck it. At least that’s what I’m telling myself today. Try to tolerate me when I melt down about this in a few months. Right now I have bigger fish to fry like all the hurling.
Can I be really selfish here for a moment? Great. Besides the worry that her puking causes, can I just complain about how gross it is to constantly clean throw up laden pillows, crib bumpers, blankets and couch cushions? There is no amount of upholstery cleanser or Shout Out to mask the smell of lingering vomit. Just FYI if you wanted to come over, wear clothes you don’t care a lot about.
I keep sitting down to write a post and then getting a bit paralyzed. Part of the problem is that when I wrote about giving up the hootch, it got a little more attention than I bargained for and now I feel like I’m under a microscope. Blogging is tricky because, to me, it doesn’t feel so much like writing for a public forum as it does writing for a small community of readers whom I’ve come to think of as friends; so I spill my guts and assume twenty people are reading it. My husband says that I have to have some boundaries when I blog. I need to be a bit more protective of the information I release to the public because once you hit publish, pretty much everyone has access to it: friends, strangers, assholes, parents, media etc. I can see his point.
Sometimes I have no filter. I write about what I’m going through at the time and I don’t always know what the hell I’m talking about because I’m processing while writing. There’s a lot of good in that too, don’t get me wrong. When I was in the hospital, in limbo, awaiting the birth (at any moment) of preemie twins, your comments and emails were what I clung to, what kept me hanging in there without going completely crazy. When the girls were colicky and I was crying myself to sleep every night, it was you guys that told me you’d been there and understood. This is LA so I don’t have neighbors who pop on by to help out; hold a baby or hold my hand. I have a keyboard. Thank God.
When I make a new friend, I like to get right to the good stuff: what are your demons? Have you done things you regret? Like what? I don’t give a shit that you backpacked through Europe when you were eighteen. I want to know if you’ve ever had an abortion, if you’ve ever slept with someone whose first name you never bothered to learn, if you hated your step-father. I want to hear the juicy shit that makes you who you are. I do realize that not everyone is like me. But blogging has a way of attracting like minded people who get me as well as the people who find my style of writing and relating completely inappropriate. Writing books is like that too except that when I write a book, there is more space between the event I’m writing about and the expression of that story which allows me to much more easily add humor and levity. In comedy we call this “tragedy plus time.” Like for instance 9/11: It’s only now that we can see the funny in it. Okay, very bad example.
So the drinking thing: maybe it was too early to write about quitting because I would hate to have anyone looking to me for answers or thinking that I’m judging their drinking or giving anyone a reason to judge me or make assumptions about what I was doing or why I decided to quit. When I talked about drinking before (in books and on my blog) I believed in everything I was saying. Alcohol was an enhancement to my life, a fun part of it – until it wasn’t. That’s all. I’ve only been off the sauce for three weeks. I know nothing. So possibly I will refrain from discussing everything that comes into my head at every moment at least until I’ve given it some time to percolate.
So, have you ever slept with anyone without knowing their name? DAMMIT. Don’t answer that.
Why do I call this a lazy blog post? Because I am too tired to be funny today. But here’s the thing, yesterday I got inspired and wrote a column for www.mommytrackd.com that contained a little more brutal honesty about my drinking habits. I re-read it again today and I was thinking it would be a shame to not share it with you guys because I’m a giver. That’s my best personality trait (if I had to narrow it down to just one). I’m aggressively generous -like if you asked me for a piece of gum I would absolutely give you one -if I had a jumbo pack that is -and if it wasn’t my last or second to last piece because you have to take care of yourself. Need more proof? Just ask the bum who asked me for money and I without hesitation handed him a dollar. I only asked for fifty cents change because that’s my nature.
So now, I will let you go and check out my column so that I can go watch The Bachelorette that I was too tired to watch last night.