Posts Tagged ‘babies’

Lots of people have asked me where I got the rant about restaurants and other places moving towards banning kids.

I read several before I got mad enough to come on here to suggest a ban on creepy uncles and generally vent about people who cannot handle the fact that there might be kids in public places…but here are a couple of the articles that sent me into my self-righteous Momma-is-Mad tailspin.

The No-Kids-Allowed Movement is Spreading

Stop Discriminating Against My Kid!

Restaurant Bans on Kids

BTW, I do think that people should teach their kids some manners and actually watch them in public…even I get a little upset at the never-been-disciplined kids who are released into the wild of a Wal-Mart to fend for themselves and crawl under bathroom stalls.

However, I have seen adults do the same (sadly that is completely true), and they’re all still free to roam the grocery store commenting on the tampons in your cart and running you down with their own…

I also don’t take my kids to a nice restaurant on a Saturday night or an R-Rated movie anytime. Most parents actually do show some discretion…heathens that we are 😉

How does everyone else feel? Am I the only one who would have a hissy fit if I got kicked out of a grocery store or fast-food joint for having a child with me on a random Tuesday afternoon?


Since I have started blogging, there is one person that never never fails to read my posts, share them on Facebook, and encourage me to keep going (or kick me in the ass with a reminder that I have “neglected my duties”) more than anyone. The topic of this post was her idea and suggestion, and I decided to run with it…Thanks Susy!

The “Bucket List.” It’s a popular thing now…and mine is one of the few blogs without one. Seems everyone is making a list of what they fully intend to do and want to experience before it’s too late.

That’s not what this is.

Yeah, yeah, someday I will make a Bucket List of my own…and I will post it here for your amusement.

But this one is a little different. My list for today is going to be all the things you NEVER once thought you would do, intended NOT to do, or otherwise ended up involved in that you would never have planned on.

This isn’t exactly an Anti-Bucket List, but similar.

This is the Bucket List that Fate would have written for you with her cruel twists and gleeful cosmic jokes…

  • You will travel several states away in search of an ancient cemetery for the purpose of…well, you won’t have a good reason. You will take this 36 hour road trip on a bus with dozens of strangers. (some of my cooler relatives actually did this one)
  • You will grow up without the intention of EVER having children because you like the order and freedom of your own existence too much to share. Then you will be blessed not only with two children, but two children JUST LIKE YOU.
  • You will spend adolescence fighting with your mother about your messy room…then you will develop adult-onset OCD…and have a messy child.
  • You will overcome your shyness in one fateful night, and realize this when you wake up the morning after your twenty-first birthday party with the terrible realization that you accepted a new job the night before…as a bartender in the bar you celebrated in.
  • You will find out that the bartending job will become the most loved and long-lasting job you ever had. You will discover yourself behind that sticky bar, make some of your dearest friends, and learn more than college ever thought to teach. You will get comfortable in your own skin and come out of your shell to never go back in.
  • You will spend more on an education you will never use than you will make in any one decade of your life.
  • You will get mad at a boyfriend and pack your bags, call a cousin to come get you, and move out of the state.
  • You will find out that the cousins you fight with as children become damn good friends as adults.
  • You will not forget the people who were cruel to you in high school. You will also not forget the people who were kind.
  • You will discover that you work much better for yourself.
  • You will be a night-owl in a world of people who leap out of bed at sunup like a freaking cheerleader on crack…you will resent these people and spend your life making coffee and trying to convince them NOT to call you before noon.
  • You will discover that the only thing you need for an impromptu trip to Albuquerque (simply because you like the name and you’ve never been) is two friends, a Ford pickup with an intact radio, a giant bag of Funyuns, and someone’s boyfriend’s gas card.
  • You will discover that the return trip (from anywhere) is never as great as the trip there. Unless you took a bus, then got smart and rented a car to come home in.
  • You will have an incurable soft spot for cats. You will marry a man who is allergic to them.
  • You will bungee jump for the first time in the parking lot of a Ford Dealership from a rusty crane. Your mother won’t speak to you for a month.
  • You will learn to drive a stick shift. You will abandon the whole concept in the middle of college traffic at 5pm on a Friday in the middle of the busiest intersection in town and hitch a ride home. The owner of the extended cab, long-bed Ford dually will have to come fish his boat out of traffic himself. He will forgive you…eventually.
  • You will take out a mailbox with an 18-wheeler.
  • You will yell at inept tech-support people at AT&T, at least two bosses, and a bank manager.
  • You will throw flaming cookies out a seventh floor window after forgetting they were baking…for a couple of hours.
  • You will stand barefoot (as a child) on a fish your dad caught and talk about the “whale.” You will also tell him it’s “darker than hell” outside while sitting on the armrest of his truck.
  • You will learn to speak a foreign language well enough to start a fight.
  • You will laugh in spite of yourself the first time your child says “dammit.”
  • You will get out of speeding tickets by crying, flirting, and using the “but I really gotta pee!” excuse. Then you will marry a cop.
  • You will stash photos of a cowboy water-skiing in swim trunks and a stetson for later blackmail material. You will later exchange these photos for equally incriminating ones of yourself.
  • You will organize at least one bikini square dance.
  • You will creep through old houses at night with friends and be convinced there are ghosts.
  • You will believe in ghosts, vampires, and superstition…and not care who knows it.
  • You will get tattoos and piercings.
  • You will learn that following all the rules and doing everything “by the book” would have made you a completely different person…and you won’t regret a damn thing.

I feel terrible. My kids inherited my sense of grace and balance.

For some reason I was born with an off-kilter center of balance, which results in things like falling up stairs and walking into doorframes in my own house where the layout is as familiar as my own foot. While entertaining in general (at least for bystanders), this tends to cause problems with unexplained bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Not too big a problem for an adult, I have only been asked once or twice if I would like the number to a crisis center hotline or a women’s shelter. My predisposition for easily bruising doesn’t help.

In case you’re wondering, the particular day that prompted some well-meaning woman to think I was a battered wife found me sporting a tank top and shorts. This was shortly (as in a day, I believe) after moving to a new house, and the day of carrying boxes (balancing their corners on my leg as I opened a door or car trunk), pushing and lifting heavy furniture with hazardous protruding knobs and handles, and my typical incidents of tripping and running into things had left me with many small bruises on my thighs and upper arms, a skinned knee, and a big purple spot on my left forearm. Factor in the three band-aids for some minor cuts and scrapes, and I am sure I looked the perfect candidate for a social services poster.

Anyway, while I am used to my own lack of grace and balance, I wasn’t prepared for the apparent genetic factor in clumsiness. Evidently, you can pass the trait along to your children, and mine each got a healthy dose of it from me…poor little tykes.

A week ago, my daughter proved that her aspirations to be a famous ballerina were pipe dreams when she twirled into a metal pole (that she was fully aware of, she had been dancing around it for half an hour). She knocked herself silly for a few seconds, and put quite an impressive goose-egg on her forehead.  After a few tears and some ice, she was fine, and the mark is quickly fading.

Two days ago, her little brother was testing his running skills out on a handicapped ramp and almost rendered himself handicapped when his little body got a few steps ahead of his little legs. Down he went, creating himself an identical mark to his sister’s…in the same spot on his forehead.

Now I had two kids with big purple bumps over their right eyebrow, scraped knees (because their knees are always scraped), and mutinous expressions at Wal-Mart buying more band-aids and Neosporin. I tried to look unashamed and nonchalant as I checked out at the register, ignoring the alarmed expression on the cashier’s face as she stared from my kids to me, I’m sure wondering what I whacked them over the head with.

All the way to the truck, I mentally wrote out a script for the CPS workers and police that I was sure were about to show up.

I wondered if my own bruises would help my case or make it worse…

I ran across this blog and have subscribed to it…this particular post was wonderful. Thought I would share!

Some random tips on teething infants. I pulled this out of the archives…figured some of the old stuff could be dusted off and put out there again.

A teething, cranky infant is not quite the picturesque domestic bliss you imagined when you turned the stick blue. However, it is a part of the package, usually following the months of no sleep, poopy diapers that send your husband running to the store with any little excuse (“Honey, don’t you need milk, or eggs, or tampons?!?!”), and endless comments of, “You look tired.”

These days will end, though, and there are a few tricks of the mommy-hood trade that might make them pass just a little faster. You might even come out with your sanity hanging by a thread.

Your pharmacy is your friend. Know it, love it, learn it. You should be able to walk down the aisle in your pj’s, right to the over-the-counter tooth and gum products. Better yet, send your husband, he’s probably needing a break from cowering in the corner. A tiny bottle of Ambesol is worth its weight in gold. Use a cotton swab to apply it to your baby’s sore gums…those two tiny, pearly white teeth you are so proud of can make short work of a cuticle.

Grandma was right. A teeny (tiny, minuscule) amount of bourbon applied to the gums can bring instant relief to the aching gums, and to your frayed nerves. Please don’t give your baby more than the drop you get when dipping a cotton swab into the liquor. I am not condoning getting your baby drunk. Although, once the baby is asleep, by all means, fix yourself a much-deserved drink.

Get ready for this one, it’s a little complicated. Dip a washcloth in cold water. Wring it out. Give it to the screeching little person to gum on.

I’m not a fan of medications that aren’t topical, like the gum gel, but you might find that some baby Tylenol helps. Please follow the guidelines and dosing instructions…this is a very tiny person you are medicating.

Give baby a cold, peeled carrot to gum on. Just make sure it is too big to fully fit inside his mouth.

Good luck, and remember, this won’t last even as long as the poopy diapers. It will, however, be much shorter than the teenage years you have looming on the distant horizon.