Out and About
Or “oot and aboot,” as I am fond of saying in an exaggerated Canadian accent, and I apologize if that is offensive to my Canadian readers, but you have to understand that I lived half my life in West BY GOD Virginia and am therefore entitled to make fun of someone else’s culture for a damn change.
Um, WOW. This is what came up when I did an image search for “hillbilly,” and…just WOW. Is this for real? Why am I positive that everyone in this picture smells like dandruff and old soup? And why are they standing in front of my grandmother’s dining room curtains?
Well, here we are at the beginning of Daycare, Week Two. I think I can officially declare Week One to be pestilence-free, since Sadie didn’t come down with any kind of funk over the weekend, which is apparently AMAZING, since everyone I know said their kid got sick during the first week.
Which means Sadie is either 1) lucky, or 2) UNBREAKABLE! Oh, M. Night Shymalama-ding-dong.
The Monday daycare drop-off was kind of difficult again, and I think it probably always will be. It’s just hard to come off a weekend when we’re all together 24/7 by heading our separate ways Monday morning. I’m seriously considering blowing my one-visit-per-week wad and going to visit Sadie at lunch today, since it will be 90 degrees and humid by noon, and I really don’t feel like sweating through my shirt on my daily walk.
Although this is always a good look.
Also making the daily grind of Monday difficult is that the weekend was just so damn fun. We started things off right on Friday evening by going to get ice cream after dinner – although I’m not sure when we will realize that tired baby rapidly approaching her bedtime + any kind of dining experience = taking turns holding Cranky McBitchpants and inhaling foodstuffs at warp speed. Which, when it comes to ice cream, is just a shade less than ideal, seeing as how the food in question is messy, sticky, and melting faster than the baby’s patience for her dumbass parents.
She’s still pretty pissed about the rave we attended afterwards, too.
Anyhoo, we all managed to get home and get our fool asses in bed at a reasonable hour so that we could wake bright and early (and OMG, I mean EARLY) on Saturday morning. It seems that “infants” don’t “understand” the concept of “weekends,” and after waking at 5:45am every blessed morning of the previous week, dammit if that kid didn’t wake up at that exact same time on Saturday morning. Unfortunately, she is still a bit too young to respond to bribery – otherwise we would have purchased a small stable’s worth of ponies if she just gave us 45 more minutes of sleep – so we sucked it up and craned our asses out of bed. While I fed her, Brad bravely volunteered to go out for bagels (everyone knows that early weekend mornings = not making your own breakfast), and after Brad had left the house and fully committed to a state of wakefulness…
…Sadie and I totally fell back asleep for another hour. Oops.
I paid the price for the extra hour, though, because it meant I was waaay behind in getting ready for our shopping excursion with FoST and her husband. Not shopping for me, mind you – heavens, no! That would involve expending precious energy trying on clothes and cursing my yoooge (to me) nursing boobs. This trip was all about expanding Sadie’s wardrobe, as she cycles through onesies even faster than before now that she’s in daycare, and – seeing as how I must have eaten some radioactive hot sauce in my burritos whilst pregnant – THIS CHILD WILL NOT STOP GETTING TALLER. I mean, like, EVERY WEEK I swear she grows visibly longer. If she could stand, I’m pretty sure she’d be able to high-five Jesus. Brad said it best while he was holding a sleeping Sadie and walking through the grocery store last weekend: “It’s like carrying a damn surfboard.”
“See what I have to deal with?”
So, with the rapid growing comes the rapid OUT-growing of clothes, and after discovering Sadie was too big long for 75% of her clothes (some of which she’d never even gotten the chance to wear! Insanity, I tell you!), I decided it was time for a little shopping.
Can I just share how much I love buying clothes for that child? I’ve already shared how fucking backwards I can be when it comes to my own wardrobe, but shopping for babies these days is CAKE, even for a fashion-backward mo-fo such as myself. The little clothes! They are so adorable! And perfectly matched together with little pants and hoodies and OMG TINY SHOES. While walking through the Carter’s store this weekend, I lamented to FoST about how much more complicated (and comparably less fun) it is to shop for myself, and gee, wouldn’t it be so much more convenient if they sold little matching outfits for grown-ups too?
And then I remembered that they DO sell them, and they’re called PANTSUITS. Jesus.
I scored Sadie some seriously cute onesies and outfits that she will probably outgrow next week, but BY GOD, this week she will look adorable in them. After shopping we went to lunch, and in an effort to head off any lunchtime crankiness, I decided to nurse Sadie into a nap (the whole nursing-as-a-sleeping-pill thing has got to be THE best thing about breastfeeding, hands-down. I don’t know why the lactation consultants don’t make a bigger deal of that when they’re counseling you about All Things Boob. Fuck this “breast is best” bullshit – what they need to say is “BREASTFEEDING YOUR BABY WILL BUY YOU MORE SLEEP AND UNINTERRUPTED MEALS, THE END.” And did I mention you can do it while LAYING DOWN, as in LAYING DOWN IN BED? Seriously. I think we’ve discovered why I’m loathe to stop nursing: I’M A LAZY TWO-PENNY HO.). Anyway, this particular establishment had a little hallway with some telephones and chairs leading up to the restroom, and because I refuse to feed Sadie in a room where perfect strangers are taking a shit,
(Although I would totally feed her in a room where the Perfect Strangers were taking a shit)
I opted to take one of the chairs to the corner of the hallway and get down to bidness. It wasn’t really a big deal, since the place was pretty dead at lunchtime and there wasn’t much bathroom traffic, but then Busboy Without A Cellphone showed up, and proceeded to have the world’s most inane conversation (possibly involving the selling of a controlled substance) on the pay phones next to me. The best part? Was that I knew he had absolutely NO idea what I was doing, as Sadie was positioned in such a way that her feet (and miles-long legs) were not visible by him. I suppose he just thought I wanted to sit in a hallway with a piece of fabric draped over my chest, but I found the whole thing infinitely amusing. And I may also now know where to score a bag of kind bud.
Sadie slept through lunch like a champ, waking up just when we were paying the check. I picked her up and she practiced her new favorite skill: listening to herself squawk and smiling when she realizes she’s the one who made the noise. Hot holy DAMN, is it cute. Much cuter than her other new favorite pastime: violently arching her back and nearly launching herself from a variety of elevated places.
It’s kind of like this, but, uh, significantly cuter. And with significantly less BULGING PACKAGE.
On Sunday, Sadie awoke painfully early once again, but this time we both knew better than to try to join the world of the living before 6am, so thanks to the aforementioned nursing to sleep, we were able to sleep in and head to the aforementioned mandatory-breakfast-cooked-by-others at a more humane hour. After loading our bellies with eggs and bacon (bacon being one of those foods I absolutely never buy but never hesitate to order), we went grocery shopping.
Look, I’ve TRIED. I’ve avoided shopping at motherfucking Wal-Mart for nearly TEN YEARS, but after I went there last week out of convenience and discovered my total grocery expenditure for the week was a good $40 LESS than it usually is? And that the meat I bought there was fucking awesome? And that the corn was ten thousand times better than the numerous ears I’ve bought from farmer’s markets this summer? And that they have my greek yogurt for HALF the price I was paying at my regular grocery store?
I am only human, my friends. A human who loves her some fucking reasonably-priced greek yogurt.
Look, I know. I KNOW all about the evils of Wal-Mart, and I KNOW that meat I bought probably only tastes good because it’s injected with pure corporate greed and the tears of underage migrant workers, but I AM ONE PERSON ON A BUDGET here, Internet. I don’t recall my years of shopping elsewhere providing liberty to any huddled masses yearning to be free. It is just really hard for me to pass up reasonable fucking food prices just so I can say “I don’t shop at Wal-Mart.” Especially when the meat and produce have been so good! Anyone else have this conflict of conscience? And if so, how to you balance being socially responsible with being financially responsible?
Whoa – that subject matter is a little too heavy for this blog. Let’s all shove our dresses into our mouths and move on, shall we?
ANYWAY, after saving assloads of money at TheDownfallOfModernSociety-Mart, we had a great afternoon of playtime and naps and standing on the porch watching a summer rainstorm blow through. All in all, a fantastic weekend. Which I managed to cap off by going to bed too late last night, resulting in me being a total zombie today. A zombie who spilled a bunch of freshly expressed breast milk all over the counter of the Quiet Room, slopped pizza sauce on her shirt, and walked around for 3 hours with her fly down.
So yeah, we totally cracked and visited Sadie at lunch. This day was kicking my ass too hard NOT to.
[Also, CONGRATS TO READER NEV on her recent engagement! Wooo! Love and happiness and all that jazz!]
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.