August 2008

Nastics

fine, so i have not written in forever. whatevs. we'll get up to date sorta backwards.

anyhoo, watching the olympics and Aria sees the little girls doing gymnastics ("nastics") and screams at the girl on the screen "don't go pee pee in your underwear! go pee pee on the potty!"

so that is where we are.

Aria goes away with her dad for seven days next week and i'll fill you in on so many adventures. the most exciting—my new tits.

tune in!

OX

Kiss the Underwear

so Aria is crazy-mad about kissing. she kisses everything (the stove, magazines, my leg, a lot). she even makes the things she kisses kiss each other (see above).

we took Aria to the beach on family outing last weekend. one of the rare times i go west.

of course, being NY Jews, we knew nothing of umbrellas or other sorts of west coast protective gear other than a tube of sunblock and a hat. Aria was tired. she wanted to nap. she crawled on my lap and started nestling in child pose—butt way up in the air, head in deep lap. i shrouded her in a pink sarong, trying to create a tent of sorts (not working) as she schooched around trying to get cozy and comfy. we all thought this was cute. until what happened next.

excited about me being in my "underwear" (bikini—rare form) on the beach she thought what could be better than to "kiss the underwear!" and she announced this to the entire beach as she proceeded to "kiss the underwear, mommy!" and make loud smooching sounds bobbing her head up and down under the pink sarong.

this was so beyond disturbing and hilarious—in that i'm going to be arrested kind of way—we didn't know what to do. andrew and chelsea (bro and sis in law) were trying to gently distract her, which was really only a step away from extracting her like a tick. i was pushing her off, "no, no, no kiss the underwear!" which of course made her laugh and do it even more—harder and louder with more toddler triumph.

finally we got her off. my heartbeat slowed down. things got back to normal. and we decided it was time to go home.

lesson: next time, get all Targeted out before coming to the beach and get that umbrella and comfy, shaded resting patch for toddler.

this was a cult classic for shizz.

Never Say Nemo

not only did the outdoor movie night at the Grove suck ass because i lost my bluetooth in the melee of screaming kids, but i was stuck in a melee of screaming kids.

how do you spell meee-laay?

i asked nicely (bribed with bottled nordstroms water) of the stroller security guards if we could squeeze on the grass with our blanket (it was packed with real freaks, people with Tupperware upon Tupperware of home-prepped food, not only blankets and coats for the kids (Aria was still in a tank) but PILLOWS! i bought a giant box of animal cookies at nordstroms and barely had enough water for the two of us.

we got in there and it was total hell. didn't start for hoourrss....radio giveaways. screaming children. freezing. loud. i begged Aria to let us go home. "please, pllleasse, PPLLEEAASSEEEE let's go home! (this sucks!!) it's too loud! mommy's freezing! it's late. you need to go to bed!"

finally i convinced her with some masterful reverse psychology that the shark on the screen was too big and loud (though "nice," therefore softening the lifelong fear i created) and she conceded.

only to get home and discover my favorite mechanical device (besides my Acuvibe) had been left in the grass. my FREE swag plantronics bluetooth!

and i actually called the grove the next day to see if anyone turned it in. idiot.

anyway, never again. never, never again.

there really is nothing worse than the sound of excited children screaming for prizes. it really sends a chill down my spine.

I'm Just Not Ready for Toilet Training—Though Aria Is

you gotta be kidding me?

what the heck is so great about toilet training?

of course, Aria is taking to it like a mad woman.

first i was royally pissed because i had just spent $100 on diapers.com and bought like ten years worth of diapers not realizing she was gonna go ga-ga for it all so fast. damn it!

then, i realized, holy shit, i gotta dump piss and poop out of a plastic bowl—and wash it out—all friggen day?! you gotta be kidding me.

that is not fun for anyone.

so i am untraining her. getting her ass back in diapers pronto. i'm just not ready. they say the kid has to be ready. but what about me?!

ok, ok, relax. i'm not untraining her. but i am getting her to rinse the crap out (no pun) herself.

truth is, she only pees in the potty and runs for a diaper when she has to poop.

but really, the thought of her wiping her own ass and not doing a good job and it being all smelly and yucky—i'd rather i do it! and then, that thing about WHAT TO DO WHEN OUT IN PUBLIC??

so i bought a mini-porta-potty thing. and we're at Verizon wireless and it's her first day out in the world sans diaper, and lo and she says, "mommy, i have to pee pee. now."

i look at a salesperson in panic—"where's the bathroom???"

"downstairs."

holy mother!

i rush to the elevator, get our (still dry) butts to the bathroom. and she is hysterical and the looks of the porta-potty thingie.

so i try holding her over the toilet, not working. throwing a diaper on her, not working.

you know i am not one of those moms that reads how to do things. chelsea is always like: go on babycenter and find out what they say (about how to explain the death of a dog, get her to sleep before 10 pm, tell her we are losing the nanny she's had since birth when school starts)....no, no, no. i like to just wing it and use my "instincts."

needless to say, when we go out now, say to the Grove, our hideous stomping ground, i put her in a diaper.

we have regressed months worth of work. in fact, she is pretty much back in diapers all day.

well, two steps forward, three steps back. or something like that, right?

A Brand of Diapers Called PLUSHIES? Ew!

was at Savon yesterday, as many who know me know that i just LOVE to cruise drugstores, and there it was in the diaper aisle. a brand of diapers called PLUSHIES.

uh, excuse me, isn't that the name of a sex fetish? why yes it is—take a lookie here on Wikipedia:

The term plushophilia is a neologism consisting of plushie and -philia, and refers to any person who has an attraction towards stuffed animals. This attraction can be sexual or non-sexual, depending on the person and plushie involved.[1]

Plushophiles are often linked to the furry fandom due in part to a 2001 article by Vanity Fair that linked various members of the furry community with plushophilia.[2] In addition, plushophiles are sometimes linked with zoophiliacs, also due in part to the Vanity Fair article's interview with Fox Wolfie Galen, who was quoted as saying, "[It was] Usually German shepherds, Labrador retrievers, size-comparable things. It all started because the dog started it. The dog would come and start trying to hump your leg and I'd be like, Wow, that's interesting. I was at that age where I was learning to see what made things work. I don't do it any more."[3]

are these people just so out of it? i mean, they could have done a tiny bit of market research here. no? or wait, is it ME that's the freak for even knowing what this is?

um, ut-oh.