The Good Ship Poopypants

I realized recently that I use nautical metaphors when talking to Virginia on the changing table. I give her a toy or book to play with while I am changing her and when she gets tired of it she tends to throw it "overboard."

That one has been around for a while, but a new nautical phrase has just joined diaper change time. Virginia is much better about putting her hands on her bottom than she used to be but, once her entertainment has gone overboard the hands sometimes wander in that direction. A couple weeks ago I found myself exclaiming, "No hands below deck!"

All this nautical nonsense leads me to conclude that the changing table is actually a ship. Now, where it's headed...? I'll let you know. It has to smell better than where it has been.

What I Love About Me

This post is a response to a post by The Feminist Breeder.

I don't normally think of myself as the self-loathing type, and yet, when presented the challenge of complimenting parts of my own anatomy my first thoughts were of all the parts that would be better if...

I gave birth a year ago and I still think of myself as being under repair. Unlike TFB I did not escape without stretch marks, and even though I have only had one child my belly skin has suffered damage that may never get better. How do you love that? I think that is a challenge for another day.

Instead, let me tell the story of how I came to love another part of myself: my nose.

My heritage is mostly Italian and English, meaning that the large nose gene was virtually inescapable. My nose is not small.

I hadn't thought much about it for the early part of my life, but as so often happens, I had to first hate my nose before I could love it. And as so often happens I couldn't hate it until someone else told me I should.

I was visiting family in Long Island and while I was changing in a bathroom an older third cousin I barely knew, disguising her voice, yelled through the door, "You have a big nose!" I was embarrassed and pretended I didn't hear, but the seed was planted.

I suddenly realized that I had a big nose. And what can you do about a big nose? You can't wear clothes that cover it up or flatter its shape. You can't hide it under make-up. No, you wear your shame, literally, on your face.

So, my world didn't totally crumble or anything. Life went on, but just with this little buzzing in the back of my mind that I was unattractive in a way I simply couldn't hide.

And then years later I was reading a magazine for teen girls. (Yes, a magazine helped me feel better about myself. How is that for twisted?) There was an article on wearing make-up and accentuating traits that sometimes people try to hide, like wide-set eyes and BIG NOSES. What?!! Draw more attention to it? But the girl in the photo was beautiful and not just because of her make-up but because she was owning who she was. She had a big nose and she loved it. She loved it enough to say, "Hey, look over here. Look at my nose."

From then on I decided to love my nose. And I did. And I do.

Life Isn't Fair

When I was growing up the "f" word in our house was "fair." As in, we weren't supposed to say it. If I ever uttered the phrase "That's not fair!" the obligatory parental response was, "Life isn't fair." If the goal was to get me to stop complaining that things weren't fair, this was successful. I didn't like hearing that life wasn't fair and avoided talking about fairness altogether.

But, I was really bothered by the whole "Life isn't fair" thing. Because, on the one hand, life isn't fair and I know that sometimes you need to accept that. But on the other hand, sometimes grown-ups do things that either seem, or legitimately are, unfair. Just because unfair things happen that we can't help, does that mean we should give up on being fair ourselves?

Then, I read The Princess Bride. There is a quotation in this book: "Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all." Strange as it may sound it brought me peace. It made me feel like it wasn't wrong for me to want things to be fair. It made me feel like there was a point to putting up with things that aren't fair. Life may not be fair, but it is fairer than death.

John's father died unexpectedly this past Sunday. He was dear to many people and his absence has brought a lot of sorrow. And these two things are connected. We wouldn't be so sad if he hadn't been so awesome. Death isn't fair. It is hard to accept that he is gone. But life is fairer than death because for a while he was a part of our lives and now we live on to touch others.

Hold your families close this Christmas and try to be fair. Because life isn't.

Sleepy John

Sometimes when John is half asleep he says funny things. The other morning when I came out of the bathroom John (still in bed) rolled over and said, "Sorry I was no help last night and this morning."

Virginia has been waking up at night again off and on. But that night she hadn't woken up. So I said, "I didn't need help with anything."

"Good," said John, "Because I wouldn't have gotten up."

I don't think he meant that. He is pretty good about helping out.

That's when I realized he wasn't really awake.

Nightmare Before Christmas

One of the homes I drive by on my daily route has a large square-based pillar near the road. For Christmas they have wound red ribbon around the normally white pillar. As I come around the bend in the road and see the pillar it looks a bit like a red brick chimney.

And anyone who is familiar with Tailypo knows that a chimney with no house around it is inherently creepy.

Yes, unfortunately, their decorating attempt makes me think less "Ho Ho Ho" and more "Tailypo, tailypo, I got my tailypo..."

Telephone

Among the many awesome toys that Virginia got for her birthday was a Fisher Price rotary telephone.

This is amazing for a few reasons:

1. Do they even make actual rotary phones anymore?
2. I think my grandmother, who gave Virginia the phone, had one very much like it in her play room.
3. Virginia loves it.
4. Virginia has never seen a rotary phone before.
5. Somehow she still seems to know that it is a phone. (She holds it up to her ear and talks!)

One Year

Virginia will turn one year old tomorrow at 7:44 pm.

We had a party for her this afternoon with family members. Virginia got lots of neat loot and she had her first cake and ice cream. I think the best thing about the party, though, was to see how many people adore Virginia, and to see her so happy to be interacting with everyone.

It has been an interesting year. It is hard to believe she was so brand new and tiny such a short time ago. It is also still hard for me to believe I'm a mother!

If you haven't yet had the privilege of reading Virginia's birth story in full uncensored detail, feel free to read it here. The one thing I forgot to put in the story (I was bound to forget something, right? I had a lot on my mind...) was that during the toughest parts of labor, looking into John's eyes helped me focus, relax, know that I could go on. Well, the hard work doesn't end when the baby is born. That is just the beginning! During the last year John has helped me through many a sleepless night and poopslposion. I couldn't do this without him.

Deja Vu All Over Again

When I worked for the public library several years ago I commuted for a while before getting my own apartment. One day a week I worked late and drove home in the dark. In the fall sometimes it was very windy and leaves would fly around. It was on one of those nights that a bat flew into my car. It looked like a leaf and I had no warning that it was coming. It left a tiny crack in my windshield.

A week or two later I was driving home in the dark and talking to John on the phone. It was windy and leaves were flying around. I told John I was gong to get off the phone with him because the last time there were leaves flying around a bat flew into my..."HOLY CRAP!" That's right. A bat hit my car AGAIN. This time it bounced off the side.

Fast forward to the present day.

When I get Virginia ready for a bath I strip her down, let her stand in the bathroom naked - holding onto the side of the tub, then fill her little ducky tub with water. Two baths ago, while Virginia was standing in the bathroom, she peed all over her legs, feet, and the bathroom floor.

Before her last bath time, when I took off Virginia's diaper, I noticed that it was dry. I said, "You're not going to pee on the floor again, are you?" Then I let her stand in the bathroom naked while I filled her tub.

She peed on the floor again. This time she danced around in it, or just tried to get it off her feet (picture a cat walking in snow).

So I am left wondering, am I clairvoyant or just bad at learning from my past experiences?