How to Endure and Possibly Triumph Over the Adorable Tyrant who Will Ruin Your Body, Destroy Your Life, Liquefy Your Brain, and Finally Turn You into a Worthwhile Human Being.
At LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES, Eden Kennedy and I share our hard-won wisdom and tell you exactly what to think and feel and do, whether you're about to have a baby or already did and don't know what to do with it.
There has long been this notion that in order to be a writer or artist, you should also be an emotional car wreck. That–whether you struggle with addiction, depression, anxiety, psychosis, or a heady mélange of all of the above–your demons are somehow part and parcel of your identity as an Artist. With this in mind, too many talented writers and artists have gone and drank themselves to death or allowed their illnesses free reign, because it was more important to serve the Muse than live a rich, full, happy life, and there was certainly no way to do both.
This is a steaming pile of horseshit.
Come on over and tell me what you think, won't you? Thank you, I love you, more soon when I'm done wrapping these eleventy billion gifts.
HELLO, WORLD! I've had some coffee. Not a LOT. Okay, a lot.
"New bottle full of Pedialyte instead of milk, fuck you. I don't even KNOW you. Okay, screw it. I will drink this bullshit once. Yes, okay. This is all right. No, wait. No, on second thought, fuck you. Fuck you in the ear. I'm going to slap you all the way into Idaho if you keep coming at me like that. Pedialyte. Can I get some fucking Pedialyte up in here? Who do I have to blow to get a bottle of goddamn Pedialyte? Oh, you mean THAT STUFF? Oh, fuck you."
"Let's face it: newborns are weird-looking. They cry a lot. They're terrible at board games. And yet many mothers profess to have instantly fallen deep in love with their scrunchy-faced, pink, kind-of-boring babies. Who can say why this happens? It happened to me, and even I don't understand it. But it doesn't happen for lots of mothers."
BY THE WAY, did you know that you can now comment on my Redbook posts via your Facebook account? It's true! Come with me on this magical journey! This magical...commenting...journey.
"When Hailey was born, Victor's grandad said that cats eat babies and he said that he was going to come over and slit our cats' throats and throw them in the garbage. This is all true. We shut the cats up with the baby whenever he was in the neighborhood just to keep them all safe but none of the cats ever even tried to eat the baby. Is Victor's grampa crazy or is there something wrong with my baby?"
Finally: this has nothing to do with me, but these videos of "Chloe Sevigny" have made me terribly happy this week. I can't stop laughing at them. I can't stop! Call 911!
Seriously. "Ironic coin skort"? I can't even write that without laughing.
Yeah, whatever, so I haven't been here all week. Pfft, like I even care.
Okay, I DO care. Shut up. I can't even pretend with you guys. Getting back to work, and school, and HOMEWORK (growl smash rage), and other obligations that have forced me to get dressed and/or become more or less clean, has taxed my already-challenged brainsicle. But I've almost got this thing figured out! I'm dressed now and EVERYTHING. And it's four o'clock oh shit I was supposed to pick up Henry an hour ago.
Ha ha! He's at a playdate. I mean, I think. No one from the school or the department of child-maintenance or wherever has called me yet, so I assume everything's copasetic.
But look, there are three posts over at Redbook from me this week! I recommend that you read them. Thank you. I love you. Your hair smells like sunshine.
"I know that I can be a challenge! Did you know that the Lenape Indians faced hardships, too? Find 23 things in your home that remind you of the many challenges the Lenape Indians faced, then create physical representations of your feelings using the corn husks you gathered during your dinner which I hope included corn! Show your work!"
2. When your mom's a hoarder. For most of her life, Jessie Sholl hid a secret from almost everyone she knew: her mom is a compulsive hoarder. Her memoir, Dirty Secret, is about growing up with a mentally ill parent, and what it's like as an adult child of someone so troubled and erratic. It's a great book, and I'm not only saying that because Jessie is one of my favorite people in the universe.
3. Plastic surgery: would you consider it? In this post I sing the praises of Tina Rowley--hilarious blogger and noted Twitter personality--who, after the birth of her second child, beheld changes in her body of which she Did Not Approve. So she had a surgeon fix 'em. Because fuck it. As Tina would (and did, quite frequently!) say. Fuck it! I like the way she thinks.
Henry's vacation combined with the fourteen feet of snow dumped on us rendered most of our plans for the week impossible, so we sat around. And around, and around. And oh my, it was glorious. Some days I didn't get out of my pajamas. Some days I ate nothing but Christmas cookies until noon. I went to the gym yesterday, and my yoga pants were noticeably tighter. Surely this is a coincidence.
My Redbook posts for the week were only now put up, due to editors being unavailable (thanks, inclement weather!). So here you are, in the waning light of 2010:
Happy new year, everyone. Thank you for reading, and commenting, and being wonderful in general. I get a little choked up when I think of how much this blog, and all of you, have brought me and my family. And I think 2011's going to be amazing for us all. This is our year! TEAM!
December 20, 2011