Can you hear me now? :)

The other night, I was talking to my mom. Simple, right? Except that I know she wasn't paying attention to a darned thing I was saying. I had a question to ask her and I had to say, "I have a question to ask you" four or five times before she finally started talking to me again...and by then, I pretty much gave up.

She's not the only one who does this. I've talked to people who are more interested in what's on TV than in actually carrying on a conversation. But it bugs me the worst when she does it. A lot of our conversations have gone that way lately and it makes me wonder if she realizes just how rude it is to completely ignore one half of a two-person conversation.

So the next time I talk to her (which will be on her nickel, not mine) I think I'll tell her I've been kidnapped by space aliens and am pregnant with triplets. Just to see if she's paying attention. ;-)

Greeting Card Woes

Well, next Wednesday is our five year wedding anniversary, so off I went to Chez Target to find an anniversary card for Himself.

Now, that was depressing. Anyone ever notice exactly what's available for anniversary cards for husbands? They (and I'm speaking of the allegedly funny ones here) seem to be along a few common themes: the guy who hogs the remote, doesn't ask for directions, farts all the time, doesn't have the first clue what to do with the kids, and doesn't cook. Where are the cards for good husbands who ask for directions, cook and take care of their kids and partners because they're, you know, real men?

As you can tell, I nearly struck out, though I did eventually find a sentimental card that just about said it right. I just don't get it. If an anniversary (or any) card was marketed to men about how their wives can't drive, get PMS or are bitchy all the time, can't manage money and belong in the home, there'd be an outcry. But because it's somehow okay to make fun of husbands (or at least, label them one step above bumbling baboons) these cards are sold and no one makes a peep.

I just don't get it.

Living Proof the Deities Have a Sense of Humor

***WARNING: Serious religious irreverence follows***

Throughout recorded history, various religions have stories of believers asked to do impossible or painful things. Abraham was asked to sacrifice Isaac (or Ishmael, depending on who you ask) to prove his devotion to his god. Moses was asked to go back into Egypt to rescue the Israelites. Lot's wife was asked never to look back upon Sodom and Gomorrah. And that's just in the Old Testament...I'm not even going to go into the New Testament. And so we don't leave the Egyptians out, Isis had to go get all the pieces of Osiris' body after Seth dismembered him and threw him into the Nile. So, yeah, impossible doesn't begin to cover it.

But never did they get asked to do task like this.

Cleaning the bathroom. [insert dramatic music here :)]

Let me back this up. Anyone who knows us, knows we're not exactly great housekeepers. No, we're not dangerous---we don't leave chicken out for days in the heat and then try to cook it, we wash our hands before and after handling meat. But on the scale of Interesting Things We Choose to Do, cleaning the bathroom (or the kitchen) beyond just a very superficial, make-sure-we-don't-get-food-poisoning level, isn't on the list. Ever. And it takes...well, keep reading for what it takes to make us clean the bathroom.

Today, I got a very clear message from Someone that I needed to clean. No, no burning bushes or neon signs, just a feeling that Now Would Be a Good Day. So I did. I did half the dishes (half, because our drainer is small,) scrubbed the bathroom floor and banished the mold from the grout. Rob declogged the tub and the sink (for which he should get a medal...ugh.) And I almost drowned a spider of the non-lethal variety, but I apologized and Mr (Ms?) Spider seemed okay in the end.

So I've been thinking: why today? Why now? It's 90 degrees outside and not exactly fun weather for cleaning (or doing anything.) The best explanation I can come up with is this: it's spring, and when Someone says it's time, you listen.

And no, I'm not pretending that I was "meant to" do this, in the sense of heroic sacrifice or heeding a warning---I'm occasionally insane, but I'm not that bad. But I think I was pushed towards a recognition that everything has to change--whether it's my/our abysmal housekeeping, or just the way things have always been--and if cleaning the bathroom is the start of it, the best I can do is just hang on and go with the ride.

When I Become Queen of the Universe (Blog Roll post)

When I become Queen of the Universe (in no particular order)...

1) Wars will be fought with the parties' choice of the following weapons: pillows, apple pies, cards (game of poker, anyone?) or board games.

2) Maternity leave will actually reflect the actual time it takes to physically, mentally, and emotionally recover from childbirth, learn how to feed and take care of a brand new life, and regain some sanity in the process. And fathers will get the same amount of leave as mothers.

3) Every building will have a room for breastfeeding mothers. This business about pumping in the bathroom? Not happening. If we really think "breast is best," then it's time to make it easier for all mothers to do it---not just the ones who have their own offices or who stay at home.

4) Road rage will be banned. So will tail-gaiting. And light-flashing and...and...well, I drive in SoCal, what more do I have to say?

5) Rude people will have to attend charm school---Miss Manners, or the Ehell Dame, will be running it. ;-)

6) Abusers---of women, children, or animals---will get a lot worse than a slap on the wrist. I don't have Zeus' power of lightening bolts, but I'm sure I can think of something....

7) People suffering from infertility will have full medical coverage, just like any other illness or disorder.

8) Blocking aisles, carrying on a long conversation while doing so, talking loudly on your cellphone while driving or doing any other activity (do we REALLY need to know about what you're having for dinner?) is cause for immediate shunning and sentencing to the Island of the Clueless.

9) Oh, and pedestrians? The light means you can go. It does not mean, "Walk slower than a snail's crawl and glare at the cars you're holding up."

10) Conversely, if pedestrians have the light, give them the right of way. Failure to do so will sentence you to five days of writing "I will not be a clueless boor" on the charm school blackboard. (See #5)

8) Those who fail to MYOB and/or recognize appropriate social boundaries, will be sentenced to four years to life on the Island of the Clueless.

Thus Saith the Queene. :)

Things That Annoy Me Greatly (parte the second)

And no, I'm not unusually irritable today. ;)

1) People who wear too much perfume. Look, one short dose in the morning is enough. For the love of...whoever...please don't put it on again at work. (This means you, oh cow-irker who doesn't seem to understand that no, not everyone needs to smell you coming three nautical miles away.)

a) Also a part of this, people who wave perfume samples in your face at the mall. See #1. If you want me to buy perfume, how about not giving me a headache as part of your sales pitch?

2) Kiosk workers. I know you have to earn a living, and sometimes the need to make money makes you work in jobs you wouldn't consider, but that one? Oh, yes, I'm sure your overpriced cellphone/sea salt mix/makeup is worth buying, but you see, I'm just not interested. And no amount of cajoling/catcalling is going to make me interested. So stop. Please.

3) Snaps on baby sleepers. I'm convinced that whoever did this didn't have children. Trying to match snaps on a wriggling baby at 3am who really wants to go crawling without her diaper on is just not my idea of fun.

4) Non-standard sizes. Depending on who makes the clothes, I'm either a US size 16, 18, 20, or 22. The wee one is either into 9 month, 12 month or, in some cases, 18 months sizes. Rob is either a 36 or a 38 long. Can't we all get our measurements to agree? Or failing that, how about posting at least the inseam measurement on pants?

And finally (for now)...

5) Car sales tactics (from my latest experience.) Look, I have an internet connection. I asked for an emailed quote. That does NOT mean I want you and your legions of employees calling me repeatedly to get me into the dealership. Nope, sorry, nothing doing---if there's no quote, I'm not setting foot in your dealership. Oh, and you better believe I know what the invoice on my car is---so don't tell me that no dealership will match it just because you won't. Guess what? One did, and you just lost a sale.

And now that I've bought the car...

I love my car. Really. But I don't have an eternity to fill out online surveys or answer customer service calls about how my buying experience was. I bought the car and I filled out one survey. That's all you're getting from me, so stop sending me requests and please, for the love of whoever, stop calling. kthxbai

Things I Just Don't Get

On another short detour here, just down the road from Things That Annoy Me Greatly (they run parallel to each other, don't ya know?)

1) Trolls. Not the kind that live under the bridge and taunt the three billy goats gruff, and not the kind you see in Lord of the Rings. I'm talking about the ones that go on to internet forums and deliberately cause havoc by posting false stories or attacking other posters.

This makes no sense to me, probably because I'm not an attention whore. But really, if you have nothing else to do with your time than to invent soap-opera stories of woe and distress, shouldn't you find another hobby...like, I don't know, knitting? And people who post just to antagonize members of a forum? Puhhh-leaaase. If you don't like the kitchen, there's nothing saying you have to eat the food. So just go on your merry way and find some goats to pick on.

2) People who tailgate. Look, I know your time is just soooo much more important than mine (and everyone else's, come to that) but hanging out on my rear bumper is not going to intimidate me into going faster. It will make me change lanes, because I don't want to be part of the accident you will cause, but I have news for you: your brakes are not that good. If I have to stop, you'll be in my trunk, and assuming the accident doesn't hurt you, your insurance company will.

3) Competitive parents: those of you who have kids know the type. You know, the ones who loudly announce that they breastfed until their kids were in high school, always used cloth diapers, never fed them anything but organic food and wouldn't think of letting their kids not sleep with them. And their kids---at the age of a few years old---are rapidly discovering the cure for cancer and/or have gotten early admission to Harvard. Or they stay at home and look down their noses at women who work. Or they work and tell the stay-at-homes that they're wasting their lives. And so on, until there's a lot of hurt feelings on both sides.

In short, their whole purpose seems to be to shout "I am a better parent than youuuuuu!!!!" And they do it often enough that they make other parents feel incompetent.

Well, I also have news for you: you're not. You're just different. And so are the ultra-crunchy-granola moms. And the ones who stay at home, and the ones who go to work. The one thing that should unite us as moms is that we have kids and we love them and want the best for them. So, all you moms who love sitting in judgment on all the other moms---can it. Motherhood is hard enough without adding your garbage to the mix.

4) Nosy reporters. I'm not talking about the garden variety reporters, but the ones who go up to a grieving family and ask that most inane of all questions: "So, how do you feel?" Really? You have to ask?

That's my list for today. I'm sure there will be others when I think of them. :)

The Night of Screaming Mimi

These are the times that try men's souls...

Well....

Not really. But as a parent, they can really try your patience. The wee one kept waking up last night, and (yawn) I'm tired. Rob's tired. And the wee one is sleeping. Irony, much?

I don't know why she kept waking up. She was fed, changed, dressed warmly (we're having another one of our infamous "if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes" weeks....last week, it was warm enough to put her in just a onesie. Oy.) The only thing we can think of is that she had some gas pains, but whatever it was, it sure made her (and us) uncomfortable.

And then there's the cat. The cat is, oh, 15 years old or so now, and because I had him long before both husband and baby, I have a fondness for his quirks. But not his loud meowing after we just got the wee one to sleep.

Oh, well. With any luck, she'll sleep until after I leave, at which point Rob should be more awake. Me, I'm thinking of caffeine by IV right now. ;-)