Today is Day 30 of my June Writing Challenge. This marks the 15th day that I have posted, so I only posted half the time. That’s better than previous months, at least!
My husband took the kids camping yesterday in a nearby state park. It was Baby Girl’s first camping trip. I opted not to go, because I hate everything there is about camping. I don’t like the close proximity to people, how uncomfortable it is, the bugs, the lack of a nice, private bathroom, and the heat. Oof, the heat. My last camping trip was sometime before my husband and I got married. It was fall and we were in the Grandfather Mountain area in NC, so it was nice (and the only issues were being uncomfortable and lack of a nice bathroom).
For whatever reason, my husband decided that the end of June in South Carolina heat was a good time to introduce BG to camping. And not even in the mountains, where it probably would’ve been cool enough to sleep last night.
They came home around 11:30 to sleep.
My husband said BG wasn’t having any of sleeping in the tent. First, he forgot pillows and her sheet. She can’t sleep without those. Then she complained about being cold despite being soaked with sweat from the heat. She also complained about being hot, but this didn’t stop her legs from being cold because of the forgotten sheet. The air mattress was “yucky and horrible.” (I agree.) And then she didn’t want to sleep next to my husband and her brother, so she moved to sleep at their feet. And then she didn’t like them moving around, and when LM bumped her with his foot, she started hitting him and yelling.
I can only imagine what the campers nearby thought of all of this.
My husband said they tried to sleep in the car and gave BG the whole backseat to herself, but she didn’t have her sheet, so that didn’t work. When they came home around 11:30, they all crashed.
My husband did say the rest of the day was fun — fishing, hiking, roasting marshmallows, etc., so I guess next time just spending a day at the park will be the plan next time.
I had the evening to myself. I was going to go for a swim, but the ladder on the pool was messed up (my husband had to replace a bracket or something and forgot to put it on), so I just took a long bath. I had a nice rum drink to go with the bath and ate pizza, plus a Lily’s chocolate bar for dessert. Mmm. After playing a couple rounds of Fortnite, I watched a movie called Clemency, which was a pretty good movie. Having a few hours to myself was very nice! And now my husband will need the same after camping with the girl.
I’m so over 2020. I know y’all are, too. Today brings yet another 2020 type thing (admittedly not remotely as serious as other 2020 things, but still).
Back in February, my doctor was concerned about a spot on my forehead. I asked my previous provider about it a couple of times (so it’s been around since 2017, maybe earlier than that, but that’s when I first noticed it), but she didn’t really check it out. My new doctor was concerned about it and froze it off and referred me to a dermatologist to get checked up. That got put off for a little while because of the pandemic, but I had the biopsy last week — and the dang thing had grown back — and got the results today — basal cell carcinoma.
This is the most minor type of skin cancer and should be easily removed with no problems. (KNOCK ON WOOD, 2020.) The nurse who called said it was in a “weird area” (not sure why, because it’s just the forehead, should’ve thought to ask) and that they would refer me to someone else to have it removed since I’d need to be sedated for it. Fuuun. I hit up Dr. Google, of course, and read that it rarely spreads, especially when it’s caught early.
Being a very white person who has had so many sunburns, I’m not at all surprised by this. And I’m not really worried either (no worries, I’m still Anxious Mom, because I’ve got the anxiety over everything else lol). It comes at a bad time, though. Things have been so rough lately, like “time to see the psych to adjust my meds” rough. So while this skin thing isn’t serious, an extra stressor is not welcome right now.
2020 is like this since I said it wasn’t serious–
Fuck off, 2020.
We’ve been playing a game called Organ Attack that BG got for her birthday. It’s meant for ages 10 and up, but BG’s aunt said she knew BG would love it and didn’t think she’d have any trouble playing it. She was right, and it’s really fun. Everyone gets a bunch of body organs, and you take turn playing cards trying to wipe out everyone’s organs. For example, you can play necrosis on any organ to wipe it out or play conjunctivitis on the eyes. BG loves it and it has cause a shit ton of fights because BG is very protective of her organs and doesn’t want anyone to play cards on them.
Upon hearing my husband and I discuss the phone call about the skin stuff, BG commented that I could play an Immunity Boost card. This card removes an attack (or affliction), which I thought was very sweet. ❤
This is gonna be a weird one, because I’m going to talk about facial hair in women. Specifically, me.
I should’ve learned not to shave additional areas of my body, beyond legs and armpits, years ago. When I was in high school, I saw the tiniest bit of peach fuzz on the tops of my hands and belly. Shaved it, the belly hairs grew in dark instead of blond. Ugh, so now that gets handled regularly and has developed more over time. The hand hair is mild and barely noticeable, but it was enough to know I shouldn’t have shaved there.
I don’t know if it’s just getting older, hormones, genes, or what, but my face is getting hairy. Brown and blonde hairs popping up all over. There were the few stray chin hairs, which turned into more. And then the sides of my face (kinda where men would have sideburns and muttonchops) developed peach fuzz. And some new hair came up around my temples and spread out close to my eyebrows. Then there’s the bit of above-the-lip hair.
I’ve wanted electrolysis for more than a decade, back when that bit of fuzz over the lip appeared. My husband has maintained all along that it’s not noticeable to anyone but me, but then sometime at the end of the last year, Little Man made a comment about how I had a mustache.
I looked around online to see what would be best — bleaching, Nair remover, or shaving. I came across an eyebrow razor that said it removes peach fuzz and exfoliates the skin. Since it’s not a regular razor, I just thought it would be different somehow and that I wouldn’t have to worry about removing the fuzz again for a while. Well, eyebrow razors work exactly the same as regular razors in that they shave the hair. (And the fact that I was even somewhat surprised there shows my stupidity with all this crap.) I realized this after doing my upper lip. And then I thought maybe I should stop there, but thought the peach fuzz on the side of my face might stand out more, so I shaved that, too. And then I decided that there should be no hair near where I pull back my hair near the ears when I do a ponytail (you know how there’s always baby hairs that won’t pull back on the way?) and decided to shave all that off, too.
Shaving my face? Mistake. Shaving the “baby hairs” where I pull back my hair for a ponytail? Huge mistake. The peach fuzz bits are all growing in much darker as opposed to being blondish, and where I pull back my hair just looks awful. I look like I have a 5 o’clock shadow after a few days.
Again, my husband said it looks fine and that I should stop looking at it with a 10x magnifying mirror, but he also got reading glasses recently because he can’t so much as read the texts on his phone without difficulty anymore.
Don’t shave anything extra.
Did you enjoy learning about my hair maintenance woes? Probably not. Here’s a story about the kids from yesterday to make up for it.
Yesterday evening, I heard the kids yell, “Mom!” “Mommy!” in angry voices. They can running into the kitchen.
“Don’t tell her!” Baby Girl said.
“Oh, I’m gonna tell her,” Little Man said.
I don’t wanna be told.
“I said ‘DON’T!” Baby Girl shouted. “Mommy, order him not to tell you.”
“Little Man, don’t tell me,” I said, “as long as Baby Girl tells me herself.”
“What?” Baby Girl responded.
“Tell me what you did yourself, and then LM doesn’t have to tell me,” I answered.
Baby Girl gave me The Look. “I don’t want to.”
“Okay, then I’ll ask LM…”
“Mommy, I forgot what happened. Sometimes I forget things.”
So Little Man told me, and it became clear that none of the lectures about germs and viruses that I’ve given over the past few months have stuck.
“She licked her hand and then put it on my face. And when I yelled and told her not to do that, she licked me.”
So, a new sentence was spoken by me last night. “We don’t lick our hands and then put them on people’s faces.”
I hope y’all have had a good weekend. We hung around the house working on various projects for the most part. My husband took the kids on a ride Friday evening and ended up stopping at a park that had no people at it and let them play a bit and then got ice cream cones. The kids were overjoyed! That’s the biggest dose of normalcy they’ve had in almost three months. (Plenty of hand washing and sanitizing, of course.)
Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like easing back into things will be happening soon here. We had talked about a “slowly pulling off the Band-Aid” approach with family and a couple of close friends in small ways, but cases shot up by 50 percent in our county and by a lot in our state this week. We’ve been very strict about what we do over the past three months and were hoping that we could get back to more normalish activities soon, but ugh.
The girl is planning her birthday. It’s coming up in a couple of weeks. We talked about food and cake last night, and then she told me her wishes for the big day:
BG: Here’s what I want — I want a day without Mommy raising her voice at me, a day without LM aggravating me, and a day without Daddy singing poop songs.
LM: Well, I want a day without you (BG) screaming.
BG: Well, I’ll do what I want since it’s my birthday. And it’s not your birthday, so you don’t get what you want. It’s not February, it’s JUNE.
The girl went on to discuss more of her wishes for her birthday, which include LM not jinxing or “ha ha-ing” her. (More on the Ha Has here.) She doesn’t want her dad to talk in his Mufasa voice, even though he only does this when she asks him to as part of playing Lion King. She also told us she doesn’t want us to laugh at anything she says unless she tells us it’s a joke in advance. So, no laughing at her cute or unintentionally funny comments. She isn’t one to tell jokes often, either. That’ll be an interesting day!
Since it’s unlikely that virus still will improve much over the next two weeks, we aren’t planning on a party with guests. At the most, we would invite the grandparents for a cookout outdoors, but I doubt that will happen. One set isn’t going anywhere right now; my MIL is thinking about going out of town; and my dad would want to bring everyone at his house (presently 8 people). It would be nice for them to get to see BG on her birthday (or the weekend before) and share some cake, and we could probably make it very low-risk with the right conditions. We’ll see. We’ve been preparing BG for the idea that things will be very different this year, and she seems very understanding so far.
Some of my friends have been doing birthday drive-bys/parades for their kids, but we are going to ask people to send birthday cards instead. She loves getting mail, so she’ll be thrilled if she gets a few cards.
Sounds pretty innocent, right? Just laughing. Chuckling. Whatever.
“Ha ha!” is the sound that happens before brawls occur in my house. “Ha ha!” is what leads to Baby Girl’s shrieking so loudly that my ear drums come damn close to bursting. “Ha ha!” equals a migraine.
It all started when we got Disney+. Disny-fucking-Plus. Little Man discovered The Simpsons, watched the hell out of it, and started imitating some of the characters. This includes Nelson’s oh-so-annoying “Ha ha!”
(I can’t imagine that anyone hasn’t heard that given how long the show has been on the air, but if you haven’t, watch it before continuing this post. And then replay it 10 times in a row.)
Someone stubs their toe? He “Ha has.” Loses something? “Ha has.” Exists? “Ha ha.” It became a knee-jerk reaction with LM, one that I tried to make go away by banning The Simpsons for a while.
And then Baby Girl started “Ha ha-ing.” Same obnoxious tone. And then the tattling started big time. “Mom! She is ‘ha ha-ing’ me!” I was like, “Really, LM? You’re mad because of the thing you taught her?” I told her to cut it out, of course, but it’s like every other not-good thing he has taught her where she eventually flipped it back on him. “Idiot! Brat” Ugh.
Have y’all ever snapped at your kids:
“Stop ha ha-ing each other!”
“No more ha-has!”
“If you ha ha one more time today, no more screen!”
I sound like such an awful, crabby person.
Damn “ha has.”
Damn Simpsons. Now I see why my grandmother wouldn’t let me watch it as a kid. She said it was trashy, like Roseanne (sigh), but maybe she was on to something. She avoided the “ha has,” which my sister and I would have surely imitated and annoyed her with, too.
I don’t know if anyone ever said it on the show, but fuck you Nelson.
Thirty days of blogging is officially underway. This is just going to be a rambling post, nothing spectacular to start off a blog challenge 😉
Summer vacation has officially started. It’s weird starting vacation without my long list of things to do during the summer. Vacation, weekend trips, overnight stays at the waterpark resort, museums, Chuck E. Cheese, camps, the summer reading program, etc. Unless things change big-time, it looks like we’ll be doing summer the same way I did growing up.
Aside from my brief stint with the Girl Scouts and doing their week-long day camp, I didn’t do summer camps. We typically went to either the beach or the mountains for a week, but that was the extent of our overnight stays. We didn’t go to Chuck E. Cheese or museums or much of anywhere. We did go to the library a lot, although our library didn’t have summer programs for kids past third grade or so. My grandma would take us each week, and we would spend hours there. Definitely the highlight of my summers. Aside from that, most of my summer was spent hanging out at home, playing outside, reading, watching TV, seeing my cousin occasionally, and playing video games. We lived in a rural area, so there wasn’t a neighborhood with kids to play with.
A summer that isn’t overplanned and exhausting (as my summer plans tend to be) will be a change, but good in many ways, I’m sure.
A friend of mine had a drive-by birthday party for her son yesterday. (The birthday kid/parents stay outside and people stay in their cars and drive by to wish them a happy birthday.) We went through to say hello and drop off a gift. Baby Girl got to talk to someone her age in person for the first time in 2.5 months, and she was overjoyed. ❤ Her birthday is in three weeks, so I guess we’ll be doing the same thing.
Right now I’m listening to Baby Girl sing as I write. She’s singing “[Little Man] is a butt!” over and over. LM isn’t even in the house.
Wanna hear the source of a major fallout at my house the other day? Better yet, let me show you.
My cousin and I used to use this in our tween/early teen years to determine our future husbands. (Note: I did not marry JTT, despite what the ball said.) The fortune telling toy is bad news for the Anxious household, though. Baby Girl started things by asking if LM was a brat. (SIGH) It said, “Yes definitely,” much to her glee. So LM took it and asked it the same question, and it also said “yes” for her. She started straight up sobbing.
“Magic 8 Ball is always right! It said I’m a brat!”
After several minutes of crying, she took the ball and asked, “Is Magic 8 Ball the King of the Idiots?”
Thankfully the damn thing said “yes.” (I think they probably weren’t doing a good job of shaking it up.) And that settled it — the King of the Idiots couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth, so she was fine. (And then she asked it if I’m a bad mom today, it said yes, and she was upset again. I don’t know why the hell I haven’t donated it to Goodwill yet and made it someone else’s problem.)
Do you like nicknames? When I was growing up, we weren’t much for nicknames. It was just the typical “Honey” or “Sweetie” stuff for everyone, unless my grandma was aggravated with us, and then it was “Heathen.” Sometimes she called the granddaughters “Little Heifers,” but not often.
When I met my husband, I was introduced to a world very different from the one I grew up in, even though we grew up only miles apart. And one of those differences was the nicknames. They are all about some fucking nicknames in that family, and that shit is in BG’s DNA big time.
Baby Girl has a lot of names for me. Starting from the first time she addressed me by name to her most recent nickname:
Numbers 6 through 12 have come up in the past year. She usually calls me by #2 or #6, but #9 is my favorite.
He is not a fan of the last two. It makes it even better that the child thinks his favorite thing in the world is poop. It isn’t, of course, but since she thinks it is, she constantly draws emoji poops on the stuff she makes for him and wants all of his gifts to be brown and/or have poops on them.
[Little Man’s real name]
Looks like the more she likes you, the more names you get. Poor Little Man.
And from the time the girl started talking up until she turned three, she had quite a few names for herself. And her real name came last:
Sweet Baby Ona
Sweet Baby Ona Kate Kate
Sweet Baby Ona Kate Kate Princess
Sweet Baby Ona Kate Kate Princess Sissy
Sweet Baby Ona Kate Kate Princess Sissy Cupcake
Calling herself by other names stopped for almost a year, until the summer before she turned 4, when she decided she wanted to be called Miguel. Yes, Miguel. My then blonde-haired, blue-eyed child insisted on being called Miguel for months and would not respond to anything else. Even when we were out in public, we had to call her Miguel, which got some strange looks. Thanks, Coco obsession. (And omg, she wanted to wear a red jacket when it was sweltering outside.) I was relieved when that one came to an end.
She likes to go by “Lion” sometimes now. I discovered this when she brought home a worksheet that had “[First name] Lion [Last name]” on it. She likes to sign into the class Zoom meetings as “Lion,” too. (Except for last week, when she was eating a cherry popsicle when the meeting was starting, and then she wanted to sign in as “[First Name] Red Popsicle.”
Such an interesting child.
LM does not like nicknames. Not even a little bit. To the point that it almost bothers him that we use a shortened version of his name. (Think “Matt” for “Matthew.”) If it weren’t for his name being so short and not having to write as much, LM would probably go by his full name. (And, yeah, that child is so lazy when it comes to writing that three measly letters matters to him.)
Let me tell you what my in-laws wanted to call him.
Like I said, they are all about nicknames. They have a tradition of coming up with terrible nicknames for their grandkids. And I don’t mean nicknames like “Sweetie Pie” or whatever. No, I mean truly awful nicknames. For example, one of the grandkids is called “Junkyard Dog.”
Yeah, you read that correctly.
“Is that Junkyard Dog coming in the backdoor?!”
We hadn’t been dating for very long when I was introduced to the nicknames. I was over at their house when my husband’s brother and niece came in, and my FIL loudly announced the presence of Junkyard Dog.
And then there is Alley Cat, which isn’t bad, except for a) the grandkid’s name isn’t Allison or Alley or Al or Albert and b) the kid wasn’t siblings with Junkyard Dog. I don’t know why it would make being called Alley Cat better if it was the sibling of Junkyard Dog, but it just would.
Here are some of the nicknames the other grandkids have:
My MIL proudly told me about all of the nicknames after noticing my WTF face when Junkyard Dog came in.
“It’s our thing. We like giving our grandkids cute nicknames. We’ll come up with a good one when you two have a baby.”
Did I mention it was early in the relationship? Early as in we hadn’t even had sex yet. I was 20, and marriage and babies (and godawful nicknames) weren’t even a blip on my radar.
(Well, as many of y’all know, things quickly escalated and I was engaged at 21, married at 22, and became pregnant for the first time shortly before turning 23. I guess MIL wasn’t getting too far ahead after all.)
So, when I was pregnant with LM later on, MIL brought up their ideas for his nickname over lunch one day. I was late in my third trimester and very hormonal, so her suggestions very nearly caused me to go into labor.
I’m a very particular person, so I wasn’t at all pleased with these nicknames. I was very happy with the name we picked out for LM and just wanted people to call him by that. And then MIL got to the crown jewel of her nickname list, the one she led up to by telling me it was their favorite and what they would probably go with:
Little Rotten Sack of Taters
There aren’t enough GIFs in this world to express my WTFness.
After the initial shock wore off, I tried to laugh it off like I knew she was kidding about the nickname.
“Oh, no, FIL came up with that himself! He’s so excited about it!”
Why? Why would someone want to call a baby Little Rotten Sack of Taters?! Why??!
“We can call him ‘Tater’ for short!” she added.
Oof, so much dying inside. I joke about being country, but I am not country-country, and I detest country-country stuff, and that name definitely falls under that umbrella.
I sobbed to my husband over the Little Rotten Sack of Taters giving me heartburn later on that evening. He later asked his mom to come up with a different nickname. They came up with Booter Scooter (“We’ll call him ‘Booter’ for short!”), which I thought was silly, but it was infinitely better than Little Rotten Sack of Taters, so whatever.
A grandkid born after LM got the Rotten Sack nickname, by the way, so it didn’t go to waste.
I was truly dreading the nickname thing when I was pregnant with Baby Girl. Thankfully, they came up with something that was a huge improvement on a decaying tuber vegetable.
I have been doing way too much online shopping. My poor husband every time he checks the online banking stuff, which is multiple times per day because he’s obsessive about stuff like that:
Look, my house is reasonably clean these days. Laundry mountain is gone. My kids have learned some shit and are fed regularly. I learned a new hobby as well as my patience allows (sewing). I wrote some stories, and that’s all I’m writing for now (since my best friend keeps asking), since there’s no deadline, which means I’m not functioning. Despite starting off the year strong with reading lots of books, I’m not getting into anything right now, so all that’s left is to window shop online. And that usually turns into “Add to cart.”
Okay, I exaggerate a little — a lot of my purchases have been for stuff I’d have gone out for (or would’ve bought online anyway). LM needed some clothes and rain boots, BG needed some Crocs and rain boots, and we needed Easter basket stuff. I also got some educational stuff. I bought a few science books for BG, plus I found a lot of 15 Magic School Bus books on eBay. She is loving them. I also discovered these Pete the Kitty books.
How fucking cute is that?! I absolutely adore Pete the Cat and couldn’t resist getting that for myself BG when I saw it. I’d love to get a half-sleeve of tattoos with book characters, including Pete and Max from Where the Wild Things Are.
One thing that has driven my crazy since I bought my iPhone 8 a couple years ago is the lack of a headphone jack. They give you an adapter, but I lost that shit within weeks. And the replacement ones I got from Amazon don’t work right. And bluetooth headphones suck for me because I never remember to charge them. I was browsing Amazon last week and came across some headphones that have a lightning connector that plugs right in to the charger area, so I was thrilled!
The sound is great! My husband liked them so much that he asked me to buy him a pair in black, except he wanted them to have BOTH the regular plug and the lightning connector. I was like why the hell would they have both? “Because I like having choices.” They don’t make those, not that I could find, so he got the “basic” ones with only the lightning connector. He said the microphone works great for his work calls, too.
I needed some new socks since several pairs of my fun socks have holes in them. Here’s one pair I picked out:
That’s Beast Boy, yo!
Teen Titans Go! has officially made my Top 10 list of funny shows. It has awful ratings (mainly people who were fans of the original — and serious — series not liking the comedic direction it took), but it’s fucking hilarious. The kids love it, my husband and I love it, so it’s nice to have something we all agree on. Beast Boy is awesome, so I couldn’t resist getting these socks.
Yeah, it’s very juvenile (but not in a garbage Spongebob way), but it’s my favorite not-just-for-kids cartoon I’ve watched in years. My husband and I have started talking like Beast Boy to each other and the kids at times, which BG thinks is hilarious and which makes LM die inside.
“What is wrong with you, mama?” – My husband will ask in Beast Boy’s voice. (Also adds “mama” to everything.)
I just add “yo” or “bro” to my sentences.
I’m pretty excited about those socks.
I’ve made a few regrettable Amazon purchases, too. Here is one of them:
Look, I’m all about creativity and shit. Yay kids building blanket and pillow forts. BUT, it just so happens that the best blanket to build a fort with is the quilt I sleep with at night. And it just so happens that MY pillows make the best fort pillows. Guess who isn’t a fan of some dirty little kids taking her pillows and blanket?!
So I was window shopping as one does online and came across this blow-up fort. For $50 plus a box fan, I was able to get the kids a fort that sets up in mere seconds and can be taken down and put away in mere seconds. Mere, mere, mere.
They were super excited the first day, but the excitement didn’t last too long. It turns out that kids prefer blankets, chairs, and pillows to something like this. Maybe it’ll go over better outside.
I thought y’all might get a chuckle out of this purchase. Since I couldn’t see my bestie for her birthday, I sent her a couple of things on Amazon. One was a pair of Blue Q socks that I desperately wanted for myself, but couldn’t because of the kids:
Maybe when BG is a little older. I did end up getting a couple pairs of the Blue Q socks for myself, since they’re so comfy and cute, but none of my pairs dropped the f-bomb.
This is the other thing I bought my friend — women insert it in their pants when they have to pee, and then they can pee like a man. No squatting necessary. I bought it was a joke, but it would really come in handy at some venues, such as tailgating at football games and only having port-a-johns to go in.
She definitely got a kick out of those gifts.
The most interesting of my purchases is probably the Mandolin I bought my husband. I saw a message he posted on FB talking to someone else about wanting to learn to play, so I was like “Okay, I’ll get one for him.” He’s not usually the type to buy himself anything. Music is his thing, and that’s how he has spent a lot of his free quarantine time — playing his guitar and writing music. I didn’t used to like his voice very much (I was the only one, as everyone else raved over it), but ever since he started adding a bit of a country twang to it, I’ve gotten really into his singing. (He sounds very much like Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born.)
I thought I was being sneaky and bought the mandolin on my credit card, but he saw the statement and asked. He knew I had talked about buying a new keyboard to teach the kids/learn myself and thought that’s what I purchased. I told him I didn’t get a keyboard, but not to nose around my purchases since I pay for things on my card for privacy. (It just so happens that he gets the bills, hehe.)
It’s a cheaper model, but will be good for him to learn on, and I hope he likes it. With any hope, all three of us can play guitars/mandolin together while BG beats on her drums. (I can play the guitar decently, and LM can play a couple of songs.) Add in the keyboard that I hope to get at some point, and maybe the Anxious Family Band will come your way soon!
Have you made any crazy or fun quarantine purchases?
Also, does anyone have any book recommendations for me? I don’t care for romance or James Patterson, but am pretty open-minded otherwise. I’d also like some recommendations for new bloggers to follow!
And I promise I’m working on that Blogger Girls Night Zoom thing. I’ll send out something on Sunday to start figuring out days/times.