Too much beer? Just go easy on the carrots

Posted on March 31, 2017 by Good Times with Jess

The longer Baby Bop is around, the harder it is for me to remember that I had a childless life for 34 years. I know it happened, but it gets fuzzier every day. One thing I used to do was ski. I’m reminded of that every time Baby Bop and I sit on the toilet and stare at my skis.

Two weeks ago I had an amazing ski weekend with my friends. Baby Bop was there because I need her to empty my boobs, but other than that, my mom and Captain did everything baby.

Even sitting on the chairlift was pleasant. Sometimes I was with my friends and sometimes with random people. One lift ride I got on with two middle-aged women. And as I’m writing this, I googled “middle-aged” to see if I made three, but it looks like I’m off the hook for a minute.

The women were chatting,

“I love my farm share, I just get way too much of the same vegetables and I don’t know what to do with it all. My kids sure aren’t eating it.”

Her friend nods. Farm-share lady continues,

“And there are always so many potatoes and I need to stay away from root vegetables.”

“Why?”

“Root vegetables have a lot of sugar.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

“Yeah, sweet potatoes? Carrots too.”

“Huh.”

“The other problem is that I have a full share and some people have half shares and the other day they gave me a half share.”

Didn’t you just say you have too many vegetables? I wipe my snotty nose on my mitten. Is this my future?

A few ski runs later I get on the lift with two teenage boys, maybe early twenties, but it’s getting hard to tell as I approach middle age.

One boy pops open a beer. The other one declares,

“Running into that tree hurt.”

His friend hands him the beer. He adds,

“I’m so drunk.”

Skiing, trees and alcohol. One of these things is not good with the others. Yes, Sesame Street is a part of my life now.

The ring leader with the beer offers empathy,

“Well I was so drunk last night I don’t even remember being on the lazy river.”

I head back to the hotel. I like my beer in the hot tub with Captain. I look at Captain. It’s like old times. This is how Baby Bop got started. Then we head to dinner the two of us. I feel like a new woman.

Captain tells me,

“You’re back!”

Yes, there’s still hope that I exist. I’m living somewhere between chugging beers on the chairlift and swearing off sweet potatoes.

carrot_thing_skiing_down_grocery_vegetables_by_abwingz-d6bphit

These all seemed relevant.

Aggressive pre-snowstorm shoppers and a crazy pregnant lady

Posted on March 16, 2017 by Good Times with Jess

Going grocery shopping before a snow storm is never a good idea. But then when the snow storm hits and you don’t run out of Cheez-Its, it was worth it.

Baby Bop and I make our way through the store. She grabs anything. I try to be a little more discriminating. The mid-weekday grocery crowd is slow-moving. There are several people pushing around oxygen tanks.

One lady checking out has eight loaves of white bread and that’s it. She must be doing snow storm shopping for the ducks.

I start chatting with a pregnant woman. There’s a pet carrier in the cart. She tells me,

“I just got this puppy!”

“Adorable!” ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!

I screamed that in my head, but maybe it was also plastered on my face, because she adds,

“I’m due in 7 weeks, so maybe it was a mistake.”

Maybe.

Baby Bop is wearing pink and blue. I like all colors, but I especially like pink. Baby Bop’s blue eyes look good with blue. And so attired we head for the yogurt aisle. I’m bent over examining the selection. A woman raises her voice at me,

“Is that a boy or a girl?”

“Excuse me?” Why does this lady sound aggressive? She continues in a scolding tone,

“I can’t tell if your baby is a boy or a girl because of the pink and blue.”

I’m sorry she’s not wearing a t-shirt that says “I have a vagina.”

Nature vs Nurture. I’m going to toss a lot up to nature

Posted on March 7, 2017 by Good Times with Jess

Will the truth survive four years of this? Will we recognize it after it’s attacked day after day? I have no new insights, but I need to acknowledge the pile of poop in front of me before moving onto Baby Bop’s cuter, more manageable poops.

I got my parenting job the same way I got my first bartending job. I BS’d my way into it.

My mom’s friend’s nephew was a bartender and he agreed to teach me how to bartend with no intention of helping me get a job. My first day with him a guy walked up to me at the bar and said,

“You’re new here.”

“Oh I don’t work here, So-and-so is just training me.”

“I have a restaurant and I need a bartender.”

“Oh.”

“Have you bartended before?”

“No.” Didn’t this guy hear what I just said? “I’m learning.”

“Have you bartended before?”

Ooooh. “Why yes. Yes I have.”

And off I went to my first bartending job.

Fifteen years later: do you have a uterus?

Why yes I do.

Alright. Let’s see what happens.

I BS’d myself into thinking I knew what I was doing.

“I took care of my baby brother.” I was five.

“I babysat plenty.” At 15 I rang in the New Year with a baby who had just fallen asleep on his parents’ bed. This should’ve served as a warning.

“I’ve read so many books.” I have. But reading about feeding solid foods is very different from watching your child get prunes everywhere but in her mouth. Baby Bop, don’t be mad at me when you’re still constipated later. I tried.

Trying. Maybe I’ll try this. Or I’ll try that. Or I read this on some obscure site, after hours of Googling. It’s worth a try.

My hormones have provided some basic parenting instincts, like the desire to keep my child alive, even though I want to eat her. But they aren’t helpful with the nuances, like what to do when my daughter does pelvic thrusts the entire time I’m trying to change her diaper.

Having more children would provide perspective on what’s personality and what’s parenting skills. But I am not trying to have a comparison anytime soon.

This morning Captain’s bare chest was tempting. I slapped it, then Baby Bop slapped it. That’s parenting.