9 Billion Kids and Counting

The Duggar Family

Sigh.  I have yet another confession to make.  Prior to having a kid, I really enjoyed the TLC show "__ Kids and Counting."  I left the number blank because the show is about the Duggar family and their numerous, ever expanding kids (the number, not the size).  To-date, they have spawned 19 children.  Nineteen.  Michelle Duggar gave birth nineteen times.  Just, wow.

Anyway, I have again sort of picked up the show because there is nothing else to watch on Tuesdays.  And I am very disappointed in my reaction.  I judge.  And I judge and I judge and I judge.  For some reason, after having one child I am appalled at what I perceive to be a lack of responsibility in having nineteen children.  Perhaps it's the fact that I could never, in this lifetime, have the ability to parent that many kids.  But I think it's more that neither do they--the older of the kids end up parenting the smaller ones.  And it upsets me.  And THAT upsets me.  What business of mine is it?  I guess, though, if you put your family out for the world to judge, it shouldn't be shocking to anyone that judgment is what you will receive.

The most fascinating aspect of the show, though, is the fact that I genuinely like (most of) the people in the family.  They seem like really good kids/ adults.  I would LOVE to see what they're like off-camera, though.  Does Michelle ever lose it and tell Jim Bob that he's a sexist pig and to go f*&k himself?  God, I hope she does.  But I doubt it.  I suspect that they really mean it when they say they try to be good people.  And it seems that they are.  I don't necessarily agree that their lifestyle is for everyone, but maybe a lack of connection to the outside world can keep you optimistic and caring.  Who knows. 

The point is, you can live your life however you choose.  And, no matter how I try not to, I can judge you for it.

Holiday Hooplah

I love all holidays.  I love the fanfare, the decorations, the partying and the general joy that comes with them.  For years I have fantasized about huge family dinner parties for various holidays at which I ceremoneously present the beautiful 45 pound turkey I had spent all day preparing.  Yes, like many, I have bought into what life should look like at the holidays.

The funny part, though, is that I always assumed it didn't look the way I had envisioned because of me.  I figured that, once I got married, or once I had kids, or once I joined the Marines--something would happen that would trigger instant Norman Rockwellness.  Ok, fine, Martha Stewartness works too.  I would spend holidays "practicing" for those moments--preparing different side dishes to try out when I had people for whom to cook.  Yes, I was pathetic.  But I was also certain that "someday" would come.

Well, it sort of has.  But it's not what I had planned.  For starters, in the real world Martha spent months in jail.  But now that I have an immediate group of people who are legally obligated to attend holidays with me, it's just tiring.  It's fun, definitely, and totally worth it.  But generally I prefer to spend holidays with my son and my dad, watching sports and eating on the couch.  I don't think Mr. Rockwell envisioned such a scene....

But here's the thing (and all due respect to Norman)--I think these informal, less-than-photo-perfect days make me happier than anything I could envision.  I know plenty of people who break out the good china, force their significant others not to work, and wait for a feeling of completeness that never comes.  It's kind of sad. 

So this Fourth of July, let go of the picture in your head of children marching to a neighborhood parade to a finish line at whcih you had concocted a feast so magnificent, people from neighboring counties ask next year to attend (ok, fine, maybe that was just in my head).  So what if your holiday consists of you and the dog and a box of Wheaties.  If you're enjoying the Wheaties and the dog's company, you're doing better than most.  Be safe, have fun, and party like holidays were meant to be partied--just enjoying the day.

Ah the Storms

Tsk, Tsk

Sigh.  Remember when I recommended a funny, profanity-laced "children's" story?  Remember how I said that I thought it was really funny?  Yeah, well, the world now has something to say about me.  And you.

The book is everywhere.  Over the past weekend I had family over and a number of aunts had heard of it but hadn't seen it.  They thought it was hilarious, too.  Everyone I know is obsessed.  None of this surprises me.  And what shouldn't be shocking (yet somehow is) to me, is that the popularity of this book is causing people to...wait for it...judge.  And then, of course, everyone has to weigh in.  The following article puts forth four theories as to what those who actually (gasp) own the book are doing/ thinking in life:  http://theweek.com/article/index/216690/what-go-the-fck-to-sleeps-success-says-about-parents-4-theories

Actually, the article regurgitates others' theories.  The theories range from the fact that the book puts a voice to frustrations faced by parents ("I am a s*&tty-@ssed parent...") to it is sexist because women could (apparently) never write such a book.  My personal favorite, though, is that, because I like the book, I have "an over-the-top, pent-up fury toward [my child]."  Fury.  Awesome.  (Yes, it names me, personally).  (Not really).

I think this theory is hysterical.  Finding humor in a new twist on everyday life is now "fury" toward one's children.  I also liked the book "Girl With a Dragon Tattoo" but to the best of my knowledge it did not make me a psychopath.  Nor Swedish.  I'm pretty sure it didn't bring out tendencies toward either that I was secretly harboring.  Well, I do occasionally like an IKEA run, but there was no secret there.

Sure, a lot of the time such "theories" are pushed by attention-whores trying to get in on a publicity run.  And many times they are just random people who are trying to stir things up.  But the issue I have is that I am quite certain there are people out there who believe the "fury theory" and judge.  Because a parent can't walk out the door without being judged.  Or, rather, can't awaken without being judged because typically it is the parent him/herself who is the worst. 

I guess, then, I would like to apologize if I unwrapped anyone's deep-seeded fury.  And if that is the case, stay away from the Larson novels, please.  And Stephen King.  But please read Harry Potter, then call me.  If you were magical, that would rock.

Will Chicago Ever Recover?

For the past several weeks I have, of course, missed my friends pretty much constantly.  I have also missed my city--Chicago is just an awesome place to be.  But lately I have been missing even the strange people I saw only rarely and who, undoubtedly, don't know or care that I am not currently there.  I'm talking about the people I saw constantly but knew not at all--the Starbucks people, the dry cleaners, etc.  I miss them.  And I worry that, without me, their businesses will go under.

I'm actually only half-joking.  I have no illusions that I was keeping these businesses afloat.  But it is easy to see how this long-standing economic crisis keeps plugging along.  I am, clearly, far from the only person who finds herself cutting back on non-essentials.  There are very few who I know who haven't been touched by the economy today.  And, as a result, people cut back on pedicures and ice cream and highlights--all of the fun stuff in life.  And then the people who provided those services are touched by the economy and THEY cut back on stuff.  And so on.  This is all stuff that you know, of course.  I just find it fascinating to think about the personal relationships that I had acquired over the years and how those are missed dearly as we;;.

Take, for example, my esthetician Marta.  In essence, she does facials and waxing and stuff like that.  That's right--I miss the wax lady.  Marta is a freaking genius.  Even a friend who didn't at the time live in Chicago made sure to get to Marta when she visited.  She was a wonder with the wax.  But more than that, she is an awesome person.  Marta has family near mine, she has hopes and dreams and she is generally just a nice person.  Plus she told me dirt about the people in the city that she encountered, the stories about which would make your toes curl.  I miss Marta.

When I headed out, I didn't get to say goodbye to Marta.  Or the Japanese couple who ran the dry cleaners.  Or the barrista at Julius Meinl who had a daughter just a month older than my son.  Or the nice Pakistani guy who sold me my lottery tickets.  Will their lives go on without me?  I'm guessing most likely.  I suspect that they couldn't care less that I have not been to see them recently.  But I hope somehow they know that I do miss them.  Crazy.  What a sap.  But they were a part of my life.  And I wish them well.

You Put WHAT On?

No, really, this is me in a bikini.
I swear.

The other day I did two things that shocked me, both related.  The first is I went into Old Navy and I purchased a bikini.  That's right, I bought an article of clothing I have not worn in over 15 years.  And for good reason.  The second is that I put it on.  And wore it most of the afternoon.  Seriously.

Generally I am of the opinion that women over 12 should not wear bikinis.  Because if you look good in it after that age, you suck.  And if you don't, well, I don't want to see it.  I have strictly adhered to this philosophy.  Tankinis are fine if you're in your teens or twenties.  After 30 it should be strictly mu-mus.  Particularly if you have had kids.  I don't care if you are Giselle.  Well, fine, if you are Giselle wear the bikini but know that the rest of us loathe you.  And totally call me--we should have a drink sometime, as I would love Patriots tickets.  But about the bikini: don't.

So, why did I deviate?  Well, for starters I have been spending a lot of time outside with the munchkin.  And the thing is, the sun feels REALLY good on your body, especially when you haven't seen it in a while.  Even though I slather on the sunscreen, as I have mentioned, just feeling it is awesome.  And so I decided that a bikini was necessary.  I wore the shirt over it for a while, then I realized that nobody but my kid could see me.  And he didn't give a crap what I was wearing, as long as he could play in the sprinkler.  Alarmingly, he did figure out how to untie the top pretty quickly--are guys just born with that knowledge???  Anyway, my point is, I took the plunge.  It wasn't pretty, but it was kind of fun.

I guess I recommend going out on a limb in your backyard.  After a while I even pretended I looked good.  Who knows--maybe you and the fam will end up doing the slip and slide naked.  Um, if you do, please don't tell me about it.  But have some fun this summer.  Do "wild and crazy" things.  Been a while since you've been wild and crazy, yes?  So go for it.  Live life on the edge.  And in a bikini.