Nov
2
Thing the first:
Is anyone else watching that TMZ show on an embarrassingly regular basis? I am ashamed to admit how entertaining I am finding it. Like maybe even more so than my Us Weekly subscription. Shut up.
Thing the second:
Lots of people have asked me how Riley feels about having a little brother on the way. I think the answer is “fairly clueless”. I mean, we’ve talked about the Baby in Mama’s Belly etc etc blah, but I don’t think he really groks the whole concept yet. He doesn’t even seem to notice the mondo belly protuberance, although if he spies me changing my shirt he will announce to the entire world that “MAMA BEEBEES!” are on display.
Thing the third:
Can we play the What Are You Doing This Weekend game? My weekend is shaping up to be so boring (clean out old office, shovel wet dogshit out of the backyard, maybe get crazy and revive my 3-month-old DYI pedicure) I’m hoping to live vicariously through you. So tell me, what have you got planned?
Bonus thing the fourth:
Behold! The weirdest toes west of the Mississippi.
Nov
1
At social functions I used to compensate for my dorktastic amounts of shyness with large servings of alcoholic beverages, which helped lubricate my inhibitions to the point of feeling that it was perfectly all right to feature some kickboxing moves while publicly dancing to “Hey Ya”, at least on one fuzzily memorable occasion.
These days I have only my sparkling personality and rapier wit to fall back on, which is to say I do a lot of blushing and mumbling. On the bright side, I no longer find myself yelling “EVERYBODY SAY ‘DIRTY SANCHEZ’!!” while laughing hysterically and accidentally sticking my hand into the punch bowl.
I was thinking about the New Social Me (99.9% Less Likely To Be Arrested!) yesterday while we were making our rounds at JB’s office Halloween shindig, which included a family event in the cafeteria. I noticed the table laden with a dot-commish selection of free microbrews, and it occurred to me that a few years ago I would have been making a beeline for that table, thinking how I really needed a beer before going back to the business of being introduced to JB’s coworkers. Or, preferably, six or seven beers. At which point I would begin greeting his coworkers not with a handshake, but a warm, boozy hug and possibly the announcement that their coshtume wash rilly, rilly cool, were they a DINOSHORE?
I’m kind of making fun of myself here, but the truth is I did rely on alcohol to 1) help me feel less self-conscious, 2) make me feel more funny/interesting/cool, and eventually 3) help me deal with the bad memories from the last time I was so very funny and cool in public.
Instead of a bottle or a glass in my hand, I have a small child. I’m here to tell you that when it comes to social occasions, a small child provides pretty much the exact polar opposite effect as a nice stiff drink. I guess you could say small children are icebreakers, in that they are very loud and attract a lot of attention, but if your goal is to feel less awkward and obtrusive, they’re about as useful in that regard as a maraca-playing kangaroo.
(Ditto pregnancy, by the way: if your default nature is to shrink into the wallpaper, the massively protruding belly will give away your location every time.)
When we took Riley around JB’s office our kid could not have been more chatty and outgoing. He stopped in front of total strangers to carry out weird, otherworldly toddler conversations (Riley: “HI!” Stranger: “Um, well hi there!” Riley: “something something something indecipherable SHOES something HAWEEN COSTUME!” Stranger: “Uh huh, yes!” Us: “Okay Riley, let’s keep going! Say bye bye!” Riley: “SEE YOU LATER ALGATOR!”); he crowed with delight over the less-scary decorations and howled “TOO FREAKY!” over the too-scary ones; he galloped at top speed and occasionally fell flat on his face; overall, he was a pint-sized ball of mummy madness.
I’m kind of envious of Riley’s approach. He hasn’t learned to worry about what people think of him, and I wish he never would. I mean, I’d like him to have some social graces (I’m thinking of some software developers I know), but the endless anxiety-loop that cranks up in my own head whenever I leave the house, man, I’d like that particular personality quirk to pass him by.
Since he was born, my boy has forced me to more fully participate with the world around me. I get down on the ground to look at tiny bugs, I join him in loudly praising the many glorious features of helium balloons, I talk to people I’d normally be too shy to make eye contact with. And of course I sometimes attract the palpable gaze of every person within a fifty foot radius as I carry my kicking, screaming kid out to the car.
I sometimes feel as though I lived for so many years with this airless layer of alcohol between myself and the real world, with all of its problems and inconveniences and challenges. The scenery was always the same, the view never changed. And now I’m moving forward, at times almost flying along, with the fresh breeze stinging my face and making my eyes water. Marveling at the amazing things I’m seeing from my new vantage point.
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