momtrolfreak

Make Like a New Leaf and Get Outta Here

Sorry I’ve been away, but I’ve been sick. Like, REALLY sick, can’t breathe, throat on fire, superbiotics needed capital S-I-C-K sick. I haven’t really felt like sitting upright for days, much less typing. I’ve been sleeping and reading, sleeping and reading. I’ve had a lot of time to THINK. This is not something I have, much. And it was a nice thing, because right before I got sick, I had sort of a mini-nervous breakdown when my kid half-fell out of his BRAND NEW loft bed that thank God is only half-height (just high enough for a little play area underneath, and it’s not even one I can sit upright in, so hey, not that high), but still, he went to reach something and fell out and I had these lightning reflexes and caught him behind my back, with my right hand twisted up and back, and sort of near-dislocated my rotator cuff in the process, but thank God I caught him, he was seriously UPSIDE DOWN, head was 2 seconds from Floor Impact, and he learned his lesson and I yelled “goddamnit!” for no reason whatsoever except surprise and fear and then I put him to bed and apologized for my bad word and he sucked his thumb and sniffled (it had scared him, too), and then I went in the living room and sort of collapsed in a puddle of tears on the floor, because my arm really hurt and remained a physical manifestation of that nightmare moment and also because, you know, the bed SAYS RIGHT ON IT that it’s for ages 6 and up, but we thought,  oh nooooo, our kid is almost 4 and he’s super athletic, he started walking at 8 months, so he’ll be fiiiiiine,  so we got him the bed and Oh. Em. Gee, if he falls out and breaks his neck it will be ALL MY FAULT because I am a horrible mother who did not follow the guidelines and gave a not-even-4-year-old a loft bed, and also put him in flammable pajamas and cut the tags off of his pillows which is against federal law and by the way, sometimes I leave the bathroom when he’s in the tub, and IIIIII’MMMMMMM A HORRIBULLLLLLLLL MOTHERRRRRRRR <sob> . Seriously, I was pathetic.

My husband picked me up off the floor and held me for awhile and told me I am not a horrible mother, that there are crack ho’s who raise perfectly respectable children, and ours will be fine, too, despite both our occasional failings. (and the crack). He also said I might want to look into therapy. And, you know, trying to work some free time into my schedule. Which seems to be the antithesis of free time, to have to schedule it, but I think he’s right because in my life “free time” is not a concept that just happens organically. I almost had some, when grad school ended, but I somehow thought that would be a FANTASTIC time to start a blog.  So. For the record, I blame you.

Anyway, I’ve been doing some soul-searching while I was sick – I know, I know, it’s sooooo done, right? Soul-searching in January, turning over a new life, like I’m the first person to have a freaking new year’s resolution?—but still, I’m doing it. Something’s gotta give.

So my husband’s idea—and this is pretty radical, I know, especially if you know me? He might have gotten killed for even suggesting this, depending on my mood—his idea is that maybe I try to turn off the computer once in awhile. As in, at the end of, um, the work day. Like ordinary people do. See, I telecommute 3 of my 5 work days, and when you telecommute, there are days (for me at least) where you sit down at 7am and you don’t remember to eat until 2pm when you realize you have to pee. And then you pee and eat really quick, and then it’s back to it. And when I’m at the office I HAVE to leave by 4:30 at the VERY LATEST to HOPEFULLY make it in time to pick up my kid before his school closes and they call DCFS on me (And, incidentally, charge me $5 PER MINUTE I am overdue. As they should, I mean, you should not be late to pick up your kid, but yowch. Not that it’s happened to me, but I know others. You know, BAD MOMS who are late to pick up their kids. As I NEVER would be. Those bitches).  So there’s an end to my workday on those days. But telecommuting days? I work right up til 5:15, then rush to pick up my kid (only a 5 minute walk) and then we come back home and if I’m busy, I just go right back on the damn computer. It’s crazy and stupid and not the idea of motherhood I want to conform to. 

So clearly, something needed to change.

So I tried turning off the computer last Monday. 5pm, and *click*.

Off.  

And I had a very nice evening. I picked up my kid and wasn’t even close to being late, so I let him play on the playground for five minutes (it’s cold, so that’s all he got), and then we had a nice leisurely walk home, I got dinner on the table in plenty of time because I wasn’t multitasking trying to check e-mail while boiling pasta, and we ate a nice meal, he went to bed on time, and after I put him to bed—when I usually go straight to the computer—I READ A BOOK. No shit.

But then on Tuesday I got sick, and then by Wednesday I was feeling like Death so I went to the doctor and I had, oh, a sinus infection AND strep, and it was so bad that I MISSED going to a business trip in beautiful LaJolla, California, where it was 60 degrees and sunny while here in Chicago it was, um, FIVE. I did not get to play tennis, or have amusing conversations with board members, or drink really good wine and eat really fabulous meals and sleep in a fancy bed at a resort with no Human Alarm Clock in the other room and no Human Noise Machine snoring next to me. Ohhhh, no. I got to stay home where it is DID I MENTION five degrees, and sniffle and do the neti pot over and over and take antibiotics and mucinex and a prescription decongestant and on top of all that, still have to be Nice Mommy in the evenings and all day Saturday while my husband worked extra hours.

So I think maybe the universe is telling me, I can be on the computer whenever I want to, dammit.

Except, now, I realize, just from the niceness of that one evening, that I really liked not being all crazed. I liked "shutting down." I still snuck peeks at e-mail on my phone (heh, heh...I was seriously in the bathroom with my phone getting a quick fix. E-mail is my meth.) But that's kind of okay, because when I check e-mail on my phone, I'm less likely to respond RIGHT THAT SECOND unless it's an urgent work thing. And I'm also not capable of ALSO checking Facebook, Twitter, and any number of parenting boards I pop into when I'm bored. When I check e-mail on the computer, I might do "the rounds" of those other sites--and seriously, if I'm selling something on ebay and there are 4 days left, do I really need to know how many people are "watching" my auction? I'm telling you, it's a SICKNESS--whereas on the phone it's 30 seconds, 'm in, I'm out, done.

So that's something I'm going to allow myself. But I'm going to try to stick with the computer part. Except it's Sunday and I'm sitting here writing this. D'oh. Fail.

But that's ok, because it's like therapy. Next session, we will talk about my crazy OCD tendencies.

So let's just pretend I paid you $90 for this, shall we?

 

I'm a Better Mother Than You, Because My Choices Rock and Yours Suck, and By the Way, I'm Prettier Than You Too

Everywhere I turn, lately, women are crapping all over each other's parenting skills. There was the whole Shellie Ross incident, where people (to whom I refuse to provide a link because they are stupid and mean) chose to kick a mother while she was down, basically blaming her for not watching her child and "letting" him drown in their backyard pool "while" she was tweeting. I wasn't there, and I don't know Shellie, but I do know that you don't kick a mama while she's down. If someone's child is dead, back the fuck off. You have no idea what you're talking about and it's none of your business. Leave the woman alone.

Then there was the whole Mominatrix controversy which, though not tragic, still brought up a whole slew of ill will between moms who had c-sections and moms who had vaginal births, basically because  @mublogger had the unmitigated gall to say that those who'd had c-sections were lucky bitches with tight vaginas. See, now, I thought that was funny as hell, but to each her own.

Moms are all the time (rightly) complaining that being pregnant or having a child means that strangers feel like they have an automatic license to give you their opinion of your parenting (or how much weight you;ve gained, or to touch your belly, or to say it's disgusting to have your boobs "out" in public for breastfeeding purposes, etc).

But here's the thing. WE ARE OUR OWN WORST ENEMIES. I have NEVER seen a man or a childless woman diss a mom as badly as I have seen and hear and read a mom diss another mom. And golly, there is just a smorgasbord of opportunities for scorn, no matter which side of each issue you are on:

• organic-food eaters vs women who eat sushi and lunch meat while pregnant
• women who gain a ton of weight while pregnant vs those who don't
• home birth vs hospital
• doula vs just your scared-shitless husband
• natural childbirth vs medicated, or god forbid...
• vaginal childbirth vs c-section
• breast vs bottle
• cosleeping vs crib
• wearing your baby vs using a stroller
• working in an office vs staying at home
• glass bottles vs plastic (OMG BPA)
• TV allowed vs "Mommy, what's a television?"
• spanking vs time-outs vs guilt trips vs hand's-off parenting
• juice vs water only
• organic foods vs soy vs regular ol' Gerber vs blah blah blah

It goes on and on.

The most recent one that has come to my attention was on a local-to-Chicago website for parents. It usually stays pretty civil because it's a paid-membership site, so there's no real anonymity, and admin will kick you the hell off if you get out of hand. Someone who is struggling with the decision posted a question about how to decide whether to stay at home or continue working. The responses stayed civil for about 12 minutes and then quickly went downhill from there.

Personally, I think I would have gone mad--just me personally--if I'd stayed home full time with my child. I'm too social, too nerdy and type-A, and I like my work. But for awhile there I was freaking out because my commute meant I wasn't seeing him at all during his waking hours and it was making me nuts. I eventually worked out some flexibility so I didn't have to spend so much time in the car. The hours I save sometimes go to my kid (I can stop work and be picking him up from school 10 minutes later), and sometimes they go to continuing to work long past when I would have, had I needed to leave the office to beat traffic and pick him up in time. But for those who are working 50 hour weeks and have no flexibility and/or only make enough money to cover the cost of childcare, I totally understand the impetus to take that plunge and stay home. I don't fault anyone for choosing that. In fact, if I look deep down and can admit it, I'm frequently jealous.

We should all be thankful, every day, that we have such choices.

My choice was NOT whether to keep my child or give him up for adoption because I cannot provide for him.

My choice was NOT whether or not to let DCFS put him in foster care.

My choice was NOT whether to work 3 jobs or only 2 in order to provide for my family.

My choice was whether to keep working at a job I like (and stay in the neighborhood i feel safe in, with a great school, and the ability to at least partially afford a discounted private school tuition) or to stay home with my child (and have to sell my house, move to a mediocre neighborhood, and take a chance on the public school lottery). THESE ARE GOOD CHOICES TO HAVE. We should all thank our lucky stars, or God, or whoever we believe in, EVERY DAY, that we have such "high-class" choices.

But instead, we spend our time ripping each other to shreds.

The rhetoric on both sides is so emotionally charged, because it HAS to be. As mothers we all, deep down, question our own choices, from buying organic milk vs soy vs. whatever, to breastfeeding vs. bottle, to working in an office vs being a SAHM, and on and on.

There is not one woman who ever existed who has not, DEEP DOWN, maybe even on a subconscious level, questioned whether she was doing the right thing. I am constantly questioning and reassessing. I drive myself crazy with it sometimes. I have a mini-crisis every time a woman at my office has a baby and decides she's not coming back from maternity leave (should I have done that? Am I a bad mom for continuing to work?). I'm jealous of others who had wonderful maternity leaves because mine was totally effed up because of family health issues that forced me to travel during that time and stay inside an air conditioned house (my mom's) and out of the 90 degree Atlanta heat and pollen instead of going on nice leisurely walks with my son in the beautiful, temperate Chicago springtime.

I'll admit it, I'm jealous of those who have husbands who make a crapload of money and can therefore easily decide to stay home, no questions asked, and still keep their homes (and in some cases, their cleaning ladies), and still afford to send their kids to private school and wear designer jeans and go on vacations and stuff. I wish I had had that choice. If I had stayed home, there would have been no shopping, no vacations. To make myself feel better, I have to tell myself something like, "I would not want that situation, because the high-earner husband is never home." But still, I can't help but be jealous of that choice. Jealous of mothers whose salary is disposable, who can walk away from their jobs because it makes no difference in their standard of living (note: I'm not saying that all SAHMs are in this situation; I'm saying THOSE are the ones I'm most jealous of).  

I did have A choice, but moving back to the crappy neighborhood we came from to make ends meet was not what i wanted. I remember being "starving artists" and having to put back oranges in the grocery check-out line because I need the toilet paper more. Going back to fighting with my husband over money (almost the only thing we ever have fought about) because money was tight again was not what i wanted.

So I "chose" to work, and I have AGONIZED over every childcare decision I have ever made: comparing, making pros/cons charts (and ahll tell you whut, I can rock the FUCK out of a pros/cons chart), pulling him out of a program where he was being bitten repeatedly and no one would do anything to stop it, spending hundreds of dollars on application fees at various places just to have some options to choose from in a part of Chicago that has few options for the under-2 set because everyone has a nanny (something that, even with our two salaries, we still could not afford). I agonIze and make charts BECAUSE I CARE DEEPLY. I tell myself that at preschool my son learns how to share, and how to wait for his turn, how to speak in front of others even though he's nervous, along with colors and numbers and stuff. How to be a member of a community. How to be trustworthy. How to care about others. 

Much of which you can learn at home with your mom, like I did. My mom stayed home with me. And that was great. But I had the dad who was never home that paid for that privilege. And that was fine. But my mom had a degree in early childhood education, and is infinitely patient. My son's childhood experience would not duplicate mine even if I stayed home, because I am not my mother.

Or so I tell myself.

There are SAHMs who spend the whole day watching TV and doing household tasks and talking to their friends on the phone while their kids veg in front of the TV, just as there are SAHMS who are AWESOME like mine was and make every experience a learning experience and every day an adventure. 

There are office moms who are BARELY interested in their children and only had them to keep up with the joneses and are perfectly happy to let the nanny "raise" them, just as there are office moms who constantly struggle for flexibility and who give up their own dreams, social lives, friends, hobbies, etc so that they can be "present" when they are home because they care deeply and don't want their child to feel cheated.

Maybe if I had a husband who made $300K I would have quit my job and stayed home to write and raise my son and I would not have batted an eyelash. I'll never know.

But what I do know is, OUR CHILDREN WILL BE FINE. ALL OF THEM.

We will screw them up in other ways besides whether we chose to work, or breastfeed, or feed them soy milk out of a plastic bottle.

These conversations all go south precisely BECAUSE we all care so deeply. No one wants to be told she's a bad mother, because deep down she feels like one sometimes.

Our worst fear is that we will find out we've done the absolute wrong thing for our children (hence the self-flagellation with the whole BPA mess). Deep down we ALL subconsciously fear we've made the wrong choice about X, so when someone ELSE brings it up and so much as insinuates that we might have screwed up, we have to a) defend it fiercely and b) put down whatever the other choice is, in order to make ourselves feel better.

We all love our children.

None of you loves your kid more than I love mine, I promise you.

And none of you loves your kid less than I love mine.

We all love our children. We all CARE DEEPLY that we are doing the right thing by our kids.

I have made some bad choices in the past (sometimes the not-so-distant past) with not cutting people slack, and I'm trying to change that. I'm trying to be more understanding.

So let's try to look at other moms, no matter what their choices are, and say to ourselves, "she's doing the best she can. I don't know her situation."

The first place we should focus our understanding and compassion is on other moms.

Attacking each other for our choices doesn't accomplish anything other than create bad blood and reinforce negative stereotypes that we are all catty bitches who do nothing but judge each other.

So let's all take a deep breath, shall we?

Let's do some lovingkindness meditation. Let's stop bragging about our choices and admit none of us know what the hell we're doing or what the ramifications will be later. Let's support each other and not judge. If we try to put ourselves in another woman's shoes and we still think she's making the wrong choice about something, anything, unless it's something that is truly endangering the child, let's just keep that to ourselves, shall we?

Not that I have always followed this advice. And I'm sure I'll fuck it up again at some point. But I'm trying. Seriously.

I'm-a stay off your case.

Mostly.

Namaste, mamas.

 

The T-Rex Diet is Really Quite Lacking in Fiber

I swear to God, ya'll, at first glance I thought this said,

"How Do Dinosaurs Clean Their Colons?"

(Look, kids! An Enematodon!)

On Going Missing

A woman I was once close to, with whom I traveled to the Dominican Republic and to Malawi (in southern Africa), who probably saved my life on two occasions and was with me for what some might argue was a near-death experience on another, has gone missing in Haiti.

I'm not asking you to do anything about it. I just have to process it. And your mission, should you choose to accept it, is, I suppose, to come along for the ride.

As a matter of fact, she might be fine by now and I just haven't heard the news yet. I hope that's true.  

As part of my current job, I used to run a philanthropic organization that, without getting too specific, organized trips to do free surgeries for children in areas of need. We went a couple of times to the Dominican Republic and several times to Malawi, the dubious claim to fame of which is that it is "one of the world's least developed countries."

The first time Keri saved my life we were sitting in our sad little hotel room, eating a long awaited meal after having arrived only hours before. After two and a half days of travel to get there, a harrowing final flight in which we lost pressure in midair and had to turn back around and land in Johannesburg and then get back in that same (unmarked, plain white) airplane the next day, after arriving and having all our luggage dumped on the tarmac for us to pick through, after checking in and finding a dead spider under my pillow, we were jet lagged and dehydrated and giddy and while eating mediocre food that at that point tasted like manna from heaven I got to laughing so hard that I actually inhaled a bite of food, and THUNK! it stopped my windpipe right up, as clearly as if I'd corked a bottle of wine. I went white. I made no noise. I tried to cough to expel it, but nothing happened. I still had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard in my punch-drunk state, that at first Keri must have thought I was just laughing so hard no sound was coming out. Then I felt myself making the "international symbol for choking" (hands to throat--I remember thinking at the time, oh my God I'm going to die immitating Chris Farley), and Keri was on me like white on rice, quickly did the Heimlich--or something, she stood me up from the edge of the bed where I was sitting and she did something, I'm not sure what, actually--and the food was out. I coughed my head off. Tears were running down my face. I had a sore throat and almost no voice for the next three days. In Malawi, there is no calling 911. If she had not been in my room, I probably would have died. I was very, very lucky that I was traveling with her, and that she was in my room, and even luckier that she was a nurse.

The second time Keri saved my life  was not quite as dramatic. We were traveling home from that same trip, and I had, on the last day, after 10 days in the O.R. in Malawi, and getting run-down, and working 14 hour days, and being really careful about water and such, at some point I must have let my guard down, and I contracted some sort of food- or water-borne illness. I have never been so sick in my life. I'll spare you the details, but just imagine the worst stomach flu or food poisoning you have ever had and multiply it by, oh, a guhjillion. Keri got me on antibiotics right away; she just carried all these meds on her, all the time. Thank God. They didn't kick in right away (and I had trouble keeping them down long enough to work, because I couldn't keep anything down), but who knows how bad off I would have been otherwise. She got me on the plane from Malawi to Johannesburg, then Joburg to Heathrow. I kept it together for most of the flight to London, until they walked through the cabin with the pesticide canisters (when you leave Africa, they--it's hard to believe this is true, in the 21st century--they actually DELOUSE you. The flight attendants stand at the front of the plane with what looks like a sterno canister in their hands, they reach up and pop the top off of it like it's a grenade, and then they hold it above their heads and slowly walk toward the back of the plane while a fine white mist fills the air. They don't even make an announcement about it sometimes, so the first time it happened I nearly lost my shit). This time, I had been hurling for days but was doing ok on this particular flight as long as I remained really still and breathed through my moise and there was no turbulence, but the smell from the canister put me over the edge, and I hightailed it for the bathroom again. I was so sick I couldn't even come back out. They actually landed the plane in London with me bracing myself, on my knees, in the bathroom at the back of the airplane, with a flight attendant yelling at me from his seat across the aisle. In Heathrow I sat, crying and leaning over a trashcan, in the main terminal, while Keri procured an assortment of crackers (would it fucking kill the British to sell saltines just this once? I thought) and some sort of juice. I literally could not stand, I was that sick. I laid with my head in Keri's lap and slept during our three hour layover. Keri is Canadian so we were to part ways at Heathrow. She took the chance of missing her flight so that she could walk me to mine. She talked to the gate agents about my condition, showed her credentials, and somehow got me on an earlier flight, with three seats together in a row so I could lay down flat and sleep. She gave me an eye mask and told the flight atendants not to bother me. I slept for 8 hours straight and somehow made my way off the plane when we landed. I almost kissed the ground, I was so happy to be home. When I went to the doctor the next day in Chicago, he said that the antibiotics had 'saved' me. He gave me a shot of something else, for good measure. Three days later was the only thanksgiving I've ever had where I ate nothing. It took me three weeks to feel somewhat normal.

A place like Malawi is no place to be having brushes with death. You have no idea how much you rely, in the so-called "first world," on things like streetlights and the ability to call 911, until you have a car accident without those things.

I was riding in the middle of the cab of a beat-up pickup truck. It was midnight, and the sky was black as pitch, the kind of black you can only get when there are no lights nearby, where you can look in front of you and not even see your hand, where your eyes seem to try to reach out of your body, straining to identify something, but if you look up you can see layer upon layer of fields of stars, as if you're wearing 3-D glasses. THe kind of dark, I'm convinced, you can only experience in Africa. 

Our host (the head surgeon at the tiny, one-story hospital) had had us to dinner at his house and, though he was a bit tipsy, was driving us back to our hotel. Cabs were not an option: you could sometimes get a gypsy cab outside a hotel, but there were no cab companies to call for a pick-up. We pulled out of his gravel driveway, and one of his hired household help closed the tall iron gate behind us (it was not a "nice" house--you simply have to have a gate to protect your home). I had no seatbelt, but at least I wasn't sitting with the men who were simply crouching in the back of the pickup bed in back. We were driving down a totally unlit street when our right side mirror suddenly shattered and little pebbles of safety glass showered those of us in the cab. We all screamed at once, before we even knew what had happened. We had been sideswiped by an oncoming jeep. It hadn't had its headlights on so we only saw it a second or two before it hit us, not long enough to have time to swerve. Our host didn't stop the car.

"You don't stop on the road at night here," he explained in his clipped British accent. "They might have done it on purpose to get us to stop."

"To do what?" I asked.

"Rob us, of course," he said. "Maybe worse." He kept driving.

If it had been a head-on collision, he explained later, we would have been dead for sure. No one else would have traveled down that road until daylight. We would have bled to death from our injuries in the middle of the street. Wild dogs were around (and the news had recently told of children being mauled--or disappearing--in nearby villages because of attacks from either a wild dog or a hyena or something). We had no cell phones.

"And of course even if we somehow were discovered and taken to hospital," he expained with a chuckle, "half the surgeons in the country are in this lorry!" Ha, ha.

Ha.

Keri and I had a stiff drink back at the hotel, though we had to be up at 5am the next morning for prayers at the hospital (it was run by a Christian organization) and then scrubbing and prep. We talked about our plans for kids (neither of us had them, then), our desire to adopt, our marriages (she was newly hitched), other travels, the cases for the next day. She was considering moving stateside but didn't want to miss out on the maternity leave in Canada.

Keri is an amazing woman: capable, strong, hilarious, great under pressure. She put me in my place in the O.R. (and outside of it) more than once, and there are not many people who can do that. When the funding was cancelled for the philanthropy, we fell out of touch, I think because she had hard feelings that I had somehow wanted to get rid of the project (not true, but I suppose I didn't fight as hard as I could have for it, either. The writing was on the wall, I knew the Board wasn't going to keep it because they had to cut funding somewhere, and to keep arguing after months of preliminary lobbying on my part would have been an exercise in futility). I haven't spoken to her in years, but I just heard from a colleague that she was in Haiti at the time of the earthquake and no one has heard from her since.

I hope that wherever she is, if she's in need, that there is someone with her that is as capable as she has always been, someone that can look after her the way she looked after me. I have no way of helping her, from here. I've given my money to the Red Cross and a few other small organizationson the ground in Port Au Prince, I've watched the news to try to spot her (silly, but...she's got long blond hair, she'd kind of stand out). She might be fine and I just haven't heard. If she's fine, she's working to help people 24/7, I am sure. It's who she is. Her need isn't any greater than anyone else's, there. There are so many tragedies. But I hope she's fine.

I hope she's fine.

I'm HUGE in Australia* (*"HUGE" = "virtually unknown except for this one cul-de-sac")

Google Analytics can be somewhat addicting. You can spend hours slicing and dicing the information about your blog traffic going up or down (they like me, they really like me), how long people stay on your site, how many subscribers you have, how often they visit, and even what countries they live in. For instance, I am quite popular in Canberra, Australia. HOW COOL IS THAT? While the majority of my readers are in the U.S., I have a surprising number of German, Australia, and Turkish readers. The Swedish seem to not like me much--I think it's because of that whole IKEA debacle.

I haven't really looked at Google Analytics much since those first formative months of blogging, when I was obsessed with my subscriber counts and such. So if you've unsubscirbed because I pissed yu off, I haven't noticed. Which is ok because, well, you unsubscribed, so you don't even know i just said that. You douchebag. <-- or that

But I just got back on Analytics because a friend mention that you can see what search engine search terms most often lead people to your blog. I FIND THIS FASCINATING. Of course "momtrolfreak" as a search will get you here. And "mom control freak," natch. I won;t bore you with the ones that make sense. But check this out, ya'll: people have been led to this blog by typing into Google (or wherever) the following terms:

"dinosaur dolphins"

"IKEA rug powder" (see incident above--this one makes sense, and more than that, it gratifies me to know that someone else has experienced the phenomenon of IKEA rug powder because that means I WAS RIGHT and the freaking thing was DEFECTIVE, you cocksuckers)

"bad mommy fuck"

"bad mommy fucking"

"fucking hard core mom and wives" (ok, really? I'm thinking this is one guy, searching repeatedly, but somehow it all leads to my blog. This should lead to some sort of soul-searching on my part about how much I curse, I suppose...nah)

"do it in front of me" (yeah, baby....at a loss on this one)

"funniest shit on the internet" (why thank you, Google, for leading them here)

"herpes is at my daycare" (wow, that's unfortunate. I'm thinking my post about glitter being LIKE herpes was really what this person needed--webmd probably would have come in handier. Although, if there is a rampant herpes epidemic at your kid's daycare, you could probably use a laugh)

"fuck me gently with a chainsaw" (what is your DAMAGE, Google?)

"hobo sad clown painting" (people search for these?)

"mombewbs" (Anissa, is that you?)

"whackyourfather" (like, as in kill him? wow. you really can find anything on the internet. I wonder if the potentially fratricidal person who visited my site found anything useful? The only thing I've done to get back at my dad was to sign him up for cooking classes in order to try to get him a new girlfriend)

"penis sexy" (ooohkay)

"king size douchebag" (that's more like it...wait, is this also about my father?)

AND MY FAVORITE....

"Kenny G allergic to shellfish"

Oh, Kenny! I had no idea we had this in common!!! Awww!

So, fair readers, are you the person who got here wondering about Kenny G's shrimp problem? Are the fratricidal maniac? Do you live in Canberra?

ENQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. Tell me your story. How the hell did YOU find me?*

*Most interesting reasder response will win...something. I don't know. I have some stuff lying around: Frog's atrocious candy-free "gingerbread house" from school (who needs frosting when you've got COTTON BALLS!?) A flip-up kiddie toilet seat cover? (TOTALLY CLEAN!) An authographed copy of my book? (disclaimer: "my" book refers to the fact that I own this book that somebody else wrote and then signed. It's by David McCullough. It's about the Brooklyn Bridge. It's a really long book for being about one bridge. Wait, I think I already gave it to my dad. That was his punishment.)

Momtrolfreak’s Unauthorized Guide to Taking Your Preschooler to DisneyWorld Without a Breakdown or the Use Of Psychotropic Drugs

 

(this one's gonna be long, kids; grab a snack. For those of you who are thrown off by something on this site that may actually prove to be of use to someone, I can only offer that I will not do it very often)

GENERAL DOs and DON’Ts

1. DO take inventory of all your luggage before leaving your house, so that your LARGEST RED IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS suitcase is not left behind, so that you do not get all the way to the airport and then have to turn around and go home to get said suitcase, thus tripling your cab fare to $100 total.

2. DO borrow a booster seat from your friend for the cab ride. DO NOT, however, expect to be able to use it on the plane. Carseats are approved by the FAA, but boosters are not.The FAA hates people over the age of 2. Fuck you, preschooler, says the FAA. I hope you choke on a peanut while craning your neck to see out.

3. DO get a cabbie who drives fast enough to get you back to the airport in time.Ours was a Palestinian Steve McQueen, seriously, the guy should be a stunt driver in da movies.

4. DO marry someone who is smart enough to bring, on the second trip, a garbage bag and some wet wipes for the Inevitable Preschooler Puking Incident that will, occur from too much time spent in a herky-jerky cab. (Thank you Aquaman)

5. DO fly Delta so that if you do happen to arrive only 27 minutes before takeoff, they are nice enough to let you check your luggage and get on the plane.  Also, DO exploit the fact that YOUR THREE YEAR OLD WILL MISS HIS FIRST TRIP TO DISNEYWORLD in order to beg your way ahead in line and into the military and airline employee security line.

6. DO NOT get your hopes up that, when your connecting flight is canceled, the now-three-hour layover will mean that you will get Chick-Fil-A in the Atlanta airport, because of course you idiot you are there on SUNDAY.

7. DO exploit OH NO THIS IS MY PRESCHOOLER’S FIRST TRIP TO DISNEY to beg your way higher up on the standby list for the replacement flight.

8. DO NOT freak out that your spouse always decides to spend his time at airports loudly brainstorming ways to improve current TSA procedures, loudly employing the terms “BOMB” and “TERRORIST” within earshot of numerous TSA employees.

9. DO bring Afrin nose spray, antibiotics, Mucinex D, neti pot, Kleenexes, and SHEER WILL to counter waning sinus infection before flight, so that your head does not explode during takeoff (TSA frowns upon exploding sinuses these days almost as much as exploding underwear).  If your sister can have a full bowel resection and still make this trip, you will not I REPEAT WILL NOT be deterred by a sinus infection.

10. DO NOT expect to go on the Log Flume when it is 30 degrees in Florida. Doing so may result in the Log Flu. I hear it’s nasty.You shit splinters.

11. DO pack your coat. DO NOT think, “Oh, I’m a Chicagoan, I won’t need a hat/gloves, because I am hard core about the coldness.” DO realize that in Chicago, 30 degrees feels warm only by comparison, and because it is not, as in Florida, a DAMP cold. Also, in Chicago, you are rarely on a rollercoaster generating your own wind chill.

12. DO NOT think too hard about the fact that Mickey Mouse and Michael Jackson look and act and sound an awful lot alike (white face, odd nose, strangely asexual, white gloves...eh? eh?)

13. DO NOT be disturbed when your mother says, “Ohhh, I love Peter Pan’s Flight! I did it on Darvoset once!” Even though your mother doesn't even drink because half a glass of champagne on New Year's Even has been known to make her melt onto the passenger door of the car, laughing and crying at the same time. DO worry that this is what will happen on Peter Pan's Flight.

14. DO use the complimentary “Mickey’s Magical Express” service that lets you check your bags at your home airport and not see them again until your hotel room.

15. DO NOT assume that they will end up in your hotel room any time soon. They disappear for about 6 hours after landing. It’s alllll part of the magic, folks. Still, better than lugging them around.

16. DO NOT rent the strollers in the park. If you think you will need a stroller, bring your own cheapie fold-up one. The strollers in the park are $15 a day to rent and they are SUPER uncomfortable. My kid could not sit in the thing, and he’s 3. It was hard plastic (all the better to hose off, I guess) and the opposite of ergonomically designed. He ended up actually upside down trying to curl up for a nap. Either bring your own stroller or be sure that someone in your party is ok with carrying the 3 year old around on their shoulders a LOT.

 

17. DO bring an iPod to wear when you ride “It’s A Small World” for the second through tenth times. This way, you do not amuse yourself by changing the lyrics:

You can use a gun, you can use some pills,

You can use a knife, just as long as it kills,

Why did I come along?

I hate this fucking song,

It’s a small world, kill me now.

There is no line for It’s A Small World, so you ride it a lot while you are waiting for your FastPass entry time on the more popular rides.  So, you know, if you don’t want your ears to start bleeding, I recommend either an iPod, or, like, Meth.

18. DO familiarize yourself with the FastPass process. It saves you a lot of heartache, as preschoolers are not that great at standing in lines.

19. DO get there when the park opens in the morning, at least for Magic Kingdom. They do a whole show, the train arrives with Mickey and pals aboard, they sing, they dance, they throw pixie dust, and then they open the gates with fanfare. It’s very special and the kids luh-HUV it.

20. DO get there early and then head straight to the BACK of the park you are doing that day. For Animal Kingdom, head straight for the safari ride. For Magic Kingdom with a preschooler, head to Pirates of the Caribbean, Thunder Mountain Railroad, or Peter Pan’s Flight. For Epcot, do Soarin' or the TestTrack. Ride one, get a FastPass for another. Work your way toward the exit. Crowds will be much easier to handle this way.

21. DO, at least one day, eat lunch at Gepetto’s Restaurant, next to the It’s A Small World ride. Along one wall there are tables that have windows that look down into the beginning of the ride, and it’s very cool for the kids to wave down at the people on the boats while you’re eating.

22. DO prepare your kid for rides that may scare him/her. For instance, with my family’s love of Halloween and the like, my sister Margot had reserved a ride with Frog on the Haunted Mansion ride. We took him on first, giving him some coping skills, telling him if something jumped out at him he could “RAWR” back at it with his dinosaur claws up. He loved this and spent the whole ride rawring. As soon as we came out, he went in with his aunt and uncle, who would not have been able to help much if he had flipped out from fear. Apparently they got stuck in the part of the ride where a spook pops out of a barrel, so it popped out repeatedly in front of them, and Frog spent ten minutes going, “RAWR! (pause) RAWR! (pause) RAWR!” Good times.

23. DO NOT be alarmed when you hear “cast members” (all employees are referred to this way) welcome a new cast member and tell others “he’s with the mouse now.” Yes, it’s a cult. Just know that going in and it won’t bother you.You will be much happier if you just get it over with and drink the Kool-Aid on Day One.

24. DO stay on property if you can. We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, in a 2BR villa (note: villas do not offer late checkout, you must be out by 11am, so if you want a late checkout to facilitate naptime, get a regular room). The lobby of the Wilderness Lodge is awesome. Oh, and it’s lovely when everything is decorated for Christmas. If you’re not Christian, go after they take down the holiday decorations and stop playing holiday music (January 10^th).Wilderness Lodge is cool because it looks like it's constructed entirely out of Lincoln Logs.

25. DO pick at least one day to do WHATEVER your kid wants to do. We did this our second day. It really, really makes them happy, and gives them a sense of control that somehow helps you with the rest of the week when you drag them all over the place trying to make everyone happy. While the rest of our group did Epcot countries on Day 2, we knew Frog would not be interested in the cultural immersion portion of that (he doesn’t even get what a country IS), so we let him pick the day’s itinerary. We did Small World seriously like 5 times in a row, Peter Pan’s flight 3 times, Dumbo, then Tomorrow land to do racecars, rockets, Buzz Lightyear, and the tour train, then we did a park tour on the old-timey railroad, then played in the playground in ToonTown.  We had snacks and potty breaks when HE wanted to. It was pretty much the best damn day of his entire life. The next day we went back to setting the itinerary, but he didn’t complain because he’d gotten his fill of calling the shots the day before.

FOOD:

Overall, the kids’ food sucks, which was a big surprise to me. I mean, it’s about kids, right? But all parks serve the same stuff for kids: microwave (weirdly coagulant) mac n cheese, cheese pizza, hot dog, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The first day we ordered the peanut butter and jelly. It was a Smuckers pre-made one individually wrapped, with individually wrapped baby carrots pack, an individually wrapped pack of grapes, and a milk carton. There was nothing fresh.  Good that there were sides that weren’t fries, so kudos for that, but wow. If your kid will eat grown-up food, you may want to occasionally go that route and just have him/her share off of your plate. Come to think of it, most of the adult food is not much better: meatball sandwich, fish planks, chicken nuggets, pizza, etc. If you have a fridge in your room, I recommend getting some groceries. Save your money for eating out at night. There is no restriction on bringing sandwiches or whatever into the park. Oh and there are water fountains everywhere, so you can bring a water bottle to refill. The only problem with that plan—which I followed on Day 1 but then abandoned—was that the water in your room and in the parks tastes like Florida water. As in, slightly fishy or sandy or something. It’s just...off, somehow. So we ended up buying a case of bottled water and keeping it in the fridge, and each morning I’d tote one in my purse into the park.

KNICKKNACKS:

I highly recommend telling your kid up front what the plan is for gift shop buying. I saw a lot of little kids begging for purchases. Mine was all about the rides, thank God and was super bored the one time we went in a shop, BUT we also told him at the beginning that we would buy him three things. One toy at the beginning that he could buy with his own money, one balloon, and one thing at the end.  He had $12 of his own money saved up (presents from grandparents, chore money, etc). He bought a small die cast monorail that he took EVERYWHERE and put on anything straight as a monorail track. Great purchase.

The balloon we got on the way OUT of the park on the 2^nd day (for what it’s worth, you can let the air out to pack it, and then have it reinflated at your grocery store for like $1. Which is good because the balloons are TEN BUCKS.).

The last gift was a stuffed Mickey Mouse that his grandmother got him. This does not include, however, the AUTOGRAPH BOOK that you can buy anywhere in the park. Have this handy with a pen, as the characters show up unexpectedly. If you get there at opening, you can get a bunch of autographs before there’s much of a line. Frog warmed up to the idea of autographs on Day 3 and became something of a stalkerazzi at that point. We were begging him to go on a ride but he was determined to get Pluto, Daisy Duck, and then “Chimp and Dale” as he calls them, all in a row. By the way, only try to get autographs when the characters are set up for such. If they are walking around or dancing at a street party, they strangely do not have on the right "hands" for holding a pen. I plan to use this at work: Sorry, I don't have on my policy-writing hands today, oh well.  (Another bonus to getting there early is that you can ride the horse-drawn trolley that goes up and down main street). Oh, and he also got an owl from his great-aunt (it was her Christmas present to him), and then his grandmother bought him a tiny mouse-ears hat to go on the owl. So, so cute, the tiny mouse-ears hat. 

NAPS:

We did naps all but one day. I took the nap, too—I needed it. Oh and, we don’t co-sleep at home but I have to say, I had a really nice time co-sleeping with my kid on vacation. He is sooo warm and cuddly. The day we skipped the nap did not go well starting around 6pm, and we had to bail on our dinner reservations that night (the rest of the family went, we had a party of ten). He didn’t flip out, we just could see he was not going to hold it together for an 8pm dinner reservation.  Motivate your child to take naps by saying he can stay up to watch the FIREWORKS only if a nap occurs. You have to do the fireworks at least once. The castle is all lit up and it’s soooo pretty. Frog was on my hip watching the fireworks and whispered in my ear, “Oh, Mommy, they turn into starrrs.” Totally worth the price of admission.

DINNER OUT:

There are some cool restaurants to try out. Make your reservations the second you arrive in your hotel room the first night, things fill up fast.  I recommend the Japanese Restaurant at Epcot’s Japan (they cook in front of you at the table), the Kona Café at the Polynesian Resort, the Whispering Canyon restaurant at the Wilderness Lodge (only for lunch or dinner, though—breakfast there is not good at all. It’s a themed restaurant with obnoxious waiters who tease you, enormous drinks, all-you-can-eat milkshakes (yes really), and occasional stick-pony races around the restaurant for the kiddies. Oh, and be sure to ask for ketchup).  Also, there is a restaurant at Hollywood Studios where you sit IN a car and watch old b movies like you’re in a drive-in. I forget the name. Very cool though, reminds me of Pulp Fiction’s Jack Rabbit Slims. DO NOT eat at the NBC Commissary at Hollywood Studios. We ended up somehow with no other choice, stood in a massive line for an HOUR and got mediocre, lukewarm crap. Inexplicably, they “theme” their meals. There are only eight things on the menu:

“LOST” fried fish (ok, this makes sense, an island, gotcha)

“UGLY BETTY” Cheeseburger (um…eat it and you get fat and zitty?)

“GREY’S ANATOMY” Chicken Curry (um…I’m getting confused now…)

“EXTREME MAKEOVER HOME EDITION” Asian Salad (W.T.F., are you SERIOUS?)

There are two desserts,

“Desperate Housewives Chocolate Mousse” and “All My Children Strawberry Shortcake.”

 

I am at a loss here, people.

Just…take my advice, and make reservations for dinner. This will also keep you from enduring, after an hour in line, the person in front of you asking to SEE THE RECIPES for everything on the menu because someone in her party has egg and milk allergies. I’m sorry, but you had an hour of line-standing to ask that question. He manager went and got “THE BOOK” and brought it up and they spent seriously I am not kidding 20 minutes going over the recipes and devising work-arounds. If you have any allergies, MAKE RESERVATIONS FOR DINNER. The chefs will COME OUT TO YOUR TABLE and make you something SPECIAL. Do not go to a place called a COMMISSARY and hold up the line asking how GREY’S ANATOMY CHICKEN CURRY CAN BE MADE EGG FREE. DO NOT ORDER THE EXTREME MAKEOVER CHICKEN SALAD WITHOUT THE SESAME SEEDS, THE DRESSING, or the SOY. “ ASIAN SALAD, HOLD THE ASIAN” does not make sense.

WHAT TO DO AT EACH PARK WITH A THREE YEAR OLD:

I did a lot of research into what was and was not appropriate for our target age group. There are tons of things to do at each park, but I am listing below only the things you’ll want to do if you have a three or four year old in tow.

NOTE: AT all parks, there are an awful lot of 3-D rides and movies. If your kid isn’t into 3D, gets motion sick, or won’t wear the glasses, make sure to pay attention to those. We fall into the category above, so we did not do anything 3D.

HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS

Do not go to Hollywood Studios with a preschooler. It is a waste of your time. Do not go there. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Close cover before striking. Not available in all states. We dragged him there one evening (see Commissary fiasco above) and felt horrible as we wandered around with nothing for him to do. Finally we took him on the Star Wars ride, a cool flight simulator, but it was pretty herky-jerky and we were lucky we got out of there with a reprise of the Inevitable Puking Incident from our cab ride earlier in the week.

MAGIC KINGDOM (divided into a couple of areas):

RAILROAD  stops at the front gate, Frontierland, and ToonTown. A full circle of the park takes 20 minutes. It’s a great way to get around quickly when your feet hurt, but if your kid is like mine, it’s just as thrilling as any of the “real” rides.

HORSE-DRAWN TROLLEY – super cool to ride this. Slow but cool, one-way trip. Great views of the castle. You hop on right at the main entrance, in the square.

Adventureland: Swiss Family Treehouse, Jungle Cruise, Pirates of the Caribbean (now refurbished with animatronic Johnny Depps, nom nom). A small waterfall drop in the dark could scare some littles. Frontierland: Big Thunder Mountain Railroad: If your kid is fearless and over 40 inches. Test him out first on the Barnstormer kiddie coaster in ToonTown to gauge his fear factor.  Mine did this the last day and clenched his teeth through the whole thing and said he didn’t like it, but 30 minutes later he cited it as his favorite ride. So. Also, Tom Sawyer Island is AWESOME. You take a raft over and then kids can just explore. There’s a fort with guns where you can get all conflicted about your kid pretending to be a sniper, until he tells YOU to try it and you really find that you very much enjoy pretending to shoot the obnoxious people standing in line for Thunder Mountain Railroad. Avoid the Country Bear Jamboree, it is somehow both boring and creepy at the same time. It’s almost exactly like going to Chuck E Cheese. If that isn’t enough to scare you off, then nothing will.

Liberty Square: The Hall of Presidents now has President Barack Obama standing among George Washington, John F Kennedy, Thomas Jefferson, etc. That is so super awesome I just don’t even know what to say. Barack side by side with Thomas Jefferson, who owned slaves…gulp. Yay America, you’ve come a long way, baby. Also here is Haunted Mansion (see above for coping techniques).

Fantasyland: It’s a Small World, natch. Also Peter Pan’s Flight, Dumbo ride, Cinderella’s Golden Carousel, Pooh’s Playful Spot (I know, sounds dirty, right? But it’s just a great play area with a treehouse that for some reason has a sprinkler system. MY house doesn’t have a sprinkler system). AVOID: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (sounds innocuous, but it’s the converted Mr Toad’s Wild Ride and apparently it’s terrifying).

ToonTown Fair: A great place to meet characters and get autographs. You can tour Minnie’s house and Mickey’s house (they do not live together. I thought they were married? Huh).  Ride the Barnstormer (kiddie coaster) and there’s a water play area called Donald’s Boat (was not turned on, see aforementioned 30 degree weather).

Tomorrowland: SPEEDWAY, super popular, make it there early in the morning. Space Mountain has height restrictions, 44 inches, so we didn’t do that, but I remember it being very, very cool, if you have an older child. Tomorrowland Transit Authority is a really child ride that take you on a tour, very boring but not for a 3 year old, he loved it. Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger spin (do not let your child control the movement of your vehicle, you will have an Inevitable Puking Incident of your own. Have him stick to shooting the laser gun at the bad guys). Astro Orbiter is a rocket-go-round, with AWESOME views.

EPCOT:

Spaceship Earth is the ride inside the big ball. It’s chill and has a great planetarium thing at the end. When you get off, there’s a driving video game. DO NOT DO Mission Space. You might want to check out Test Track, but it never had wait times under 150 minutes when we were there so we never got to it. Ellen’s Energy Adventure is supposed to be funny but it’s 45 minutes so we skipped it, as we are amusement park commitment-phobes. The Seas with Nemo & Friends is a nice relaxing ride with scenes from Finding Nemo.  At The Land (the place with the awesome cafeteria with organic food and hydroponically grown produce), you MUST ride Soarin’, and the very chill “Living with the Land.” If you’re with a preschooler you can avoid the “World Showcase” entirely.  Although, if you do venture over there, check out right smack dab halfway around the lake (where the ferry landing is) there is a model train set up with a Swiss town, very cute. 

QUICK ANECDOTE: In “Paris,” we walked past a crepe stand, and overheard the “Cast member” saying “No no, I am sorry, sir, we ‘ave only ze crepes.” To which the tourist replied, “LOOK, I don’t want a crepp. I want cotton candy. You know, fluffy pink stuff? COTTONNNN CANNNDYYYY.” More apologies from cast member.  Kind of crazy that we Americans are assholes even in FAKE FRANCE.  “America,” in this instance, was literally 30 feet away, so walk your fat ass over there and get your cotton candy there.

ANIMAL KINGDOM:

There are two shows here that are GREAT, like, I WOULD PAY FOR THEM GREAT): Festival of the Lion King, and Finding Nemo—The Musical. Really amazing production values; I was shocked. Great talent.

 

Preschoolers will like Kilimanjaro Safari, Forest Exploration Trail, The Boneyard in DinoLand, Fossil Fun Games, TriceraTop Spin. There’s a DINOSAUR ride that’s a bit risky scary-wise, with a height requirement that Frog was a tad too short for so I can’t comment but my mom says there’s a T-Rex that makes even adults almost crap their pants. So maybe not.  

FINAL TIPS:

• If you are alone with your kid (no extended family), they will let the whole family stay in line for a ride, one parent rides while the other stays with the kid(s), and then gets off and switches out with other parent (i.e. without going to the back of the line).
• If you stay on property at any Disney resort, there are “Extra Magic Hours” for the parks that change each day. Some days Magic Kingdom opens an hour early. Another day Animal Kingdom stays open an extra THREE HOURS for guests (though be aware that the safari does not happen after sunset).
• If you have a GIRL, you may want to book a character breakfast or lunch (Cinderella’s Table, etc). The girls seemed to be very into this. Also, if your daughter owns a princess dress (or two) already, BRING IT so she can wear it to the park. Otherwise she will see ALL THE OTHER GIRLS wearing THEIR princess dresses and she will feel left out and want you to buy her a dress THERE, which is like $70. AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Also, there’s this thing where you can go to a “princess salon” where they slick your daughter’s hair back into a super tight bun, sprinkle pixie glitter all over her head, put MAKEUP on her, and attach a tiara with fake sparkly hair. This results in your child looking like a common street prostitute. AVOID. Also, do not let your child wear her high heeled glass slippers to the park. Duh, you think, but I saw three girls hobbling along in pain like bound-footed geishas. AVOID AVOID AVOID.
• You can get your kid a button that says “First Time!” and she’ll get more attention from cast members. If it’s a birthday, you can get a button that says that, and then seriously everyone she passes will say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SALLY!!” and she will feel like a celebrity. It’s a bit creepy, actually, after awhile, for everyone to know your kid’s name, but you know, up to you.

I have to admit, I’ve always sort of rolled my eyes at the idea of Disney, choosing to be all cool and “above it”--but I have to say, this was probably the best week of my kid’s entire life. It’s really, really nice, from his perspective, to be in a place where everyone greets HIM instead of his parents, you know? No one frowns when you walk into a restaurant with a kid. Every dinner feels like a special occasion. It’s…nice. It’s a really, really nice vacation from reality. As we walked out of the Magic Kingdom that last day, we said “Goodbye, Castle!” and “Goodbye, Main Street!” and my kid got a little teary-eyed and then I seriously got choked up. He looked at me and said, “Mommy, I love it here. When we have to go on an airplane back home I will be so sad to go to my city.”

I felt the same way. The real world—especially one that is gray and only 3 degrees today—kinda blows when you have literally been spending your days in Fantasyland.

Frog bidding farewell to the castle, with blanket and Kangaroo in hand for comfort.