on being a minority

my breasts are small. for those of you that know me, this is probably not a shock. for the rest of you, wow, i can only hope you were already sitting down because knowing that there is a woman out there with small boobs who has not had surgery to "correct" this must be startling. and you may be even more surprised to hear that i am not considering having surgery. there are many reasons why - the first of which is that i don't really want bigger boobs. please don't think that i am taking any moral high ground here or that, god forbid, i am happy with my body - i would love better (but not necessarily bigger) boobs (and i will spare you the details of how exactly i would improve mine). and i am certainly not opposed to plastic surgery. but it really irritates me how few women are left out there with their original breasts - and more importantly, how few clothing manufacturers are willing to make apparel for this small percentage of women. there are no AA bathing suits and try searching for AA bras on victoria's secret - the results are barely adolescent (and yet disturbingly somehow still sexy) girls wearing polka-dot bras. ironically, their most padded and push-up bras do not come in a AA. who would need padding and push-up options more than a grown woman with AA boobs? i recently ordered a tankini in an extra small - sure that this would fit. my package arrived and i quickly tore into it. it took me several minutes to shimmy the top over my shoulders and onto my mid-section and to my dismay, the suit was so tight around my mid-section that i could hardly inhale and yet the cups gaped completely open so that when i lifted my arms in the air (as much as the suit would allow anyway) both breasts were completely exposed. so inevitably, i hear society's message that my breasts are inadequate and that something must be done. unfortunately for me, a family history of breast cancer and a healthy fear of unnecessary anesthesia stand in my way of being a "normal" woman. oh well, normal has never really been my thing anyway. and who needs a flattering bathing suit that fits? it's not like i live at the beach. crap.

moving on up

note from nicole: i apologize to my friends who have heard this rant more than once lately.

i went house-hunting this week. it started out fun but quickly became frustrating and disappointing. our decision comes down to this - do we want a 6500 square foot house out in the suburbs crammed on one-tenth of an acre between houses that are virtually indistinguishable from one another or do we want (for the same price) a "refurbished" shoebox in the city with college kids renting on either side. it's a tough call. i am pretty sure i am a real estate agent's nightmare because apparently i am looking for something that most people are not looking for - a reasonable house. the idea of furnishing, decorating, heating/cooling, and removing dog hair and kids' toys from 6500 square feet of house is nauseating to me - so i guess it comes down to just being lazy even though i would love to make some argument that i am being socially responsible. and don't get me wrong, i really like nice houses with fancy countertops and appliances. and i am not a minimalist, although i do think that we have less crap than the average household, but that may be due to the fact that i am not terribly sentimental and don't tend to hang onto things like my kids' first birthday party outfits, a sample of hair from their first haircut or a vial of their first spit-up. i don't have my great-grandmother's china (or a china cabinet to display it in) or an 18th century birthing stool. i don't need any room that starts with the word "formal" and if i had my way, a kitchen wouldn't really be mandatory. i just need a few rooms (at least one with some toys and video games and a lock on the outside of the door) and of course, a full-size indoor theater complete with authentic movie-theater seating and a popcorn-maker.

spring break my ass

spring break. it sounds like fun, but like a lot of things, it's not if you don't have any money and your husband does not have the week off of work. for me, it means that the kids don't go to school and i get to listen to them bicker and beg to play video games and watch spongebob all day for 10 days straight because lucky us, our school gets the monday after spring break off too. i think what is most irritating is hearing other people talk about this like it's a good thing. of course, those people are going somewhere - somewhere that their husbands will be going with them and helping them with the children. somewhere potentially fun, relaxing or just away. being at home for spring break is just a big fat reminder that parenting doesn't feel like what i signed up for. when i got married, my naive 25-year-old brain envisioned me and steve with our kids together on the beach one day or at disney or traveling internationally or perhaps to space. and while we have done some of these things (no international or space travel yet), they are but fleeting moments in a lifetime of what is otherwise, me taking care of kids while steve is at work.
but i know, the days of having young kids will pass quickly - or so i have been told. i remember this one trip to the grocery store when my kids were younger and they were being particularly bad. they were fighting and running off and basically acting like those kids i swore i would never have. anyway, i rounded them up, yelled at them (something i swore i would never do in a grocery store) and got them back in the cart and up to the checkout, abandoning the remainder of my grocery shopping and as i am walking out of the store, this nice older woman says to me "enjoy them while they are young." i put the kids in their carseats, went back into the store and punched the old woman in the face. okay, i didn't. but i wanted to. but things have gotten much easier since then - my kids are older and are now in school when i do my grocery shopping. except on spring break anyway.

girls suck

okay, it's 10pm on a saturday night and i am at home. my husband is out at a roy jones fight (whatever that is) with a bunch of other guys. believe it or not, i actually had a babysitter. she arrived at 6:15 so that i could meet two friends for dinner - whose husbands were also at the fight. i got to the restaurant 30 minutes early (intentionally) so i could sit at the bar and drink beer until they arrived. they arrived pretty much on time and we got a table, ate dinner and by 9:45, my two girl friends were packing up their things and heading for the door. i was visibly distressed, but what could i do? tell them that i was going back to the bar to have a few more drinks and that i would get a cab home? they knew i had had several and were offering to drive me home - i had to come up with some excuse for wanting to stay - and fast. i quickly texted my husband to see if he was anywhere nearby so that maybe he could meet me for a drink and we could ride home together. but of course, i am here blogging, so obviously, he was not anywhere nearby. in fact, he is still out - with guys, who do not feel pressure to rush home and relieve babysitters. with guys who aren't counting the calories in their beers or worried who is looking at them thinking that they might be drinking too much. with guys who aren't talking about the best places in town to buy knick-knacks. with guys who aren't worried about the wrinkles in their foreheads or whether their breasts are big enough. with guys who clearly are just looking to hang out for a few hours and have fun. and i know, there is nothing more annoying than the girl who thinks she is too cool to be a girl, who says that all of her friends are guys. but tonight, for just a little while, i am wishing that girl was here, sharing a beer with me.

get a job?

note from nicole: please forgive today's tone. it is more a series of complaints than my usual attempt at humorous essays. and yes, my usual entries are attempts at humorous essays for those of you who did not recognize that.

i'm so glad i got this law degree. i still owe sallie mae $35 grand for it and i have no job and consequently, no income. and thanks to my husband's career path, which moved us around the country in 4-5 year stints, my experience is all over the board, but with no concentration or expertise in any particular area. but i think what i love most about my law degree is the pressure to use the degree that having it automatically imposes. i used to think this was self-imposed pressure but i was wrong, other people are curious about my wasted degree as well. and while i did practice law collectively for around nine years, i never felt particularly drawn to it or maybe i just lacked ambition in general. nowadays though, i am thinking that i need a job. i mean a real job (i know i am going to piss off some stay-at-home moms with that one!). i know some of you may find this hard to believe, but i don't find taking care of children all that fulfilling. don't misunderstand, i love my kids and i am glad that i have spent lots of time with them up to this point, but i need something else. something that i can complete. something that someone might notice or god forbid, appreciate. something that can be checked off of a list. something more satisfying than getting the spaghetti stain off the baseball jersey. and i am not suggesting that parenting isn't challenging because few things are more so. the problem is that you never know if you did it right. if your child turns out okay, it may or may not have anything to do with the parenting decisions you made. and you rarely get any definitive reward - and as i said, when you do see something positive, as a parent, you would never give yourself credit for that, primarily because you know that you still could have done more. nothing is ever good enough with parenting. if you are feeding your kids fruits and vegetables, there are other parents who are feeding theirs all organic. if you limit tv to one hour a day, there is another family (weird though they may be) that doesn't own a tv. and i know you shouldn't look at how other parents are doing things to see how you measure up, but it's impossible not to - and besides, everyone else is judging you by those standards or so it seems. for instance, -and this is purely hypothetical, mac did not do this and embarrass us to no end- if you have a toddler that sneaks out of pizza joint in downtown augusta and runs for two blocks straight and is escorted back to the restaurant by a policeman, people judge you and your parenting skills. or if your child toddles out of your house and defecates in your neighbor's front yard - again, hypothetically speaking, as mac couldn't possibly have done this in broad daylight in the maxey's yard - people wonder why you aren't doing a better job.
maybe i am selfish for needing recognition or respect or a reward of some kind. that theory has been suggested. whatever the case may be, i need more. so perhaps i am more ambitious than i give myself credit for.

saint patrick's day

it's saint patrick's day. i feel the need to comment on this holiday (is it really a holiday?) given the name of my blog. i don't really know much about the meaning behind saint patrick's day and i don't really need to. i like it well enough without getting bogged down in the details. green is my favorite color, beer is my favorite beverage and who doesn't love leprechauns or anything with an irish accent. however, there is something missing from my celebration this year. friends. as much as i want to have at least a two-beer lunch, doing this alone seems unacceptable - unless you live in a big city or you are in the airport. although i am not sure why there is an exception for big cities - is it because you are less likely to see people who know you? i started to wonder if my views on drinking were skewed by my small-town-in-south-georgia upbringing. when it came to alcohol though, my family may not have been typical for our town. my mother's family is catholic (and at one time irish), so clearly they had no qualms about drinking. and my father's family, while baptist, at one time owned the only two liquor stores in our town and completely coincidentally have each spent at least a little bit of time at greenleaf (aptly named), the nearby addiction treatment facility. so my parents drank regularly - blowing that theory that if you don't make a big deal about drinking your kids will be less likely to sneak around and drink. with the exception of a few nights in high school and college though, i generally don't drink in excess. for me, it is less about the quantity of alcohol that is consumed and more about the occasion and the ritual of drinking. for instance, today, it is not my plan to go out and get drunk at lunch for st. patrick's day - although as we all know, after a couple of beers, plans can change. but more importantly, it is about going out and celebrating the irish and the other things, whatever they are, that this special day is all about.

busy people

it's no wonder i can't find any friends. everyone is just too busy. few things irritate me more than hearing the cliche "we are just so busy" as an excuse for why no one does anything fun anymore. i guess with kids' activities scheduled back-to-back seven days a week starting at age three, parents do stay occupied. maybe i am just selfish, but i don't want to cart my kids around town from soccer to ballet to baseball from the time school gets out until bedtime. and i don't think that my child has to try every sport ever invented to be well-rounded. i didn't grow up like that and i don't intend for my children to either. i am secure in this decision. but that is not my problem. my problem is that it seems everyone else has chosen this lifestyle so that when i am loafing around on the beach in the afternoons, i am alone - with my kids. and when i meet another mom that i think i might have something in common with (i.e. someone who enjoys drinking in the afternoons), i find that they are generally unavailable for social engagements because of little henry's soccer practice followed by his basketball game followed by his voice lessons. and so it seems that these people, when you do see them whisking their budding athletes and musicians from school to hit the activity trail, they always say something like "we have just got to get together sometime. we just stay so busy. maybe when baseball season is over..."
do their kids enjoy these activities? my kids have complained about every organized sport or activity they have ever been involved in. in fact, the more expensive the sport (like karate), the more they hate it. so i find that i don't want to take them there, they don't want to be there and i am paying $100 a month for it. so when we moved to the beach last year, i decided i didn't want to do it anymore. after school, they could loaf around on the beach and i could drink beer - everybody wins. or so i thought. sometime after christmas, mac expressed an interest in baseball (albeit the mario-super-slugger-wii kind of baseball) and my husband thought it would be a good idea (and i couldn't seem to find an argument against it) to try baseball. i started researching local leagues and was told that he was "a little old" to be just starting baseball. he's seven. so, here we are, three practices in and we have spent at least $300 and this week, we have practice or games on four out of seven days. i can't imagine that the kids are taking this nearly as seriously as the parents. i am, however, going to reserve all comments on the zealousness of baseball parents for i am pretty sure that will be the subject of an upcoming blog entry.
so it appears that my already-suffering social life will take another hit. or maybe i will make a friend in the baseball stands and we can plan a get-together for when little henry goes off to college. or maybe, like i did in high school, i could sneak some beer into the stands. in any event, i hope that i am too busy to notice that i have become one of the "so busy."

diary of a blogger

i know - it's redundant since a blog is a diary of sorts. but i wanted to share with you how a blog is born. or at least how mine was.
i am drawn to funny people. over the years, i have stolen jokes and snippets of stories from these people and from movies and tv. occasionally, i repeat these things and people laugh. then they say things like "oh, you are funny. you should be a writer." of course, i know that the material isn't mine, but maybe just the ability to remember and retell it is enough to be a stand-alone talent. i am skeptical. but as technology progresses and friends apply pressure, i decide to join facebook. it is there that i pour my most ridiculous, neurotic and obsessive thoughts into the "status update" and friends tell me they are entertained by them. i don't know if they are appalled and feel the need to comment or perhaps they just feel sorry for me. in any event, my head is constantly filled with ridiculous, neurotic and obsessive thoughts, so i can provide ample material for this forum. but ultimately, what made me go to all the trouble of typing in www.blogger.com and entering some personal information was when my therapist looked at me and said "you need a hobby" (and the implied "or you are going to be just as crazy as the rest of your family.") and so the blog begins. if i were ambitious at all or actually talented in my own right, i would consider looking for a job in this field or writing an actual book. but that simply isn't the case. i believe that ambition just sets you up for failure anyway. now some out there might say that is pessimistic, but like any true pessimist would, i think it's just being realistic. of course, there are some exceptions to my ambition equals disappointment theory. one such example is my friend kirsten, who, long before the therapist's advice, recommended that i pursue writing as a hobby. of course, she is ambitious and so naturally, her hobby has evolved into a thriving photography business serving the entire atlanta-area. and this, of course, means that her advice carries less weight as she is "one of them." them being people that make things happen. it reminds me of an old cliche - those who can, do. those who can't, blog.

in the eye of the beholder

beach people are crazy. this is what i thought when i moved to this beach community less than a year ago. and as i got to know a lot of these people, i discovered that they are every bit as crazy as i thought they were. and then something happened. i started to fit in. it was easy enough to do - the beach is an easy place to get comfortable and the people, as crazy people often are, were welcoming and entertaining. with my pre-existing affinity for beer and drinking in general, i already had one foot in the door. but the realization that i fit in at the beach caused me to step back and examine my own mental well-being. i had always thought of myself as the one in my family who had escaped the genetic insanity that afflicts most of my family members, the women in particular - the most notable being my crazy aunt sherry, who was arguably just as crazy before she was shot in the head (but that is a story for another blog entry). the problem with evaluating your own sanity is that if you are crazy, your perspective is skewed. so i decided this was a futile undertaking, but not before i had diagnosed myself as having generalized anxiety with obsessive compulsive tendencies - all perfectly manageable with self-help books and alcohol. i also decided that i must be narcissistic because i was spending so much time contemplating my own mental state and because i read an article saying that the most active facebook members are narcissists. but the endeavor was not a complete waste of time because i learned some things about myself and more importantly, i learned that you can judge a book by its cover, particularly if the cover is crazy.

parenting by proxy

i love my babysitter. and i mean this in the general sense - not referring to one specific babysitter but to the lot of them - or whichever of them is willing to come this saturday night and stay with my kids in exchange for a large sum of money. i get excited just hearing the word - and not in any inappropriate way - although we have had at least one babysitter who was entirely too attractive (this is not a quality i look for when it comes to child care). don't get me wrong, i love my kids but i love getting away from them almost as much. and to know that they might be adequately cared for in my absence is a bonus.
as a kid, i remember when my sister and i would have a babysitter. it never occurred to me that my parents were probably more excited than we were. we would get to eat dairy queen and stay up late and watch fantasy island. in my eyes, the good babysitters just watched tv with us, while the bad ones tried to clean up and get us into bed. luckily for my kids, babysitters today feel no pressure to clean up at all - despite being paid $10 an hour - or really do much of anything other than text or talk on the phone. recently, and you may find this hard to believe but i swear on my babysitter it's true, we had a babysitter who got drunk and peed on our couch. as she stumbled out to leave, she insisted we keep the $50 we owed her for the evening. it was a selfless gesture, something you don't often see in teenage girls today.
thus far in my parenting career, i have only had sporadic babysitters and never anything too regular. i know that au pairs are all the rage among my friends with ample money. as much as i cherish my babysitter, i do not find an au pair arrangement appealing. the last thing i want is for my husband to be running into an attractive 18-year-old foreign girl in our kitchen at 2 a.m. i beat myself up enough as it is, i don't need that living in my house. the nanny is another optioin - the name alone sounds less attractive than au pair or babysitter but it also sounds more expensive. that being said, i guess i am destined to remain the primary caregiver in our home until my daughter is old enough to take over. and i am not sure how to gauge when that is - maybe when she is able to spend 5 minutes alone with her brother without it turning into a physical fight or perhaps when she is able to carry a plate all the way from the kitchen table to the sink. it could be a while. in the meantime, i will keep my day (and night) job.

the forbidden topics

today i realized the limitations of my blog. there are so many topics about which i could write were it not for the fear of offending you, my burgeoning readership (i think i am up to one follower and two occasional (when prompted by me) checkers). i have so many opinions (and of course extremely clever and hilarious comments) on oh so many topics from politics to anal bleaching (actually, as far as i know, we may be safe talking about anal bleaching as none of my (3) friends has fessed up to doing this). but i simply can't write about them on my blog without worrying that i will lose a friend over it. case in point - recently, on facebook, a friend innocently posted a status update expressing her optimism at the swearing in of a new president. i replied (perhaps with a touch of sarcasm and bitterness) that i was not nearly as optimistic. i did clarify that i had no preference about who was in office and stated that i simply didn't share her optimism that this president would be any more successful than the last (i may have referenced unicorns and pots of gold at the end of the rainbow in my comments). and wow, who knew that people were so sensitive about their political delusions? she accused me of being a parade-rainer-oner, which i readily acknowledged, but this wasn't enough. she demanded a full-on apology for my negative comments and naturally, i declined - feeling no more need to be sorry for my sarcasm than for having brown hair or really long toes (actually, i am sorry about my toes).
but the point is, i would love to talk about breast implants and how it drives me crazy when a friend (or even an acquaintance that i see on a regular basis) won't admit to having had surgery - particularly when we are discussing things like cosmetic surgery or my recent trip to victoria's secret where i was told that they didn't have the miracle bra in a double A - okay, i am sorry, but if someone wearing a double A doesn't need a miracle, i just don't understand who does. and i would love to talk about things like how ridiculous i think it is that i know people who have spent as much money decorating their child's nursery as i spent on my last car or how i think it's crazy how many 3-year-olds i know with a social/activity calendar that is busier than mine or how i truly think that publix cupcakes suck and that fat tire beer is superior to boulevard wheat, but some topics are just too sensitive. and since i don't want to offend my readers, i will keep my opinions to myself.

i like bad books

i can't help it. i confess. i enjoy bad books. not really awful ones, but kind-of bad ones. of the fiction, chic-lit variety. i don't mean the ones with the guy from the butter commercials on the front, but the ones about a woman who meets up with long-lost friends after one of said long-lost friends is killed in a tragic accident, finds herself again, realizes she is in a crappy marriage, accidentally gets pregnant by someone she thought was her soul-mate but later realizes wasn't and gives the baby up for adoption to her newly-found old friend that has had multiple-failed attempts at IVF and who names the baby after the dead friend whose loss they are all grieving. or some variation of that story. i can't tell you why i enjoy these books - perhaps it's that it gives me something to complain about. the more predictable the story is, the more i complain and the more i enjoy it.
i enjoy good books too. i loved life of pi, kite runner, a thousand splendid suns and of course, anything by david sedaris. but for some reason, i keep reading these womens fiction books. i have tried branching out - in fact, several years ago, i attempted a few of oprah's recommended books. i don't understand how anyone could be in this book club and maintain the will to live. maybe therapy and really strong antidepressants. many years ago, i got hooked on john irving - i started with a prayer for owen meany (because my friend recommended it to see if we were "book-compatible" friends) and i loved it. so as i often do, i read every john irving book i could find until i just couldn't take any more of his crazy circus crap. years before that, i did the same thing with john grisham - i read until i just couldn't bear another story about a handsome attorney who was just too likable to continue practicing law and who always ended up with a pile of money and the girl with long, tan legs (whose character could always be played by julia roberts or sandra bullock).
i question my own taste in books. on the upside, i guess no one can ever accuse me of trying to impress anyone with my intellectual library.

this girl's night out

i don't understand why girls (or women, i guess i should call them at my age) need some lame excuse to get together and have drinks. men seem to be able to get together and hang out without needing to play a stupid game or sell each other useless crap. granted, men play poker or watch sports together, but i believe that they truly enjoy doing these things. maybe it's just me, but i don't have any desire to play bunco or buy make-up or jewelry or over-priced kitchen supplies or educational childrens toys or smocked-up baby outfits and i also don't need an excuse to have a drink in the evening (or afternoon if the occasion calls for it, as it often does here at the beach).
during residency, where money was scarce (as opposed to fellowship where it is nonexistent), several of the residents' wives started these "home businesses" and would send invitations to these "parties" to the rest of us. it was surprising to some friends how a simple, seemingly innocuous invitation to a party would send me into a tirade on the subject. i would rather one of these home entrepreneurs ask to borrow $75 than ask me to come and buy a gingham monogrammed jumper for my toddler. as most women have experienced, prior to the party, your host assures you there will be no pressure to buy anything - "just come and visit, it will be fun." it won't be fun and there will be pressure.
now, there is an exception to my general feelings on this topic - and it is for those sex-toy parties. i haven't actually been invited to one of these (probably since i have not kept it a secret how i feel about home-business parties), but from all accounts - there is more drinking (and therefore more fun) and less pressure at these type of parties.
on a related note, i am not really a fan of book clubs for similar reasons. i am all for meeting up and eating and drinking with friends - and if books come up as a topic for discussion, that's fantastic. but i don't need to read a book to get together with friends and drink.

the familiar

okay, so i have blown off blogging for 5 or so months. there is something that sounds really, really slack about that. perhaps it's because i failed to follow the blogging-for-idiots advice that you should pick a topic to blog about with which you are familiar. unfortunately, the things with which i am most familiar are not things that anyone wants to read about. for instance, my husband is in the medical field, specifically, he is finishing his 10th year of medical education/training. at this point, we owe enough to own a house. on the beach. with a pool. and i am totally serious about that (see, not funny). or perhaps you want to hear about my children who fight nonstop and whom i do believe truly hate each other. or maybe you want to hear about how i got an email yesterday from another mom from school telling me that my 7-year-old punched her kid in the jaw at school that day. okay, actually, that one is kind of funny. i asked my son why he would do that and he said "i thought joseph was cutting in line." good thing he wasn't actually cutting or my son might have bludgeoned him to death right there on the playground.
so perhaps i will try writing about what i know and unfortunately for you, my nonexistent readership, i am pretty sure it will just be me complaining.