I'm feeling a bit inferior. I have 8, lovely, loyal followers. I may have more, but only 8 of you are willing to go public. My friend has 20. This saddens me because, I believe I may have been blogging (officially) slightly longer than her. It's not a compitiion though...right...?
Anyway, it was something this friend posted on her facebook page that spurred the thoughts that inspired this post. She mentioned something about preferring rowdy boys to surly girls. This friend has 2 very adorable boys who are the major focus, but not total focus, of her blog. Maybe she has more followers because she has more kids...?
Sorry, I'll stick to this post and stop harping on the fact that I need more followers. Although I need more followers.
There was a good spirited back and forth between the mom's of boys, mom's of girls and mom's with both. Nothing mean, just basically a collection of cliches and amusing anecdotes including one about a naked toddler girl at a church function. However, it got me thinking about my situation. I have openly said that I always wanted a boy first. After that I do not really care about the gender of my future children.
I would like to have a daughter, but I also remember a teenage me, and would happily avoid that in the reverse role. My mom once told me that from the time I was 12 until I was about 18, she did not initiate conversation with me for fear of what my reaction may be. A simple, "What would you like for dinner?" could cause me, or any teenage girl really, to tailspin into a sobbing screaming mess thereby throwing off the emotional course of an entire family for a week.
OR that very innocent and easy question could ignite a desire in a teenage girl to not only tell you what she wanted for dinner, but make it herself for the whole family from scratch.
I have decided that I would be a-ok if I had all boys. Parker is so much fun. I am not sure if that is because he is a boy or if that is just his nature, but now I feel like I know how to handle a boy. A girl would be a whole new puzzle. Plus I already have so many boy clothes.
*Disclaimer- if I have a daughter or two daughters, please understand honey that I love you. You are (or will be) a bit of a witch at times, but I will always love you and you were wanted. Just not as much as your bother(s).
I'M KIDDING! Stop crying. Mommy loves you too.
Aside from making me comfortable with the possibility of never being the Mother of the Bride, or the go-to grandma, which will all know typically goes to the mother's mother, my friend facebook comments made me really appreciate the two guys in my life.
I love Josh, but he is odd. The man eats bananas out of paper towels because, "It's awkward to eat them out of the peel." He hates, I mean HATES tomatoes so much that when he orders anything at a restaurant, even pancakes, he will say, "No tomatoes." He plays rugby where people get torn to bits, but he could not watch me get an epidural. When he hurt his knee and had a brace from his hip to his toes, he still drove his car, which is a stick! He hurt his right knee! Finally, he has a nearly choreographed dance that he will occasionally do to the Cops, theme song, if he has had enough Sam Adams and I am the only one in the room. No photos please.
I love Josh, but I find I love him even more or in a new way when he is with Parker. After the facebook conversation, or thread, I started thinking about how Josh and Parker interact with each other and how much amusement I get out of watching them.
For example, when the Presidential Debates started, it was right around the time that Parker started babbling. After the debates, Josh would prop up a very unpropable Parker and ask him questions about what he (Parker) thought about various things that were debated. This would start out with Parker making small babble noises, but by the end of the "conversation" Pmoney would be full on screaming/yelling/loudly babbling. Sometimes even interrupting Josh's questions, like he did not like the direction Josh was going.
Then in February Parker and Josh were playing on our bed while I cooked dinner. After a few minutes, they came downstairs and Josh was minus a tooth. Our 7 month old had kicked it out. To you veteran readers, you already knew this, but it is still funny, yes?
At the beginning of the summer Josh planted a few veggies and some basil. Mind you, Josh did this, not me. I do not garden. Maybe when I have a house I actually like, I will feel differently, but now, the veggie garden is Josh's. When Josh comes home from work, he kisses me and says hi to Parker as he picks him up. The two of them head out to the deck to check on the plants. Then they come back in to grab a bag of dog treats and head back out to the deck. Josh taught Parker to take a treat out of the bag and hold it out for Abby. She takes the treat, gently, but quickly from Parker and he squeals in delight. The first time I saw this, I thought for sure Parker would eat the treat himself, but he does not. He gets so much enjoyment out of giving them to Abby, it does not even seem to occur to him to eat the treat. Josh taught him those things- patients, giving to others, finding pure delight in simple things.
My newest favorite story of the two of them occurred just a few days ago. My last day of summer class was this past Monday. Since May, every Monday night Josh has had to do the dinner, bath, bed routine solo. I think he enjoyed being able to do it his way and having Parker all to himself. That is until this past Monday. Usually, I would call on my way home and Parker would already be in bed. However, this past Monday, he was still awake. When I asked why, Josh said that I was going to have to put Parker down because he just couldn't. He needed a break. Again, "Why?" I asked. This was very unusual.
It seems that after the bath, Josh put a naked Parker in the crib and was gathering his pj's, diaper and various butt creams. Josh's back was to Pmoney and he took full advantage of the divided attention. Josh said he thought he was hearing paper being torn, which Psizzle will do if a book, or any paper really, is within reach. Although this time, tearing paper is not what Josh was hearing.
As Josh turned around to see which book Pman was destroying this time, he instead saw Pman standing up, holding onto the side of the crib with both hands and whizzing between the rungs of the crib.
Pman was relieving himself on the carpet and managed to steer clear of the sheets I had just changed. A BIG thank you to him for that. Changing his sheets fills me with rage.
Mind you he has NEVER done this for me. Josh must have taught him this too. If we do ever have a daughter, I hope she at least has the dignity to squat in a corner and blame it on the dog.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
It's Not All About HIM
*The first time I sat down to type this, I got as far as the title and Monkey started crying...shows me!*
So I just celebrated my last birthday in my 20's. I feel ok about it. Really. I do. Stop judging me.
The day started off when I inexplicably woke up at 5:00a.m. sharp and laid in bed, awake, for about an hour. That was fun. I finally went back to sleep for an hour and then was woken up by the sounds of Pfunk- he did not seem to care it was the day to celebrate my birth and perhaps I would like to sleep in a bit. Anyway, usually when I hear him, I get up get dressed, brush my teeth and watch the news- yes that is right from the moment my feet hit the floor I'm multitasking. I'm amazing- it's just how I do. However, on this day, my birthday, the TV was broken and I could not watch the news and had to dress and brush in silence.
Well I say broken, but what I mean is that the TV was somehow switched to a station that does not pick up the Comcast Cable signal and I could not get the TV remote to work. Yes, I know I can program the Comcast remote, but...it's broken...and I don't feel like it- ever.
Then I got Pmoney dressed and we went about our normal Blue's Clues watching, milk drinking and general lounging morning routine. He seemed entirely disinterested in the fact that it was my birthday- talk about selfish.
My mom was visiting, so after Pman and I were done lounging she took us out to lunch at Applebees. The highlight here was Pmonkey had his first corn dog (loved it) and was (for once) not the loudest baby in the joint. Make no mistake he is typically well behaved in restaurants, but he likes to do this squealy thing and then he looks around to see if anyone responds. If he does not get the reaction he is looking for (I'm not exactly sure what reaction he deems acceptable) then he stares people down until they tell him he is cute, then he giggles and picks out his next target.
From here my mom, Psizzle and I went to a cute store called Lemondrop, commented on their neat stuff and high prices and left empty handed. We headed over to the shoe store and my mom bought me a new pair of tennies. This was followed by a trip to Nick's (for mom) and then home as it was nap time for Pman.
If you do not know what Nick's is, I will explain. It is basically a butcher shop with a slightly overpriced grocery store area and they sell wine. Between the meat and meat-like products and all the wine, Josh and I can spend all day in this place. You can find him over by the meat counter in some sort of trance-like state drooling over the meat and meat-like products. You can find me in the wine aisle trying to figure out if I could possibly unscrew a bottle of wine, drink it and put it back on the shelf without anyone noticing. I truly think this could be accomplished it I picked a dark bottle with a large label.
Every once in a while when my mom comes to visit my dad sends her on a Nick's run. She is to purchase as much meat as she can fit into a very large cooler and transport the whole thing across many county lines. I'm not sure if this is illegal. But if she were to get pulled over and the cop searched her trunk, I am fairly certain the amount of meat would be alarming and the cop would call for back-up and my mom would be on the evening news.
After we got home from the Nick's run, Pman took the aforementioned nap and my mom enlisted me to help her "sort the meat." This means I had to help her put roughly 40 pounds of meat into freezer bags and then label them so my dad does not get confused. Huh? Apparently a sirloin and a chicken look the same frozen.
It's pure glamour here in the Phillips house.
Then I gave myself a pedicure with dollar store polish remover and dime store tissues leaving me with tiny wads of acetone soaked mauve colored bits. I would have had better luck removing my polish with a wipey, at least I know (and I mean KNOW) they are durable.
From here Josh came home from work. We took a family picture since at least Josh and I were dressed up, Parker had macaroni in his hair (which is odd because he does not eat macaroni)and bits of cookie smooshed into his shirt. Then Josh gave me some bday loot. I will not bore you (diamond earrings) with details (million dollar winning lottery ticket) about the gifts (full body Swedish massage in Sweden)that my wonderful husband bestowed upon me (I'm lying about all of that stuff- but he did come up with some very thoughts gifts. I will not bore you by listing them.)
My birthday was closed out with a nice dinner, just Josh and me at a local joint. My mom was with Parker, relax. I had scallops, which is not important, except that the waitress brought me pineapple upside down cake in celebration of my day. The cake was terrible and I swear had the same sauce on it as my scallops. I am not sure what the sauce was, but I assure you, there is no sauce that is appropriate for both scallops and cake. Not even chocolate, which this sauce was not anyway. In the future, a bowl of chocolate sauce would work out just fine.
I was in bed sleeping before 9 p.m. Party animal, I know. Try to keep up.
My birthday came and went without real cake, much to Pman's dismay. I don't mind. Some of you may recall, I did not even have cake at my wedding. I do not need cake for a celebration- now, wine I need.
Over the years birthday celebrations have changed for me, as for most adults I imagine. I do love having a summer birthday and if I have anything to say about it, I would like to have all my babies in the summer. The pool parties, crab feasts, birthday dinners in new locations if we happened to be on vacation that year- it all rocked. The only thing that sucked was not being able to bring cupcakes to school to celebrate my day like the kids with fall, winter and spring birthdays. I also never got balloons in high school to cart around all day so everyone knew it was my day. I think I was one of the few kids who hoped we would have enough snow days so we would still be in school on July 16.
I did have a good 29th Birthday, but you know, they kind of lose their appeal after the 21st. I love birthdays. Not just my own, but birthdays in general. I think it is a very neat thing that as a culture we celebrate the birth of the people important to us. Like a "Hey, I like you and I think it is neat to know you." kind of thing. I know Parker will eventually have birthdays that seem lackluster and are more of just a day with cake than a full out celebration, it is inevitable. My goal for his childhood birthdays is to make them fun and memorable, so he loves his summer birthday too.
Damn look at that, I guess it IS all about HIM, even when I set out to make it all about me. I am just so giving and always thinking of others. I'm pretty amazing really.
So I just celebrated my last birthday in my 20's. I feel ok about it. Really. I do. Stop judging me.
The day started off when I inexplicably woke up at 5:00a.m. sharp and laid in bed, awake, for about an hour. That was fun. I finally went back to sleep for an hour and then was woken up by the sounds of Pfunk- he did not seem to care it was the day to celebrate my birth and perhaps I would like to sleep in a bit. Anyway, usually when I hear him, I get up get dressed, brush my teeth and watch the news- yes that is right from the moment my feet hit the floor I'm multitasking. I'm amazing- it's just how I do. However, on this day, my birthday, the TV was broken and I could not watch the news and had to dress and brush in silence.
Well I say broken, but what I mean is that the TV was somehow switched to a station that does not pick up the Comcast Cable signal and I could not get the TV remote to work. Yes, I know I can program the Comcast remote, but...it's broken...and I don't feel like it- ever.
Then I got Pmoney dressed and we went about our normal Blue's Clues watching, milk drinking and general lounging morning routine. He seemed entirely disinterested in the fact that it was my birthday- talk about selfish.
My mom was visiting, so after Pman and I were done lounging she took us out to lunch at Applebees. The highlight here was Pmonkey had his first corn dog (loved it) and was (for once) not the loudest baby in the joint. Make no mistake he is typically well behaved in restaurants, but he likes to do this squealy thing and then he looks around to see if anyone responds. If he does not get the reaction he is looking for (I'm not exactly sure what reaction he deems acceptable) then he stares people down until they tell him he is cute, then he giggles and picks out his next target.
From here my mom, Psizzle and I went to a cute store called Lemondrop, commented on their neat stuff and high prices and left empty handed. We headed over to the shoe store and my mom bought me a new pair of tennies. This was followed by a trip to Nick's (for mom) and then home as it was nap time for Pman.
If you do not know what Nick's is, I will explain. It is basically a butcher shop with a slightly overpriced grocery store area and they sell wine. Between the meat and meat-like products and all the wine, Josh and I can spend all day in this place. You can find him over by the meat counter in some sort of trance-like state drooling over the meat and meat-like products. You can find me in the wine aisle trying to figure out if I could possibly unscrew a bottle of wine, drink it and put it back on the shelf without anyone noticing. I truly think this could be accomplished it I picked a dark bottle with a large label.
Every once in a while when my mom comes to visit my dad sends her on a Nick's run. She is to purchase as much meat as she can fit into a very large cooler and transport the whole thing across many county lines. I'm not sure if this is illegal. But if she were to get pulled over and the cop searched her trunk, I am fairly certain the amount of meat would be alarming and the cop would call for back-up and my mom would be on the evening news.
After we got home from the Nick's run, Pman took the aforementioned nap and my mom enlisted me to help her "sort the meat." This means I had to help her put roughly 40 pounds of meat into freezer bags and then label them so my dad does not get confused. Huh? Apparently a sirloin and a chicken look the same frozen.
It's pure glamour here in the Phillips house.
Then I gave myself a pedicure with dollar store polish remover and dime store tissues leaving me with tiny wads of acetone soaked mauve colored bits. I would have had better luck removing my polish with a wipey, at least I know (and I mean KNOW) they are durable.
From here Josh came home from work. We took a family picture since at least Josh and I were dressed up, Parker had macaroni in his hair (which is odd because he does not eat macaroni)and bits of cookie smooshed into his shirt. Then Josh gave me some bday loot. I will not bore you (diamond earrings) with details (million dollar winning lottery ticket) about the gifts (full body Swedish massage in Sweden)that my wonderful husband bestowed upon me (I'm lying about all of that stuff- but he did come up with some very thoughts gifts. I will not bore you by listing them.)
My birthday was closed out with a nice dinner, just Josh and me at a local joint. My mom was with Parker, relax. I had scallops, which is not important, except that the waitress brought me pineapple upside down cake in celebration of my day. The cake was terrible and I swear had the same sauce on it as my scallops. I am not sure what the sauce was, but I assure you, there is no sauce that is appropriate for both scallops and cake. Not even chocolate, which this sauce was not anyway. In the future, a bowl of chocolate sauce would work out just fine.
I was in bed sleeping before 9 p.m. Party animal, I know. Try to keep up.
My birthday came and went without real cake, much to Pman's dismay. I don't mind. Some of you may recall, I did not even have cake at my wedding. I do not need cake for a celebration- now, wine I need.
Over the years birthday celebrations have changed for me, as for most adults I imagine. I do love having a summer birthday and if I have anything to say about it, I would like to have all my babies in the summer. The pool parties, crab feasts, birthday dinners in new locations if we happened to be on vacation that year- it all rocked. The only thing that sucked was not being able to bring cupcakes to school to celebrate my day like the kids with fall, winter and spring birthdays. I also never got balloons in high school to cart around all day so everyone knew it was my day. I think I was one of the few kids who hoped we would have enough snow days so we would still be in school on July 16.
I did have a good 29th Birthday, but you know, they kind of lose their appeal after the 21st. I love birthdays. Not just my own, but birthdays in general. I think it is a very neat thing that as a culture we celebrate the birth of the people important to us. Like a "Hey, I like you and I think it is neat to know you." kind of thing. I know Parker will eventually have birthdays that seem lackluster and are more of just a day with cake than a full out celebration, it is inevitable. My goal for his childhood birthdays is to make them fun and memorable, so he loves his summer birthday too.
Damn look at that, I guess it IS all about HIM, even when I set out to make it all about me. I am just so giving and always thinking of others. I'm pretty amazing really.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Short and Sweet
Parker is short.
I am sweet.
That is all.
I kid. I kid. This will be a short entry though, I have pools to swim in, beaches to lay on, boardwalks to walk, markets to market and wine tastings to attend- they worry if I don't show up.
So yesterday was the one year anniversary of Pmoney's graduation from the NICU. That is what they call it- a graduation. There was cake- strike that there were several full double layer sheet cakes, clowns, face painters, photographers, it truly was a celebration. He even got a diploma with his name on it! Too freaking cute!
Of course I am going to frame it, duh!
I was hoping I would see a few other parents from the NICU who were there the same time as us. There was a baby named Brent, his mom and I seemed to always go to the pumping room at the same time. The pumping room is a closet like space in the NICU portion of the hospital where mom's go to pump milk. There are curtains, bottles of sanitizer and many pages of brightly, boldly printed directions on how to properly pump breast milk in this room. Brent's mom, Jenna, and I would talk through the curtains as we pumped. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes we didn't, sometimes we exchanged recipes and suggestions for good nursing bras.
When Parker left, I remember looking at Jenna's husband as he sat in the "louge" area, and gently whispering, "Your turn is coming." But their son took a bad turn that day and I'm not sure how their story ended. Jenna's husband was in the military, so I'm not even sure where she is. They were not at the graduation.
There was another lady with a little girl who had heart surgery the day Psizzle was discharged. The mother had high hopes and she said the doctors did too. She was not at the graduation either. This mother also had 2 other kids, so maybe they had other things going on yesterday and couldn't make it.
However, we did see a family who was there the same time as us. They had a little boy named Tristan who was so small in his incubator that you could not even see his bitty body from 4 beds away. Tristan spent a grueling 93 days in the NICU and is going to be a big brother in October.
Not to get all emotion, I swear I have more going on in my life than reliving the NICU experience, but it was a day of smiles, thank you's and fighting back tears. I was in a room full of people who understood exactly how I felt. To them, I was even the blessed one because my son was only there for 15 days. To some, Tristan was lucky for only being there 93 days. For all NICU parents, time is a black hole.
I did get to see some of the nurses who helped make Parker healthy and here are some of the comments I heard:
"OH MY GOD! HE'S SOOOO FAT!!!"
(He's not really- except for his feet- but when she last saw him he weighed 9 lbs and now he's 24lbs).
"You are glowing!"
"I TOTALLY remember Parker!" - This may seem insignificant, but these nurses see a ton of babies and when someone sincerely remembers your baby, that is awesome.
The previous comment was followed by, "You cried a lot. That broke my heart."
The nurse who said this was one of my favorites. She told me that last October she was diagnosed with breast cancer and is still undergoing radiation. I plan on doing one of the 2 or 3 day breast cancer walks next spring as a thank you to her. I'm serious, who's in?
The best thing I heard all day was from a nurse who should be an Drill Sergent in the Army- meaning she is not a sappy, flowering, huggy type person. I don't think I ever saw her smile. Not that there is a lot of smiling in the NICU, but it does happen. She is the one who wheeled Pman out of the hospital on July 9, 2008. She looked right at me and said, "Diaphragmatic Hernia babies DO NOT leave the hospital a week after surgery. I hope you realize that you are truly blessed."
I do, scary nurse lady, I promise!!
I am sweet.
That is all.
I kid. I kid. This will be a short entry though, I have pools to swim in, beaches to lay on, boardwalks to walk, markets to market and wine tastings to attend- they worry if I don't show up.
So yesterday was the one year anniversary of Pmoney's graduation from the NICU. That is what they call it- a graduation. There was cake- strike that there were several full double layer sheet cakes, clowns, face painters, photographers, it truly was a celebration. He even got a diploma with his name on it! Too freaking cute!
Of course I am going to frame it, duh!
I was hoping I would see a few other parents from the NICU who were there the same time as us. There was a baby named Brent, his mom and I seemed to always go to the pumping room at the same time. The pumping room is a closet like space in the NICU portion of the hospital where mom's go to pump milk. There are curtains, bottles of sanitizer and many pages of brightly, boldly printed directions on how to properly pump breast milk in this room. Brent's mom, Jenna, and I would talk through the curtains as we pumped. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes we didn't, sometimes we exchanged recipes and suggestions for good nursing bras.
When Parker left, I remember looking at Jenna's husband as he sat in the "louge" area, and gently whispering, "Your turn is coming." But their son took a bad turn that day and I'm not sure how their story ended. Jenna's husband was in the military, so I'm not even sure where she is. They were not at the graduation.
There was another lady with a little girl who had heart surgery the day Psizzle was discharged. The mother had high hopes and she said the doctors did too. She was not at the graduation either. This mother also had 2 other kids, so maybe they had other things going on yesterday and couldn't make it.
However, we did see a family who was there the same time as us. They had a little boy named Tristan who was so small in his incubator that you could not even see his bitty body from 4 beds away. Tristan spent a grueling 93 days in the NICU and is going to be a big brother in October.
Not to get all emotion, I swear I have more going on in my life than reliving the NICU experience, but it was a day of smiles, thank you's and fighting back tears. I was in a room full of people who understood exactly how I felt. To them, I was even the blessed one because my son was only there for 15 days. To some, Tristan was lucky for only being there 93 days. For all NICU parents, time is a black hole.
I did get to see some of the nurses who helped make Parker healthy and here are some of the comments I heard:
"OH MY GOD! HE'S SOOOO FAT!!!"
(He's not really- except for his feet- but when she last saw him he weighed 9 lbs and now he's 24lbs).
"You are glowing!"
"I TOTALLY remember Parker!" - This may seem insignificant, but these nurses see a ton of babies and when someone sincerely remembers your baby, that is awesome.
The previous comment was followed by, "You cried a lot. That broke my heart."
The nurse who said this was one of my favorites. She told me that last October she was diagnosed with breast cancer and is still undergoing radiation. I plan on doing one of the 2 or 3 day breast cancer walks next spring as a thank you to her. I'm serious, who's in?
The best thing I heard all day was from a nurse who should be an Drill Sergent in the Army- meaning she is not a sappy, flowering, huggy type person. I don't think I ever saw her smile. Not that there is a lot of smiling in the NICU, but it does happen. She is the one who wheeled Pman out of the hospital on July 9, 2008. She looked right at me and said, "Diaphragmatic Hernia babies DO NOT leave the hospital a week after surgery. I hope you realize that you are truly blessed."
I do, scary nurse lady, I promise!!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Dying for Cake
I am happy to report the birthday celebration(s) went well. On his actual birthday we had a surprise lunch with some great friends. Then cupcakes and Chinese food with daddy, that night. I will admit I cried a little that day.
The next day we had a cake and wine play date with some other mommies and their babies. The next day we went to the pediatrician for Pmonkey's one year check up. It's all part of my master plan- it is best to take your kids in for booster shots after they have eaten nothing but icing for the previous 36 hours. While in the office, the pediatrician pointed out a bruise on Psizzle's head. She very innocently and not accusingly inquired about it's origin. I mentioned we had a playdate the day before and there were a lot of babies hopped up on icing and juice. I did not mention the wine the mommies were drinking. No need to implicate myself while simultaneously throwing my friends under the bus. Parker continues to love all things cake and icing related and if you would like him to come celebrate your birthday with you, he will happily oblige.
While it was a great week of celebrations here in Southern Maryland, I realize in the Hollywood part of the world, it was a killer of a week.
(HA! I'm going to hell for that.)
First was Ed McMahon, who apparently died from the embarrassment after appearing on cheesey lending commercials with MC Hammer. I'm serious, have you seen that commercial? I think I'd rather be dead too, than appear in that piece. When I was little I used to think McMahon was somehow involved with McDonald's Egg McMuffins. I'm guessing this is because they all have Mc in their names, but I always connected him to McMuffins, not McNuggets or McFish. I also used to think my mom was the lady on the Sun Maid raisin box.
I wasn't that smart when I was little, imaginative yes, but smart? Questionable at best.
Next was Farrah Fawcett. I do not know much about her although she was legitimately ill pre-death and I think it was kind of expected. Not that it's any better, but it does soften the blow a bit. I also bet a bigger deal would have been made about the iconic image and reputation she left behind if her death was not over shadowed by the Gloved One.
I have a great friend who shares a bday with Pman who also happens to be a HUGE Michael Jackson fan, music-wise, not questionable, illegal activity-wise. When I heard the news I thought of her immediately and left her a heartfelt voicemail. She may have been drowning her sorrows with a big glass of Jesus juice at the time- she has neither confirmed nor denied this.
What child of the 60's, 70's and 80's doesn't have a fondness for and connection to their era's collection of MJ hit? I'm not going to go on and on about the pedophilia accusations. I'm not going to take the obvious pot shots at his plastic surgery (he said he only had two on his nose- ha!) or the names of his children (Blanket?). We all have a little crazy in us, Michael just wasn't so good at hiding his. I remember the first time I realized who he was. My older sister used to rent the Thriller video from the local low-rent video rental place. Yes, you could rent the music video. Anyway, she would rent it and as soon as Michael's eyes started glowing, I would scream, run up the steps and lock myself in our room for the remainder of the evening. She knew I would do this and yet she rented it every time. Bitch.
Then a few years later I remember hearing "Man in the Mirror" on the radio and feeling like a real horses ass for being so afraid of this man. This man who was changing his ways and trying to make the world a better place and informing me that if I close my heart then I am closing my mind. At that point, my mom bought me the Bad RECORD- I'm talking vinyl record to be played on a turn table with a needle. I'm not a huge MJ fan, but there are songs on every album I like. We have all heard the good and bad about him and have already made our judgements. The thing is, he will forever have an influence on music that cannot be denied.
Billy Mays will forever have influence in the realm of yelling at the general public to purchase crap they likely do not need. I once heard him say he does not yell, he projects. Really now? I will remember that line next time Josh complains that he is tired of me "yelling" at him about (fill in blank). I will cite the late great Mr. Mays and inform Josh that I am just projecting and would he like to purchase this handy putty I have for 2 installments of $29.95 plus shipping and handling?
Finally, it must be said or asked, is anyone else surprised that Patrick Swayze made it through the week of death? The last I saw of him, he looked terrible. Like an extra in the street dancing sequence from the terrifying Thriller video of my childhood. It will be a sad day when he does the spaghetti arm tango to heaven. They say these things happen in threes, so who do you think will help him carry the watermelons to the dirty dance floor in the sky?
P.S. No time for proofreading...hope this makes sense...
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Year One: Success!
First of all I now have 7 followers! That is nearly double digits! Yeh!
I kept going back and forth about what I was going to post for Pmoney's 1st Birthday. I have been thinking a lot about where we were this time last year. How sad I was. How sick Parker was. How unsettled the future seemed.
I was just going to re-post the first entry I did after he was born and some pieces of the subsequent entries about his progress. I still cry when I read those. If you have not read them and are interested, begin on June 27(ish)2008. He was born on June 24, 2008, but I did not have a chance to write until around the 27th.
However, Parker's first birthday is something that should be celebrated for many reason. Mostly because Parker is a really happy guy (generally)and he REALLY enjoys cake. In the last year I have realized my goal is to strive for and focus on creating and fostering a happy family. When they are good, I am good. And as the cliche goes, when Mommy is happy the family is happy- creating a copacetic tone and cycle to our life. I know this all sounds very granola, tree hugger, Mother Earthy, but it is true. Parker makes me happy and when I'm happy so is he and when I am not happy, as a general rule, neither is Josh.
I realize this will not always be the case. I know there will be days when Pman is not happy with me or vice versa, but having this home base of happiness (ug, now I'm even making myself a little sick with all this sweet talk) is important to me.
Go brush all that sappiness out of your teeth before you continue reading this.
Subtitle: Milestones, updates and general fun things from the past year.
Rolling over: Isn't it crazy that we come into this world not being able to roll over. Through watching Parker learn and grow I have realized how much there is to life that we take for granted. Don't worry, I'm not going all sugary on you again. I'm talking about things like rolling over, being able to focus on objects on the other side of the room, touching your finger to your nose. This is starting to sound like a field sobriety test... but these are all things we had to learn and we do now without realizing it. I remember the first time I went to get him out of his crib and he was on his stomach after I had put him down on his back. Wow. How did he do that?
Eating solids: He had that yucky baby rice cereal for the first time on Thanksgiving and has not looked back. My boy LOVES veggie soup, grilled cheese, peanut butter, lemons, pickles, hummus, berries (of any sort) and cake. He will tear up some cake.
I once tried giving him cottage cheese and he picked the curds out of his mouth. He will not eat an avocado, even if it is smashed to nearly liquid form- I hope that changes, I love avocados. He also does not enjoy noodles of any shape or texture. This is probably the oddest thing he dislikes in my opinion. If I put a spoon full of noodles and peas in his mouth, he will pick out the noodles.
Whenever we give him something new to try he makes a face like we are feeding him straight up poison. If he opens is mouth again, as if to say more, than it's a go. If not, he will not eat this food no matter how much you try.
Sitting: The first time he sat on his own was at our first story time at the library. There is nothing like being in a room full of strangers when your child does something for the first time. Your squeals of delight at your child's newest trick are typically met with half assed smiles and seemingly condescending looks that convey a feeling of "Get over it." Thankfully, everyone else in the room at the library was a new mom and congratulated Parker and me on the new development despite the incessant shushing by Bar-bar-a the library Quiet Nazi. I remember him learning to sit as a pivotal point in our relationship. I no longer had to hold him all the time. I could put him down while I refilled my coffee(or wine)and knew he would be ok.
Crawling: The first time he crawled it was to attempt to retrieve some blueberry waffle scraps I had left on my plate. He did this lazy crawl in the general direction of my plate, so what did I do? Push it further way. No, not because I did not want him to have it, he had blueberry waffles plenty of times before. Instead, I wanted to see how badly he wanted them. "How far are you willing to travel for this delicious breakfast treat little man?" I LOVE being a mom- Oh the power! Stop laughing- right now I do have power, I do also realize the power is fleeting day by day, but right now it is mine!
Teeth: It took him forever to get teeth. I think the first popped through when he was 9 1/2 months. He has 6 now, 2 bottom, 4 top, but all development has stalled out. By the by, Josh's tooth that Parker kicked out in FEBRUARY, has yet to be replaced. Hands off ladies, he is all mine. Abby also has some missing teeth issues due to events in her life prior to us adopting her. This all means I am the only family member with a full set of my very own teeth.
I live with a bunch of hillbillies.
Routines: We used to have a routine of going for a walk then watching "The Price is Right" followed by a nursing session and a nap. Then he stopped nursing (THANK GOD!)and my favorite part of the day become his bath and bed time. He would let me rock him to sleep while I read him a story or we just listened to "Sounds of the Rainforest" CD before I gently placed him in his crib for the night. He no longer goes to sleep if I am in the room. Instead, our routine is to go to the gym (or swim lessons), come home split half a grilled cheese (yes, that is a quarter of a sandwich each) and veggie soup while we watch "I Love Lucy" then he takes a nap. I thought I would be sad that certain parts of our routines change and evolve, but I realize that he is growing up and we are able to related to each other in newer (and often better) ways.
Social Activities: When Pmoney was first born and he came home we went on daily walks with our friends Michelle and her daughter Olivia, who was born a month before Parker. This was as far as his social network web extended. Then we joined the gym and he sat in his infant seat while the toddlers touched his fuzzy hair and attempted to "feed" him his bottle. We then branched out to once a week story times at the library followed by a quick play session in the kiddie area and lunch at the local Panera with another mom and her son. Now, Pman could create his own facebook page and probably have more friends than me. We go to Mommy and Me outings, he is taking swim lessons and karate...ok ok I'm lying about the karate. He is so funny in these social settings. No matter what he is playing with, if another kid snatches it out of his hands, he pretty much shoots them a look of indifference and crawls over to something else. To me this means he is either a huge sissy or very easy going...whatev...Or possibly he is so sophisticated that he does not allow himself to become emotionally attached to material objects. Yes. That's it.
Every summer Johns Hopkins University Hospital NICU has a Reunion Picnic for all their NICU babies. Everyone who has spend time in the NICU is invited to this afternoon picnic. We just got our invitation in the mail and it stopped me in my tracks. My heart raced, my stomach fell to my knees and my eyes welled up with tears. Not only was I immediately hit with the vivid memories of all those days we spent there, but the date of the picnic has significance to us. The date is July 9. That is the one year anniversary of the day Parker was discharged and we brought him home for the first time. July 9 is a powerful day for us and along with birthdays and our wedding anniversary, I will never forget it.
I keep thinking- "Oh for with my next child I will do this", or, "I'm so glad I've done this because now I know how to ________ (fill in blank)." What I keep forgetting is each baby is different. The layout may be similar, but the nooks and crannies and ticks and tricks change. What Parker just rolled along with, may be a major challenge to the next Phillips baby- not that there is one any time soon. But I also know that having such an amazingly strong son as my first baby has shown me how strong I can be as a mom, how solid Josh and I are as a parenting team and how lucky Parker's future younger siblings will be to have him to guide them.
Happy Birthday Monkey XO
I kept going back and forth about what I was going to post for Pmoney's 1st Birthday. I have been thinking a lot about where we were this time last year. How sad I was. How sick Parker was. How unsettled the future seemed.
I was just going to re-post the first entry I did after he was born and some pieces of the subsequent entries about his progress. I still cry when I read those. If you have not read them and are interested, begin on June 27(ish)2008. He was born on June 24, 2008, but I did not have a chance to write until around the 27th.
However, Parker's first birthday is something that should be celebrated for many reason. Mostly because Parker is a really happy guy (generally)and he REALLY enjoys cake. In the last year I have realized my goal is to strive for and focus on creating and fostering a happy family. When they are good, I am good. And as the cliche goes, when Mommy is happy the family is happy- creating a copacetic tone and cycle to our life. I know this all sounds very granola, tree hugger, Mother Earthy, but it is true. Parker makes me happy and when I'm happy so is he and when I am not happy, as a general rule, neither is Josh.
I realize this will not always be the case. I know there will be days when Pman is not happy with me or vice versa, but having this home base of happiness (ug, now I'm even making myself a little sick with all this sweet talk) is important to me.
Go brush all that sappiness out of your teeth before you continue reading this.
Subtitle: Milestones, updates and general fun things from the past year.
Rolling over: Isn't it crazy that we come into this world not being able to roll over. Through watching Parker learn and grow I have realized how much there is to life that we take for granted. Don't worry, I'm not going all sugary on you again. I'm talking about things like rolling over, being able to focus on objects on the other side of the room, touching your finger to your nose. This is starting to sound like a field sobriety test... but these are all things we had to learn and we do now without realizing it. I remember the first time I went to get him out of his crib and he was on his stomach after I had put him down on his back. Wow. How did he do that?
Eating solids: He had that yucky baby rice cereal for the first time on Thanksgiving and has not looked back. My boy LOVES veggie soup, grilled cheese, peanut butter, lemons, pickles, hummus, berries (of any sort) and cake. He will tear up some cake.
I once tried giving him cottage cheese and he picked the curds out of his mouth. He will not eat an avocado, even if it is smashed to nearly liquid form- I hope that changes, I love avocados. He also does not enjoy noodles of any shape or texture. This is probably the oddest thing he dislikes in my opinion. If I put a spoon full of noodles and peas in his mouth, he will pick out the noodles.
Whenever we give him something new to try he makes a face like we are feeding him straight up poison. If he opens is mouth again, as if to say more, than it's a go. If not, he will not eat this food no matter how much you try.
Sitting: The first time he sat on his own was at our first story time at the library. There is nothing like being in a room full of strangers when your child does something for the first time. Your squeals of delight at your child's newest trick are typically met with half assed smiles and seemingly condescending looks that convey a feeling of "Get over it." Thankfully, everyone else in the room at the library was a new mom and congratulated Parker and me on the new development despite the incessant shushing by Bar-bar-a the library Quiet Nazi. I remember him learning to sit as a pivotal point in our relationship. I no longer had to hold him all the time. I could put him down while I refilled my coffee(or wine)and knew he would be ok.
Crawling: The first time he crawled it was to attempt to retrieve some blueberry waffle scraps I had left on my plate. He did this lazy crawl in the general direction of my plate, so what did I do? Push it further way. No, not because I did not want him to have it, he had blueberry waffles plenty of times before. Instead, I wanted to see how badly he wanted them. "How far are you willing to travel for this delicious breakfast treat little man?" I LOVE being a mom- Oh the power! Stop laughing- right now I do have power, I do also realize the power is fleeting day by day, but right now it is mine!
Teeth: It took him forever to get teeth. I think the first popped through when he was 9 1/2 months. He has 6 now, 2 bottom, 4 top, but all development has stalled out. By the by, Josh's tooth that Parker kicked out in FEBRUARY, has yet to be replaced. Hands off ladies, he is all mine. Abby also has some missing teeth issues due to events in her life prior to us adopting her. This all means I am the only family member with a full set of my very own teeth.
I live with a bunch of hillbillies.
Routines: We used to have a routine of going for a walk then watching "The Price is Right" followed by a nursing session and a nap. Then he stopped nursing (THANK GOD!)and my favorite part of the day become his bath and bed time. He would let me rock him to sleep while I read him a story or we just listened to "Sounds of the Rainforest" CD before I gently placed him in his crib for the night. He no longer goes to sleep if I am in the room. Instead, our routine is to go to the gym (or swim lessons), come home split half a grilled cheese (yes, that is a quarter of a sandwich each) and veggie soup while we watch "I Love Lucy" then he takes a nap. I thought I would be sad that certain parts of our routines change and evolve, but I realize that he is growing up and we are able to related to each other in newer (and often better) ways.
Social Activities: When Pmoney was first born and he came home we went on daily walks with our friends Michelle and her daughter Olivia, who was born a month before Parker. This was as far as his social network web extended. Then we joined the gym and he sat in his infant seat while the toddlers touched his fuzzy hair and attempted to "feed" him his bottle. We then branched out to once a week story times at the library followed by a quick play session in the kiddie area and lunch at the local Panera with another mom and her son. Now, Pman could create his own facebook page and probably have more friends than me. We go to Mommy and Me outings, he is taking swim lessons and karate...ok ok I'm lying about the karate. He is so funny in these social settings. No matter what he is playing with, if another kid snatches it out of his hands, he pretty much shoots them a look of indifference and crawls over to something else. To me this means he is either a huge sissy or very easy going...whatev...Or possibly he is so sophisticated that he does not allow himself to become emotionally attached to material objects. Yes. That's it.
Every summer Johns Hopkins University Hospital NICU has a Reunion Picnic for all their NICU babies. Everyone who has spend time in the NICU is invited to this afternoon picnic. We just got our invitation in the mail and it stopped me in my tracks. My heart raced, my stomach fell to my knees and my eyes welled up with tears. Not only was I immediately hit with the vivid memories of all those days we spent there, but the date of the picnic has significance to us. The date is July 9. That is the one year anniversary of the day Parker was discharged and we brought him home for the first time. July 9 is a powerful day for us and along with birthdays and our wedding anniversary, I will never forget it.
I keep thinking- "Oh for with my next child I will do this", or, "I'm so glad I've done this because now I know how to ________ (fill in blank)." What I keep forgetting is each baby is different. The layout may be similar, but the nooks and crannies and ticks and tricks change. What Parker just rolled along with, may be a major challenge to the next Phillips baby- not that there is one any time soon. But I also know that having such an amazingly strong son as my first baby has shown me how strong I can be as a mom, how solid Josh and I are as a parenting team and how lucky Parker's future younger siblings will be to have him to guide them.
Happy Birthday Monkey XO
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I Have 4 Followers! My Cult is Growing!!
Shout out to Tina, my newest follower! Psizzle sez "Thanks dawg!"
This past Monday, I went to my cousin, Emily's, wedding. Yes, I said Monday.
Her family is very religious. I feel like everyone has a family in their extended family who is dubbed "the religious ones". However, on my mom's side of the family, everyone goes to church regularly and is actively involved in that community, except us. Does that make us the "damned ones"? No, really does it?
Emily got married in a High Mass ceremony- in Latin- on June 15. The ceremony was nice, what I could understand of it. I was in chorus for quite some time and we did sing a lot of songs in Latin, but I was pretty much singing phonetically. I had, well have, no idea what I was actually saying. Despite the lost in translation feeling, the ceremony had a traditional- "back to the roots" feel to it. And from what I know about Emily, the ceremony was very her.
Emily and her bridesmaids looked beautiful. I did find out something interesting about the bridesmaid's dresses though. It seems the church has very strict rules about the dress code. For example, as someone attending the wedding, I was not allowed to wear anything that was too low cut or that showed my shoulders- basically the opposite of what you would wear to a NKOTB concert. After the wedding I spoke to one of the bridesmaids, who was the sister of the bride and found out that her own dress was too low cut by the church standard. So my resourceful cousin, Alison, had a shoulder pad sewn into the cleavage area giving the optical illusion that she had a tank top on under her dress.
The ladies also all wore veils, that have a proper name, but I'm not sure what it is. The goal was that all the ladies needed to have their heads covered.
They must have thought I was ho-ing it up a bit. My dress was not low cut, nor were my shoulders showing, by my knees were and I did not have a veil on my head. I was feeling pretty self conscience until Thong Girl walked in. This girl was wearing a very pretty (short, shoulder-bearing) beige gauzy dress with no slip and a black thong. She came in late and sat in the back, which is why I'm guessing she was able to stay- virtually unnoticed.
However, my brother and uncle could not stop staring. Hell, I couldn't stop staring!
Anyway, this was Pfunk's first time spending the night in a place that was not home and not Grammy and Pop's house. Josh did not come because he had a work thing, so it was just Pmoney, me and my parents barrelling down the highway toward Front Royal, Va. Pman and I slept in the same room and against everything I do at home, we slept in the same bed. He possibly got stung or bit by something called Boring Bee and ate more grilled cheese and cake than any -nearly one year old- should. I tried to squeeze in some applesauce and pieces of banana here and there, but in the end gave up and he ended up eating 2 cupcakes with cream cheese icing. TWO! He also stubbed his toe for the first time while crawling on the PAVEMENT around the pool. I mean, walk already! (Although, really, I'm not encouraging that.)
At the reception several people spoke and said very nice things about the newlyweds. Everyone did a great job of keeping their words short but sweet. The thing that threw me off was the singing. They did not have singers- per say. No, they have a bunch of really talented friends who sang various ballads to the couple. It was like- "quaint family wedding" meets "America's Got Talent". Susan Boyle watch out!
My family- the Kanski's- were all at one table. Not one of us had anything to contribute to this portion of the evening. We are a sad lot.
HOWEVER, you will be happy, although not surprised, to know that I did represent. My aunt, the Mother of the Bride, and I did do a couples country line dance together. No, I wasn't drunk! The bride and groom's friends can not only sing, but they can swing dance like no body's business! I needed to show them that while I am not in any shape to be flipped over someones back and then in turn flip them over my own, I can do-se-do, spin, cheer and clap all at the same time AND to the rhythm of the music pumping out of the speakers.
I love weddings. I love when you can see how happy the couple is, how happy the parents are and how the excitement of the day can make the world stop and speed by all at the same time.
As I have said, when I found out I was having a boy, I was ecstatic, but then I was filled with a feeling similar to hate. This low-grade hatred or hate-lite, is directed toward my future daughter in law. In fact, I have already referred to this woman as bitch. I'm sorry, but it's true. Not only did I carry Parker for 9 months, not only did I have an emergency c-section followed by 2 weeks in the NICU visiting him every day, but every new thing he learns or observes or reacts to, I was, and will continue to be, there. I was with him through all of that and whatever else his life will take us through and she will not ever know or understand this. Even if she has her own son, she will not understand.
I have even made the comment that I hope she does not come from a stable environment, so that I will also be her stand-in mother. I'm greedy.
Mostly, I just hope we- my daughter in law and I- have a better relationship than some other MIL/DIL relationships I know. I do not have a MIL to compare to, so I must judge others, plus, well that is what I do.
I want to love her. I will welcome her with open arms because if Parker chose her, she must be amazing. I know I have years and years until this happens, but if the past year is any indication of how quickly the future years will go by, I will be at his wedding some time next week.
Weddings are great and one of my favorite parts are the father/daughter and mother/son dances- kind of a make new friends, but keep the old feeling.
Congratulation Emily and Joe- Enjoy the ride!! :)
This past Monday, I went to my cousin, Emily's, wedding. Yes, I said Monday.
Her family is very religious. I feel like everyone has a family in their extended family who is dubbed "the religious ones". However, on my mom's side of the family, everyone goes to church regularly and is actively involved in that community, except us. Does that make us the "damned ones"? No, really does it?
Emily got married in a High Mass ceremony- in Latin- on June 15. The ceremony was nice, what I could understand of it. I was in chorus for quite some time and we did sing a lot of songs in Latin, but I was pretty much singing phonetically. I had, well have, no idea what I was actually saying. Despite the lost in translation feeling, the ceremony had a traditional- "back to the roots" feel to it. And from what I know about Emily, the ceremony was very her.
Emily and her bridesmaids looked beautiful. I did find out something interesting about the bridesmaid's dresses though. It seems the church has very strict rules about the dress code. For example, as someone attending the wedding, I was not allowed to wear anything that was too low cut or that showed my shoulders- basically the opposite of what you would wear to a NKOTB concert. After the wedding I spoke to one of the bridesmaids, who was the sister of the bride and found out that her own dress was too low cut by the church standard. So my resourceful cousin, Alison, had a shoulder pad sewn into the cleavage area giving the optical illusion that she had a tank top on under her dress.
The ladies also all wore veils, that have a proper name, but I'm not sure what it is. The goal was that all the ladies needed to have their heads covered.
They must have thought I was ho-ing it up a bit. My dress was not low cut, nor were my shoulders showing, by my knees were and I did not have a veil on my head. I was feeling pretty self conscience until Thong Girl walked in. This girl was wearing a very pretty (short, shoulder-bearing) beige gauzy dress with no slip and a black thong. She came in late and sat in the back, which is why I'm guessing she was able to stay- virtually unnoticed.
However, my brother and uncle could not stop staring. Hell, I couldn't stop staring!
Anyway, this was Pfunk's first time spending the night in a place that was not home and not Grammy and Pop's house. Josh did not come because he had a work thing, so it was just Pmoney, me and my parents barrelling down the highway toward Front Royal, Va. Pman and I slept in the same room and against everything I do at home, we slept in the same bed. He possibly got stung or bit by something called Boring Bee and ate more grilled cheese and cake than any -nearly one year old- should. I tried to squeeze in some applesauce and pieces of banana here and there, but in the end gave up and he ended up eating 2 cupcakes with cream cheese icing. TWO! He also stubbed his toe for the first time while crawling on the PAVEMENT around the pool. I mean, walk already! (Although, really, I'm not encouraging that.)
At the reception several people spoke and said very nice things about the newlyweds. Everyone did a great job of keeping their words short but sweet. The thing that threw me off was the singing. They did not have singers- per say. No, they have a bunch of really talented friends who sang various ballads to the couple. It was like- "quaint family wedding" meets "America's Got Talent". Susan Boyle watch out!
My family- the Kanski's- were all at one table. Not one of us had anything to contribute to this portion of the evening. We are a sad lot.
HOWEVER, you will be happy, although not surprised, to know that I did represent. My aunt, the Mother of the Bride, and I did do a couples country line dance together. No, I wasn't drunk! The bride and groom's friends can not only sing, but they can swing dance like no body's business! I needed to show them that while I am not in any shape to be flipped over someones back and then in turn flip them over my own, I can do-se-do, spin, cheer and clap all at the same time AND to the rhythm of the music pumping out of the speakers.
I love weddings. I love when you can see how happy the couple is, how happy the parents are and how the excitement of the day can make the world stop and speed by all at the same time.
As I have said, when I found out I was having a boy, I was ecstatic, but then I was filled with a feeling similar to hate. This low-grade hatred or hate-lite, is directed toward my future daughter in law. In fact, I have already referred to this woman as bitch. I'm sorry, but it's true. Not only did I carry Parker for 9 months, not only did I have an emergency c-section followed by 2 weeks in the NICU visiting him every day, but every new thing he learns or observes or reacts to, I was, and will continue to be, there. I was with him through all of that and whatever else his life will take us through and she will not ever know or understand this. Even if she has her own son, she will not understand.
I have even made the comment that I hope she does not come from a stable environment, so that I will also be her stand-in mother. I'm greedy.
Mostly, I just hope we- my daughter in law and I- have a better relationship than some other MIL/DIL relationships I know. I do not have a MIL to compare to, so I must judge others, plus, well that is what I do.
I want to love her. I will welcome her with open arms because if Parker chose her, she must be amazing. I know I have years and years until this happens, but if the past year is any indication of how quickly the future years will go by, I will be at his wedding some time next week.
Weddings are great and one of my favorite parts are the father/daughter and mother/son dances- kind of a make new friends, but keep the old feeling.
Congratulation Emily and Joe- Enjoy the ride!! :)
Monday, June 8, 2009
I Don't Want to be Right
Confession: I went to yet another New Kids on the Block concert on Sunday, June 7. I am happy to report, but not as happy as Josh, that this was my second and last NKTOB concert.
With lyrics like, "Now we're going to consummate so let's conversate", "Gotta know if you're mad at me before Grey's Anatomy", "I'll give you heaven while we mess up the sheets", and finally "With pretty lips and big ol' hips...sexy eyes and them big 'ol thighs"
I mean how can a girl resist their charm? Their swagger? Their captivating stage presence? Their inflated ticket prices?
Make no mistake, I had an amazing time. They really are entertaining and my inner 10year-old squealy girl comes out when they appear on stage in their matching, but not too matching, outfits. I still have a soft spot in my heart, or somewhere, for Joey. I mean at one point he came out in a blue and white gingham style plaid shirt and silver skinny tie. I mean if that outfit does not scream, I dressed myself, I don't know what does and that is so endearing.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started when two of my friends came over the afternoon of the concert so we could have dinner, they could see Pfunk and then we would drive to the concert together. While we were getting dressed we all tried on at least 2 different outfits. Odd because really, why? It is mostly women at the concert and like we were actually going to meet Ddub (Donnie Walberg...) and the ilk. Oh yeah and we are all married.
Once outfits were chosen and approved by all and make-up was applied, we headed out the door. One of the friends and I poured wine into to two of Pman's sippy cups and took them with us.
What, you didn't really think I gave Pmoney wine, did you? I have a live and learn mothering style, but that is a bit overboard, no?
As the two of us got into the car, the driver said, "I don't mind you drinking, but please don't spill it."
And of course, one of us- not me- spilled it. No worries though, it was white wine and she mostly spilled it on herself although a bit did get on the seat belt. Looking back, a sippy cups worth of wine- 8 ounces- was really not necessary for a 60 minute car ride. We obviously did it so we would not have to buy as much alcohol at the concert, but really attempting to chug warm white wine out of generic containers on the way to a concert--I mean it all sounds very HFStival circa high school years, to me.
*Big ups to you if you know what I'm talking about there!!*
With the help of no traffic and a GPS system and me keeping my mouth shut in the back as I continue to be clueless about driving in the DC area, we got there in plenty of time. As we were walking up to the Patriot Center in Virginia we noticed there are generally two types of outfits. The first one involves an unfortunate combination of all things neon and tight. This lady will also have a side ponytail and will possibly be wearing jellies.
The second outfit is a black shirt (tank tops, button ups, fancy short sleeves...whatever, they are all black) worn with jeans. Three of the four of us that went were all sporting this uniform. Thankfully though, the fourth person did not fall victim to the 2009 version of a 1980's outfit.
After we got our $8 16 ounce Bud Lights and found our seats, we settled in for the show and began judging those around us. We came to a few conclusions. I will warn you, some of these are harsh. First of all, there were a lot of males there. At the first concert there were quite honestly about 10 men there. At this most recent concert there were probably an average of 2 men in every row of the arena. Surprisingly, no, they were not all gay. I'm very impressed with their wives/girlfriends. I couldn't have dragged Josh to this concert if he were dead. One man was sitting on at the ground level by himself with a purse at his feet and his arm in a sling. His head was constantly swiveling around looking for his girlfriend. Poor sap.
Another thing we noticed was that NKOTB have some...um...large? fans. I have developed a theory about this. It seems a vast majority of their fan come to the arena for dinner and a show.
My ladies and I all ate a nice healthy and cheap dinner my house, pre-concert. Whereas some of the fans (read: most) seem to enjoy dining from paper baskets lined with wax paper that are filled with anything that can be battered and dipped into a deep fryer. The area around us smelled like a Taco Bell/KFC/fat vat combo. Yum.
The opening act was the dance group the Jabbawokeez. They were good. That is all.
Finally...finally the lights dimmed and the boys, the New Kids, NKOTB appeared on stage as if by magic. They sang and danced and thrusted their pelvises and hips and crooned like only they can. The fans (or people in the audience since I'm still not sure if all the men were fans of the band or fans of pleasing the women they were with or were just plain suckers) dance, screamed, squealed, sang and thrusted their own hips to and fro.
At one point Ddub (seriously, apparently that is his nickname. I mean he's like 40 but whatev) bend down and kissed a girl in the audience. Apparently this has happened before with this girl at the Baltimore concert. Apparently he said, "I could fall in love with you." Then told the girl he wanted to see her later that night. I found all of this out in the ladies room- post kiss- from the Chosen One's friend. I kept my mouth shut, but I mean that girl better watch out. I was in the beer line and shamelessly flirting with the gay boy behind the counter in a (failed) attempt to get a free beer. I mentioned to another beer-waiting patron that I had a date with Joey after the concert and I swear she said, "If I see you later, I'm gonna drop kick you."
Wow. Rough crowd.
Through the rest of the concert, I paid attention to the big screens every time one of the "boys" had a close up. Then I started paying attention to their dance moves and noticed, not only were they not challenging in the least, they were exactly the same as they were at the last concert. These things all told me, these "kids" were old and likely tired. Not tired of the female attention or the money, but tired in the way you are after running errands all weekend and then getting up Monday morning for another work week with no rest in between. As fun as I'm sure it is, they are in their 40's and tired and need a nap and maybe some nice cinnamon toast and prune juice when they wake up. I don't think 40 is old, but I do think it is too old to be running around with the words New and Kids in your band name.
My NKOTB days are behind me, although I cannot rule out a Justin Timberlake concert. Question of the day: Would these pop singers be so physically appealing if they were UPS delivery men or "sandwich artist" at Subway?
With lyrics like, "Now we're going to consummate so let's conversate", "Gotta know if you're mad at me before Grey's Anatomy", "I'll give you heaven while we mess up the sheets", and finally "With pretty lips and big ol' hips...sexy eyes and them big 'ol thighs"
I mean how can a girl resist their charm? Their swagger? Their captivating stage presence? Their inflated ticket prices?
Make no mistake, I had an amazing time. They really are entertaining and my inner 10year-old squealy girl comes out when they appear on stage in their matching, but not too matching, outfits. I still have a soft spot in my heart, or somewhere, for Joey. I mean at one point he came out in a blue and white gingham style plaid shirt and silver skinny tie. I mean if that outfit does not scream, I dressed myself, I don't know what does and that is so endearing.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started when two of my friends came over the afternoon of the concert so we could have dinner, they could see Pfunk and then we would drive to the concert together. While we were getting dressed we all tried on at least 2 different outfits. Odd because really, why? It is mostly women at the concert and like we were actually going to meet Ddub (Donnie Walberg...) and the ilk. Oh yeah and we are all married.
Once outfits were chosen and approved by all and make-up was applied, we headed out the door. One of the friends and I poured wine into to two of Pman's sippy cups and took them with us.
What, you didn't really think I gave Pmoney wine, did you? I have a live and learn mothering style, but that is a bit overboard, no?
As the two of us got into the car, the driver said, "I don't mind you drinking, but please don't spill it."
And of course, one of us- not me- spilled it. No worries though, it was white wine and she mostly spilled it on herself although a bit did get on the seat belt. Looking back, a sippy cups worth of wine- 8 ounces- was really not necessary for a 60 minute car ride. We obviously did it so we would not have to buy as much alcohol at the concert, but really attempting to chug warm white wine out of generic containers on the way to a concert--I mean it all sounds very HFStival circa high school years, to me.
*Big ups to you if you know what I'm talking about there!!*
With the help of no traffic and a GPS system and me keeping my mouth shut in the back as I continue to be clueless about driving in the DC area, we got there in plenty of time. As we were walking up to the Patriot Center in Virginia we noticed there are generally two types of outfits. The first one involves an unfortunate combination of all things neon and tight. This lady will also have a side ponytail and will possibly be wearing jellies.
The second outfit is a black shirt (tank tops, button ups, fancy short sleeves...whatever, they are all black) worn with jeans. Three of the four of us that went were all sporting this uniform. Thankfully though, the fourth person did not fall victim to the 2009 version of a 1980's outfit.
After we got our $8 16 ounce Bud Lights and found our seats, we settled in for the show and began judging those around us. We came to a few conclusions. I will warn you, some of these are harsh. First of all, there were a lot of males there. At the first concert there were quite honestly about 10 men there. At this most recent concert there were probably an average of 2 men in every row of the arena. Surprisingly, no, they were not all gay. I'm very impressed with their wives/girlfriends. I couldn't have dragged Josh to this concert if he were dead. One man was sitting on at the ground level by himself with a purse at his feet and his arm in a sling. His head was constantly swiveling around looking for his girlfriend. Poor sap.
Another thing we noticed was that NKOTB have some...um...large? fans. I have developed a theory about this. It seems a vast majority of their fan come to the arena for dinner and a show.
My ladies and I all ate a nice healthy and cheap dinner my house, pre-concert. Whereas some of the fans (read: most) seem to enjoy dining from paper baskets lined with wax paper that are filled with anything that can be battered and dipped into a deep fryer. The area around us smelled like a Taco Bell/KFC/fat vat combo. Yum.
The opening act was the dance group the Jabbawokeez. They were good. That is all.
Finally...finally the lights dimmed and the boys, the New Kids, NKOTB appeared on stage as if by magic. They sang and danced and thrusted their pelvises and hips and crooned like only they can. The fans (or people in the audience since I'm still not sure if all the men were fans of the band or fans of pleasing the women they were with or were just plain suckers) dance, screamed, squealed, sang and thrusted their own hips to and fro.
At one point Ddub (seriously, apparently that is his nickname. I mean he's like 40 but whatev) bend down and kissed a girl in the audience. Apparently this has happened before with this girl at the Baltimore concert. Apparently he said, "I could fall in love with you." Then told the girl he wanted to see her later that night. I found all of this out in the ladies room- post kiss- from the Chosen One's friend. I kept my mouth shut, but I mean that girl better watch out. I was in the beer line and shamelessly flirting with the gay boy behind the counter in a (failed) attempt to get a free beer. I mentioned to another beer-waiting patron that I had a date with Joey after the concert and I swear she said, "If I see you later, I'm gonna drop kick you."
Wow. Rough crowd.
Through the rest of the concert, I paid attention to the big screens every time one of the "boys" had a close up. Then I started paying attention to their dance moves and noticed, not only were they not challenging in the least, they were exactly the same as they were at the last concert. These things all told me, these "kids" were old and likely tired. Not tired of the female attention or the money, but tired in the way you are after running errands all weekend and then getting up Monday morning for another work week with no rest in between. As fun as I'm sure it is, they are in their 40's and tired and need a nap and maybe some nice cinnamon toast and prune juice when they wake up. I don't think 40 is old, but I do think it is too old to be running around with the words New and Kids in your band name.
My NKOTB days are behind me, although I cannot rule out a Justin Timberlake concert. Question of the day: Would these pop singers be so physically appealing if they were UPS delivery men or "sandwich artist" at Subway?
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