Modern Family

I like TV. It’s funny. Or engaging. And sometimes you find yourself reflected there. As a Black woman, I do not often find myself reflected on tee vee. (Especially since we don’t have HBO anymore.) Imagine my surprise when, while watching Moderm Family, my husband and I found ourselves cracking the hell up because one couple was us.


Husband goes to sleep earlier than the aby and I do. He had just bid us good night, I was straightening up and the baby was making a mess in the kitchen for a change of scene. Modern Family comes on. The couple is having a bit of a tiff because one person made an elaborate meal and he kitchen is a MESS. Other person is grosed out and the chef is all, “don’t worry, I’ll clean it.” From the bedroom, where he is supposed to be sleeping, my husband cracks up with laughter. Cam and Mitchell, are our TV twins. I’m Cam.

Now, before you think this is a fluke, that I see myself everywhere, let me assure you, Cam and Mitchell are not just hand-twin twins, but actual twins. (Someone got that Friends reference, right?)


Last week Mitchell accused Cam of coddling Lily.

“I will not apologize for loving our daughter.”

I sprayed Mango smoothie on the coffee table when Cam uttered the line. Not just because of the line, but because of Husband’s face when the line was said. He roared, but then looked at me.

“Why you looking at me, Husband?”

“No reason.” *snort, laugh*

:You think that’s me? I’m Cam?

“I’m pretty sure you’ve said that exact same thing to me when I say the baby should sleep in his crib.”

This began a whole discussion about the baby’s sleeping habits that was lame and is still unresolved. But, it did begin the us as Mitchell and Cam conversation.

I’m artsy and emotional. He’s a worrier and is all clean-y. It gives the show a new lens for us now. Interesting.



Catching Up

So. September is drawing to a close and autumn is upon us. I have a love/hate relationship with this time of year. It’s colder, but not freezing yet, which is good. School has started which is kind of lame, but also exciting. New TV season begins, which is great, but also means I want to watch more TV. Football is in full swing, which I love, but baseball is approaching play-ofs which means the husband will be staying up too late.

All in all however, I like Fall. I like new boots and the crisp air and the reflection of it all. That said, let’s take stock, shall we?

The baby is doing marvelously. He is growing like a proverbial weed. He is tall and healthy and keeps outgrowing shoes. He loves to dance. He does a full-body shake thing that is adorable. He is normally pretty happy, but does have a temper when he doesn’t get his way. When this happens, watch out! He will grab at your face. It’s not so bad when his nails are cut, but when his nails are long it is a killer. He loves to play. He likes his puppy toy the best. He loves real dogs a ton. When he sees a dog outside, on TV or in a book he points to it and screams, “Dah-dah!!” It’s cute, but if you’re in Duane Reade, it can be embarrassing.  He is a good walker, says a few words, (mama, Da-da, sometimes duck, maybe?) plays with everything. He maes everything into a phone to talk on, and conducts business. Bowls and pots are still aces in his book. He is still a night-owl. He sometimes gets shy around other kids and dos not like it when people shout. It freaks him out.

Today we went to my friend K’s house. Her little boy is a few months older than Scooba. Her son was being friendly and would shout at Scooba, “Bubbles!” Scooba looked startled and ran to me to pick him up, please. He can now hug and kiss and is learning to blow kisses. It is adorable.

He still loves the park, but is less about the swings now. He likes to explore all over the park now. Favorite songs are still Old MacDonald and This Old Man, but he also loves Mi Cuerpo and the ABCs. Also I’m a Little Froggy. He did great when we visited San Diego and let my brother hold him for extended periods. Loves to play chase. Is eating lots of solid foods. Beans and lentils are a big hit. He loves fruit, especially strawberries and watermelon.

Me? I am tired. I am taking night courses and get home around 10pm one night a week. It’s good because Husband has one night a week where he is the guy doing everything. It’s good that he gets the one-on-one time with the baby.I’m back at work which is pretty good. Exhausting and busy, but fulfilling. I’m loving twitter.

Stupid Everything

I hate everything. I hate that my air is dripping, making it hard to look around. I hate that my son grabbed for my contact lens case and now I can’t find one. I hate that my husband acts like it’s so easy and simple to shower, get dressed and go about the day with a baby with ou 24/7. So what if I didn’t put my dirty clothes in the bin?! He never has the baby ALL DAY. He always gets to shower alone.

I hate that I still haven’t found my phone. I dream about finding my phone. In the dream it was in a bureaus thing by the window. We don’t ave a bureau thing by a window. I hate that my glasses are all foggy. I hate that. On the bright side, I’m out of nouns to hate. I thought I could fill a page with hate, but I’m feeling better now.   Maybe I could put my dirty clothes in the hamper. Maybe. Once a week maybe.

Got it, Thanks.

Mother’s Day 2011 was a success. We took a train towashington D.C., a city I love. I love the history, the eccectic mix of people and the architecture. I don’t even love architecture that much, but the Supreme Court building? The monuments? Oh, how I love the monuments. I get choked up when I go to the Vietnam Memorial because my Dad fought in that war. The moument to the soldiers that’s off to the side also makes me a little sad. These soldiers are SO YOUNG. Some kids sent off to fight at 18 years old. Vietnam Memorial Statue

We had a fantastc day of sightseeing and hanging out. The train ride home was also pretty relaxing. Except for this one Lady Full of Advice!

Marshall loves playing with water bottles. When ever we have one, we let him gnaw and play and enjoy it. Poor husband was on the aisle with the baby and LFoA speaks up, “He shouldn’t play with that; he’ll swallow the cap.”

Husband does his litle, “Thanks,” smile and continues to let the baby play with the bottle. Then LFoA comments, “There’s lots of germs on bottles. That could be dangerous.” Husband doesn’t smile this time, but just nods. Then, my cheerful husband turns to me and says, “If this lady doesn’t shut up, I’m gonna choke her with the bottle cap.” Husband’s hide is rarely chafed, but this lady really got to him. Inevitable, as it always does, it led to socks.

Look. My kid does not like wearing socks. I don’t know why. My grandma told me last month that I didn’t like wearing socks. (I still love being barefoot.) (I also adore flip-flops) Maybe it’s genetics. Maybe most babies don’t like socks because it’s harder to interact tactile-y with the world. I don’t know. What I do know is when we put socks on the baby, he kicks them off. This, apparently, is like hanging a kid off of a balcony. It invites comment and advice.

“Ma’am, your baby isn’t wearing any socks.” I know. He kicked them off somewhere in the last five blocks. I walked back two blocks to find it, no luck.

“It’s too cold out here for that baby not to have socks!” I get it. I’m a bad mom. Look at his smiling, cherubic face- see how abused he is?

Ugh. Unsolicited advice is lame. If he’s naked and crying and cut, sure, speak up. If however, he seems fine but with a massing sock or playing with something in full sight of BOTH of his parents, maybe let it go. I undersnad people want to be helpful, but how helpful was it for you when you were a young parent? Do you give advice to everyone you see on the street?

“Ma’am, you’re missing about 5 inches on that skirt.”

“You probably shouldn’t be smoking. It’s full of toxins.”

Oh wait, that would be obnoxious. When people help me, Im grateful. Like the woman who offerd to help to look for his sock? Briliant. The guy who found his sock at the zoo? Big shout out. But just critisizing without a better idea? Lame.

In NYC you’re always on the street and aroud people, so maybe that invites the advice? I already hear tons of advice from my family, and I listen and sometimes follow. Strangers though? Please. Let me see how your kids are doing, first. I need a sure-fire response other than, “Okay. Thanks.” That makes me feel like I’m affirming their advice giving and they will feel empowered to dole some out to other parents. I could tell the lady that a few germs are okay for the baby to ingestt and builds his immune system. That babies learn by putting all manner of junk into their mouths. That the cap is screwed on tighly and we keep a hand on it to make sure it doesn’t go too far it. But then I sound like a jerk. This should be in baby books. Maybe I’ll just say, “Our pediatrician encourages ________.” Or maybe a polite head nod. Or, “Got it, thanks.” (But with an attitude so they know I don’t got it. Cause it’s dumb.) Whatevs. We’ll see. It’s spring, so the people will be out.

I do invite compliments on how cute his knees, smiles, curly hairs are. Keep those comin’.

Freaking Out

Husband is leaving in an hour. He will be returning in four days. FOUR DAYSS. I will be a single-parent for four days. I’m nervous. I’ve been without him with the baby before. All day. All day and part of the night. For several days when I went to Califonia. But in California I wasn’t alone. There was a myriad of relatives, including my mother, to hold tha baby, play with the baby ad for me to talk to.

Four days.

I’ve invited hos godmother over for one afternoon. We have plans to go to dinner with another friend. The baby-sitter is coming another day. The only days that yawns wide open is today. Husband and I have talked it through. He’s give helpful suggestons like breaking the days into chunks and whatnot, but I’m nervous. Yesterday the baby was fractious and out of sarts. Maybe a cold and maybe teething, either way unhappy and extra crying. Last night, he didn’t want boob he just cried like he was hurt for a while. Him being upset and me not knowing why hasn’t happened since he was pretty little. Normally I have the option of waking up the husband and having a sounding board or a commiserating partner or just back-up. For he next few days..It’s. Just. Me. Chilling. 3am? Just me. I can’t wake anyone up to ask what’s wrong with the baby. Or to hold him when I need to pee or just need a break.

Sure, I have friends, but no one wants a call at 3am to hear how my baby keeps crying. We have friends who live close, but are not super close in terms of emotions. Freinds who I’m super-close with, live too far away. T-30 minutes.

Maybe it’ll be great. Maybe the baby and I will super bond and he’ll be smiley and sleep great. Maybe being lonely will be the only issue. The baby is great, but he isn’t the conversationalist his father is. We shall see. A chunk at a time.


So I’ve been trying to come up with names for my family on the blog. I’m just gonna call my husband husband. Or Sugar Honey Baby. SHB. The baby will be baby. Or Bucka. I don’t know why I call him Bucka, but I do.

Oh! So why boobs and bummis? Cause thats what I think about these days. My boobs are always out. I’ve thought more about my boobs in the last five months than  I have since I didn’t have ’em yet. My son eats boobs. He nurses on demand and the boob is a huge parts of his life. And bummis are his little cloth diaper covers. And I like alliteration.