Bebehs R Preshus

So there I am, sitting in a lobby somewhere, minding my own business. This kid comes along, not quite a year old. He's grinning and squealing, making cute noises and whatnot, like babies generally do.

And I'm all like WANT BEBEHS OH NOM NOM NOM BEBEHS R DELISHUS.

Then, I'm sitting there, reeling from the mindblast, wondering, "What fuckery is this?"

According to 70 percent of me, ain't no chance of revisiting that notion anytime soon. No way, no how. But 30 percent of me says yes. And that bitch has a bullhorn.

I think back to my children's infancies.

I remember getting no sleep the last three months of pregnancy because I'm so uncomfortable. I think that's the body's way of preparing you for the next nine months, because you get no sleep. None.

I remember two years -- TWO FREAKIN' YEARS -- of having another human being attached to my body pretty much 24/7.

I remember learning how to unfasten my jeans one-handed so I could pee while holding a baby. It was either hold her or hear her cry, and I couldn't handle the second option. Then I regressed to wearing sweatpants, because it was easier than jeans.

I remember that everywhere I went, I lugged around a purse, diaper bag and baby carrier.

I remember the crying. The God-awful, incessent crying. Then my crying on top of that.

I remember being so "touched out" that I couldn't even stand to get a hug from my husband.

But then the baby-crazy bitch is all like, "Yeah, but remember the smiles? The giggles? The coos? The snuggles? The way it looks at you like you are the end-all, be-all of the universe? The OM NOM NOMMY pudgy belly? You can seriously look at that and say you don't want that?"

"Yes, I can, bitch. Now shut up. I just now updated my wardrobe and my life. Fuck off, already!"

And so the argument goes, round and round. Either way, the discussion is tabled for now. I don't want to go through pregnancy and newborn stage while the Hubster is working away. I plan to go back to school next year, when both kids are in school full time. I'm sure I'll want to enjoy that for a bit, and perhaps start a new phase in my for-now-non-existent career.

I don't know why I bother arguing with myself anyway. I always win.

No cause for that!

Lately I have found myself beset by everyone's good intentions. I've been presented with opinions about various causes, with each petitioner trying to drum up the required enthusiasm and excitement from me about the subject.

Truth is, while the causes are worthy, I have only a finite amount of energy to expend. I already have my pet causes, and any enthusiasm shown for anything else is going to be lackluster at best.

I thought I'd have more to say on the subject, but I'm tired. Not sleepy-tired, but lack-of-energy tired. So blah on that. I can't take up your causes because it takes too much energy just to get dressed in the morning.

I'll take revenge on your furriness

So, a family member bought the kids a copy of Furry Vengeance. They had no idea how truly bad this movie was, so I can't entirely fault them for that. I'm not sure where to even start.

The first time my daughter watched it, she came up to me crying. "They make it seem like it's funny, but they're trying to kill all the animals!" she sobbed. That ticked me off right there. A supposedly funny movie made my daughter cry?

Soon, she came to realize that there was no animal killing going on, and it's become a movie staple for when the kids are bored.

I ended up fully watching it with them one day. I am far from pleased. There is one character who is Asian. He occasionally spouts off random gibberish, that sounds vaguely like Japanese or Chinese. Please tell me this isn't the 1950s? That they're trying to teach kids that when people "talk foreign" it's funny? That Asians are to be laughed at for "talking weird"? Geez....

This movie plays off so many stereotypes, it's not even funny. Brendan Fraser in a pink sweatsuit carrying a rainbow striped umbrella. The one elderly person in the movie is totally off her rocker (Alzheimers/ageism = not funny). Planning the celebration of the arrival of an Indian client, suggestions are made about teepees and buffalo burgers.

Not even the lovely, unflappable Brooke Shields can redeem this movie. I'm ashamed to have it in the house.

And God help me, the kids like it.


AAAAAHHHH!!!!!