Paper Bag

I cannot get over the swiftness and relative ease with which I willingly pick my child’s nose. It’s one of those quintessential parenting moments that embarrasses and humbles me, because I KNOW the childless among you are going, seriously? She’s talking about this? She’s one of THOSE? And I know, right? I KNOW. I know how awful and ridiculous it is to DO, much less talk about. But God, how far the mighty have fallen. A few years ago, I was overcome with a wave of nausea at the mere sight of another person’s boogers, and just today, I willingly plucked someone else’s from their little nose-hole and instead was overcome with a wave of satisfaction. Parenting is one non-stop acid trip set to a Sigur Ros-penned soundtrack, where upside-down is right side up and right side up is … I don’t know, the universe where picking someone else’s nose is not only considered polite, but widely accepted.

Ugh. I sort of hate myself for the above paragraph, but the mind, it BOGGLES.

***

I have to hand it to Adam, by the way, for one of the better things about him — and I mean in the petty, not-important sense, not the handsome, kind and big-time shit, sense — is his penchant for junk food and candy. Usually this is a bit on the frustrating side — it’s not exactly easy being on a diet when you have a man who regularly comes home with those big, soft grocery store cookies. You know, the kind that comes in a bag with the silvery tabs? And the cookies are BIG and SOFT and MOST DEFINITELY made with Crisco. Ahem. Anyway, I can usually ignore the cookies, but what I cannot ignore is a giant pack of Fun Dip.

Fun. Dip. What was the last time you had Fun Dip? I assure you, it was far too long ago and that it is, indeed, as fun as the name promises. And the dipper, if you recall, is called a Lik A Stik. Which sounds more than a little on the porny side, and it’s not inaccurate, as you continue to dip this … sti(c)k into a little packet of powder and lasciviously lick it off, going back for more more more like some kind of bizarre sugar-cocaine addict, but MAN, Fun Dip is … well. Deliciously gross and grossly delicious. And we now have an effing JUMBO PACK in our kitchen, if anyone wants to come by.

***

Perhaps the most frightening and shocking thing about Vermont is the spiders. You guys, I have never in my 33 years seen spiders like this. Spider webs! Everywhere! With spiders the size of an effing QUARTER. And last night, while I was walking the dog, I stood there, riveted, as I watched a spider feed on a wrapped up INSECT like some kind of personal view into Charlotte’s Web. And ALLLL I could think of was Shelob the Giant Spider from Tolkein and ALLLL I dreamed about, all night long, was giant spiders devouring my flesh and if you, or anyone, thinks I’m ever going outside at night again, you are ALLLL OUT OF YOUR MIND.

In OTHER insect news, I took the baby to the park today while we waited for a friend, and honest to sweet LORD what the FUCK, people? Is it not AUTUMN? It was like MIDSUMMER MOSQUITO’S DREAM up in there, and I now have three (3) bites in each of my armpits, leaving me scratching my underarms every fifteen minutes like some kind of orangutan. And worse, I was sitting there playing the “How Big Is Samantha?” “SO BIG!” game, when in the middle of the “SO BIG!” portion of our show, I noticed a mosquito draining the blood from her forehead, and I promptly SLAPPED MY BABY IN THE HEAD, killing the mosquito and scaring the bejesus out of my child, complete with heaving, startled tears.

This injustice is second only to the time when I was nursing her in the park, cradling her head with one arm, when my other arm was suddenly STUNG BY A WASP and I abruptly yanked my arm out from under her to smack the wasp away and ZOMG TEARS and DRAMA, because her head just clonked right down on my knee. Kind of hard. And then, just now, oh thank you Amalah, I see that I am not the only person to do this (the mosquito-slapping bit, not the knee-clonking bit), and once again, the Internet makes me feel NORMAL.

***
I made plans to go to the movies in two weeks with some girlfriends. It will be my first — and longest — real outing to do something purely enjoyable, other than, say, getting my hair done or frantically running to Target solo, since Sam’s been born. Yep, folks, it’s been MORE THAN SIX MONTHS, and I haven’t left the baby at all. Crazytown, right? What’s crazier is that I haven’t really minded, especially since she now goes to bed between 7 and 7:30, and our evenings! They are FREE! FREE! FREEEEEEEE! And while Sam is easier and can drink from a cup now and eats the occasional meal not procured from my bosom, that didn’t stop Adam’s initial reaction from … well, you’d think I’d asked him to FLY A PLANE. He’s more than willing, certainly, but this brave new world — one that involves her being detached from my bosom for more than an hour — is new to both of us. Oh, the POSSIBILITIES.

Happy weekend!

* Fiona Apple. When next I speak with you, I will have NEW HAIR. And there will be PHOTOS if it’s good! If not, there will be PHOTOS OF ME IN A PAPER BAG. HA HA GET IT.

24 comments September 24th, 2009