Summer in the City

I didn’t get a pedicure once this summer, and let me tell you, that was a TRAVESTY OF FOOTCARE. These puppies are perhaps the most terrifying they’ve ever been, and I’ve done precisely nothing about it, and now — NOW! — I’m thinking maybe it’s time to pay attention and do something about it, because I can’t take it anymore. Day late, dollars — millions of dollars, to be specific — short.

My urge to get a pedicure is strangely symbolic of the idea that I’m not all that excited about summer ending. Before I had Sam, I was a winter person. You know, back when winter involved lots of sloth-like behavior, warm stews and doing nothing more taxing than snuggling by the fire and lifting the remote control. Winter meant reading! Adorable snuggly clothes! Sleeping late while the flakes fall softly outside our window pane!

HA HA HA, I have a child now, and while I’m all, YAY, FALL! Yay! Pumpkins and park visits and warm apple cider and apple picking and all that APPLE-Y FALL STUFF. But fall! Fall is very brief.

AND THEN THERE IS DOOM. DOOM FOLLOWS THE LAST APPLE. Winter colds and snotty noses and Jesus knows WHAT flu strain they’ll terrify us with this year that I’ll spend copious amounts of time pursuing a vaccine for, but will be unable to obtain. Or — OR! — I know, I’ll actually GET the vaccine after breaking down in tears to the receptionist about how I have a BAYBEE and DON’T LET MY BAYBEE DIE, and then my kid will get the flu anyway, and it will be five days of misery, and then we will all move on, Amen.

Incidentally, Flubaby came up in conversation the other day, and Adam has ZERO RECOLLECTION of Sam’s flu from last year. The Thanksgiving Flu From Hell. NONE. He claims, probably accurately, that he merely blocked it out, because last year was also The Year That No One Slept, but how do you block out this face?

Besides, what the hell are we going to DOOOOOO? I mean, there are playdates, but our gym has closed (THE GYM HAS CLOSED) and my girlfriends and I are going to be stuck dragging our kids to Wednesday Lap Sit at the library while Lois, the Mean and Angry Librarian, butchers kids’ classics and acts like the fact that kids showed up at all is an affront to her delicate sensibilities.

DON’T LEAVE ME, SUMMER.

Speaking of no one sleeping, we’re in the midst of a STAGGERING sleep regression, and by staggering, I mean not very staggering at all to my former non-sleeping self, who would tell me to cry me an effing river and get over my damn self already. But to my well-rested self? This blows. She’s falling asleep late, getting up early (AN HOUR AND A HALF EARLY), taking the briefest nap known to mankind, and no amount of letting her holler will get her back down (FORTY FIVE MINUTES OF HOOTING AND HOLLERING), and yet, she’s clearly exhausted. By the end of the day, she has SUITCASES under her eyes. SUITCASES. Little lady could pack up an entire HOUSE and take it with her in those undereye bags.

AND YET. IT PERSISTS. And to date, there are no discernible skills to speak of resulting from this regression, despite the myriad promises by the ever-vague They. Well, unless you count an increase in the frequency of nonsensical conversations featuring arm waving and and hand gestures used by yours truly, and THAT is freaky, let me tell you.

But still. No results of this agony. No quoting of Derrida or loquacious lectures on astrophysics. Just a lot of “ASSSAGLAABEEBADOBEEBADADOO?” and an adorable little shoulder shrug, followed by wild hand-waving. Sometimes she nods violently, as if to underscore a very important point.

This … ends, right? I mean, she will sleep again? Sleep … late-ish? And NAP? WILL SHE EVER NAP AGAIN OH HOLY MERDE?

Good thing she’s cute, is all I’m saying. Also, packed with attitude … and pigtails.

Happy Monday!

*Regina Spektor

24 comments August 22nd, 2010

Wipes! Wipes! Wipes!

It’s giveaway time! Huggies wipes! Wipes! Wipes. WIPES! WIIIIIIIIPES! (Wipes. The whole word sounds … absurd when you say it that many times, am I right?) Enter here to win five tubs of Huggies wipes! Woo! And learn from me so you don’t use them all in one week!

See here’s an honest diapering issue I have. Well, a wiping issue. You know, before I had Sam, I had only diapered boys. On my side at least, Sam is the first little girl. I diapered many a nephew, including a really fabulous time when I was standing in for my sister’s childcare one summer and through some strange miracle, a family friend was coming to talk to me about a job, and five seconds before she arrived, one of said nephews projectile pooped all over the living room. Twas awesome. Now he’s 12, and wants me to diaper Sam outside his precious residence because he’s so grossed out by her … output, and I’m like, OH YOUNG MAN DO NOT TALK ABOUT POOP. I SCRAPED YOUR PRECIOUS POOP OFF OF BOOK BINDINGS.

And for all this talk of wiping little boys and their … well, their accessories down there, the thing with girls is that it’s like doing some kind of CAVE SPELUNKING, and it’s so hard to make sure you got everything out of everywhere, and there is kicking and wiping and kicking and wiping, and let me tell you how afraid I am of pediatric UTIs: SO AFRAID I CANNOT SEE STRAIGHT. And yet, I’m probably going to give her one by wiping her into oblivion. Huggies wipes are pretty effective; there is no reason for me to be using thirty on a single incident. None whatsoever.

At least with boys, all the crevices are visible, and you’d have to REALLY TRY to bring on a UTI, is what I’m saying. So, ah, I have to ask: is this a realistic fear? I mean, I do the whole wipe from front-to-back thing! I never go over the same place twice with a sullied wipe! (Obviously, if I’m using THIRTY.) I have the lingering, awful feeling that I’m Doing It Wrong, and that there must be a way to be more effective at this — not to mention cost effective, because again, this is not the fault of the wipes, this is me being INSANE.

Sometimes I really want to go back to birthing class. Seriously.

And finally, before I get into the giveaway, a video of Sam, carrying The Dreaded Load:

To enter, please leave me a comment — feel free to share your, um, wiping concerns so we can crowdsource solutions OR tell me I’m crazy OR tell me your kid got a UTI and I can totally justify to Adam why I buy nine containers of wipes a week. If you want to comment, but for some reason do NOT want to be entered, just say NO WIPES, PLEASE!, and I won’t pick you. The contest ends Wednesday at 6 p.m. EST. I’m choosing via random number selection and will post the winners on Thursday, which will be the final wipes post, which, you know what that means? END OF SUMMER.

DOOOOOOOOOOM.

Thanks to Huggies for providing me with a supply of wipes and compensating me for my time as a Poo Free Parent Squad ambassador. As always, all opinions stated are mine.

51 comments August 22nd, 2010