Tag: babies

FEAR #1 ABOUT HAVING A BABY

MY WORLD:

For the past two years, whenever a friend of ours or someone we know (who has not EARNED our friendship yet!) announced that they’re having a baby, the VP and I would look at each other with the “but we’re still having so much fun doing whatever we want!”-face.  Now, while we can’t do WHATEVER we want (laws are like so dumb omg) we have really enjoyed each other and the freedom we have.  The whole making-sure-a-tiny-human-stays-alive responsibility hasn’t been exactly something The VP and I have been itching for.  “Babe, I know this trip to Ireland is fun, but what if…now hear me out…instead, we were at home pretending like we didn’t want to cry while dealing with a screaming newborn?”  I can feel the parents reading this either snarling or relating to it so much that they’re feeling guilty, and let me tell you, I’M DOING BOTH NOW!

I guess when you get older your priorities change and whatever this is dumb, I think we want a kid now.  Why? I don’t know, and I’m not asking for all of the new parents around my life to text me about how rewarding it is.  I’m sure that it is, but, for me, hearing a new parent talk to you about how their life has changed with a kid is like hearing fireman talk about rescuing a family from a burning building, “yeah, sounds hot and scary!”

I think The VP and I are ready to care about  another person as much as we care about each other.  That’s fun, right? Like, caring about someone?  (*If I was a Cowboy, I’d definitely say something like: “I only care about the whiskey in my flask and the open road..”  I’m not a cowboy.)  But while caring about someone or something (my chair!) is fun, it is also really really scary (what if my chair breaks?!?!)  So as the VP and I begin to attempt to maybe, sorta’, kinda’ start a ChairFamily, I’m going to start writing about some things I’m scared about related to this whole “having a kid”-thing.

Here’s the first:

The VP, and most of our friends, being proven right that we HAVE to spend a lot of money on a stroller.

First off, there’s a difference between being cheap and just being…ya’ know, not rich.  We fall into the second category (AND THAT’S OKAY!).  Like, when we go shopping for wine, we’re not buying the big “Jug O Grapey Alcohol” on the bottom shelf, but we’re also not buying the bottle that “needs to be properly cellared”.  So in the initial discussions The VP and I have had about important baby things (toys!) I already feel a LARGE gap between what I think is a reasonable amount to spend on a stroller and what she feels is a reasonable amount to spend on a stroller.  No, we haven’t written numbers on folded pieces of paper and slid them across our negotiating table, but she has dropped a few “when it comes to a stroller, we cannot skimp”s on me.  Guess what babayyy?!?! I THINK WE CAN!

It’s a goddamn seat on wheels that will NEVER go over the speed of 1.6 MPH or down the side of a mountain.  We’re not in a Jeep commercial, we’re in a developed city with sidewalks–I’m pretty sure that the same stroller that my parents used with me would work JUST FINE.  And I’m also pretty sure that, that stroller is still somewhere in the depths of my parents’ house, so…guess what?  FREE STROLLER BABAYYYYY!!!!

And this is where my fear comes in because I’ll die on this hill…AND I DON’T WANNA DIE!  What if I somehow, someway make it through countless fights with The VP where she says stuff like “you’re cheating out on our first child’s safety!” and I’m all “trust me,” and then…it happens.  I’m pushing our 1985 stroller down Division St. on a cool, late September, Saturday morning.  The VP is wearing a hoodie and we’re debating what bullshit, hipster coffee place we should get ripped off from this week.  Little BabyChair is drooling in his vintage stroller, but not crying, so we’re not going to touch him.  Then, as we turn the corner, I feel a little rattle from the front, right wheel.  I don’t move my head, but I do dart my eyes to see if The VP saw anything…she didn’t, it’s fine, it’s fine.  “Stroller just had a little cough, probably allergic to the autumn leaves! Nothing to worry about!”  So I keep pushing until I momentarily forget about that rattle.  Unfortunately, as we approach the “$37 Latte Store,” I don’t see the slight crack in the sidewalk…

The front wheel of our Prince-era stroller plunges into the 3-inch-deep crevice, making a slamming noise that sounds like a T-Rex footstep. The VP’s mean eyes shoot down RIGHT AS THE WHEEL EXPLODES, sending a little rubber shards screaming towards her already-pissed off face.  BabyChair is screaming, but like, still sitting because we were walking very slowly.  That is, until The VP loses her balance, on account of the rubber shards barrage, and steps on the back wheel of our very delicate stroller.  Not having lost the baby weight yet, The VP’s misstep OBLITERATES the back wheel, and sends BabyChair flipping through the air towards the front door of the “You Should Really Try Almond Milk, Latte Store”.  As the VP tumbled toward the sidewalk, I am faced with a choice…and I choose my seed.

Thankfully, my ankle has recovered enough by this time, that I’m able to lunge over the stroller wreckage in time to catch BabyChair, twist mid-air and land on my back.  BabyChair, cradled gently yet securely in my arms, would land on my chest and think that he was just put down in bed without ever knowing the full catastrophe his supremely athletic father just disrupted.  And then I would look up from the ground, as a crowd of people tried their best to upload my heroism to the “Amazing Dads Doing Amazing Things” instagram account, The VP would rise.  Brushing the wrecked shards of sidewalk from her back, she would step over me and look down.  Imagine lying on your back and being straddled by a Killer Whale who, somehow, has legs and can walk on land.  That’s me, here, now.

“I told you we needed the $14,000 stroller,” the SeaLand Creature will bellow.

Next thing I know, I’m sipping a $37 latte while in the “Stroller Section” at a Tesla dealership.

OUR WORLD:

People are still setting off fireworks around Chicago.  Was your Monday night THAT great?  Really?  How long do the people that have leftover fireworks get to set them off before someone with a bazooka is allowed to fire a missile into their living room?  Fireworks set off by cities and communities between July 2 and July 5 are cool and fun and whatever.  Fireworks set off by women named “Terry” between July 6 and the rest of the year are obnoxious and scary.  One day, I hope all of the dogs in the world band together to find and harm all of the women named “Terry” setting off fireworks after July 6.

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

The selection of movies in theaters right now.  WOOF TIMES A BILLION!

LETS LOVE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

Heard this song yesterday and lurvvvved it.

I STILL GAMBLE, YES, BUT THERE’S NOTHING INTERESTING GOING ON WITH MY ACCOUNT RIGHT NOW, SO I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT:

That about says it all.

K, bye.

32 Year Old Drinking Habits and Who Should Be The Next “Bachelor” and “Bachelorette”

MY WORLD:

When your best friend has their first kid, is it appropriate to hold a funeral for the days of getting drunk together?  After my experience this past weekend, the answer is a resounding NO.  In fact, after visiting our best friends and their newborn this past weekend, it is clear that our drinking get-togethers are simply taking a turn away from crowded bars and into living rooms with GAMES!

The VP of Ops and I started dating when my roommate at the time, Mike aka “Mush”, started dating her roommate at the time, Amanda aka “Meanmomda” (cuz she’s mean to me and a mom.  Wit like this can’t be street legal.)  They had extra tickets to a concert one night, invited us, and let’s just say The VP couldn’t keep her grubby little hands off my carved-from-stone bod.  (Actually, we talked through the entire concert, pissing off EVERYONE around us.  However, we’re not the bad guys in this story because I had never heard of that band and care more about me than strangers so…like, whatever.)  HAPPILY EVER AFTER MY GUYS OMG SAHHHH KEWTTTT!!!

Fast forward a few years and this friend group has an addition in the form of a baby who is, no offense, like bald and kind of a slob (you know, with the peeing and pooing and barfing and boob grabbing).   Since Mush and Meanmomda live 7 hours away now, this past weekend was our first since the arrival of Baby Slobivia, I mean Baby Olivia.  (I immediately feel bad for making that “Slobivia” joke and vow to refer to her as Cute Sweet Little Angel Olivia from here on out.)  The plan was for us to hang in one night, and then go out the next when Meanmomda’s Mom would watch Cute Sweet Little Angel Olivia.

As I get further away from my 20s, my disdain for deep hangs at crowded bars grows, but there is part of me that denies this like it’ll make me younger.  (Excuse me, Bartender? Yes, I’m 32 but feel that if I admit to myself or anyone around me that I’d prefer to be on my recliner, eating pizza and watching “Parks and Rec” for the 19th time, that I will immediately become my father  Oh, so I’ll just have a vodka soda because I hate the taste, but it’s low in carbs and I’m feeling chubby.  I’m having fun!)  Thankfully, this Cute Sweet Little Angel Olivia took the heat off my aging insecurities, and kept us in the first night and, folks, lemmetellya’ it was just terrific.

Mush and I enjoyed cool craft beers at a reasonable pace (NERRRRDDDSSSSS!!!!!).  VP and Meanmomda drank red wine at a faster pace because Meanmomda was just sober for 9 months and MUST. CATCH. UP.  We played “What Do You Meme?” which is a game like “Cards Against Humanity” but better because The VP and I say so.  DID I STUTTER?  While playing the game, we had a stand-up special from Tom Segura playing on the TV that Mush and I would rewind to show each other our favorite parts.  AND! We ate sandwiches from a place called Newks that I love so much I’d be willing to risk my marriage for it (like, if The VP said she’d divorce me if I didn’t stop going to Newks, I would agree to stop going there to her face.  Then, I’d get in my car, drive directly to Newks and keep going there behind her back cuz I am one bad boy who loves dem saucy sammies!!!)  

Cute Sweet Little Angel Olivia cried a little bit, but mostly just drank her bottle and did a few lines of cocaine…I mean, pooped.  Meanmomda and The VP tried to cheat at the game multiple times because they both have undiagnosed personality disorders (not me though cuz I’m PERFECT! I’M THE BEST! ME!)  And we barely left the couch for the entire night and Jesus H Christopher I had a ball!

I think getting older is maybe just about having the confidence to say and do the things you ACTUALLY want to do and, the older you get, the more confidence you have.  When I was 17, I didn’t have enough confidence to fill a thimble (lamest Monopoly game piece of all time).  So if cool guy told me, when I was 17, that he’d be my friend if I put on a fancy top hat and marched around the grocery store yelling “I have to fart!” I probably would’ve started-a-marchin’ cuz my confidence was lowwwwww (do you feel bad for me? You should probably give me something then.)  

15 years later, my answer would be different thanks to my SKY-FUCKIN-HIGH level of confidence (due to my hard bod, shoutout Planet Fitness and genetic stuff but mostly my work ethic and…I have a double chin in most pictures…FUCK) Now, if I was asked by a cool guy if I’d like to ditch these parents and their new baby to go to some place sweet like “Tilted Kilt” to watch the Bulls try to lose, I would say: “Thank you for the offer Rex, but I prefer wearing sweatpants and watching Meanmomda chug red wine while cheering on Olivia’s farts.”  (The thing Mush was most excited to show me about having a baby is that they audibly fart and it’s awesome.)  

OUR WORLD:

Now that “The Bachelor” is over and Becca has been named as the next “Bachelorette” (meh) I started thinking about some celebs who should actually be the next “Bachelor” and “Bachelorette” (not gonna lie, feeling like I have to use these thingys “” every time I write “Bachelor” and “Bachelorette” IS VERY FUCKING ANNOYING!  YES I KNOW THEY’RE CALLED QUOTATION MARKS IDIOT!!! IT’S FUNNIER TO SAY “THESE THINGYS”!!!)

Jim Carrey:  He has reached peak level of “Is he a genius or just a super weird dude?”-status.  Watching him interact with 24 year old women named “Diamond” would be such a delicious cocktail of awkward, I’m sweating just thinking about it.  Imagine, a one-on-one date with Jim Carrey where he would talk about how splatter-painting is his way to mark his place in this never-ending evolution of time and space.  The girl, Diamond, would nod, start to cry a little and then ask the producers if Arie was still single.

Bill O’Reilly:  I don’t know if he’s single or not, but I would really love seeing how creepy he actually is when trying to get a woman into bed.  I also V much enjoy watching the women on this show pretend that they are INSTANTLY in love with whoever “The Bachelor” is.  No way you walk up to Arie thinking “MAN OF MY DREAMS!”  Bill O’Reilly would be that feeling times a billion.  “Oh, the saggy face guy who was on TV before it was revealed that he paid like $34 million to keep his sexts under wraps? LOVE!”  They should really put a heart rate monitor on these women and have a graphic on the screen showing us how their heart rate changes the second they step out of the limo to see the man they MUST instantly love.

Oprah:  The smart guys on the show (hello? anybody?) would be immediately excited that they hit the sugar momma lottery.  If you think guys fighting over a hot babe get competitive, just wait until they’re fighting over A BILLION DOLLAR WOMAN!  Weaponry would be allowed and the house would be deemed a lawless territory by the US Department of Justice.  Last man standing wins Oprah and her booming voice.

The Girl from “Peaky Blinders”:  I just think I really love her and would divorce the VP and try to be on the show if she was on it.

LETS LIKE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

I’m not posting this in a “let’s laugh at this loon!”-type of way.  I legit love the way Jim Carrey thinks.  It’s out there, but FASCINATING.

 

LETS HATE THIS TOGETHER AT THE SAME TIME:

People who wave at you after you flick them off in traffic.

MY BOVADA PICK OF THE DAY THAT PROBABLY WON’T WIN:

The Nuggets lost by 17 to Dallas last night.  This is getting embarassing.  But…the night is always darkest before the dawn.  I didn’t make the bet because I was busy shaking hands and kissing babies at a work event, but I WILL BE BETTING TONIGHT!  What should I do?  God? Are you there?

South Carolina (-2.5) over Mississippi.  Please god please I’m losing faith in my gambling abilities.

(My account currently at $44.28)

K bye.