When kids are teething sometimes you spend the morning imagining your neighbors calling social services to report someone axe murdering children upstairs, then thinking of ways to explain that you just had to take your son off the boob for 68 seconds to change his diaper and they weren’t actually getting axe murdered it just sounded like it I promise, see look he’s on my boob right now, he’s been here perfectly happy for the past 4 hours minus 68 seconds, do you like kids? Do you want to hold him? Where are you going?
When I see the word “baby gate” I immediately think of “Watergate” and imagine adorable babies in suits shredding documents and looking shifty.
It’s never boring when you sit outside the juice place on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg for 10 minutes and listen to bits of people’s conversations as they walk by-
-“Some weeks I’m trying to live off $5, then the next week I’ll have like $3000.”
-Flamboyant man to eccentric old lady- “Giiiirl, you look better than Joan Rivers.”
-“Ear thermometers don’t work, it has to be rectal.”
-Someone speaking really fast in Spanish until they got to the word “wine bar.” That was in English.
-“Is this the place on Sex and the City?”
-2 different people to me- “Awwww, I love babies!”
-There’s also a guy at a desk on the other side of the sidewalk typing on a typewriter with a sign that says, “Give me a subject. I’ll give you a poem.” There’s a line.
All parents try to make dinner sound exciting so their kids actually eat something. I was cooking my kids sausage and got so desperate that I referred to it as a “sausage party” about 11 times before I realized it sounded a little weird.
My daughter- “This napkin is a bit dirty. Can I have a paper towel to clean off my napkin?”
My son- *using peanut butter as shampoo.
Spoiler alert- The answer to that whole “nature vs. nurture” question is nature. 101% nature.
I heard about a tumblr page called “Women Against Feminism,” so I decided to check it out to see what could possibly even be going on there. It is written by people who clearly do not know what the word “feminism” means. It really makes my blood boil. My inner monologue is like, “Why are all these freakin’ idiots allowed to post things on the internet, GAWD!” (In a Napoleon Dynamite voice). Then, “I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” (In a Mugatu from Zoolander voice). My brain defaults to comedic movie voices when I get angry. This has to be some sort of weird defense mechanism.
I need Play-Doh for my son’s birthday party, and can’t find anywhere that sells it in Williamsburg or Greenpoint. Of course I can think of like 9 places to get hand-carved organic wooden mustache blocks, but nowhere to just get regular Play-Doh. I would ask my mom friends but they would just all tell me to make my own, and then I would have to stab them.