My sister and her husband are all about the pranks lately. Last week, Cindy sheepishly admitted she stepped on my (not inexpensive) Hugo Boss sunglasses when she and C-Note (her husband) went to the driving range. I’d let her borrow the glasses under one condition “please don’t damage them.”
The next day I learned the glasses were, in fact, still in tact. Apparently, my disappointment/frustration/outrage at the supposedly damaged goods was not enough to satisfy the two of them (I’m not easily angered, plus I really didn’t care, as long as they’d buy me another pair), so they tried again. Continue reading
My husband is tall, and white, and looks older than his age. He doesn’t drive a box truck and he’s not known for his heavily processed, and packaged, baked goods. He wears a suit to work and he still has (
most of a good amount of) his hair, and yet my daughter regularly mistakes all sorts of people for her father.
The people she’s called “Daddy”: Continue reading
I’m starting a new (occasional) feature on Just Kristi where I share things — status updates, photos, links — I find on social media that make me stop either because they’re funny, moving, incredulous, educational, unbelievable, sad, inspiring or something else.
Here are your three for today (if the statuses are not public, I removed the author’s name. When the post is public — like with the photo in this post — I still asked permission to repost/share):
Sex>money: Continue reading
Not long ago, Little C was on her play mat, reaching for the toys hanging over head, but missing like a dental patient on laughing gas. Now she’s this little person — a girl who makes goofy faces when she’s being scolded and who spontaneously laughs at herself, and others. She has favorites — toys, people and places. I’ll often find her in her hiding space (between the chair and side table in her room) reading.
I have … a toddler.
When she burst into the world I was terrified to take her anywhere. On our first trip to the mall, I brought my mom. My heart palpitated when she (C, not my mother) squealed (in delight, mind you) in Pottery Barn. I was convinced people were thinking “why is there a child in here and why is said child making noise?!” Continue reading
Little C’s hair does that on its own.
Little C has some funny hair. Her matchstick-straight, wispy blonde locks always look as if she’s suffering a serious case of static electricity.
Although she’s not. That’s just the way her hair looks, and has looked since her newborn hair fell out.
Strangers — sometimes more than one dozen a day — comment on her hair. They stop us in the grocery store and when we’re out for a walk. They come up to us in parking lots. In the rain. While I’m balancing packages for the post office, an umbrella and a squirming baby.
When we go to one of my favorite home decor stores, the manager says “ohhh, my favorite baby hair is here.” Yes, that’s right. Not my favorite baby, but my favorite baby hair.
Moms tell me their sons/daughters/puppies had the same thing going on when they were fresh and new(ish). A waitress once forgot my order, she said, because she was so focused on C’s at-attention locks.
I don’t care for cats.
Forget that. If we’re being honest, I kind of hate them — but I have good reason.
They can kill me.
And it’s not their claws or teeth that would do the deed, but their fur. Bottom line: I’m severely allergic. Continue reading
People often ask why they haven’t really seen pictures of Little C since that first batch taken (thanks to Lori VanBuren) shortly after she was born. The answer is multipart, so I figured I’d address it here rather than on Facebook.
1. I have, quite literally, made a job out of using social media (and teaching others to use it well). One of the most-common complaints is that people post an excessive number of photos of their children. Because my profile is used to brand-build and entertain/inform/engage readers, I’m ultra aware of what people like, and what they don’t.
Although, I will say I am one of the (few, maybe) who really loves seeing cute pictures of kids — and much prefer them to cat or food photos.
R and I decided not to find out if we were having a boy or a girl. This approach was a surprise to friends, family, colleagues and readers who know I’m so type A I practically plan a bowel movement.
We’d never discussed which side of the baby gate we fell on that one, but it turned out we both wanted to wait.
And it was awesome — the most sensational surprise of my life. But that’s not the only reason to wait.
For several months, I slept down the hall. The bed was firmer, and more comfortable, and I could have a restful night’s sleep without R rolling around next to me.
This separate sleeping lasted about three months — and I was pregnant and needed space to … marinate. Many couples sleep that way regularly and they swear it’s better for their marriage.
The alone time allows them to catch up on sleep and focus on hobbies — reading, playing the guitar, watching TV — the other isn’t into, says one Oregon couple in a story on this morning’s GMA.
One marriage and family therapist estimates more than half — yup, more than 50 percent — of couples have separate sleeping quarters.
Right after C was born I was back in our room, and probably won’t leave again till life — again surgery, pregnancy, sickness — necessitates.
Having a baby changed so much, including how I view many people in my life. I have a greater appreciation, and understanding, for those close to me (and a certain profession).
Nurses: Specifically, Emily Ilowit at St. Peters’ labor and delivery unit. She was, in a word, amazing. As my sister (who was in the delivery room) said “whatever they pay doctors, nurses should make four times as much.”
She’s right. Continue reading