HIPPO BRIGADE

The Little Engine That Could May Not Be Suitable For Young Adults

Berlyn loves to read and be read to. I think it’s her favorite past time, that and grabbing her crotch after she goes poop, oh, and sticking her finger firmly in Zoey’s ear.

Among her favorites is the Little Engine That Could.

wait, did I read that right?

I have a feeling that the first draft may have looked something like this:

After Watty Piper’s editing crew had a go at it, the jack knife suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

Motherhood

Being a mom is an entirely selfless act.

It all starts when you get pregnant: the vomit, the zits, the cellulite that will never go away, the stretch marks, the no sushi and the no beer. Why did I sign up for this again? And then there is the birth, and all the goo that erupts from your lady parts, and the constant latch of a tiny baby suckling on your breast. Motherhood is some hard-ass work and freedom is a thing of the past.

Berlyn is a year and a half old now, and I am still struggling with being selfless. I am still stuborn with my thinking. I want my alone time, I want to be able read Anna Karenina without interruptions, while resting listlessly on a towel in the sand.

Instead I have sippys to refill, shoes to find, and diapers to change. My life is not hard by any stretch, and please don’t confuse this rant with complaining. Instead I am tragically admitting my shortcomings of how totally selfish I really am; How instead of reading The Hungry Caterpillar for the 87th time, I’d rather get a pedicure, and instead of making her lunch I want to take a yoga class.

I know I have so much to learn about motherhood, I am still very much a novice. But I tip my hat to those mothers who give and give, and expect nothing in return. They are truly my heroes and if you know one, make her a chocolate souffle cake with raspberry sauce, offer to clean her bathtub, and say thank you.

I have developed an allergic reaction to working out.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning I have committed myself to working out. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning I shimmy my thighs into a pair of spandex pants that squeeze the excess and make it look less excessive. And Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I stomp my unpedicured feet into my cushy gym shoes, grab my baby, and head out the door–Without drinking a cup of coffee.

Then I meet up with some bright and sunshiny girls with their babies and we start intensely walking up hills. I love intensely walking up hills, no really I do, I’m totally serious. Especially when my ass starts to burn a bit. I like to envision all the bad-for-me food I ate the day before is just melting off, does that make me weird?

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, an hour after the endorphins leave me alone, after I take my cushy gym shoes off, and Berlyn settles in for a nap, I get a migraine. At first it starts off dull and pansy-assed. So I try to ignore it and drink loads of water to stave it off. But then it starts to peck at my temples, sinuses, jaw, and neck. And If I don’t take a 5 hour nap right then and there, I’m pretty much screwed for the rest of my day. I don’t think this is a fair trade. Maybe it’s my lack of caffeine in the morning, or perhaps my body is rejecting physical activity.

I’m starting to think I’m better off laying on the couch

Big, Sexy, Air Conditioner Hair

The other day I was getting ready for school. I had drippy wet hair, and the way I’d timed it, I had exactly 36 minutes to blow dry it, do my make-up, get dressed, and get out the door.

I plugged my blow dryer into the wall and expected a gentle whirling noise to start, but instead, I got nothing. I tried a different plug and still nothing. I pushed that little red button on the back of the plug repeatedly and NOTHING! I went down stairs and reset the fuse, and still got nothing. 31 minutes until I had to leave, and I still had dripping wet hair. So, I banged the hair dryer on the counter, because that’s what people do in the movies, right before they get angry and throw it out the window.

I guess I should have seen this coming. I bought the blow drier at Target when I was in college. It was a purplish blue Conair, and I think I paid all of 26 dollars for it. I was half excited about it breaking, because now I can get a new one. Perhaps a professional one that is imported from Japan. But I couldn’t think of that now, I had to find a way to dry my hair before I went to hair school. Because wet hair is so very unacceptable. Just as I was contemplating a french braid with a pretty bow tied at the end, I heard the air conditioner click on. AH HA!

I made it to school on time, and my hair was voluminous and sexy.

Thank you Mr. Air Conditioner.

I May Rise, but I’m Certainly not Going to Shine

My mornings have been pilfered, ransacked, and left for dead. They have been taken from me like so many other things, one of which: my ability to properly digest dairy.

Let me explain, Berlyn is a happy sleeper. She likes to sleep so much so, that she usually takes two naps during the day. One is in the morning which allows me to do things like shower, pick my zits, drink coffee, watch So You Think You Can Dance, and most importantly update my blog. And the second nap is usually around 3:30 which works well because that gives me time to do yoga, apply my third coat of deodorant, pick my zits, and get ready for school. I’ve really grown quite accustomed to my leisurely day, and I have no plans of changing it. Unfortunately Berlyn does, and she has decided to forgo her morning nap.

Apparently this is what is called “growing-up” and I should get used to it because, pretty soon she’ll do a good poopie in the potty, take zero naps during the day, start dating boys, and steal my fancy La Perla push-up bra. I don’t like this discovery one bit. No siree. But because I am a chameleon and I dance in the face of adaptation, I will conform to her decision to not nap during the morning-I may not like it, but I will try to adjust.

Please be patient with me. I’m trying to figure out this new morning schedule, and I may not blog as often, I may show up to a lunch date un-showered, I might forget otherwise simple tasks like putting on two “matching” shoes, and my eyes will probably be a little more blood-shot and puffy than usual–please don’t stare or photograph me.

Thank you.

By Starlight

you should see the stars tonight
how they shimmer shine so bright

against the black they look so white
coming down from such a height

to reach me now

And how could such a thing
shine its light on me

and make everything beautiful?

Happy Frickin’ 4th!

It’s day three with the most throbbing and intense migraine my brain has ever encountered. I really don’t know what’s going on up there, but it feels like my head innards are smacking up against my skull and I’d really appreciate it if they’d stop. I don’t have the capacity to write anything interesting, so I’m not even going to try.

You can graze the Photo section for some fun new pictures.

And happy frickin’ fourth.

Quirky

I got tagged to write about 6 random, unspectacular quirks that I possess by my bloggy friend Amy. This should be fun, because I think the quirky parts about us make us fascinating and unique…awwh kumbaya. On with the list:

I love to groom my eyebrows. I get all excited when I start to notice my brows getting a little wooly, and I grab my tweezers and scissors and start shaping. It’s like my very own bonsai tree on my face. I believe the proverb goes, “An unkempt eyebrow is the devil’s playground.”

I taught myself to write with my left hand, even though I am right handed. I thought it would be useful one day should my right hand suddenly fall off or something.

I gasp at everything. Accidentally dropping a pickle, almost shaving off my weird pigmentless mole on my leg, and missing an exit while driving all warrant an inflated and hyperbolized gasp from me. My husband hates this, every time he hears me gasp he thinks my head is on fire, and comes rushing to my aid. But when he finds me he realizes I was only gasping over a newly discovered hangnail.

I eat pasta with chopsticks.

I am not grossed out by bodily functions. I in fact welcome topics such as poop, farts, hemorrhoids, blood, vomit, mucous, child birth, GURD, IBS, surgery, swelling, itching, and puss.

My thumb is double jointed.

What about you guys? Got any good stuff that makes you quirky?

Oh and I tag you and you!