Dance like everyone is watching

Yesterday, I posted about playing peek-a-boo in public with my daughter while I pump gasoline.

Today, I was just doing my thing, and Yahoo posted this ad.

It made my day!!

Swallowing my pride and doing a jig

I used to say I didn't care what people thought.

A big "screw you" to anyone who questioned my hair, my clothes, whatever.

Of course, I cared. You all know that I always care about what others think.

Standing beside my car, shaking my head, playing peek-a-boo and dancing while I put gas in the car is a standard for me now.

People may talk.

I may care that they talk.

But every last one of them would stop to play peek-a-boo with the toddler munching on goldfish (yes, a bribe to be good) if they only saw her for a second.

So screw them for talking.

And not joining us.

That is all.

Food show leftovers - better 30 years later

The cooking channel is airing old school shows now. I LOVE them!

Julia Child is a part of my memory of random tv shows. Her voice still cracks me up.

Sidebar: I loved "Julie and Julia" and will make my own version of "Cort and Ree" when I cook my way through the Pioneer Woman cookbook. That is, once she gives the secret of how she looks so great when she cooks with all. that. butter!

I digress.

Today's cooking show include zoom shots of knives cutting herbs with carefully practiced finger positions. High definition cooking includes brightly colored backdrops, perfect lighting, and take after take after take to ensure a flawless delivery.

Winter means schlepping my ass up big hills

We have a huge hill of a driveway.

Occasionally, things roll down that hill.

During the winter, when the snow gets compacted, the only way to ensure that I can leave my house is to park my car by the road and walk the length of a football field (downhill, carrying kid plus groceries plus laptop, etc) to the house - to carry them all back up in the morning.

Four winters ago BLEW. We had just purchased the house, and our driveway was a muddy, mushy mess. Even when the snow/ice melted, the mud kept us from getting up and down the hill reliably.

Three winters ago SUCKED. I was commuting and people were depending on me to show up, but I was in shape so the hill really wasn't too much of a challenge. I still hated it.

Two winters ago was HARD. I was still commuting, wrapping up a physically intense job, and dealing with early pregnancy narcolepsy. Getting home to deal with a super-slick driveway was not the "welcome home" I needed.

Last year was FUCKING STUPID. I was working from home, but still had to go to the store, doctor's appointments, etc. Not only was I hauling my "new mom" ass up the hill, but I was carrying baby in bucket seat. Sonofabitch.

Between a rock and a UTI

I drive. A lot.

I used to commute 2.5 hours to and from work each day for 6 months a year.

I love to zen out on the highway (interstates are a little different) and go.

I knew that when I had my baby that I'd have to find a way to drive, mainly to visit family, with her. Driving during nap times, taking pit stops at favorite haunts along the way, not pushing it, staying overnight rather than drive round trips (whenever possible).

I had it all figured out.

Until I actually had my kid.

We were fine - most of the time - with trips. If she'd fuss, we'd stop. Got out. Nurse. Walk. Regroup.

I hadn't figured on the extra time it would take to do this regrouping.

The majority of my family is about a 2 hour drive from my home - no stops. With stops, it's more like 3 or 3 1/2 hours.

So what? What's different??

Momma's gotta pee! That's what!!

More than once, I've raced into my destination baby under one arm - running back style - racing into the the bathroom. No "hi" no nothing.

State. Of. Emergency.

I've never been able to deal with the gross factor of gas station bathrooms. I had the hover down pat. Until, I was huge preggo and couldn't counter balance. And then I stayed at home with new baby without the need to hover. I lost my hover muscles!

The fact that my travels are usually just baby and momma means that baby has to come with me into the bathroom if I go.

One day, when Babygirl was about 5 months old, we had to do it.

I was on my way to a wedding, 4 hours from home. And I had to pee.

I invoked the powers of the hover gods - held on tight to the little one - and hovered.

With strategic paper towel placement and copious amounts of hand sanitizer, we accomplished the task without infection (bladder or otherwise).

That was a rare moment that I said to myself - "I've got this."

I was able to improvise well enough to use restroom and NOT drop the kid off at the pool!