I forgot to say

I was a guest on the One Bad Mother podcast, which is always entertaining, and I don't think I did too much damage. I gave them terrible advice about the first trimester.

I have a winner for my books giveaway, and she is Commenter #28: Roseanna! Your books are on their way, Roseanna, I swear it.

ALSO ALSO I chose my glasses. My favorite from the beginning was the Je Ne Sais Quoi, and enough of you agreed that I went for it. That said, the rest of you have me planning on the Ruby Red for my second inevitable pair. How I treasure you all.

Here I am, smiling at myself. My hair seems to have grown a few inches in the past week? And it's a different color or something? I'm not clear on what's happening. Next week it will be down to my butt and I'll braid pussy willows into it.

And now I am serious. So very serious.

Okay, that's all, move along.

BUT WAIT: Thanks to commenter (and neighbor) Deirdre, I'm going to try acupuncture on my neck. My last couple of acupuncture experiences ranged from underwhelming to gory, but I'm determined to try. One last time. Unless I bleed out on the table, I hope to report back.

Certainly not feeling sorry for myself

I messed up my neck. I don't know how. Stress, most likely. Our hectic modern stress-filled lives! I don't know how I've managed to keep my neck out of danger for so long.

I use my neck, I have discovered, most of the time. On any given day, I'm liable to tilt, bend, stretch, turn, roll, crane, you name it. But not this week! This week I am lurching around like Frankenstein and yelling whenever I forget and move the damn thing. When I do move the damn thing every neck and neck-related muscle seizes up and I contemplate death. A couple of times I blinked too hard and the pain was so intense that I had to freeze in place and let the tears come. Both times this happened in the middle of the sidewalk. I'm sure I looked like I was getting ready to be Raptured, or I was on drugs, or I just remembered that I was supposed to be in jail.

Today a guy walked by with his dog, a cute woofy thing, and the dog headed right for me to wag and accept my pets, and when I tilted my eyeballs 30 degrees downward my dumb neck followed suit so I emitted a weird bark-shout. WAAAAAIOOOUU, like I was terrified. Or unable to form human words. At the same time I was reaching out to pet the dog, but reaching out also hurt, so my arm froze there like I was warding him off and/or charging up to emit a laser beam from my palm. The guy was like, "I'm sorry! He's only being friendly!" I wanted to explain but he had already passed me, and since I couldn't turn my head or project my voice I would have to pivot my entire body and then toddle after him down the street and THAT, my friends, that would not have been less weird.

You know what else hurts? Typing.

Sponsored post: Rivet & Sway

Who wants to help me pick out eyeglass frames? You? Oh, I hope it's you.

I had perfect vision. Had. Then one day, not long ago, I couldn't read the directions on a box of…something. (My memory is also failing me.) A few weeks later, I couldn't tell whether the shampoo I was considering contained sodium lauryl sulfate or sodium laureth sulfate. (Important!) I noticed a deep vertical furrow running between my eyebrows, which became deeper (and weirdly achy) after every computer session. I had to hold takeout menus at arm's length. Then my arms were not long enough.

I saw the fuzzy writing on the wall. I am Aged now, and require reading glasses. So be it. After a trip to the eye doctor and a tour through the expensive eyeglass choices on display, I skipped over to the drugstore and purchased the only pair that wasn't studded with rhinestones or cartoon characters. They are not hideous, but I could do better.

When Rivet & Sway offered me a pair of reading glasses, damn right I was going to take them up on it. I had a hard time choosing from their selections, as their choices were uniformly cute and unspangled and very few of them, if any, sported tiny Winnie the Poohs in the corners. They all look good to me. Fortunately Rivet and Sway offers the services of Ritzy, the Personal Stylist With the Best Name, to help you choose pairs.

Here are the frames she picked for me. I like them all, frankly, although I secretly have a favorite. What do you think?

(I took pictures with my computer camera, and included some staged photos of what I look like while I'm working. I aim to Entertain as well as Inform.)

First: we have the Faster, Pussycat!, in Jet Black.  

Turns out that one of my ears is higher than the other. Fortunately I am filled with self-acceptance. Stop laughing at me!

Chocolate helps the brain.



Wait, how do I make the camera take a pic… oh.


Next: the Ruby Red, in Heart Throb.

This is not a face I make while working, ever.

My deadline was when?

Finally: the Je Ne Sais Quoi, in Water Lily.

Blue! I like blue.

Sometimes I stick my tongue out while thinking, as if I were a kitty cat.

This is the face I make when Scott tells me I'm pretty. And then I slide out of the frame.

I am a great wit!

Weigh in. I know you have opinions.


Rivet & Sway is hosting a Super Mom Contest for Mother's Day. To enter? Share a short story (250-500 characters) of a super mom in your life by going here. I am pretty sure she doesn't need to have actual super powers. The grand prize winner will win two pairs of Rivet & Sway frames as well as a monthly delivery of Vosges Haut-Chocolate. Two runner-up winners will each receive a pair of frames and the exotic truffle collection from Vosges. Rivet & Sway will be accepting entries from May 1-12. Winner will be announced on Facebook and notified via email on May 15, 2013.

In the meantime, Rivet & Sway is offering Finslippy readers a 25% off $25 off discount with code SUPER-MOM between now and June 30th, 2013. Enjoy!

Happy book-birthdays to us

Rita, Eden, and I were emailing recently about how our books have recently celebrated (in their own quiet, unassuming way) their birthdays. Sleep is For The Weak is now a five-year-old, while Let's Panic About Babies is in its Terrible Twos. (Or "Terrific Twos," which is what the pre-pre-school program Henry attended was called. Those liars. Terrifying, maybe. I guess no one would have signed up for a class called "Terrifying Twos." I would have, and maybe that's why we had so few playdates.

Oh, memories. Puzzling, dark memories.)

ANYHOO, we thought we'd each do a giveaway to celebrate these milestones, because look, someone has to. Our books are feeling terribly neglected.

Sleep is For The Weak is a collection of the best of various parenting blogs. I had a bunch of posts in there about the toddler years, and reading them now is awfully therapeutic. I can't look at pictures of him at that age without choking up and whispering "Sunrise, Sunset" while my lower lip trembles and falls off. And then I read only slightly exaggerated moments such as this one, when he presented his list of demands:

 
II. TELEVISION

1. Will be ALL THE TIME, unless I say differently. While watching TELEVISION, you are to sit by my side, quietly, hands folded in lap, whilst I enjoy my shows.

a. You may arise to fetch me a SNACK or a DRINK.
 
2. No DIAPER CHANGING or PLEAS TO ENGAGE IN PHYSICAL ACTIVITY will be tolerated during the watching of the TELEVISION.

3. Turning off of the television will result in much SCREAMING.

III. TOYS

1. There will be many.

a. They will always be strewn about the house so that I may simply reach down and pick up a toy, no matter where I am.

b. They will be loud, complicated, and contain many small bits. I enjoy the SHOOTING NOISES that go w-shooooop or zim zim zim.

c. Nothing that results in LEARNING, please.

And I feel much better. Now he's evolved enough that, were he to request a thing, I can respond with an observation like, "You can buy that once you've saved up enough allowance," or "You can get that yourself, you big, strapping boy." Or I can simply raise an eyebrow and he gets my meaning. Sure, he reacts, but it's nothing compared to toddler behavior. The worst that happens is he goes to his room and slides angry notes under the door. So fun.

I miss the toddler-to-preschooler years more than I miss having a baby around, I have to say. Babies are cute and all, but they're kind of lumpish. Squealing and lumpish. And they never ask you how your day has been. Still, they have that nice head-smell. I don't know, those years are all a blur. Occasionally I'll get weepy over some goddamn cute picture, and then I can always reach for solace in our book, which is also only slightly exaggerated. Excerpt alert!

How do you train a baby to sleep through the night? It's easier than you think. Just follow this simple procedure exactly, with absolutely no variations at all.

8:00 p.m. Put Baby down in the crib.
8:05 p.m. Pace nervously outside nursery as the shrieking starts up.
8:07 p.m. Rummage through refrigerator for snacks. Loud rummaging will drown out the crying.
8:10 p.m. Enter Baby's room and pat her back three times. Not four times. Three. Say "Shhh" four times, in three-second intervals.  Retreat quickly.
8:13 p.m. Glare at husband. Surely this is partly his fault.
8:15 p.m. Cry for a little while.
9:00 p.m. Go back into Baby's room. Pick up Baby. Swear to Baby that you'll never leave her alone again. Rock her until your arms go numb.
10:45 p.m. Put Baby back down. Dim lights. Whoops. You forgot to do that at 8 p.m., didn't you? Just because I didn't specifically say to? Must I spell out everything?
11:00 p.m. Back into Baby's room. Three pats on the back. Not too hard, now.
11:15 p.m. Your husband's asleep. Stand over him, seething.
11:30 p.m. Back in Baby's room, your mere presence will soothe her. Without touching her, reassure her that you are there, and that you're just going in the other room, just for a little bit, it's not like anyone is disappearing, for Christ's sake, isn't she being a little dramatic?
11:45 p.m. Loudly ask your husband if he wants to take over for a little bit, maybe, if it's not too much trouble. He reluctantly gets up. Reluctantly, though. Christ!
12:00 a.m. Try to sleep but don’t because you're now furious and can't believe you ever thought getting married was a good idea.
1:00 a.m. Wake up, even though you didn't realize you were sleeping in the first place. Hear your husband muttering angrily while pacing back and forth with Baby.
1:15 a.m. Tell him he's not doing it right and to just forget it.
1:30 a.m. How does he get to sleep so fast? Jerk.
1:45 a.m. Place Baby back in crib. Dim the lights again, do those soothing "shhh" sounds AGAIN. Back slowly out of room.
1:47 a.m. She just woke up. Pat her back seven times.
1:50 a.m. Okay, ten times. But no more. Now retreat. Retreat!
2:00 a.m. Reassure Baby from other side of door that you're still around. Continue to reassure as needed.
3:30 a.m. Is your voice getting hoarse? I recommend recording your voice and replaying on a continuous loop!
4:00 a.m. Accidentally throw something at husband, injuring him into consciousness.
4:30 a.m. There's silence! Run into room because you think something's wrong, but nothing is wrong! The baby is asleep, and you can be, too!
5:00 a.m. Wake up because you thought you heard the baby, but it turns out you didn't.
5:15 a.m. Oh, wait, you did. Crap.
5:30 a.m. Baby's up for the day, full of smiles and burbles. You made it! Sort of.

Do this every night until it works, or Baby enlists in the military.

Guess what ten-year-olds do? They go to sleep on their own, like sensible people. Really, there's no contest.

Speaking of contests, she segues effortlessly, would you like your very own copy of our books? Did you know that Mother's Day is coming up? And what could be a better gift for the prospective mother or harried mother of a relatively small person? If you want in, comment thusly: if you have a child, explain what your favorite age has been. If you don't have a kid, you can either tell me about a niece or nephew or some beloved family member, OR your own memories of when you were particularly charming.

I'll announce the winner in one week. Eden and Rita are giving away books as well, so if you want to increase your chances, you know what you have to do.