Anne Nahm

All you folks who have kids? You know those childless relatives who visit on holiday? How those foot loose, fancy free bastards look a little green around the gills after watching what having kids entails? And how they look at you with that strange smile that says, “you look so normal… How the eff did your genetics combine to create this mutant freak of a screaming, spaghetti throwing monster?”

And you just shake your head and smile, because? Having twee children underfoot will eventually get them too. And then who will look smug? You, that’s who. Because once, you too were foot loose and fancy free. But now you know. All kids are bastard mutant freaks at one point. That point is usually around the relatives who have yet to spawn themselves.

And then one fine day, folks? The shoe is on the other foot. And you are once again the naive virgin about to get cornholed by a glimpse into your possible future. Seems impossible, no? And yet, it still happens.

It has happened to me the last three days, since my sister and brother in law have been in town with their 4 children under the age of 7.

Love the brother and sister in law. For the record? Also love each of the little twee nieces and nephews individually. Individually being the key word.

They have been here for three days. Yesterday, the oldest started a rubber-band shooting contest and the youngest dug into the back of his own diaper and found something all the more interesting to fling. My husband watched in horror as the BIL and SIL calmly rock-paper-scissor dueled with no apparent concern that their youngest was flinging poo all over. And O. Mah. Gawd. Duck! Eww… Don’t eat that.

Meanwhile, my own baby decided to scream pleasantly all through dinner. My oldest decided to tattle on every action of every other kid in the house (making her popular among adults and children alike). It was pretty equal opportunity for being a buttmunch. But the numbers. The outright fear in my heart for being outnumbered by children. Wild, freaky children.

I know I was looking a little green around the gills because my sister-in-law gave me that knowing look over her glass of wine at dinner. It said, “You fancy free only-having-two-kids-thus-far bastard. Just you wait. Just. You. Wait.”

And so I was a wee bit shamed. Because I so remember doling out that same look two weeks ago to my childless sister after she complained following her 35th game of marathon hide-and-seek.

This morning? I totally had plans to go see them again.

But whoops! I bailed.

I don’t know what happened. I got in the car. I think they were expecting me.

But then I just drove to the gym instead. Where I dropped my little sweethearts off with the gym babysitters. And then I put on the earphones and pretended no one was going to be sending out a search party wondering where in the blue-fuck I was because my sister-in-law was sitting somewhere with 4 kids and desperately hoping I would show up and increase the adult-child ratio. And is there anything more I could add to that run-on sentence. Nope? Ok. Just checking.

Here’s me at the gym:

I mean, totally whites-of-the-eyes showing and everything. I just couldn’t do it. Do you think they’ll still love me when I resurface?

Anne

* That’s actually a photo of that real-life runaway bride. Even totally wacked out of my gourd, you’d never see me in those earings.

Sometimes, when I think The Universe is just letting me catch a breather while it retrieves a bat to beat my tits off, I am instead gifted with something cool. Example: Just a few posts ago, I was bitching about the lack of music in this town. I was thinking about throwing down for some 21st century technology. So you gotta know what I found just yesterday, right? Mix Tape! From when I was about 20. Squeee! Thanks Universe!

Sleep deprived but exercising my ass off, I have started to bear a sad resemblance to my father (who is half deaf and doesn’t realize that he sings out loud when his walkman plays anything from Three Dog Night). Do I care? Nooooooo…. As long as the kids sleep through it? I care not.

So, jamming out with my clam out (thnx KandiBomber), I remembered that in junior high health class? The teachers totally scared the kids by telling them that:

Marijuana. is. Stored. In. Fat. Cells.

So kids who smoked up? They could theoretically be in P.E., break a sweat, and freak the hell out with some kind of fat-burning re-high. I admit nothing. Except when I think about this, I make the treadmill go a little faster. I am hoping to get down to my college ass fat soon.

Anywhooo… This tape starts out with Beck’s “Loser”. Can I tell you how cool I used to be? I actually heard Beck play that song on the UCSD campus when “Loser” first came on the radio. If I could go back in time, I would totally go to UCSD. It is? In my opinion? The cooooolest campus evah. It has a singing tree for Pete’s sake. And their library (named after Dr. Suess) looks like this!

And I saw Beck under this – the Sun God.

The irreverence! The feeling of taking drugs even when you aren’t! My college never had that crap. They just had homework.

Where were you going with this Anne? Oh yeah. I saw Beck on a warm spring afternoon, wearing my favorite size 4 cut-offs and I heard him sing, “I’m a softie, so why don’t you squeeze me” instead of “I’m a loser, so why don’t you kill me”. I am only assuming because UCSD administrators were not quite as cool as my impression of the rest of school.

God love me, at the tender, insecure, self-doubting age of 19, I was given the opportunity to have this moment of clarity: At that moment, I was waaaayyyy cooler than a rock star. Because I? Would never be caught dead singing that I was a softie. Nevah.

And now to bring me back down, I will also tell you that the second song? “Crash” by The Dave Mathews band. You know why? Because Dave Mathews looks kind of like this guy who had a hella big crush on me in school. I knew it and friended him and dated other guys and generally made this guy kind of miserable. I’ll tell you that I’m a bitch that way. So it’s kind of weird that now I have a little sexual fantasy going about Dave Mathews because he reminds me of a guy that I basically wouldn’t give the time of day to. And since I haven’t cringed about telling you something in a while, I’ll tell you when my buddy Dave sings:

Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream

Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well

Well…. Rawr.
God. I should just delete this entire post now.
But I won’t. Have a good day folks.

I am wearing these Right. Now.
Check out the soles! Squee! I guess it’s kind of my way of warning the rest of the world. About what, I’m not entirely sure.

I had to drop a note and tell you my cooler, skinnier, younger sister is in town (along with my mom and dad. You know, the Mental Health Calvary as it were). So how can you be depressed when this happens? I ask you: How?

Driving Around Town
SISTER: Let’s go home.
ME: Oh, can we make one more stop?
SIS: I have to go to the bathroom.
ME: Uhhh…. Well, there’s a McDonalds, we could stop there.
SIS: Ewww… I’m not using a McToilet.
ME: C’mon… I’ll get us McShakes or something.
SIS: …… I have to McNugget.

After all that shameless bitching and whining yesterday, I felt obligated to actually get out and exercise this morning. So yay you guys! For getting me off my PPD butt! It is all burny and tingly now thanks to you. And.. wow – that statement takes me back to college in a not-so-pleasant kind of way.

Huffing and puffing this morning, a realization crystallized for me: There are 3 music stations out here in The Sticks. Two Country and one Hard Rock. Now, I am the crown mistress of all that is cheap and free. This morning? As I flipped between listening to “I wanna get drunk and be somebody” (Country station) and the entire ‘B’ side of Metallica Back in Black (Hard Rock), I did contemplate getting either an iPod or some kind of satellite radio. Especially when the Country hosts were reporting this news: Apparently Brokeback Mountain is coming to DVD April 2nd, but the actually DVD is a little bigger than normal… So you will have to get a little Vaseline and work it into your machine slowly. Also? It only goes into the back of your DVD player. Also? This version is ‘uncut’.

Anyone have knowledge to share on iPod or Satellite radio? Anyone? Beuller? Not that I would necessarily buy either, but I would like to have something to fantasize about during the next round of what can only be called ‘news’ by the very loosest of standards.

In other not very newsy news, I am reading Untitled, starting here, because she had me at hello with the neck fat comment.

And finally, I wanted to thank ya’ll for not pointing out yesterday that this: ( ! ) is an ‘exclamation point’ and not an ‘explanation point’ as per my last post. Me write good, yeah?