Alone in a Crowded Room

Have you ever had that experience where you see a skit or song or commercial and it just LINGERS with you? You love it. And maybe you can't even explain why exactly? A few months ago, there was an SNL skit with Adele where 4 friends in 2019 go to a fortune teller to see what their lives will be like in 2020. That's the lingerer for me; I laugh just thinking about it.  

One woman asks if she'll live with her boyfriend - and the fortune teller says yes, she sees them crying over how much to wash a bag of chips. One man asks about travel and is told he will road trip to Kentucky and they will pee in a cup instead of using a public bathroom. One woman is told she just colors all the time - no plays, no concerts, no parties.  One is told that the other three will turn on him because he commits a huge sin - he eats inside a restaurant. This skit cracks me up so much. Every part of it is hysterical.

And here's why it lingers. IT IS MY LIFE. It's funny because it's true. 

2019: Amusement parks, Live Music, Travel, Restaurants, Parties, PEOPLE IN MY HOUSE, Good Times

2020: Coloring for Adults, Washing Groceries, Take out only, A road trip to Kentucky (ok, it was Texas but same-same.) And a whole load of kleenex.

And for months I've just thought that - it's funny because it's true. But lately it's hit me a lot harder because it's more than that. It's still funny, but it's not FUN because while these things are true for me - they are not true for what feels like 99% of the people living in my area. And what that's led to is feeling like I'm alone laughing in a crowded room of people that don't get the jokes. It's made me feel like I have to apologize to people for turning down a party invitation. Or for asking someone to wear a mask. Or for not being willing to eat inside a restaurant. It's made me bad-mouth myself, calling myself names like psycho and worry-wart and overprotective and crazy and turd... for FOLLOWING SCIENCE. And I hate that. I. Hate. That. It's the opposite of funny. 

I love Tennessee. It's green, houses are inexpensive, great schools in our town, there are so many places to explore, etc...  But also, I have cried long hard tears in the middle of the night on multiple occassions because, during 2020, I hate Tennessee. During anti-Science, hoax/conspiracy-believing racist nasty 2020 - I hate living in a state where I am screaming alone and no one hears me because they are too busy living like it's 2019.  I hate hearing/seeing people talk about how "rough" they've had it because they didn't eat in a restaurant for 6 weeks and how they had their kids home an extra 2 months last spring and that was terrible. I hate being told that "real men don't wear masks" about 8 year old boys. I hate the snarky mean facebook comments. And most of all, I hate that my sweet child is watching from the window. He sees everyone doing everything, and he is told no. It guts me when he tells people "in another YEAR I'll be able to play basketball." Not because kids aren't playing here because THEY ARE, but because his mom thinks 15 sweaty kids deep breathing in each others faces unmasked inside a building is not safe enough to say yes to during Covid. 

I have tried to not judge. To know that every situation is unique. And I don't really know everything going on with people. Many people, especially parents, are making hard choices. And I get that. But I also know that I feel incredibly judged all of the time. Not just in my mind, but through actions and statements from strangers, aquaintances and friends. So in the middle of the night, sobbing on the floor, as 2021 becomes act 2 of 2020... I need a new funny skit to linger on that doesn't cut so close to my bleeding heart.

Travel Stories from Budapest

In the past I've kept a travel journal, but I'm too tired these days to do that - so I'm just going to blog a few cool things that have happened here in Budapest on this trip so far. For my own record so I can look back. For your enjoyment to read about. Just because I can type faster than I could ever write it all out by hand and I can type in the dark on a laptop while Jason and Brandon sleep. Because that's my free time.

Traveling 24 hours with an 18 month old:
We left home at 5:30am, got to the airport at 6am two hours early, flew to Seattle (3 hrs plus 3 hr layover) then to Amsterdam (10 hrs plus 2 hr layover) then to Budapest around noon - getting to the hotel around 130pm. With an 8 hour time difference that is a 24 hour trip. Mostly it was good. Because we were smart enough to trudge along a car seat to Europe. When Bran fell asleep right away on the 10 hr flight I was a moron and watched Frozen instead of sleeping immediately too... and then regretted it when he woke up after only 2 hours and stayed awake the next 6 hours of the flight... but they had lots of good movie choices so it wasn't too bad. It just meant I had to execute my mom super-power of being able to function on hardly any sleep. It also meant that on the change in Amsterdam Brandon was walking through the terminal and just spontaneously stopped to lay down on the floor of the airport. Gross, right? He did it 4 times. I gag a little thinking about it but what are you supposed to do? We got him up and kept going.

Meals:
Our first day we stopped by a little place to have a quick dinner near the hotel. They had gyros. When we bit into them... they were tacos. Shredded beef tacos. Delicious. But really... as Jason said... we flew 8000 miles to have tacos in Budapest?
Our second day we had Goulash for lunch - amazing. Brandon slept through the whole lunch in his stroller. It was his nap time *kind of* so no huge shock. But then at dinner that night he did it again - he got in the highchair looking awake and by the time the food came he was out cold, sleeping with his head on his arms on the table. Cute. Jetlagged and cute.
So lunch day 3... Brandon finally was awake for a restaurant meal (as opposed to the breakfast of cereal and bananas in our room)... and he went for it. Making friends with the entire wait staff, being a total ham. And he tried duck (loved it) for the first time. I did not mention anything about it being the Quack Quack type of duck. He also had a strawberry ice cream cone afterwards which was about 50% on his face, 50% in his mouth. Also loved it, especially being able to hold the cone himself.

Park:
We were on the Buda side up on the hill looking out at the view of Pest across the river and suddenly Brandon just started saying "weeee" over and over and pointing. And there, behind a wall with just a peek of it visible in spots - was a playground. Because "weeee" is the sound you make on a swing so that must be also what a swing is called now. So we went to the park and had a great time playing. Brandon loved all of the tiny rocks - so much that we found a couple in his diaper hours later.

Rock Star:
We were in this huge market - three levels of food, crafts, books, toys, meats, cheeses, cookies, fruits, paprika in every shape and flavor and size, dead sheep heads, you name it. Anyway walking through this market the women were just swooning over him. It was insane. They were coming out and talking to him, waving at him, playing peek-a-boo, coming out of their booths to see him, giving him stuff, etc... And he was working it - laughing, smiling, waving, and downright flirting with them. I have never seen anything like it. Rock star I tell you. He might be too young to remember this but I will never forget it.

Ponderings on a Monday Night

So it was an exciting weekend here at our house. Brandon turned 18 months, Jason turned 504 months (aka 42 years) and it rained a ton which was needed badly because we are in a drought, unlike the rest of the country that has been covered in wet snow for three month. Brandon also had four (yea) teeth break through this weekend - all four canines. Or eye teeth. Or meat-rippers. Whatever you want to call them. He was remarkably cool about it. A little touchy about food this last week but all things considered really not bad at all.

So exciting and relaxing weekend - teeth, birthdays, rain. It all got me thinking about how huge the changes are in Brandon since his first birthday just 6 months ago and I realized that it was a good time for me to take stock of his current vocabulary and jot it down in his baby book.  I also want to be able to answer the question at his 18 month well-baby visit and not seem like an idiot parent who has no idea what her kid can say and do... So I wrote down the list of words he can say (in his way) and was shocked when the list went over 70 and is still growing (as I think of more.) It's amazing. I am amazed at him. 

And while I was making this list I was watching the Bachelor "Women Tell All" episode. I know. It's brainless and fake but whatever - they travel to cool places and you get to watch people fight over someone they don't even want. During the filming these chicks were fighting and crying over this guy and now 2 months later they are talking about how they never liked him or wanted him. Wha??? Editors can't FORCE you to cry and sob over a guy. So this also got me thinking... where do I want my blog to go. Should it be brainless entertainment like this show? Funny, lighthearted, things like pedicures and truck balls and how when you cut a strawberry it turns somehow from a very small piece of fruit to a huge bunch of bites like magic? Or should I go the other way. Real conversation. Express my opinion on real things? Is the blog more "simply suzy" or more "suzy's view?"    

What part of Brandon's word list should I be like?  Fun words like monkey (mon-mo) and shoes (shooooos) and santa (tan-ta) or heart-warming words like Mary (ma-ee) and please (peas, along with the sign-language, just about melts you) or serious words like no (noooo with raised eyebrows) or all done (spoken correctly with the sign and a desperate look to please let him move on to the next thing especially if what he's currently doing is sitting on his potty.) Or maybe I can be like his whole list. A mix of everything. And growing more all the time.

Pedicure - How young is too young?

Brandon is 17 months old and I have had 2 pedicures since he was born. Two. Because I don't have excessive free time now and my weekends are usually spent doing something with family - traveling, visiting, going to the park, grocery shopping, cooking, wiping booger-noses, watching The Lorax, etc.... They are not spent having a stranger rub sea salt into my legs and painting my toes even though it feels amazing.

So imagine today I went for my second pedicure in 17 months and it was not the adult-experience I envisioned because... someone brought their baby with them. I'm guessing 10 months old - cute little girl who behaved really well - going back and forth between her parents (who both were there getting pedicures) laps. Her mom even painted her toes to match her own. The girl was sweet. But did she really belong in a nail salon? I realize I'm opening a can of worms with this since I would take Brandon *almost* anywhere with me... but I wouldn't take him to the nail salon. First, I couldn't relax with him there. But most importantly I think the smell of the polish and whatever other magic potions they use are super strong and just don't seem like something that would be good for him. 

Hmmm.... what do you think? How young is too young for a pedicure at a salon?

Vinegar and The Mother

When I was 4 years old I noticed that my grandpa drank a shot of vinegar every day and I decided I wanted to do that too and that is how my love of vinegar began. I would pour it on salad (no oil needed) and drink it out of the bottom. I would put it on spaghetti or chicken. I swear it is the reason that my mom's cole slaw is the best around - because it is heavy on the vinegar. I can still drink it straight with a smile. I love vinegar. Kind of... What I mean is... I did enjoy vinegar until today when Jason ruined it for me. He innocently mentioned at dinner "Do you know how vinegar is made? It's made from alcohol! Malt vinegar is made from beer! I'm going to pull some beer aside in my next batch and make some vinegar!" I thought, great!! Use a bottle of merlot from our stash and make some red wine vinegar too!! Excellent! Home made vinegar!!! So while I watched The Biggest Loser, Jason watched video's on You Tube on how to make vinegar at home. And then... he shared some interesting things with me. Vinegar is made from bacteria. One guy said he just spit into his beer and set it aside for a few months. Gross. According to the all-knowing internet, the most legitimate way to make malt vinegar is to put some beer and a banana peel in a jar and let it sit and attract flies. The bugs and flies come and get into the beer and act as the source of bacteria. After a few weeks to a few months you then separate out the bug parts, the nasty banana peel and this goopy thing that looks like a big wad of snot that is called "the mother." And you have vinegar. AND you can take "the mother" and put it in another jar of beer and the mother will continue to make vinegar because it is never-ending with it's power to turn beer into malt vinegar. And then, when I was just on the brink of not being able to ever drink vinegar again, he tipped the scales by showing me an entire page of images of different "mothers." It's enough to make a strong stomach weak. Google it if you dare. And now I'm sitting here crying a little thinking about how difficult it is going to be to drink vinegar again. And how sad it is that the crazy-gross booger-wad is called "the mother." But maybe that's what being a mother is - a totally crazy thing that changes life in a magical way that you never even dreamed possible.

I Believe

Everyone else is sound asleep. Even my cat is knocked out right next to me and cats are supposed to be nocturnal. Because it is 4am when everyone sane should be asleep. It is Christmas, true, but still I am 38 years old so why am I awake? I'm just sitting here in bed literally kept awake thinking about how exciting it will be in an hour or two when Brandon wakes up and we go into the living room and see what Santa brought. One of his favorite things to say right now is "whoa" and he says it with gusto like the most exciting thing in the world just happened whenever something remotely cool happens. Like spinning in circles and falling down. That is Whoa-worthy. So, needless to say, I am looking forward to the Whoas today. The thought of them is keeping me up. Ironically, this is the first time ever that I've been kept awake due to my own excitement over Santa's visit. I was never kept awake with my excitement for Santa when I was a little kid. Oh, I was awake at 4am every Christmas... I was kept awake by my brother and his excitement. Every year he would be so excited that after being awake alone for as long as he could stand it, he would creep into my room, wake me up, and sit there and talk to me about what kind of Whoas the day might bring. And it was earlier than 4am. My parents had a 6am rule - we had to stay in our bedrooms until 6am and only then could we come and wake them up and then go into the living room as a family. Never once did we break that rule. So for hours every early Christmas morning I would sit there, 90 percent asleep, listening to my brother and his excitement. Excitement before we even went into the living room. Excitement over what could be. And it got me excited. And that is why I believe in Santa. As an adult, sitting here at 4am excited on Christmas day. Because this is the essence of Santa. Excitement. Hope. Family. Sharing. Love. And I believe in all of those things. I believe in the magic of Christmas. It's a Whoa for me.

What a difference 2 years and 10 months makes

I miss blogging. Or really just putting my opinion down on paper (or electronic paper.) It has been a long long time since my last post - 2 years and 10 months. Plus a few days. A long time. Needless to say, what a difference those 2 years and 10 months have had on my life!! Namely... Bran the man. My little monkey. My 15 month old who basically is my heart walking around in a small blond (Who knew I could have a blonde kid?) body. Which leads me to this - 1150pm on a Sunday night when I should be sound asleep I am typing a blog about nothing. And everything. You know you have to start somewhere, right? And this feels like a restart although I'm too lazy/smart to actually restart an entire new blog. Why, when this one is still here and ready to go and has a less-gray, less-mom-pooched, less bag-eyed picture of me. Not to mention how much of a techy-moron I am. So...Rock on! Ok so that's it. My promise to myself is more blogging. Becoming a mom has altered my life drastically and while I miss a lot of things I don't do anymore (happy hour w/ friends, movies in an actual theater, pedicures/pretty toes, long nights making pottery, non-gray hair) I am happy to trade it all in for the new amazing thing in my life - Bran. The truth is.. .I WANT to trade it all in for him and his dad. I love just being with the two of them at home doing nothing. And by nothing I mean everything. You think you know what you're going to be like as a mom. You think you'll feel this and do that and cook x and still do y. And then you become a mom. And you look back on your pre-mom self and think - You were a moron. You thought you knew everything, but you knew nothing. NOTHING. So that's where I'm at. Tired, ugly toes, gray hair, and happiness. Oh, and a cold. Because kid in daycare = constant cold. But that's for another blog...