Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Friday, November 26, 2004 Thanks Coming in to work this morning, I allowed myself to think that the fact that the downtown streets, sidewalks and skyways were all abandoned a la Omega Man meant that the downtown Target store wouldn’t be unbearable. I’ve been wrong before, but I can’t think of when I’ve been that wrong. But anyway, just because it’s the day after Thanksgiving and I broke my lifelong oath to never enter a retail establishment of any stripe (or concentric circle, for that matter) on this day of the year, doesn’t mean it’s too late to mention some of the stuff I’m thankful for. Because you care, right? To you all for all the intensely useful baby gifts you’ve sent us from our wish lists. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it. Even the stuff that M. Tiny has outgrown already. I’d keep putting those things on him, but Trash seems to object to our seven-pound son getting stuffed into clothes that fit him like he’s late-period Elvis. To Trash’s sister and her heterosexual life-partner, who on the night M. Tiny was born dashed out and picked up a bunch of emergency baby stuff. Not to mention McDonald’s. And to Trash’s coworker who did the same thing and delivered a basketful of supplies the next day. To all the friends who have helped keep us sane, including Girl Detective, Zen Viking, Bitter, and Linda, who continue to treat us like the people we’ve always been as opposed to breeding machines. Not that anyone else on this list has treated us any differently, but we still appreciate the chance to pretend to be cool for these precious last few years. To the people who have passed along the supplies that their own children have outgrown. There’s Wire Monkey Mother (formerly Chicagowench, whom we’ve never actually met but whom we know indirectly through the wonderful Auteurcakes) for the giant box of clothes that no longer fit the child they’ve affectionately (and somewhat fearfully) nicknamed Gojira. One of Trash’s coworkers gave us boxes of castoff toys and a whole array of baby-transport items. At the radio show I worked across the hall from a mother my age who brought her infant twins into the office. I got to enjoy them, and now M. Tiny gets to enjoy their stuff. And of course, Deneice’s parents have delivered us stuff that Deniece can no longer use, now that she’s pushing three. Can you believe that? It doesn’t seem that long ago that I first babysat her, and M. Tiny is already almost half the age she was then. He’s going to pass her at this rate. To the Pub Quiz team, who have been understanding of our absence the past two months, who delivered our trophies to us since we weren’t there to collect them, who have consistently kept us in the top tier of competition when we weren’t there. And to Trash’s cooking partner Blaine, who is not only being flexible about this years bake-annalia, but is also test-baking the sugar cookie recipes y’all sent in. To Dirt and Banana, who were generous enough to host a baby shower in their home, and who pulled it off brilliantly. As well as to everyone who came and brought us such great stuff, all of which is either in use now or soon will be. To the neighbors, who not only haven’t kicked us out of the band, but who have helped us out by giving Strat his shots when we were at the hospital, and whose kid even helped rake leaves. Compared to him, I was a complete asshole at that age. To my sister DeBitch the Elder, who took the time to create and deliver us a home-cooked gourmet meal, including a trifle the size of the Stanley Cup. Sorry Trash and I couldn’t finish it on our own, but my coworkers loved it too. To Trash’s sister and her friend the Vet Friend, who helped us get through the loss of Orca, and who helped us feel we’d done as much as we could to save her. And who helped us with something else I’ll be telling you about in a future entry. And to all of you who sent comforting e-mails and comments, and posted sympathetic thoughts on your own sites, which helped us more than you realize. And of course to Orca herself, who honored us by spending most of her life with us and choosing us as her favorite humans. Not by much, but by enough. To our parents for all of their support. Trash’s dad for printing up a huge volume of baby pictures for us; my mom for raking the yard, helping us clean house, and providing days and days of free day care so Trash can stretch out her maternity leave longer than would otherwise have been possible; and Trash’s stepdad, for the painting that adorned M. Tiny’s hospital room and now his nursery, as well as her mom, who cheerily relocated the shower she’d planned for us at her house in Iowa to the family lounge at the NICU. And of course to M. Tiny’s birth parents and their families, for all the generous gifts they’ve given us, for welcoming us into their families, and...let’s see. Something else. What was it again? Oh, yeah. 
And to everyone else I’ve forgotten. Don’t worry. There are a lot of you. Lately I find myself thinking about one of the few episodes of Sex and the City that I’ve seen. It’s the one where Miranda’s baby won’t stop crying, and the neighbor comes over and asks whether she has friends with babies who will help her because they know what it’s like. When Miranda says no, the neighbor says, “Then you’re screwed!” Most of our friends don’t have babies. Here, as usual, Sex and the City is full of shit. posted by M. Giant 5:25 PM 2 comments 2 Comments:I did NOT know you had a Wal-Mart registry, but I just looked through it and find it completely unbelievable that no one has bought the butt paste yet. It's just begging to be purchased!!
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Butt paste?
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