You Need Not: Torn

And now for a book you need not read.

I have actually attempted to write about this book in a couple of previous blog posts.  But just thinking about it makes me so...furious...that I end up needing to walk away and cool off.  Still.  The time has come to say something about it.  Especially because it took portions of my brain and soul that I will never recover.

The book is Torn: True Stories of Kids, Career & the Conflict of Modern Motherhood.  The title and premise appealed to me, and I thought I was going to find stories from the trenches of working motherhood, stay-at-home motherhood, and everything in between.  I figured I would laugh, cry, agree, disagree, and find that I was not alone.  Except no. 

You can ask Dad.  Basically, every 20 pages, I would throw my Kindle across the room, storm around the house in a foul mood, and yell, "WHY AM I STILL READING THIS BOOK?"  And truthfully, I kept reading because I wanted to know if it could possibly get worse.  Could it possibly get further under my skin?  Could it make me any angrier?  The answer was a resounding yes.

The book is 288 pages of documentary evidence that women can be a heinous, whiny, self-involved, overthinking, overanalyzing, self-flagellating, self-martyring, pitiful, miserable, cantankerous, loathsome gender.  I have never hated myself and my duplicate X chromosome more than I did after reading stories in that book.  Seriously, the book pushed me to levels of anti-feminism I can barely even describe.

Someday when aliens discover the ashen relics of the earth and wonder why the U.S. never once in its history had a female president, I really hope they come across a charred, but legible copy of this book.  It will explain a lot.

Relax, Mama.  Stop thinking about the book.

One Small Step

X officially took his first unassisted step today.  Unfortunately, I didn't witness it.  I just got the, "MOM!"* from the sunroom, followed by an enthusiastic report of how X had acted like it was no big deal.

Of course, I've been watching him hawkishly for the past hour, begging for a repeat.  Alas, none yet.  He's busy cruising around the room and pulling books off the shelf, so he's far too busy to bother with walking at the moment.

Ah well.  It's still a pretty exciting morning here at HQ!

Mama, stop watching me so hawkishly.

Bonus video: The look that my child gives me whenever I say, "No!"

* The "Mom" emanated from Dad.  X hasn't reached that level of verbal sophistication yet.

Thunderbolts and Lightning

Very, very frightening.  Not. 

Although I understand that Irene is a massive storm causing serious destruction elsewhere, DC is simply getting a bit wet tonight.  Sure, it's been soggy.  But the winds aren't even all that high, and I understand that this might be the worst of it.  All's well that ends well for the District, I hope.  I do feel it for places that were actually hit. 

We've had an indoor day with little X.  Lots of family time, lots of napping, lots of toys scattered all over the floors.  It was great fun, and he gave us some delightful smiles, shrieks, and giggle time.

Also, going against professional advice, Dad attempted to desensitize X to the shower head.  I have to say, it wasn't altogether a terrible idea.  The two of them used the shower head to fill up the bathtub in (overkill) preparation for the storm, and Dad allowed X to pat and hit the offending object in a non-bathtime scenario.  We think he wouldn't be ready to shower with it just yet, but he's at least not screaming upon contact any more.

Another confusing development in the life of X is his newfound fussiness in the eating department.  Some time ago, I expounded on the number of grown-up food items X had been gobbling up.  More recently, I noted his sudden drop in milk consumption, coupled with increased appetite for novel foodstuffs.  Well, as of this week, it's either processed foods or BUST.  Basically, he just wants Gerber purees, Gerber puffs, and Gerber veggie sticks.  Oh, and bread.  He's not even all that interested in milk.  And everything else we offer gets spit out.  Chicken.  Corn.  Pasta.  Mashed potatoes.  Raspberries.  Peas.  Sausage.  Peaches.  Pears.  All the old favorites!  I absolutely do not understand it.

Thankfully, we discovered a little trick today* that might help us sneak some nutrients into that little tummy.  Watch and learn.

* Yes, I shamelessly stole this trick from my own childhood when we tried to convince our pets to swallow medication that did not appeal to them.  I maintain that dogs and babies are really quite similar when it comes down to it.
 

Panic! in the District

Yes, yes, there was an earthquake this week.  I swear.  I put all my elementary school earthquake drill training into action and ducked under my desk until the shaking stopped, then paused in a doorway before joining the evacuees.  Once all of downtown DC had assembled in the same rendezvous spot, things started to get boring fast. 

No, I did not race across to the day care center immediately.  First, I know that they have an evacuation strategy (and a sound rationale behind the 1:2 ratio).  Second, I am a firm believer in the airplane oxygen mask instruction.  Figure oneself out before figuring out how to aid one's child.  What point would there have been in snatching him and then milling about in the chaos and disorder?  I figured I would leave him with his cohort until I had a better action plan in place.  Of course, the cell signal was jammed.  The Blackberry network was operating on a weird delay.  And I couldn't get a single call, email, or text to Dad to communicate location or coordinate strategy.  Ugh.

Anyhow, well over an hour into this mess, well after having received an "All the babies are fine" message from day care, and long after it had been established that no law firms were in danger of collapse...we got wind that the day care center was shutting down pending inspection.  Minutes later, our building shut down pending inspection.  Womp womp.

By this point, all the non-overreacting firms had gone back to billing and the public sector had taken to the streets, as is the natural course of things.  One Mid-Level Mama and one bear (who had slept through the entire earthquake), finding themselves temporarily homeless, sought refuge at Dad's law firm.  After getting the quizzical eye from several partners (accompanied by cooing over the bear), I wrangled Dad into taking the rest of the afternoon off and accompanying us home.

One trafficky ride later, we arrived home to find no structural damage and two tail-wagging dachshunds.

In short, much ado about nothing.

Back to business as usual today, thankfully.*

I leave you with two videos of the bear.  In the first, he gave me a good setup like he was going to do something cool.  (Spoiler alert: he proceeds to lose interest and do nothing).  In the second, he demonstrates "Bear Attack," which is his new behavioral response whenever I pick up the iPhone to record him. 

*Except not really because my computer went all blue-screen-of-death on me (non-earthquake-related), causing much time to be lost to troubleshooting this morning.  And then for two hours, I was displaced into a visitor's office while my office move (non-earthquake-related) took place.  And then I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find things in my new space, meeting my new assistant, and adjusting to my dinky loaner laptop.  A fine day for billing indeed.

The Son of All Fears

I have been thinking about fear a little bit recently.  Many of you know that I sought treatment for my insect phobia last year, and it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.  If not for that, I surely would not have survived long in this house.  And the summer months really bring out the biodiversity in our neighborhood, as evinced by a couple "what IS that?" moments and the cicadas clinging to our kitchen window screen.

Unlike his Mama, X has seemed quite fearless.  Other people tell me that their babies are scared of loud noises, vacuum cleaners, the toilet flushing, hair dryers, the shower, the dishwasher, the clothes dryer, thunder, etc.  Not X.  He has seemed curious and excited about everything this world has had to offer.  Until now. 

A few days ago, we installed a nifty shower head in X's bathroom.  It's one of those detachable ones (perfect for hosing down a sticky little person), and it has lots of cool massaging options for the actual shower-inclined.  In any event, it is baby's first fear.  Dad tells me that during their first interaction, the shower head sprayed X in the face.  That may have been the beginning of the drama.  On Day 2, when I took the shower head down, and sprayed a test spray into the tub next to him, the wailing was instantaneous.  We skipped it altogether on Day 3.  And then today, he regarded it with suspicion and curiosity throughout his bath.  I decided to talk him through it, pointing at it, giving it gentle pats, explaining that I wasn't going to turn it on, etc.  All was going well until one of my gentle pats dislodged a few collected drops of water in his general direction.  Cue the screaming.

The official advice is that I shouldn't rush him or do anything to try to get him over it.  Allow him to come to terms with it at his own pace.  I guess it's ciao for now, super cool shower head.

Who you calling Scaredy X?

Getting to Know You

I'm realizing I have no idea who this new baby is.  Last week, I was privy to very few of his waking hours.  Thankfully, Dad took some vacation with him, and his grandparents are visiting.  Much merriment has abounded.  But Mama has missed out on most of it, and I'm realizing that he did a lot of changing in my brief absence.

He's dropped his milk consumption like nobody's business.  All of a sudden, each meal is a multi-course smorgasbord of dairy, meat, cheese, veggies...it's remarkable.  And he's gotten so very expressive and verbal.  "Ma" clearly refers to wanting more food.  We think he knows that "Da" is Dad.  We haven't figured out what "Ba" means yet, but he probably knows what he means by it....

In any event, he's incredible.  Still on the verge of walking, but hasn't ventured a first unsupported step yet.  Happy and active.  A great napper (down to a single two-hour nap a day).  An epic sleeper.  Toothless and terrific.

I'm the luckiest mom alive. 

You Need Not: Graffiato

Dad and I had a Fridate today, and it has inspired me to create a new feature on the blog.  Welcome to the debut edition of "You Need Not."  Here, I will occasionally profile restaurants you need not go, books you need not read, and movies you need not watch.  Because I, Mid-Level Mama, have already suffered on your behalf.

Today, I profile the much-ado-about-nothing DC hotspot, Graffiato.  The travesty is that I was all set to love this place.  I have been a fan of Top Chef for years.  I loved Mike Isabella's former restaurant home, Zaytinya.  And although I found him over the top on the show, I figured the man knew how to cook and that this was going to be interesting at least.  Add in the hype, the difficulty of securing reservations, and a few rumored good reviews from friends. 

Our much-awaited Friday lunch slot arrived.  Conclusion: If I wanted to eat in a Forever 21 mixed with a New Jersey industrial garage, I would.  And I'd do it for cheaper.

The lowlights:
- Weird, trying-too-hard hipster ambiance.  Heavy emphasis on hard lines and an industrial feel (uncomfortable metal chairs, unfinished floor, black exposed pipes, chalkboard motifs, little potted basil plants on each table where the "pot" is a tin can). 
- The background music (which was foreground music, requiring us to raise our voices to hear each other) was ripped directly from a clothing store that attracts 14-year-olds who want to look older than they are, on a budget.
- The pretense of oversubscription.  It was tough to get a reservation, but numerous empty tables sat empty the entire time we were there.
- Unremarkable service.

Now, I could forgive all the above if only the food had delivered.  But alas.

The lunch menu itself is a on a 4 inch x 4 inch square card.  Not just to be pretentious original, but because that's how few items were on it.  I guess they were going for minimal chic, but Dad and I had an immediate, "wait, this is it?" moment.  We ordered the octopus (with potatoes and corn) appetizer, the White House pizza (some fancy cheeses and prosciutto with honey glaze), the Jersey Shore pizza (calamari with marinara sauce and garlic aioli), and the Nutella cookies.  Sounded vaguely promising.

The result?  Flashbacks to my 9th grade Home Ec group projects.  Aside from the interesting flavors in the octopus dish, everything else was incredibly mediocre and do-it-yourself-worthy.  The pizza crust was particularly unimpressive.  And I guarantee you, my cookies could take the Nutella cookies down in a knife fight, easy. 

Finally, just to keep being persnickety, I ordered a bizarre "local" soda (all the ingredients and sources were local/sustainable/insert other hipster quality here).  I detected numerous violations of the federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act at a glance.  I'm just saying.

With the bill coming out to around $70, and my tummy not exactly full to capacity, I declared this a fail. 

You need not go.

Graffiato by Mike Isabella
Food: 6/10
Service: 4/10
Ambiance: 4/10
Value for money: 4/10