Thursday, December 9, 2010

Dignity...


Remember that time I got REALLY mad (and a little queasy) at Brett Favre for being a cheating, scummy joke of a man? Yeah, me too. 
The other day, while doing really important web-based research wasting my life online, I came across this gem. And was once again floored by how much people,as a whole, could really so disappointing. 
The quick version? Former Giants player Tiki Barber, who is also an on-air correspondent for NBC Sports, cheated on his 8-month pregnant (WITH TWINS) wife of 11 years. With the 23 year old babysitter, a former intern for NBC. Who is now his girlfriend. 
Heart-breaking? This quote from  his 2007 memoir, "Tiki: My Life in the Game and Beyond," in which Barber described the example he wanted to set for his kids.
"I want to be an honorable man, because that's what I want them both to be," he wrote, noting, "My family is everything to me."
All the things I said to Brett- apply to Tiki. But reading about this, paired with recent discussions I’ve had due to the passing of Elizabeth Edwards & all the ridiculous things she got put through, got me to thinking. 
Yes, there is blame (quite a lot of it) that needs to be directed at the unfaithful party. But I’m starting to think that for every morally deficient, ego-inflated, unfaithful guy there is out there- that there is a least a handful of girls (because they certainly can’t be classified as adult women) with little concern for pregnant wives, the families they may be destroying and the kind of person they are,in turn, becoming.
As the mother of a daughter (one sure to be of the heart-breaking variety) I now feel a giant responsibility.  To raise her to have dignity. 

To understand that if someone is going to be unfaithful FOR you- there is not much to deter them from being unfaithful TO you. 

To want more for her life than to be somebody’s “other” woman. 

To have her realize (and believe, whole-heartedly) that she deserves someone who is so in love with her- and just her- that the whole world simply fades away. 

To be braver than I am, braver than I was, braver than many of the women I know. 

To understand that being alone, learning to love yourself, is better than being some body’s second choice. 

To believe in karma, or at least believe that whatever negative chaos you knowingly create in the universe by your selfishness- it is coming back to you. At least double. 

To recognize mistakes before she makes them, or at the very least, find a way to glean the positive from the mistakes you didn’t see coming. 

To know how to politely disagree & how to get angry, when the situation calls for it. Even if she’s angry at me.  

To not be intoxicated by all things that seem shiny and new & to recognize that sometimes, the things you have now just need a little polish.

To bounce back from the unexpected. 

To acknowledge her own struggles, but keep a sense of perspective. 

To be respectful. And kind.
And recognize that everybody has their battles & struggles- but no one can understand who goes on in intimate relationships but the two people involved- so keep your judgements to yourself. 

To be unafraid to love, but even less afraid to walk away. 
 If my daughter turns out to a better woman than I am- a stronger, more confident, fearless woman....



I'll know I've done my job. 

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Free Ninety-Nine

So, let me be honest for a moment here. 


I had NO intention of sending out Christmas cards this year. The idea of creating them and hauling myself to the post office to mail them- terrified me. And paying for them? Well we've yet to tap into the natural resource of the money tree and I chose not having to be up to my elbows in Kraft macaroni and cheese until July over Christmas cards.


But then I was contacted by Shutterfly. For this fabulous promotion. They must of heard of my penchant for things that are FREE. I was psyched.


Let me recount briefly the Christmas card debacle that was Christmas 2009. I decided to create my cards in-store at Walmart. This was my first mistake. Even in early December, the place was a zoo. I had to wait for a kiosk and then, being true to my indecisive nature, spent an obscene amount of time debating over font colors and photo placement and choosing the exact phrase of cheer that I wanted the Lariviere-Cayer family to send out. When I finally finished, I received a print-out saying my product (of a simple 25 christmas cards) would be ready in 30 minutes. TWO HOURS later- I was still waiting. With my hungry, tired 6 month old. After unnecessary sass from a disgruntled employee & rallying around three other mothers of small children who were waiting with me- I demanded to speak with the manager (so very unlike me, but I was sweaty and stressed and my feet hurt). I ended up getting all my pictures for free. And when I returned to Walmart later in the week, the photo department was absolutely plastered with signs reading "Photos may not print in the provided time frame due to high volume sales". I felt victorious- I had big business shaking in their boots. I also vowed to NEVER buy cards from them again. I longingly perused sites like Shutterfly creating cards I knew I'd never order because I'm cheap. So when they offered me free cards as a blogger  (what? people read this thing?), I was beyond excited.


Shutterfly has hundreds of amazing Christmas card options. Personally?

I love me some polka-dots




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Or maybe just some simple, straight-up Gracie girl...
                                                      

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And these calendars?


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I want one for my desk, like yesterday. 


Amazing options, I could waste my whole day playing around on their site. My final Christmas card creation will be kept top-secret, until I send them out (which will hopefully be before January), because obviously I'm kind of a big deal. 
I highly suggest you get creative & make some of your own- and be sure to send one to me! 



Thursday, December 2, 2010

Baby Brain

    I've talked about guilt. I've talked about how much it hurts to pee after you have a baby (although I still believe there aren't enough words in the english language to adequately describe that). I've talked about feeling fat. Feeling sad. I've talked about being insanely in love with someone who can't even talk yet. 
               But there is something I haven't mentioned. And it's become a serious concern. 


It started when I was pregnant. 

The diagnosis?








(I'd like to imagine that any diagnosis would be more manageable if given by this delicious, purely fictional, medical professional. Just try to disagree with me). 

Baby brain.

This is a sweet, rather innocuous term for the terrorist takeover of brain cells that begins at conception. Friends lamented that they wished they had kept journals of the ridiculous things I said and did while pregnant. Like asking who the lead singer of the Dave Matthews Band was. Or claiming that the geographical location of Alaska was right by Hawaii. Just like it shows at the bottom of the map. Now, I'm not a MESNA member. But trust me...I'm smarter than that. 

     I assumed that, like my aversion to turkey & havarti sandwiches (which I used to LOVE by the way), like the nausea and the back pain and the uncontrollable, unpredictable tears, this unfortunate condition had a shelf life of (give or take) 9 months. That with the arrival of that beautiful baby- I would get my brain and body back. Wrong. On all counts. The only thing I'm not doing anymore on a consistent basis is hurling up my Cheerios. 

But the baby brain, now affectionally termed "Mommy Brain"...this is the most worrisome. I joke all the time that I only have enough space in my brain for Grace and some random information about speech therapy. I'm starting to think this is true. Evidenced by the fact that I recently used cooking spray instead of Windex to clean my bathroom mirror. That I've spent more than 5 minutes looking for the keys to my already running car. I can't even count the amount of times I've started to ask a question about something and then stopped, mid-query, when I realized how idiotic the question was. 

My only explanation is that I've donated a significant portion of my brain cells to Grace. And while I admit, her rapid acquisition of knowledge is pretty awesome (although all birds still say WOOF, unless they have yellow beaks, in which case they quack)..I'd really like my own brain back. It has been so consumed with the task of keeping another human being alive that any non-relevant information gets immediately stored in the back of my brain. You know...that place where you keep the name of your first grade teacher and the date of your parents wedding anniversary. I know enough to keep my hair away from an open flame, but I can't manage to find that safe spot where I put my digital camera until I've accused at least 3 people of stealing it. People used to jokingly refer to me as Andrew's secretary, because give me an important date or piece of information and not only did I remember..but I made sure that he did too. Which, take my word for it, is no easy feat. Now, I have to write things down in multiple locations to have any hope of actually remembering them at any point other than two weeks after they've happened.

I still cry at the drop of the hat. I didn't cry when Grace was born (mainly I think, because it happened too gosh darn fast..I know, poor me), but give me a birth sequence on 16 & Pregnant or a Baby Story..and I'm reduced to a blubbering mess. I have to concentrate really hard to not pee a little when I sneeze. The mere idea of a turkey & harvarti sandwich makes me queasy. 

All that? Those are things I can handle. 

But...

Brain? Short Term Memory? Filter that keeps me from saying embarrassingly stupid things?

I miss you. 
Please come back soon. Or I might start agreeing that birds say woof & penguins quack. And it won't be pretty. 



Consolation prize?
Being able to show photographs like these to future boyfriends...