you are fibbing fibbing fibbingggggg

My in-laws live downstairs from us. Same building. They were SUPER hands off before grandchild. Now at times it's too close for comfort with love... "I made chicken salad, I'll bring some up, is the baby awake?" "I have this notice I want you to help me with, I'll bring it up, is the baby awake?" "I have your mail got delivered here, I'll bring it up, is the baby awake?""Are you home? Is the baby awake?"

My mother-in-law is very soft spoken. Her natural speaking voice is high, soft, breathy falsetto, and she has an accent because her first languages are Armenian and Farsi... I do a great impression.

You want to believe everything that comes out in this sweet calm voice, but when it comes to public opinion or my daughter you can't.

She doesn't lie, really... she fibs. (though I can TOTALLY see her in the future straight up lying to cover Melo's teenage tracks. We will have to prepare for this). Right now it's small things that make Vaz roll his eyes at me and I nod back with understanding.

They have a hard time laying down the law with Melo their first and only grandchild, so like yesterday, when Vaz and I go over to pick Melo up after work and she walks over to their new flat screen TV and starts poking it to show what is on the screen Vaz tells her "Don't touch the TV, Melania" followed by WAHHHHHHH scream pout fit by Melo, followed by Vaz's mom scooping her up and saying... "She NEVER touches the TV"

Even though she just did, in front of us.

We have heard this before. "'She never draws on the table." "She never cries." "She never does this." "She never as a tantrum." Always after she's just done the offending act in front of us, making it seem like she must only do these things when we are around.

Sure sure grandma. We get it. Your grandchild is an absolute angel OR maybe you just rarely say no to her...

Who said that was cute?!

I recently saw 2 of maybe my top ten ugliest footwear on the train. Strangely they BOTH had to do with innappropriate toe exposure. I managed to snap pics with my phone.

Exhibit A

Homegirl was wearing a hoody, a scarf, a leather jacket, jeans and these gems:

When she walked her all toes with the exception of the big toes... TOUCHED THE GROUND. Also, her pedicure was JACKED, like weeks old, grown out, chipped. Why did she feel it so necessary to expose her toes on this cold day?! even in the summer... these sandals are just ugly. I don't get the trend.

The second is

Exhibit B

Buddy, you're wearing jeans and a button down on the subway. I don't care if these are THE MOST COMFORTABLE SHOES ON THE PLANET... if you're not in some sort of race... why are you wearing them? They look like alien gorilla feet.

How do you know your limits until you reach them?

I was working all week last week in the office/design/dayjob/freelance gig... 9-5 ish. More like 10 to 7. (but Melo wakes up at 7)

Thursday and Saturday nights I'm still bartending. I do the day thing 10 to 4 and then 4 - 2ish at the bar

The other bartender needed last Friday off to go to a funeral and I just couldn't say no - so we switched her Friday for my Saturday...

Soooo last Friday, after working 14 hours the day/night before and on about 5 hours sleep I do the day gig again 10 - 4 and then to the bar.

It was pretty busy all night, which is WAY better than it being dead.

The restaurant started emptying out at around 11:30, so I was thinking OK... I'll be home by 1. I can do this.

Then I find out there is a reggae party coming in... at 12 am. The rastas start showing up. The sound system changes and it's dancehall time. I kind of want to die, but you know what everyting is irie. suck it up.

by 2am I'm on redbull # 3. Still thinking I can do this. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

by 3am I'm texting Vaz... desperate and freaked. Everyone is smoking trees and I'm feeling like I will pass out if I drive home. Strange stream of consciousness texts... I can't drive home. I'm dead. I'll take a cab and train it in tomorrow to pick up the car. I'm tired. I'm delirious. I can't sleep in my car. I can't drive home...

by 4am people are not really drinking... but the boss still is. I'm cleaning up in slow motion hoping by the time I'm done we can go.

5 am I'm in my car. I have to move it because it can't stay in its spot the next day. I decide fuck it. I'm driving home. I don't want to search for an other spot. I don't want to stand on the corner with cash in my pocket trying to hail a cab when lots of people know I'm a bartender. I don't want to sleep in my car. I'll just drive.

I down a redbull and head off.

I don't know how I got home, on autopilot for sure. Somewhere between Manhattan and Queens tears start streaming out of my eyes everytime I glance at the digital clock on the dash. By the time I'm home and in bed I'm having a complete and utter melt down. I don't remember being that tired, even during the first 3 bootcamp months of Melo's life.

Sobbing I just need to sleep. Melo is going to wake up in 2 hours. I'm so tired. I just need to sleep.

22 hours awake/19 hours of work is my absolute limit. Never again.

baby/mama

I'm always telling my daughter that I love her. I can't help it. When we're snuggling, when I'm reading to her, when we're playing her doofy version of hide-and-seek... basically all the time. I love you Melania. I love you Melania. I love you Melania.

Then - the other day as she went to sleep "I love you Melania" and EUREKA that little mush face looks at me and says "I love you mommy." more like "ah luh you mahmeh" I can't describe what a deep-inhale, greeting card moment that was.

Well a couple days ago as I was leaving her at my mom's in the morning to babysit and said, "Bye baby. I love you," BAM! in front of my mom "ah luh you mahmeh"

my mom's eyes lit up... I thought with just sweet joy

what's my problem?!

that joy was laced with jealousy.

That entire day my mom was coaching Melo to say "I love you abuela" (ah luh you wela). SAY I LOVE YOU ABUELA Melania SAY I - LOVE - YOU - ABUELA. I LOVE you Melania - NOW YOU SAY I LOVE YOU ABUELA. She tried to showed me this morning and when I said "don't force her ma - she says it," my mom said "Yes - she says it to YOU but I want her to say it TO ME."

"Or else" could have been at the end of that sentence.

I'm sitting here kind of sad about that. I'm sure my mom will throughout the day coach and push and insist Melo tell her she loves her.

I'm sad because it turns such a nice, sweet, natural, organic thing into kind of a new trick, and also because it makes me feel like my mom is in some kind of bizarro competition with me.

am I being too sensitive?

little late on this

listening to The Arcade Fire third album - The suburbs. somebody in this office has a shared itunes library on the server... they have good taste in music. I have no desire to know who they are it would totally ruin it...

anyway - I'm only on track 3... but they haven't disappointed me yet.

Keep the china clean

My sister-in-law told me she was giving my niece (2.5 years old) and nephew (5 years old) a bath together. My nephew stands up and turns to his little sister and says:

"I'm gonna wash my winky. You wash your china."

ahhhh highschool

something about the feeling of this song takes me back to highschool/early college...

I haven't been feeling new R&B really, with a few exceptions here and there... this is definitely an exception.

I can play it over and over

moo kicks

That's how my daughter says "music"

listening to Pandora while I work... thought I would share music today:

sometimes Grizzly Bear gets a little over blown and it's like too much already... but when they do it right, it's so beautiful and transports you to an alternate universe.

too bad this video is creepy

I get it already...

(I just got off the phone with my mom. She's babysitting Melo today while I freelance.)

I was a terrible eater as a child. I was anemic. I had to get B12 shots. I don't know exactly what they were supposed to do, but every month I went to the doctor to get a shot.

I often fell asleep at the dinner table because my parents had me sit there until I "finished my plate." Once I even, the story goes, fell asleep with my face in a bowl of spaghetti.

You can imagine... hours after everyone has been done, I'm still sitting there. Was that right to do to a child? I don't think so, but I don't even care at this point. The past has passed, right? WRONG. Nothing is ever in the past with my mom. She's been collecting cards to pull on me since before I was born.

So flash forward: present day

My daughter is a very picky eater. Right now she's living on chicken nuggets, cheerios, milk and V8 Fusion. I don't think it's a problem. I keep trying to give her new foods. If she rejects them I don't push it and try again an other day.

Here's the thing...Anytime time I talk to my mom about my daughter (for example 5 minutes ago), I have to hear OVER AND OVER again what a pain in the ass I was as a child. Even in the womb. What a problem I was during pregnancy and then during infancy and childhood. What a problem. Always trouble. Terrible eater. Pain in the ass. You'll see. You'll get paid back for everything you did to me with your daughter.

I get it already. You're a martyr. I'm 32 years old. I don't need to keep hearing variations.

For the permanent record: My kid is not and never will be some sort of karmic punishment for me