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    Which is worse?

    May 1, 2006

    a)  taking a toddler to DC Coast, or
    b)  wearing jeans to DC Coast?

    I couldn’t find anyone to watch the Boo Boo Kitty today so I ended up schlepping him to my lunch date with my friend Dave.  Dave owed me a lunch because I convinced him to play hardball on salary with his new employer and the suckers bought it–giving Dave a sizeable raise that will promptly go to his child’s $35,000 college education next year.

    As I cruised into the restaurant 15 minutes late, I was greeted with thinly-veiled looks of abject horror.  Who brings a baby to a lovely restaurant for lunch?

    If I was Britney, they wouldn’t have looked at me that way.  Or Gwynth.  Or Katie/I mean Kate Holmes.  OK, maybe they would have looked at me like I was crazy if I was Katie/I mean Kate Holmes.  The Boo was asleep in his $14 stroller, but this did not stop the hostess from asking if I would like to put the stroller away.  I had a Diane Keaton/Baby Boom moment when I wondered if I could “Check” the baby in at the coat room.  

    K:  No, no, no.  He’ll be FINE.  Just wheel him under the table and he’ll never know what’s going on.

    But I went WAY out on a limb and asked if I could take the baby AND the stroller to my seat.  

    H:  Well you are seated upstairs.

    Hostess clearly did not have children, so it is unfair to blame her or mock her for not realizing that a stay-at-home mother who is no longer generating a paycheck will walk through FIRE to have free crab cakes as an appetizer and the pasta special with pancetta, mushrooms and red onions in a spicy tomato sauce, and that a set of stairs is small potatoes–a veritable bump in the road when it comes to obstacles.  So I shlepped the baby stroller right up those stairs.

    It was only then that I realized that maybe people weren’t looking at me because I was carrying a baby in a baby stroller up the stairs of a fine dining establishment but maybe it was because I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  Everyone else was wearly suits.  


    My jeans might have cost $900.  Would that have made it acceptable?  So they really only cost me $29.99 (a fact that has been bugging me since I bought them because I don’t have $29.99 to spend on jeans–my husband brought it to my attention, however, that it was money well spent since I have worn them 6 days a week for the past 3 months).

    The kid was extremely well behaved, and didn’t create much of a ruckus (except for the snot bubbles–who takes a sick kid to DC Coast for lunch?).  It’s amazing how giving a kid a knife will keep him busy.  

    Before you freak out, it was a DULL knife.  It’s not like I was gonna let him run with it.  

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    Defending a woman’s right to choose, one shirt at a time

    April 30, 2006

    Well I got my first cranky email about my “Definitely not having a silent birth” maternity tee over at babybrewing.  Rebecca from California writes, “Your Not having a silent birth is definitely NOT funny.”

    Oops.  I thought it was funny.  Apparently it is definitely NOT funny.  I have offended.  Derek and I began to discuss this ad nauseum.  Or I discussed it ad nauseum and Derek commented when he could get a word in edgewise.

    K:  I wasn’t trying to offend anyone.  Hey, Jen wanted me to make a tshirt that said “Silent Birth=Crui-azy.”  Now that would have been mean.
    D:  You are making fun of them.
    K:  I’m actually just exercising my constitutional right to free speech and free choice.  You know, a woman’s right to choose.  For those who “choose” not to have a silent birth.  Who won’t have L. Ron Hubbard telling them to keep their mouths shut while they attempt to pass a 15 1/2 inch head out of a hole the size of a sharpie pen. 

    I would just like to say that I officially passed the bar two days ago and it didn’t take me long to obtain the ability to talk OUT OF MY ASS at a moment’s notice.

    OK, so maybe I don’t actually believe that the constitution actually gives the right to choose, but that is besides the point. 

    I have thought about this all day.  Wondering why someone would take a joke so seriously.  Derek thought that Rebecca was Katie Holmes, in cognito.  I think she is still being silent (has it been 7 days yet?) and Dave thought that Rebecca was the legal counsel for the Church of Scientology. 

    Then I googled Rebecca.  Note to all you internetors out there.  If you are going to leave cranky emails, don’t use when you send the cranky email.  You are entitled to your opinion and you are entitled to share it with me (I believe I have already mentioned the constitution somewhere here).  But odds are pretty good that I am going to blog about it and it won’t be pretty.  And you’ll have to be patient with me, as I have not completed of Grade IV Expanded and the Happiness Rundown, as Rebecca has.  So in all my unenlightenedment, I apologize for making a joke that was not funny.  

    But here is the kicker.  I had a silent birth.  Not a Scientology-espoused silent birth, but I reached a point that I threatened to bring physical harm to anyone who broke my concentration.  In fact, my husband caught on really quick.  I think it had something to do with me saying, “Stop TALKING.”  And the fact that I was looking for an extremely sharp object with which to impale him.  But if he had told me before I had Ethan that I HAD to be silent, I can promise I would have screamed like a banshee from the first contraction on (that’s 28 hours of screaming, if you needed the math).  

    So I guess the joke is on me.  Sorry to offend. 

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