Power Testing

Recently Teenaged Psuedo-Stepgirl: OMG I'm totally going to get an F on my math test.
Me: Well, you can only do your best. I mean, it would suck, but if you are really doing your best, it's not the end of the world.
RTPS: Pft. What would you do if I got an F on my math test?
Me: What would I do? Well, since it's not my math test, I'd probably make dinner, eat dinner, watch some TV, and go to sleep.
RTPS: Ok, well what if Wendy was in seventh grade and got an F on her math test?
Me: Oh. Well, I'd probably take her internet away and not let her go to her friends houses untill she got a not-F.
RTPS: .....whoa now.
Me: I know.
RTPS: ...What do you think my dad would do?
Me: What do you think.
RTPS: Probably not much. Probably just say "*grumble grumble* do better in math *grumble*"
Me: Is that what you think.
RTPS: yeah.
Me: hmm. Ok.
RTPS: *blink*
Me: *blink*

Man, is she going to be pissed at me when her internet is cut and she's grounded from friends.

Preserving the Mystique

He's picked up "feminine" products for me at the store. We often discuss the status of our bowels. He has personal knowledge that my claim of "never farting" is, tragically, a lie. He watched me give birth. He's seen me eat things I found in the couch, for god's sake.

And yet I hesitate to TiVo episodes Top Chef and Real World/Road Rules Challange, because he would then see that I watch Top Chef and Real World/Road Rules Challange, and I'm just not sure I'm ready for how that might change his oppinion of me.

Tea for Two

Having now the vast experience of being someone's Mommy for an entire five weeks, I can with confidence give myself the official rating of "adequate."

This means that, while I have poked her in the eye, clipped her finger with the nail clippers, and wrapped her up in a blanket coated in cat hair, I have not yet done anything so horrible as to ensure that she will run away to follow some meteor-worshiping cult when she's fifteen. (Running away to lead some meteor-worshiping cult would of course be perfectly acceptable. Especially at fifteen. Any mother would be proud.)

My mom spent the night last week, so that she could bask in the baby-glow of her Royal Babyness. This is when I learned that in addition to being an eye-poker, my baby finds me an uninteresting conversationalist. This became apparent as Wendy, who usually regards me with all the skepticism and furrowed brow of a nineteen year-old Hot-Topic sales associate, turned to my mom and chatted her up like they were sharing gossip and scones and wearing matching hats at a tea party.

Mom: And what does that little girl think about thaaat?
Wendy: Goo! Goooo! Neh? Geeerrrr! Goo!
Mom: Oh really? Well, I think so toooo!
Wendy: Geeeh! Geh? Geh.
Mo: Yeah, she doesn’t talk to me like that.
Mom: Well, you don’t talk silly to her. Try talking silly.
Mo: HELLO WENDY I AM YOUR MOTHER LOVE ME AND WE SHALL RULE THE DARK SIDE TOGETHER. ALL SHALL DESPAIR.
Wendy, Mom: …….
Mom: Um, you just need practice. ISn’t that right, little girl? Mommy isn’t as talky as grandma, is she? Nooo she's not.
Wendy: It’s ok, I forgive her. What she lacks in the basic human warmth required to make conversation with an infant, she makes up for in copious and generously given stores of mammary treats. I mean, have you seen those things? Acres and acres of boobs, and they’re all mine! …Goo.

New

Last year on New Year's Eve, we went to a big party at a giant rented cabin somewhere in the Poconos, drank a lot of Lambic and Tully, made out with other sexy people, and ate Zoe's spicy noodles. (That is not a euphamism; Zoe made yummy spicy noodles, and we ate some. Thai peanut or something. They were delicous.)

This year, I did a lot of laundry. I had a half a glass of wine, he had a little rum and egg nog, and we watched the ball drop while leaning on each other (soooo sleeeepy!) and holding the baby, just trying to keep our eyes open.

Ahem. Mo's year in review:

1. Started substitute teaching. Five years of college and a note from the government vouching for your non-molester status, and you too can babysit teenagers!
2. Moved in with man friend. Actually, just admitted to having already moved in. I stopped sleeping anywhere else sometime in 2005.
3. Spent a month in Florida doing the Bay Area Renn Faire. (B.A.R.F.) Was this my last hurrah, seeing as I was now cohabitating with a significant other and now held a responsible job like some kind of adult? No. It was far too late for hurrahs.
4. Because I was already pregnant.

Mo's year in review should just read:

1. Got sperm poisoning.
2. Was infected all year.
3. Gave birth.
4. Cure scarier than infection.

Yeah. That sums it up much better. Because years down the line, that is all I am ever going to remember about 2006. Honestly, that is all I'm going to remember about 2006 by next week.