Dear Baby... Also, I put out for Steak.

Monday is upon us yet again, my little rays of light.

As we speak I am in my backyard being attacked by flies like a giant piece of dooky. I hope your Monday is fairing better.

If you are here from ICLW - hidy ho from your new dooky-like blog friend!  By all means just keep reading along, but if you by chance would prefer a little direction, I made this super fancy tab for you over here.

Thank you for all the happy anniversary wishes!  The house of Stupid feels loved.  We celebrated yesterday by eating a meal so delicious, to acquire it I may or may not have made a deal with the devil  and have since been magicked into not remembering.  It's the one day a year I can demand a steak before I put out.

If you are in, around or ever plan on visiting L.A., you have to eat at Inn of the Seventh Ray.  I inhaled this little number is less than five minutes:

According to the menu, it is:"Charcoal Crust Filet Mignon, Creekstone Farms Natural Angus Beef. Watercress, Baby Leeks and Carrots, Balsamic Onion, Black Garlic, Potato Foam".  In short, amazeballs.


Anyhoo.


As infertiles, I'm sure we all have our favorite running loop of infertile thoughts that goes round & round in our heads whether we like them to or not.  Lately, for some reason, I've been thinking about things that I won't do once I'm a Mom.  (I already talked about what I won't do to other Moms). My Mom was fantastico - all that is screwed up about me came from outside sources - but in watching what some other people have had to go through/are putting their kids through... Holy bejeeze.  So in the spirit of unloading some of my will's and won'ts:

Dear Future Baby,
I've heard that it's not such a good idea to bribe children, or babies, or really anybody for that matter.  It has occurred to me, however, that maybe you're out there in the ether having trouble taking the big leap into humanity because you're wondering "alright, but what are they going to do once they have me?  I mean really?"


So I'm going to list out some promises I can make upfront for your review.  Oh, and please try and check your mail every once in awhile because there are a lot more than what I'm about to list, but I don't want to turn you off by making you think you'll have an overly verbose Mother.

1. Given the obstacle course of flaming hoops and hurdles your Dad and I are going through to get you (clearly you are gifted in the pain in the ass department, already I can see us in you) I can say with total confidence that of all the ways we can screw you up, making you feel unloved - for even a second of your life - will not be one of them.
2. I'm going to try my best to give you little to no ammo to unleash on your therapist as an adult.  I will not make you feel guilty for my own pleasure, I'll keep showing off your baby pictures to your teenage friends to a bare minimum, and I will never yell at you in a public bathroom about why you're taking so long.
3. I will have to insist on please and thank you's.  I will never make you think that your words don't mean anything because you're a child, but I'm afraid treating people with kindness and respect until they give you a reason to treat them otherwise is a big thing in this house. Though we are all for judging them silently and/or behind their backs.
4. Chances are, given your genetics, you're going to be a little weird. If you grow up and decide that you want to photograph road kill for a living, I will tell you to go out and be the best road kill photographer there is (and maybe think about getting a part time job just to support yourself while the road kill field is waiting for the respect it deserves).
5. Should you end up with some dormant 'normal' or 'practical' genes of ours or just decide it's your way to rebel,  I will be wildly supportive if you grow up longing to be an accountant.  Work those khakis.
6. Also under the heading of dormant genetics - if you are really into sports, your Dad and I will go to your games, and be loud when you're young and try to blend in when you're a teenager.  We will, I'm afraid, need you to explain games to us and have to designate someone in the crowd who's cheering for the same team to follow along with, but we will be there.  Be patient with us, it will be awhile before you can throw a ball at us and have us do anything other than duck.
7. If what you love is music, dance, writing, theatre, film, art - we'll try to give our opinions only when you ask for them.
8. If you one day tell me that you're gay, my response will be "I don't give a shit".  I'm sure we will have had suspicions before you tell us, and therefor I'll have time to buy some book that will give me a more motherly way of saying it - but the jist will be "I don't give a shit".  If you are my lovely lesbian daughter I'll let you build us an extra room and if you're my lovely gay son I'll let you decorate it.  The only worry you'll have in this regard is being embarrassed by your middle aged mother bedazzled in glitter and feathers, loudly marching in the parade behind you.
9. That being said, don't marry anyone that is going to drive me crazy.  Not that you have to get married (I will never pressure you about that or having babies) but if you're in a long term relationship with someone.. I don't care if they're male, female, or a ridiculously well dressed tranny, as long as they're super loving with you and will spend their lives continuing the then longstanding tradition of rule number 1 - never letting you go a second without feeling loved.
10. I will try every day to make your life fun.  Sure, sometimes there is shit that we have to do that kind of sucks (did I forget to mention I also won't lie to you?) but I'm going to do my very best to instill humor in you.  There are very few situations you can't find the ridiculous or funny in, and that makes the occasionally shitty things you have to do so much easier.  I promise I will try to keep you laughing.

So that's part of my opening offer for your review.  And while I will ban this phrase from any bathroom behavior, in this particular instance, please hurry up.


Love,
Mom.  Jenny.  Mom.

In other news:


A reader pointed me in the direction of this here facebook page.  It's for "Still Project" a documentary about pregnancy and infant loss.  Go check it out.  (And PS, if there's ever something you want me to mention in here that may be of interest to our sisters in shittiness, shoot me an email).


Just found out yesterday my super-duper-fantastico 16 year old sister in law is coming out for 3 weeks on Monday.  I am thrilled.  This will be an awesome ovarian distraction.

We have an oddly grown up relationship, and at this point even though she lives in D.C. and I in L.A., we talk every few days at least.  I met her when she was 8, and thought 'if this relationship with Bub goes as planned, most of my relationship with her is going to be as two adults'.  And so (and she would attest to this) I skipped the whole talking to her like she was a kid thing and was generally my inappropriate self around her, and let her divulge secrets to me without taking any sort of "I am an adult" stance.  So, now we're friends.  My evil plan worked.  Now it's just a matter of thinking up an alias for her in here... Thought "Lady Bubba" but then figured maybe it would come across as Bub in drag.