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On this particular morning, I walked into the cafe and found Alissa sitting in the back.  She’d already gotten herself a coffee.  She was holding the cup with both hands, still feeling the chill from outside.  She was wearing jeans and a fabulous off white sequined top under the perfect navy blazer (not a spot of spit-up to be found), a pair of slouchy knee high boots – low heel – in mahogany with side buckles and they DID fit her calves.    She had a manicure.  French, pppfff of course.  Her wedding and engagement rings fit her ring finger perfectly.  Her hair looked lovely tucked behind one ear with ease, curls flowing and not frizzing.  As I approached the table, I noticed her looking down and smiling.  Of course.  She’d brought the baby.  He was in his carseat. I stopped and watched for a moment.  As I stepped closer to the table his face became visible and I could see why she didn’t want to take her eyes off of him.  He was THE CUTEST BABY IN THE WORLD.

Me: Hi, Alissa.

Alissa: Hi!  So good to see you.

Me: Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview.  It’s been awhile.

Alissa: Yes, it has.  But the time off has been worth it. She looks down at her son…nope…sorry her manicure.

Me: He’s beautiful.  How old is he now?

Alissa: Thank you.  Ten weeks, eleven on Saturday. 

Me: He’s so calm, such a good baby.  He seems very advanced.  He was holding a menu running his finger down the list of iced drinks.

Alissa:  How nice of you to say that.  Yes, I don’t mean to brag, but he is quite extraordinary.  I don’t want to compare my baby to others.  Although, he does seem to be gifted.  And perfect.  And gorgeous. In fact, he may start talking next week – you never know! She laughs.

Me: And how are you doing as a new mom?

Alissa: Wonderfully, I think.  I’ve managed to look stunning, didn’t you notice?  And, my child is clean, in a fresh diaper, keeping to himself and occasionally smiling at me to let me know that he needs me but is not overly needy.  My husband is completely content with our new family life and is sure we’ll be able to afford everything a child needs.  If you were to go to my house right now, my floors would be vacuumed, laundry done and put away, dishes loaded in the dishwasher and everything in its place.

Me:  That sounds…almost impossible, but okay.  So, you’re getting back to work then?  We would love to know what’s next for you.

Alissa: Work?  Who’s working? I had a kid so I could stay home and watch Oprah.

Me: Ha.  That’s a joke…right? Anyway, you’ll be churning out something stellar soon? 

Alissa: Totally.  Yes.

Isn’t my child pretty?  His poop smells like the rainforest.

We sat and talked for another hour while her son filled out an application for Mensa or plotted the takedown of all wireless communications – I’m not sure.  I swear he winked at me once.  Look for a continuation of this interview in next month’s issue.  Find out Alissa’s other uses for a breast pump and why you shouldn’t panic when the doctor delivering your baby says, “What is that?”

 

 

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Over the past few months, my husband and I have come to the realization that no, we’re not going on that over-seas trip because we’re having a baby!  We’re not installing new kitchen cabinetry because we’re having a baby!  We’re not fencing in our backyard because we’re having a baby!  You’re not going on that sky-diving trip because we’re having a baby and you can’t die and leave me here alone.  What?

The money we would be spending is now going to nipple cream, butt cream, blankets that you receive things in, blankets that you wrap things up in, blankets that are annoyingly called “lovies”.  Swings, play-pens or yards or packs or boxes, onesies – twosies – threesies.  If you’re a new parent, the list is overwhelming.  Will my child die if I don’t buy this brand of wipe?  Should I be concerned about this pacifier and the manufacturer’s evil plan to confuse my baby?  Is this my mother’s nipple?  IS IT? I’m so confused!  Maybe my baby should have this type of toy so that he is intellectually stimulated at a very young age, which will prove to be beneficial when he is sitting for the MCAT in 20 plus years. 

Check these out:

Staring rabbits.  Any way you turn this puzzle, the rabbits just keep staring.  Is this really interesting to a toddler?  Where are the fun colors and the cute bunny faces?  I get it.  There are several different ways to solve this puzzle.  Thank God.  I wouldn’t want my child to get his feelings hurt when it didn’t work on his first try.  Now, to go and find a little league soccer team where the coach cheers when a player runs away from the ball and tells him, “Hey, great job recognizing your feelings about that ball.  Who needs to score? Or play the game, right?  High-five.”

Look are that pretty green paint.  So soothing.   Cute bassinet, right?  Hmm…wheels may not be a great idea.

OH MY GOD.  WHAT’S WRONG WITH THAT DUCK?!

I phone, you phone, we all phone for ridiculous apps.  Hey, hun, we should totally buy that app that analyzes our baby’s cry.  I mean, I definitely want to put my overly expensive phone in the crib where our child can have explosive diarrhea all over it and then I’ll be like, Oh, no.  Baby is crying.  Let me go check my phone and see why.  Wait.  I can’t because it’s covered in poop.  What do I do now?!!  I just want to know if the app recognizes the cry of a baby who is sad she was born to such f-ing idiots.

Oh, Glory Be!  Do you think she knows there’s a baby coming out of that hole in her vest?  Maybe you’ve seen this picture before.  I searched for its origin and could not for sure connect it to www.togetherbe.com, but it seems likely they are the ones to blame.  And, they’ve taken this particular product off the website.  Wonder why?  I love alien baby heads.  This particular baby head is consuming this woman from the inside out.  But at least they are both warm.

In our household, updating the Netflix queue is just about as important as taking a shower, which is very important – especially during the summer.  Every time I run across a movie, a classic movie that The Hubbs hasn’t seen I’m astonished.  How have you made it this far in life without seeing The Godfather trilogy or The Deer Hunter?  Are you a real person?  Or have I made you up and my brain couldn’t possibly make you 100% perfect, so your one flaw is that you haven’t watched M*A*S*H, the movie?

Me: Well, what are you in the mood for next?

The Hubbs: Ummm..

Me: OH MY GOSH!  You could finally watch Animal House and become a real boy.

The Hubbs: …

Me: How come you haven’t seen this, anyway?

The Hubbs: We’ve been over this.  My parents didn’t watch a lot of movies.  Because…

Me: Because they didn’t want you to see “R” rated movies?

The Hubbs: No.  Because…

Me:  Because, honestly, “R” rated movies?  Ya’ll were out jumping off of roofs and getting tangled in fences and jumping off of bridges.  You probably would have been safer inside watching an “R” rated movie.

The Hubbs: BECAUSE my parents had other things to do.  They were busy.  That’s why.

Us: …

Me: That’s dumb.

Thank God he’s seen Blazing Saddles.  This marriage will work afterall.

One of the members of my writing group wrote a personal essay about taking her 85 year old mother bra shopping.  What an experience.  Can you imagine?  It was a great topic and got me thinking about a bra fitting my mother made me go to when I was 12.

“Mom!  Close the door!”

“Oh, please.  Nobody’s paying you any attention.”

Did anybody else’s mother do this?  Just pull open a dressing room door or jerk open a curtain without any pause to see if you’re dressed?  Oh, and then invite in a stranger to feel you up?  Not only was I 12 with boobs bigger than my classmates, but I also had hips and was at least two inches taller than my male counterparts.  It was awkward being 12.  My mother’s solution to my “boob problem” was taking me to Belk’s annual bra fitting.  Really?  Is it really necessary for a stranger to see me topless?  How hard is it to pick out a bra anyway? 

I remember standing in front of the dressing room mirror waiting for my mother and the bra consultant  to bring me the appropriate selection of underwires, seamless shapes, and double clasps.

I hope at least one has butterflies on it.

And then I realized I hadn’t shaved my armpits.  And it was quite possible that I’d forgotten to put on deodorant.  Yep, no deodorant.  Shaving and wearing deodorant were still new tasks that I sometimes forgot.  I was also not good at brushing my hair, but that’s another story.

Oh, no.  What if she gets stabbed by my pokey pit?  I wonder if anyone else can smell that?  I want to go home.

Before I had a chance to throw my floral polo over my head, my mother flung open the door and she and the consultant entered the room.  So much for my escape.  I covered myself with my polo.  I mean, could we sit down and have some cookies, get to know each other before I show you my rack?

“Alissa, this nice lady is going to measure your bust to make sure we’ve picked out the right size. “

The consultant pulled out her measuring tape and asked me to put my hands on my hips.

EEEEEK!!!! POKEY POKE POKE POKEY AND NERVOUS SMELLS…GAH

And just like that she was done measuring.  And I was thinking we were done.  Nope.  Next thing I knew she was wrapping me up in a bra and instructing me on the proper way to wear one.

“You’ve got to get in there and situate them.  Bend over and pull them up and over and into the cups.”

I got lost in the middle of word problems in my math class and this lady wanted me to remember how to navigate the proper steps to putting on a bra. 

The first couple of bras didn’t work.  They were uncomfortable, they were too pointy, they were too grown up.  Finally, we found one.  I didn’t look like a tramp.  I wasn’t lopsided.  I was held in place by an off-white, seamless, slightly padded underthing.  And even though it didn’t have butterflies on it, it did, somehow make me feel a little better.  Even though I had five o’clock shadow under my arms and no one wanted to stand down wind of me, I felt a twinge of confidence.  Of course, that could have just been the AC kicking on.

Instead of complaining about the neighbor kid’s propensity to ring your door bell every three seconds until you answer it just to take a second and tell you Good Morning and did you forget to mention that this occurs every morning.  At 7AM. Instead of talking about his creepy eyes and weird deep voice, a voice way too smoky for a ten year old, instead of going over again this small when-he-grows-up-unsuspecting-people-will-die-by-his-hands kid, instead of wondering if he is – right now – going through your underwear drawer or leaving dead mice in your bed or licking all of your spoons or using your toothpaste as hair gel, maybe on your next car trip you should try to come up with your own vanity plates.  Here are a few of mine:

4GOT2P   Hold it.

HAV2RUN    No, you don’t.  No one HAS to.

LUV4MEN   Love for men or love 4 men?

CRAKWAK  It IS whack

BAILMNY    Whose?  Yours?

VNARIAL    Pilot’s car

MY BOAT  No, sorry.  It’s a car.

DNTH8ME  Oh, but we do.

9MNS NO   No also means No in Spanish.

 P NSCAR    …..

SHONUFF  Damn straight!

FRTCAKE  I know you are but what am I?

GNNUTTY  Yes, you have!  Now, brake before the edge of that cliff!

JST FRTD  Ugh.  Roll down the windows, please.

26Y2BL8   The hot have no time table.

M84LIFE   The car, not your wife.

HAAAHAA   Hahahahaha!

2NDFACE   Okay, but how many butts is that?

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© Alissa C. Miles and "And So They Did...", 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material including pictures from posts and/or other pages without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alissa C. Miles and "And So They Did..." with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Basically, don't steal my stuff. Thanks. -A.

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