I just read this article on Babble about second kids getting the shaft. As my mother's second child, I really don't feel that this is true, but as the mother, I can totally see it happening. So, I am being proactive and in treating both my children equally by being as lazy as humanly possible with my first child.
It's cool. She needs the fiber.
Observe:
Almost all LO's clothes come from consignment shops or Goodwill.
I consider eight hours a fine amount of time to wear a diaper.
The 5 second rule for dropped pacifiers has been extended to a five day rule, as long as I pick off all visible dirt before putting it in her mouth. Not that it matters because ....
LO considers the carpet in our living room an all you can eat buffet.
We have two baby books. Both are completely blank that way all the children can share them.
Any confessions about your "forward thinking" in treating your children equally?
So this week is national Schizophrenia awareness week. This hits particularly close to home foe me because, as a lot of people are well aware, my father is schizophrenic. For those of you who were not aware, that my father is schizophrenic, well, happy Schizophrenia Awareness Week. Consider your self aware.
That's probably what one does for Schizophrenia Awareness, right? Become aware of someone who is schizophrenic, and maybe send them a basket of cheeses and cured meats? That's what I send my dad for Christmas and he really likes it.
I can give you his address.
Oh. Erik just pointed out that it is Schizophrenia Awareness, not Schizophrenia Appreciation Week.
Guess I better make with the aware-i-fying.
The whole awareness thing is good. It's relatively new, and it is good to be able to mention to people that there are schizophrenics out there who are not homeless or in prison. When we were kids, we were not allowed to tell anyone about my father's illness, which was fine with me, because I really had no idea what anyone was talking about when they said my dad was sick. He did not seem sick. I suppose he did things that I didn't understand, but adults were always doing things that I did not understand, and I never troubled my self with comparing adults inexplicable behaviors. My dad did talk to himself, but so did I; I still do actually, so there was nothing even remotely strange about that. On the contrary. I have fond memories of falling asleep to the sounds of my mother working at her sewing machine and my father quietly mumbling to himself, and feeling as though everything was right with the world.
I do remember the first time I was aware that my father was having a break down. My mother had gone to a family wedding in Texas and we children were left with my father, who was behaving in a very silly manner, shouting at the TV, marching around the house singing, praying at the top of his lungs. I wasn't scared. On the contrary, I think all of us kids were very excited to see my dad in such a fervor. We shouted along with him, danced in parade behind him and happily acted as a sounding board for some of his more precarious ideas.
"What about this apple, Doll? You think this is good for eating?"
"No Dad, that's a ceramic apple." I remember giggling, "You can't eat that."
"No? That's not a good idea?"
I laughed. I knew he was genuinely asking me, and I was delighted to be able to care for my father who very often was stoic and intimidating. "No, you can't eat that. Do you want a real apple?"
I remember my father's face lighting up and him grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, that'd be great!"
I was so happy to be helping, that my father's illness was more an opportunity to play and be close to him, than anything I ever would have considered a disorder. In fact, it feels strange even now to think of it that way.
"My father's schizophrenia is a disorder."
Yeah. That seems weird.
As an adult, I have come to understand what schizophrenia is indeed a disorder. I know that it can be a terrifying disorder that can torture both the patient and their family. My father's path through his mental illness has been horrific at times, as it has been for my other loved ones who suffer from a similar disorders. I don't mean to make light of any of their suffering.
Right now my father is working to promote awareness of the humanity of the schizophrenic. Isn't it sad that we need to remind people that though schizophrenics may behave a bit differently than the majority of society, they are still human? But it's true. Too often when we see a homeless person speaking fervently on the street, or when we hear of disturbed people committing crimes for what are clearly delusional motivations, we forget that these people are humans who are not only disabled, but who are suffering. We need to have sympathy for them.
(The sound gets better in the video after a minute or two)
Did you watch it? Isn't my dad awesome? Don't you want to watch the whole talk now.
Ah, then my job here is done.
Thanks Dad! I love you!
I love this post on Jezebel about how you are not even close to being ready to have a baby. It is so true, and hilarious, and so full of things that for some of the more ridiculous reasons people think they are ready to have a baby, most of which I completely subscribed to. The best part of the article is wherein she suggests ways to prepare for having a baby. My favorites include:
Wake up every two hours at night, punch yourself in the face, walk around for 28 minutes pleading in jibberish. Go back to "sleep." Repeat.
Stand around a tennis court and catch fly balls with one hand for two hours a day while also preparing a peanut butter sandwich.
Practice wrestling aforementioned large, slippery fish, then dress it in seasonally appropriate outfit, including hat and/or jacket. Then go back, remove all clothing, and apply sunscreen. Re-dress fish.
These exercises only prepare you for the child. I am making a list of things that will prepare you for pregnancy and child birth. It's a work in progress, but this is what I have so far.
Take a laxative and Ipocack at the same time. Go to work. Encourage coworkers to say how excited they are for you.
Fill a basketball with water. Just before bed, put on elastic-waist pants and insert the basketball. Leave it there for four months.
Gain 20 pounds. Allow strangers to enthusiastically comment on how large you are.
Poo out a seven pound terd surrounded by all your loved ones and several strangers.
