Oh, for shame

Before there was Lucie, there was www.dogshaming.com.  This used to entertain us for hours.  Now, it’s our time to contribute.  We proudly present (probably not for the last time, either): Bug Shaming 2015.

Click on the images to enlarge.

Table mannerisms
Table mannerisms
Pending doom
Pending doom
It's where the toys are
It’s where the toys are
We needed the exercise
We needed the exercise
Timing is everything
Timing is everything
The blame game
The blame game
C is for contact lenses
C is for contact lenses
Er, nevermind
Er, never mind

Finally, what Little Bug thinks about this little project:

The end
The end

The road to infamy

One day ago, the BFF showed me the Tumblr website, “Reasons My Son is Crying.” (Say ‘goodbye’ to hopes of a productive workday.) One day later, I put my very favorite picture of LB on it.


Misery loves company, apparently, as there are 114 pages of similar pathos on the site.  Yesterday was picture day at daycare.  We were told that for nine hours they tried unsuccessfully to take a photo of Little Bug throughout the day.  Kate came home with this voucher for a JC Penny photo session instead.


I love the fact that a) they have these pre-made and b) it looks like this.  Personally, I would have enjoyed a picture of Mad Bug, but I can see how most parents would not appreciate (nor pay money for) that.  Kate and I had a long philosophical discussion this morning about whether the recent crankiness was about our child rearing or if this is just a phase.  I feel like this will be one of hundreds of similar conversations throughout her life.  For some reason I keep jumping to her hypothetical teenage years.  Was I really that bad that I’m terrified of the karma coming back my way?  No comments.

Nevertheless I’m mildly convinced that she’s putting on a show sometimes.  Here’s a clip of a typical sad moment and then one toward the end of one of her bouts. In the second one, she’s actually looking around for Mama K because Mama C’s version of support is merely recording the tantrum.  Notice how she sort of gives up toward the end…

Can you hear Tom the corgi whining in the background?  He does not approve of the Laissez-faire style of parenting.  Helicopter dog.

It matters to me now.

As we were tag-teaming the precarious process of [baby –> carseat –> carrier + day bag] on our way to a soccer game this weekend, I looked over at our friends (also parents) and said: “I don’t know how single parents do it.”

Obviously, I was joking.  In that moment, however, we all came to the simultaneous realization that, yes, parenthood is insanely difficult.

For not understanding this in the least, and for not being sympathetic to the multitude of skills it takes to raise kids, I apologize.  I just didn’t get it.

What did it take to be a mom, a working mom, a working 24/7/365 from home mom, a thinking about kids even when they’re away mom?  Why was it so hard for me to give my own mother a moment of breathing room?  Time to herself so that she could regroup from constantly protecting a hyperactive, overly curious, obnoxious kid?  Credit for all that she had done, instead of whining for the one or two things I was not afforded?

And why was it that I, a general supporter of women’s rights and equality in the workplace, was still a little miffed when a coworker stayed home with sick kids or took leave during the busiest time of the year?

My, my how things have changed.  And again, I apologize to the universe for not being able to see outside of my own condition– for not being able to empathize without first-hand experience.  Anyway, a few years ago I would not have sat through this 12-minute clip.  That was then; this is now.  Better late than never.

‘They Call Me Baby Driver’

Disclaimer: I’m well aware that the referenced song is not about infant chauffeurs, just as the Steve Miller Band isn’t talking about the peaches on a real tree. But the S & G tune is stuck in my head… as it is in yours now, too.  You’re welcome!

photo by K. O'Donnell
photo by K. O’Donnell

Hey, LB: what kind of driver are you going to become? You’ve got Mama K’s East Coast influence or Mama C’s Midwestern style.  So, which one will it be?


EC: honk honk honk…honnnnnnnnk

MW: wave when cutting in to say ‘thanks’, when cutting out to say ‘sorry for taking too long’ and just to say ‘hi’ anytime you feel like it.


EC: excel at parallel parking… because you used the bumpers of the cars on either side to guide you.

MW: write a note even if there is no visible damage. Jesus is always watching.


EC: weave in and out because you can.

MW: drive forward, slam on brakes, turn wheel = snow donut.


EC: das German autos, ja?

MW: are you kidding me? My 10 out of 11 relatives who work for Ford/GM would kill me if I drove a foreign car. Plus, mad family discounts. Plus, plus, America makes the biggest pickup trucks.


EC: learn to drive later in life because you’ve got subways and taxis and maybe just one family car.

MW: dude, I learned when I was eight on my grandpa’s tractor.


EC: European-style bumper stickers (they are round, black and white labels with esoteric codes. I’m still trying to figure out how “ACK” means Nantucket.).

MW: Calvin peeing on whatever brand truck you don’t have, or praying if you drive a mini-van.


Well, there is always the passive-aggressive Pacific Northwest.