Barbies, Weebles, CHipS

I mentioned oh so wordlessly in my Wordless Wednesday post that some Barbies had made their way down from the attic.

Oh yes, they had. As if in a wonderful magical parade. So I couldn't very well leave off the rest of the story!

We spent the weekend at my mom's while hubby was out of town and she asked me to go through some boxes of mine that were taking up space left up in her attic and I did. The first box was pretty boring; some Tinker Toys and some Legos. Blah blah.

But then I hit the motherload. The Queen Mother of all my 80's memorabilia/slash/playthings. All. of my Barbies. And one Ken.(He was wildly outnumbered but I'm pretty sure he was ok with that. Even though it appears from his hair and his dirty clothes (not pictured) that he must've lost pretty big during the whole Internet start-up thing and it's likely they didn't give him the time of day after that. Poor Ken.)

Anyway, something happened to me. They were all such a matted mess and so were all of their beautiful clothes, so while the clothes were in a little lingerie bag in the washing machine getting the past 20 years of whatever cleaned off of them, I started brushing one of my Barbies' hair. Then brushing one of their hairs led to brushing more of their hairs, and well, I couldn't stop. I had to brush all of their hair! It wasn't fair to just do a few!

Could you just imagine the gossip that would've went on when I put them away?? Barbies can be a bit caddy sometimes.

Oh, it was so fun seeing all of them again. The one where I tried to cut her hair and completely butchered it. The one who had the long hair you could use a little twirly crimping thingy on. My "original" which I call original because she was my first one, Malibu Barbie. The redhead, the curly blonde haired one, Wedding Barbie, a couple of Skippers who belonged to my sister.

And you could tell which ones were "born" earlier because of the degree of nappy-ness their hair had. The Barbies with the nappiest hair were obviously born before the company figured out how to make fake hair that lasted longer and better and without getting all gummy and knotty.



So after I brushed all their hairs and/or put it in ponytails or buns, their clothes were all done and I started dressing them. I couldn't very well leave them all nekked! That's not nice! (Isn't she hot?? Look at all that bling! If she were a Barbie born today, she'd be named "Bling Barbie!)
Five hours later...


Yes. I spent 5 hours. 5! Playing with my Barbies. And I wasn't the only one. My mom totally got into it too. "No, I think that yellow dress would look much better -- No, that shirt doesn't go with those leggings.. -- Here! Here's some ribbon for their hair!" are some of the things you might have heard in the livingroom that day.


Oh yes, she was just as bad as me.



I see now where it all started. Even as a "grown-up", I still lust and obsess over clothes and shoes and purses and hairstyling and nails. I had forgotten how much time I spent playing with my Barbies. All 17 of them. Wow -- come to think of it, being a mom now, imagine how much time my mom had to herself while I played with my Barbies! She had a good thing going there for a while...


Of course I had to take pictures of all my work. And they seemed to have formed their own little cliques. Like the Sex and the City girls:

Or the Mom's group:

On Summer Vacation:

On summer vacation at night:

The young partiers:

But they're all friends in the end, right??

It was one magical afternoon. And as I was ruffling around I found a lot of other fun things in my box o' '80s. Like this:

Ponch's gun holster! Or it might have been John's. But I had a crush on Ponch so I am pretty sure this belonged to him. Nevermind that I saw him selling real estate on tv recently...
And the original Weeble Wobbles!! I used to have the treehouse too but I don't know where that went. I remember these being so big but I was playing around with them and they're tiny! Total choking hazard! But have you seen the new Weebles? They're huge! Can't we do something in between? I so loved these..

And then I found this and this really cracked me up. Besides things being tinier than they're supposed to be and way more hazardous back then, it was also ok to have this in your Barbie Dreamhouse:

Scuse the bad lighting but this is a liquor cabinet! A tiny plastic fake liquor cabinet! I can just see the mommy message boards lighting up nowadays if this had been on the market within this decade. And I never gave it a thought when I was a kid playing with this (neither did my mom!) .

Oh how times have changed. Makes me wanna say something like, "I remember when bread was a quarter!" or "I used to walk to school in the snow barefoot!"

Barbies, Weebles, CHipS

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/09/barbies-weebles-chips.html?m=0

The "Me" in "Meetup".

Well, I have done it. I've officially joined a meetup group. I haven't been to a meetup meeting of this group yet. But I will tomorrow and I'm nervous.

You see, I am not really the "meetup" type of gal.

I've discovered this about myself after having Poops. Lots of moms join these groups when they begin their journeys staying at home. Moms groups, meetup groups, play dates...
It all sounds so nice and social and fun and frilly. It really does. And when I read about them online and even go as far as setting up a profile and contacting the organizer, why is it that I let my free membership run out and completely balk at attending any of the functions? Without fail.

I don't know why. It used to be that I was insecure as a new mom. Like I had my "Hi! My name is NEW MOM and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing" name tag on. I didn't have a view on discipline and organic food and potty training and education and diapering and medicines and all of that. And I worried about not being a member of the "cool" mom club because I had no idea what I was doing and I worried that my identity crisis may be showing.

Then, there was (and is) the fear of saying something stupid. I don't know where it went, but my social skills need sharpening. (Maybe a meetup would have helped me here, yes, I see the irony.)

Even in softball where I joined a group of complete strangers, I'm pretty quiet. We're four games in and I only just found out that none of these people know each other from work at all like I had previously thought. And since they all know each other from playing together forever, they rarely ask me questions about myself so I have to dig and I'm not the digging type (unless I'm conducting an interview or at a press conference where it warrants such). But that's ok, because it's softball, and you're busy doing things. It's not like you're sitting at a mall or playground with people staring at you thinking, "God why isn't she talking!" And there's awkward silence there. Because you're running or hitting or fielding or catching and there's something to fill up the awkward spaces. That's my type of meetup.

Maybe there's something I dread about standing up in front of a group of girls and saying, "Hi, I'm Christie.. and I'm a blah blah blahdy blah and I have two kids blah blah and blah." Because, honestly? You've read all about my reliving-my-youth-how-on-earth-did-I-get-this-old-identity crises here. I'm in the middle of my re-invention! I don't know who I am right now! There's something about journalism in here, I've heard something about being a stay at home mom, I do have a minivan after all that has two carseats in it...I like to think there's some athleticism in here somewhere, I'm ruffling around and finding a wife in here too, maybe even someone who likes to go out and have fun dancing, drinking tea, making jewelry and being a friend, sister, daughter? Or something? But you don't say that stuff in your intro..

So. I really am not sure what to even say at that original stand-up-introduction-thing. Because I know exactly who I was before I had kids, I am working on who I am with kids, but I still don't have a working title-description of myself because I don't think "Stay at home mom" accurately describes it. Not that there's anything wrong with that stand-alone title. Maybe I just don't want a title, ok? Can I just remain title-less for now? Why do we need titles and labels anyway? And since we wear so many hats as women anyway, why do we pick just one title to describe us? And what is the process for choosing that one title above all the others?

It suddenly occurred to me that I may be overthinking things.

The great thing about this particular meetup group is that it is for preemie moms. And I know a little something about that. A dear friend of mine who also had a preemie (30 weeks) found this group and joined it and told me about it. She is totally the meetup type. And I'm glad she'll be there because I don't think I'd have the nerve to fly solo. I'd probably decide last minute not to go like I do every other time.

The funny thing is, during all my self-reflection (with help of blogging), I have come to terms with the "hows" and the "whys" of my having a preemie and I have since healed from the whole scary thing, (having an almost 41-weeker has helped me with that too); so why do I feel the need for a meetup group about it right now?

My husband mentioned this very thing to me in an aside and I realized that mommies and daddies have completely different perceptions and views on the subject. I believe that if you've had a preemie you are always "a preemie mom" (again, why the label? I don't know). Maybe because it is a word that describes an unspeakably scary experience for everyone involved. And while you've gained a million zillion good things out of it (like your baby), you always feel some sense of loss with a pregnancy that ended too early. And guilt. And all of that.

But you see, husbands, (or at least mine), they are able to see the black-and-white of it. Yes, he was born early, but he is healthy now so it's over. Period. End of story. And that's a great point. Because you very rarely hear about someone describing themselves as a "preemie dad". If anyone's doing the describing, it's likely a wife talking about her husband. Because a man just doesn't call himself that. At least my man doesn't.

So then I thought what a wonderful thing this meetup group is. Because even husbands, who are physically there with you while you have this little baby (early) and while you're furiously pumping to try and feed your baby while away from him/her, and when you're going through mental breakdowns because you don't know why your baby came early and you're not allowed to care for him/her yourself or even hold or feed him/her, even he doesn't get the whole scope of it. Simply because it isn't his body. He's watching someone else's body go through all these hormonal, leaky, internal-thinking-nesses. So mommies truly need the support of other mommies who have been there. Because they get it. And some of these mommies in this group still have babies in the NICU right at this very moment. And to that I say HOLY GOODNESS, kudos to them for being able to meet up at all!! Because I never would have been to at that time in my life. (I didn't!) And that is a "strong" I wish I had then. I will remember to tell them that when I go.

Now suddenly my little social vulnerabilities don't seem so important when I type that all out and I think that's why I joined this one. It's somehow easier for me to join a meetup where you have just a little more than "mom" in common. I'll let you know tomorrow what I've come up with for my intro.

The "Me" in "Meetup".

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/08/me-in-meetup.html?m=0

Saturday Special: Athletics and the Elderly

I love people like Dara Torres and that gymnast in her 30's (I forget her name) who's representing Germany as the oldest gymnast.

They inspire me.

Especially when I'm back out on the softball field at the ripe old age of 30-something playing against girls 10 years younger than me, all strapping and virile and flexible.

Oh, it's been a while since I've played. The last time, actually, was when I lived in New York about 5 years ago (I was still happily in my 20's) and I coaxed my husband-then-boyfriend who was visiting me for the weekend into going to watch my game (which was really game(s) plural -- a quadruple header in fact -- but he wouldn't have gone if I sad that! And yes he still gives me business about that.)

But when I'm standing out there in my hitting slump because let's face it, I haven't picked up a bat in 5 years, and I picture these amazing women who have had children and still can find the inner Olympian in them, I am inspired. And I think I don't want to ever "sit it out" because I'm ancient. Not that they're ancient. You know what I mean.

OK, I'm older than that gymnast, but I'm not older than Dara Torres. I'm not even to mid-life yet. (Hopefully.)

So I am standing there playing 2nd base (also for the first time in 5 years) having realizations. Picking up the clay in my right hand because I like to do that to keep my hands nice and dry for whence the ball comes in my direction and I might have to throw it, plus I love the feel of the clay, and the smell of it, because it takes me back to my youth. It all comes rushing back. Like riding a bicycle. Though I haven't done that in years either. But softball makes me feel young; like after the game I'm going to head back into the locker room to change, then drive my '87 white Escort Pony home to my messy room at my parents and talk on the phone until my parents yell at me to finish my homework. I'll be off in a second!!!! Gawd!

The field has been my sanctuary most of my life. My uncle taught me how to throw when I was ten and I obsessed over the New York Mets for.ever. Watching them win the '86 world series and jumping up and down with my dad in the living room and prancing around the house after Bill Buckner let that little dribble to first go right through his legs. As boring as this wonderful game is to some people, to me, it's fascinating. The strategy. The skill. The whole experience of it. Right down to the smell of the clay, especially after rain. Ooh, yes. Baseball feeds all my senses.

I was that only girl on the baseball team for many years. I wasn't shy about it either. I loved it. And my teammates respected me. Because I didn't suck. But then when I got to high school and there were breasts involved, it seemed that Junior Varsity baseball didn't really have a place for a girl, especially back in the 80's when girls doing boy things was still a little bit fresh. And yes, I likely could have taken that whole thing further (in fact, after I was cut from the team, the baseball coach sent me passes to get out of class to come to his to grade papers -- because I suspect that is what he thought girls were really good for) but I let it go.


I really just wanted to play ball without making a stink about anything. I even had a boyfriend break up with me over the fact that I had the audacity to be a girl and try out for boy's high school baseball. (And by the way, is it bad that I have the mildest bit of satisfaction over the fact that I've seen him recently and well, let's just say, he didn't age well? I know. That's mean. I'm only sayin...) Anyway, I walked onto the girl's Varsity softball team my freshman year as a catcher but my softball dreams died a little as they often do when I blew out my knee playing a benefit Powder Puff football game during Homecoming week and I finished my high school softball career as a right fielder in my very last game. Bah. Outfield.

I've been wondering what softball post-children would be like. There've been plenty of times recently, where I've tried to come to terms with this whole "aging" thing. It just seems like life has changed so much. That children for me was like swallowing a "grown-up pill". Yes, you've witnessed me trying to relive my youth. You'd think I'd stop by now. But no. I won't. Because I don't feel 30 something. And I don't know when I became 30 something. (I suspect it was about 3 years ago but sheesh, it snuck up on me as if out of nowhere!) I'm pretty much thinking I'm not really 30 something. I'm 20 something. Again and again and again and again and again.

So when I think about people like Dara Torres and that 104-year-old marathon runner on the Today Show (yowza!), I think about the fact that thankfully, people age, but dreams don't. I may be a little too late for that whole "becoming an olympian" thing, (sadly, I will never be Mary Lou Retton as I had aspired to once), but it's not too late for me to play the sport I love and for me to be good at it again. Or to go out dancing with the girlfriends. Maybe try another run on the slip-and-slide...


So after I thought about all that (which seemed like a long thought process but really it all went quite quickly -- from the time I arrived at my 2nd base post to the time the other team's batter walked up) I whispered to myself, "Defender. Defend your base." (Yes I'm a little weird. Did I mention that baseball-slash-softball is a tremendous head sport? As in...think you'll strike out and you will?) Anyway, I defended my post that game. And I hit myself out of that slump too. (And thank God for that! I could just feel my teammates starting to hate me!)


The truth is, I am softball at my very core.

Oh, yes, I rush home after the game to make it before bedtime so I can nurse my 9 month old before he goes to sleep. And I forego beers afterward to make a stop at Walgreens for some ThermaCare heating pads to soothe away that old and rickety sore quad and pulled ligament. So things are a little different these days. But I do still love the game. That hasn't changed any. And I wear that strawberry I got from sliding into home (and scoring) with pride. Oh yes, that one I'm proud of.

Saturday Special: Athletics and the Elderly

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/08/saturday-special-athletics-and-elderly.html?m=0

Skeletons! Skeletons! Everywhere!

I am busting.

Someone at my old high school put together a web site that allows you (for free) to log in and create a page. The news of this seems to be getting around my graduating class quickly because I found out about it, logged on and bam! Everyone, and I mean everyone I used to hang out with in high school is on there. And they have been for weeks!

I swear, it is 15 years later and it is like not a day has passed.

Which is both good and bad.

There are different forums on there where you can let out your secrets of old, like your old crushes and your "indiscretions". And there's a story in there about little old me.

Apparently, a guy I had gone to church with, whose mother was my CCD teacher, who I sat in the back of my math class with and joked around with -- apparently he got detention in his senior year and, as he remembers it, it was because of me!

Me!

Me?

Nahhhh!

Now, you have to know that this kid, and most of the kids in my class including me, were pretty straight and narrow. So detention for them would have been a pretty big deal (especially because they were on the football team.)

And so it must be true that it still bothers him enough that he posted about it on the site. Or at least it is a memory that is burned in his brain! Even though he didn't name names. Which was nice of him.

The whole story just baffles me. I guess he and some guys were goofing around in an empty classroom next to the one we were filming a news story in (yes I was a newsgeek back then). And we got the audio of them goofing off on tape. He remembers me being the one who identified them-- but honestly?

I can't even imagine a world or a universe in which I would do that!

(BECAUSE -- I had the hugest crush on him. That all my friends knew about -- and still even joke about to this day!) So would I do that?

I wish I would or could remember even one iota about that day. But I don't. And I feel bad.

Man I wish I had that tape!

I know what you're thinking. And yes, this is the worst of the "bad stuff" we did in high school. In fact, I do remember hearing after graduation about some *gasp* partying but I had no idea about it whatsoever while I was actually in high school. My cousin once called me a goody-goody and I guess she was right. But you would be too if you had my mom! I had an "angel" on one shoulder warning me not to do it, and my mom's face on the other shoulder yelling, "That's right!Don't you dare!"

Anyway. So, as if blogging weren't addicting enough, now I am on this high school web site catching up on all the news, gossip and stories of all my former classmates. Including the boy who was my very first real boyfriend in the 7th grade and who wrote my name in the concrete on his street (I wonder if it's still there?) Who is now a school principal!?

I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. I was living in New York and couldn't travel home for it at the time (I can't remember why -- but I remember thinking I would be embarrassed if I went because I gained weight, but what a laugh that is now! I was at least two sizes smaller than I am now! Oh if I could just turn back the clock...)

In sum, I don't know whether to log on to the site feverishly to find out more or shut the computer down and never come back! I wonder what other stories are out there..

Skeletons! Skeletons! Everywhere!

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/07/skeletons-skeletons-everywhere.html?m=0

Unofficial Fat Ticker Friday + Pearl Jam Sandwich

I realize we haven't gotten officially underway in the Summer of Me Weightloss Challenge, but I am still weighing in today and next Friday and you can feel free to too if you should so desire. It might be a better idea for me to skip it, seeing as though I had many a moment of weakness this week (in the name of celebrating post-5K) and made some very bad choices (alfredo sauce, Coldstone Creamery, a post-Pearl Jam midnight Mickey D's run, oh that should about cover it).

Also, my normal six-day workout schedule has somehow widdled itself down to 4 days this week, but that's ok because once the actual official training for the 10K begins, there will be no wiggle room whatsoever so if there is any time to skip a workout it's the present. My ability to look at the cup half full is uncanny. Really.

I hope there isn't a weight gain today, but I will check around noon, my usual time, and report back right here. I wouldn't actually be surprised though.

So, back to Pearl Jam!

There are no events in my life without incidents. If there were any time that I would have found a GPS useful, it would have been yesterday. More on that later.

Pearl Jam, though, was wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful! I realized, however, that it might be a good idea to listen to some of their more recent music, since I was the one sitting down during the new stuff (poor choice of shoes -- cute and open-toed, but tall and painful) and rocking out during the old stuff. But it was so much fun. I forgot what it was like going to a concert during a political season and how political the actual concert tends to get during times such as these -- kind of takes the fun out of it for me, but whatever. Still fun.

And as I get older, I think (and probably over-think) about how funny it is that the concert ends about four times. Three fake endings where you have to do the obligatory "Nooooo! Come back! We want morrrre!" cheering and lighter lighting and feet stomping and more yelling and clapping and yelling.

I used to think that if I didn't do it along with everyone else that somehow I'd be the one responsible for the concert ending early. But now I just sit back and let everyone else do all the work until they come back and sing again. Last night, it was about four times. Sometimes the concert ends prematurely, without the band singing whatever song I had actually gone there to see. But last night, they played everything I wanted to hear and actually they turned into the band who wouldn't leave! Not that I'm complaining, but they actually kept going. And going. And going. The lights even turned ON at one point and they still kept going. It was the longest goodbye ever! Maybe that's what happens when you're an older rocker and you're glad you still have fans.

As predicted, much of the crowd was made up of people my age. Who were around college-age when Pearl Jam was the most popular thing on the planet. Who wore flannel and Doc Martins back then and got their first tattoo and dyed their hair that purpley red. (Oh, just me again?)

Highlight of the evening: getting carded! (Yes, I had beer. But my more conservative self had just one beer). I wanted to say to the lucky carder, you do realize that by carding me you are telling me that you are thinking there is a chance that I might be 20. Because that is under 21.

But instead, I said, (giddily -- I think I may have even jumped up and down briefly) thank you! You made my night! Possibly even my month! Or year! Have a nice day! Because I was just thinking a couple of days ago that my carding days were over and got mildly depressed. It had been a year since I had been carded which meant that there was no question whatsoever in anyone's mind anywhere that I was, indeed, old.

Which brings to mind the following: I had already decided on the way to meeting my friend before the concert that she would drive.

It wasn't really a question of whether she would drive. There was something in me that absolutely outright refused to take the minivan to a Pearl Jam concert. I have to draw the line somewhere. And thank God she doesn't have one. Or we would have taken a cab.

Anyway, to the mishaps and miscalculations that always seem to appear in my life (I have learned to just roll with these).

I got lost exactly twice. On the way there (which wasn't too bad, she was running late anyway). And on the way back. I ended up in some sort of dark industrial park following a bunch of detour signs, and got on the wrong entrance ramp to the interstate, the one that bypassed my exit entirely (I would have realized this had it been daylight) so I ended up on the wrong bridge with no u-turn possibilities whatsoever and had to continue all the way across and take the long way home. Which happened to pass by a McDonalds, and well, a cheeseburger without mustard later, I was home. (Why do they insist on putting mustard on cheeseburgers down here??)

So today I will have the marathon workout which won't help me really because the damage is done so I'll just call this the "damage control workout".

Happy Friday the 13th! Don't forget to sign up for the giveaway that ends Sunday HERE and sign up for the Summer of Me HERE!

Unofficial Fat Ticker Friday + Pearl Jam Sandwich

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/06/unofficial-fat-ticker-friday-pearl-jam.html?m=0

Oh Decisions, Decisions (oh yes and a giveaway)

I have a decision to make tonight. Maybe you can help me.


Go to the gym and work out. Oooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr:

GO SEE PEARL JAM!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

OK, you don't really have make up my mind for me. The gym will still be there tomorrow, I will just have to have an exxxxtra long workout (legs, arms AND a run-yikes!)

Can we just talk for a minute about how excited I am? I seriously might piddle.

My dear friend, Jenny from the block, well her husband got free tickets last minute and he couldn't go (so sad! tear!) so she asked me. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I feel like a teenager. You may remember a few months back when I wrote about how a fetus who was waiting on me at Starbucks actually said, "Who is Eddie Vedder?" when I commented about how old (sorry Eddie) he looked on a CD they were selling. Anywayyyy, yes, they're climbing the age ladder like I am, and I guarantee the crowd tonight will be all moms who rocked out to them in a drunken stupor while studying in college. Oh, the memories!

OK. That is all.

OH WAIT! No it's not! Totally un-Pearl Jam related! I have a giveaway! (I am feeling oh so happy these days!) And really it's funny that this is going in the same post as the Pearl Jam concert but really I don't feel like doing two separate posts I am just too excited. In fact, this is quite the opposite of Pearl Jam. Haha. I'm laughing again at just how opposite this really is!

There is a CD, it is a lullabye CD that I LURVE. Love with a u-r. (You can laugh now too). I heard it for the first time at my photographer's studio while we were getting our 3 month photos with Mini. Now, normally, I am not a lullabye cd person. I like to do the singing myself (my poor kids. I am pretty sure I've turned Pearl Jam into a lullabye at some point.) But this CD is actually so lovely, I listen to it even when I am by myself in the car. It is all acoustic. No words. I pretty much love acoustic anything. And this particular cd is almost spa-like. It is so lovely that when I heard it for the first time at the studio and was standing there rocking my baby, it gave me goosebumps. I had a moment. I got all verclempt. My baby fell fast asleep. Anyway, you know how I like to share my favorite things with the world, so just leave me a comment to enter this lovely giveaway. I'll close comments Sunday night at 8pm et and announce the winner Monday morning. Meantime, I will be rocking out to Pearl Jam tonight and if I had all of your phone numbers, I would call you and leave you an annoying concert message and yell into the phone about how they're playing your song. But you wouldn't be able to hear it because it would sound like this: SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (white noise) (white noise) SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(plus screaming.)

Have a nice day! Don't forget to enter the giveaway!

Oh Decisions, Decisions (oh yes and a giveaway)

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2008/06/oh-decisions-decisions-oh-yes-and.html?m=0