I’m feeling a little Brendan Benson this morning and wanted to share.
Here’s the single from his upcoming (yet to be titled) album, Half a Boy (and Half a Man)
Please listen responisbly.
I’m feeling a little Brendan Benson this morning and wanted to share.
This is my Bitmoji. She looks as much like me as a bunch of pixels possibly can. And y’all, I have to tell you, I love the stuffing out of her!
I enjoy communicating with my Bitmoji. With Nora, mostly via text, and Sundance via text and Snapchat, but especially with Thing 1 and Thing 2. We have a group chat in Snapchat that makes it SUPER easy to use our Bitmojis.
Another thing that’s cool about Bitmoji in Snapchat is that if another Snapchat user has a Bitmoji, they can do things together. But only one at a time, so when it comes to my group chat with the girls, it’s just one of them with me at a time.
Thing 1 sent me a kiss.
Thanks to the Olympics, Thing 2 was able to express her love of figure skating.
I have no idea why Thing 2 and I are behind this tree, but we look shady af.
I sent this one when I expressed my desire to wave a magic wand to alleviate her morning sickness. I love love love her little baby bump!
The girls Bitmojis bring me such joy! They look so like my girls. And seeing them all together makes me all smiley. If our avatars can be in the same place at the same time, it feels more like we’re together even when we’re far apart.
I recently changed my Bitmoji’s hair. I was wearing it curly for so long while trying to grow it out from a pixie cut that was never as cute on me as it was in the photos. Letting my curls do their thing made it simpler to tolerate the growing out process. But now that it’s the way I want it, I’ve been putting forth the effort to wear my hair straight.
Thing 1 quickly expressed that she is not a fan of the new do.
It’s funny, because her straight hair makes her look younger than her curly hair…perhaps as a soon to be grandmother, she ought not look younger?
Anyway, they’re fun and playful and we get great joy from sharing them.
You can check out the updated app that lets you create an avatar here:
I really like cuss words.
Whatever you call ’em, they make me happy.
I find them excellent descriptive words great for most any situation.
I have been told that my passion for, and abundant use of curse words denotes a lack of intelligence on my part. (You know I’m saying a great big ‘f**k you’ to those folks.) But, According to Richard Stephens at Keele University,
The fact is that the size of your vocabulary of swear words is linked with your overall vocabulary, and swearing is inextricably linked to the experience and expression of feelings and emotions.
Unlike the vast majority of women in the world, (some men too) I am a fan of the “C word”.
I don’t mind if you judge me. Most folks do when it comes to this particular word.
To me it’s just another bad word. It doesn’t offend me in any way, and in some cases I find it amusing.
So much so that I had a bit of a squee when banter cards ran a half-price sale on their ‘not quite perfect’ hardback notebooks!
I ordered a few. I mean honestly can one ever have enough journals?
And they’re just so me.
(“C word” alert!!)
As happy as I am with each one, and My C**ting Notepad brings me the biggest smirk, I’m going to have to admit that List Whore just might be my favorite.
Like there was any doubt…but y’all! It even has a little heart! I (heart) lists!
Though a reminder to not be a bitch is always helpful, because some times I simply can’t help myself.
Going to contemplate the perfect use for each one…
In the meantime, I got fun stickers for immediate use in my planner.
Organized as f**k.
You know it!
I’m having random “Baby Outbursts” all over the place.
YBW is beginning to get a kick out of tracking them. Luckily for me he’s super patient, because most of these occur in the least convenient times and place. And they look a bit like I may be having some sort of attack of palsy.
I experienced one yesterday afternoon while engaged in a text conversation with Thing 2!
We can get the bebe a load of Nats gear!
I shared that with Thing 1 in a phone call yesterday. First we oodgey-goodgey(ed), then I expressed my hope that people in Georgia wouldn’t be ‘mean’ to the bebe because he or she is a Nats fan. She laughed and said even Braves fans wouldn’t be ‘mean’ to a bebe…maybe to the parents, but she could handle that. Then we laughed again.
It’s tricky being a Nats fan in Braves territory, but she’s on top of it.
We’re idiots, but we have fun.
Another such outburst took place last night.
We went to dinner with M and J. M and YBW were fraternity brothers, and he and his precious wife are my most favorite of all YBW’s friends.
We four have a monthly date. Last night we were meant to go to this new (to us) amazing burger joint, only when we arrived, it was slam-jammed with folks and no place to sit. So we ended up at a little Mexican restaurant instead. (Even though Mexican is some of my fave food, I spent a great deal of time looking at Melt’s menu online and was more than mildly disappointed we missed out on burgers.)
It ended up OK, we enjoyed our dinner. We enjoyed each other’s company. I oodgey-goodgey(ed) about the bebe. And they joined right in on it!
We finally decided to leave the restaurant and head over to M and J’s house. YBW wanted coffee so we stopped off at the coffee shop before we got in the car. My random “Baby Outburst” happened in the coffee shop while YBW, J, and I waited for our coffees.
I realized if the bebe is a girl, I’ll be able to have things monogrammed for her!
Y’all this brought me much joy! Neither Thing 1 nor Thing 2 give a rat’s ass about their monogram. Now partly this is because they each have a repeating letter which makes a monogram look lopsided, and partly it’s because they went to high school surrounded by ‘basic white girls’ who plastered their monograms on anything that didn’t move.
And my girls are anything but basic.
While I absolutely adore my monogram, I am ‘preppy’ not ‘basic’. Because I actually lived through the 1980s. A point I’ve had to make to my girls more than once.
If the bebe is a girl, she too will have a repeating letter in her monogram. But I do not care. And she won’t care. She’ll be oblivious for the first few years of her life. And while we aren’t about gender norms for this bebe, I will sure as hell make sure she has something(s) with her monogram so she and I can be goofy, girlie, and oodgey-goodgey about it together!
If the bebe is a boy, well…he’ll still have something(s) monogrammed, but I suspect there will be less oodgey-goodgey(ing).
I’ll continue to have random “Baby Outbursts” because I honestly don’t think I can keep a lid on this much joy! Or perhaps when the newness wears off, I’ll just present “Baby Thoughts” in a less palsied looking way?
Thing 1 and Husband N have no patience when it comes to gender norms for the bebe. They’re not about ‘pink’ and ‘blue’.
I’m feeling them…to a degree, I mean occasionally a baby girl needs a little pink something in the midst of her bad ass super hero attire. But I’m all for boys wearing pink and having dolls. And girl or boy, this little bebe of ours will be blessed with more than love, and some pretty fun things. Dollies and the sweetest of lovies. Trucks and blocks, and the softest damn gray elephant blankie you’ve ever felt. (I may have already purchased that. What? It matches the one I gave his or her mommy for Christmas.)
Thing 1 is already showing her zero f**ks given attitude when it comes to humor and the bebe.
She wants it to have a bunch of rude onesies before it understands that there are bad words printed on it’s clothing.
She knows she’ll get pushback from some folks, but she doesn’t care. (Remember I said zero f**ks given?) Personally I think it’s funny. And so very Thing 1 and Husband N. They’re all about letting your freak flag fly.
Here are a few examples of what our sweet bebe could be wearing when she or he arrives. Thing 1 found these at Spencers.
This one is dead on balls accurate because the “F word” is one of all of our favorites.
And finally, my absolute favorite.
I cackled when I read this one.
I can’t even be mad about the grammar.
I can see Thing 1 and her bebe in cahoots talking about the trashy “Walmart babies” in their diapers and needing a bath.
Hmmm…actually the bebe needs a onesie that says ‘me and my (insert TBD adorable grandmother name here) talk mad shit about you’. Because we will.
I know our sense of humor is dark. I know we’re pretty sardonic.
But apart from some (really old and not hip) grandmother reading these onesies on this bebe and being offended, I don’t feel like there’s too much harm in my daughter expressing her sense of humor and world view via the clothes in which she dresses her child. Up to a point…and she’s smart enough to know she’s not sending that kid to school in any of these things, she’s going to have it in their home, and yard, and with us.
I respect the expression of inappropriate points of view printed on these baby clothes. It’s ridiculous, it’s foul, it’s not at all appropriate. But it’s just so damn amusing.
And the bebe won’t be able to read for a really long time. I mean seriously, little muffin won’t even be able to hold it’s head up for a while.
I think they’re funny. But that’s because I don’t have all that many f**ks to give either.
I can finally share the most exciting news I’ve ever had to share!
I’m going to be a grandmother!
I got a call from Thing 1 last week on Tuesday. I was walking out the door to go to school, she asked if I had a minute. I explained what I was doing so she said, she might need more time than that. Well, this got me worried. I immediately go into mommy-mode, is she OK? Is Husband N OK? Yes, yes everyone is OK she assures me. And all of the sudden I just knew!
I said, OHMYGOD! Are you pregnant!?!
She giggled and confirmed!
HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!!!!!
Of course I was sworn to secrecy. That makes sense to me, it’s her story to tell, and Husband N’s story to tell.
I was strictly forbidden to tell Aunt Sundance, and Aunt Sally in Charleston.
I was allowed to tell YBW. (Yeah, like that wasn’t gonna happen.)
However much I want to shout it from the rooftops, I made a promise to my girl and I’m going to keep it. She and her husband are entering into the trickiest place in life and need all the love and support they can get.
She’s since told her aunties and Husband N’s extended family.
My Things have been talking to each other, and each of them to me even more so than normal. In one conversation, one or the other of them asked what I thought I might want to be called. I always said when I had grandbabies I’d want them to call me by my childhood nickname, Roby. I love the way it sounds when little children say it. Only now that I’m presented with a legit grandbaby, I’m not sure I’m feeling Roby any more. So, I’m made a list.
I mean of course I made a list…
Sent this to each of the girls. This one went to Thing 1, Thing 2’s had the word ‘thoughts’ written up the side.
My top three were Birdie, Lolly, and Mémé (we’ll choose to pronounce it may-may)
Thing 2 and Husband N voted for Mémé and Thing 1 and I are waffling between Lolly and Mémé.
My friend and mentor Jessica (Oh, I was allowed to tell her so she and I could confer regarding the most important parenting books Thing 1 and Husband N would need.) anyway, she suggested I go with Lolly and YBW could be ‘Pop’ and together, we’d be ‘LollyPop’! Gah! Cutest grandparent names EVER!
Only one problem…the Things’ father shared with me that he wants to be called Pop. Needless to say that put the kibosh on me being called Lolly. Sad face me…though I’m not sure I’m ready to cross it off the list.
YBW, first of all is almost every bit as excited as I am. Then the moment of pause kicks in and he says, “I’m not sure I’m ready to be a grandparent.” I figure it like this, he has two options, the first is to abstain from being this bebe’s grandfather, to which he said a resounding NO! The second option is embrace it and realize that even though we’re “only 47”, we’re completely ready and capable of being grandparents. That was his choice.
I keep asking him what he wants to be called, and asking his opinion of what he thinks I should be called. He’s struggling with that because in his experience, his first born named his grandmother by repeating a specific sound when he saw her. My experience is that with the exception of for the first two and a half years of Thing 1’s life, she called both myself and my mother Mommy, until she was finally able to say Grandmommy, she called everyone what they asked to be called.
I love how different families experience the same things differently.
Thing 1 has been struggling with morning sickness. And y’all, I mean struggling. It’s interesting, I was so sick with her from the moment I got pregnant twenty-four seven and for nearly six months. So much so, that twice I was hospitalized for dehydration and hooked up to an IV. Good times.
Sunday was a particularly bad morning for her.
Poor old Bear.
My joy is honestly bigger than any joy I’ve ever experienced.
Marrying YBW with all the people we love most there to share our joy with us. And y’all, there was a room full of the greatest joy that day.
I wanted to be a mom from the time I can remember. Becoming a mom has brought me unbelievable joy. More joy than I ever expected, or ever deserved to experience.
But this. This is something else entirely.
My baby having a baby…
This is next level!
I am currently obsessed with this song.
I especially love her voice.
I find it fascinating partly because the lyrics are somewhat jaded yet feel almost hopeful at the same time.
I love that funky bass line…drew me right in.
Leaves me to wonder:
Don’t we all have certain things we pack up in boxes to bury deep down?
I can relate to the idea that home was never on the ground…most robin bird nests are built up high.
Or perhaps what they say is true? You can have roots and wings.
Either way, here’s Alice Merton with No Roots
Please listen responsibly.
Some days you just feel it.
Today is one of those days.
It’s going to be a great day.
“Ooh woo oooh”
This is Plastiscines with Bitch.
Please listen responsibly.
Yesterday my computer bought the farm.
Is that idiom even appropriate in this situation? I think not.
Honestly, I’d be better off saying my computer committed suicide.
Just up and died. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave a note.
The Pythons in my brain did an entire sketch about it.
“‘E’s not pinin’! ‘E’s passed on! This computer is no more! He has ceased to be! ‘E’s expired and gone to meet ‘is maker! ‘E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, ‘e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed ‘im to the perch ‘e’d be pushing up the daisies! ‘Is metabolic processes are now ‘istory! ‘E’s off the twig! ‘E’s kicked the bucket, ‘e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-COMPUTER!!”
(Now that’s a load of idioms!)
To say I was frustrated would be an understatement. Have y’all heard the expression “I’m about as frustrated as a crackhead without a lighter.”? Yeah…that was me.
Everything was lost. Every. Single. Thing.
All the words I’ve written in the last how-ever-many years.
All the music I’ve spent my lifetime accumulating.
All the photos I’ve taken in the last six years.
I was actually planning to back up all my stuff but my external hard drive is still filled with music for Thing 2 and I thought I had time…
A Willow quote comes to mind. “Irony’s kind of ironic that way.”
Even though this isn’t really irony.
My precious husband immediately stopped what he was doing and devoted his entire day to trying to suss out what he could salvage. Seriously y’all, that sweet man spent the whole damn day trying to rescue my photos, writing, and music.
I got after researching new computers on my ipad (mini).
A couple hours later, he was feeling pretty confident that he’d been able to get my documents and music, and was seeing what he could do to recover my photos.
The day was saved…thanks to…the Powerpuff Girls!
No no no!
The day was saved…thanks to…YBW!
I then presented him with a couple laptops I thought I’d like. With a little ‘computer guru’ advice and some tweaking of what I thought I wanted, we narrowed it down to a choice of three. Braving the frigid temperatures, we went to Micro Center. Turns out after typing on all three, the one I thought I most wanted was the I liked least. (Y’all hear Willow’s voice again too, right?)
Today, I have a brand spanking new laptop upon which I will load and edit pics. And write. And listen to tunage. And read. And learn. And create. And shop. And all the other very Robynbird stuff.
YBW decided it wasn’t worth trying to see if he could reboot the old one.
Whole lotta “Bye Felicia.” going on there.