If there were a kind of porn site where I just watched people who had time on their hands do all the things I wish I still had time to do, I would… well, I wouldn’t have time to watch it. These days I hear about people binge-watching entire seasons of a tv series over their weekends and I’m drooling, it sounds so luxurious. I get jealous every night when the baby has her bath, because sometimes there are bubbles, and I miss just deciding to take a long, hot bath and then taking one while reading an entire book. I used to have so much time! Time I wasted thinking I needed to be doing something with all that time! I never appreciated it and now it’s gone and you guys, I have regrets.
The other day I couldn’t find my library card. “It’s on Qwerty’s keys,” I said to Jason and Kristen. “Do you guys know where she keeps her keys?”
“Did you check her pink purse?” asked Jason.
“I did. No keys.”
Kristen said, “I know they aren’t in her owl purse. I found that earlier and all it has is her phone.”
This keys-having, phone-toting, two-purse-and-a-library-card owning child is seventeen-months old.
Woo-hoo! We have a release date for Notes to Boys (And Other Things I Shouldn’t Share in Public). [For newer readers who may not be familiar with some of Little Pam’s finest, I direct you to these older posts. Start here.]
The Polish translation of You Take It From Here was released earlier this year. I love how angsty the main characters look. “I live your life now. I stare at your future. I will use your skin care products even though they do not agree with my complexion. This is how I am best friend to you.”
I am writing on a lunch break because I miss you, dear readers of pamie.com. I hope you know that when I’m not writing here it is because I am always (no, really, always) writing something for you that sometimes you will see later. Though sometimes, unfortunately, you’ll never see it, but it’s always with the intent that it will get to be before your eyes or in your hands some day. Or on your iPads. Or in your Kindles. Or in your closet. Look in your closet! SURPRISE! HI! I AM WEARING ALL YOUR CLOTHES. Continue reading
I was playing with the baby and I can’t remember the toes song.
“This Little Piggy”?
Well, it’s not a song.
Fine, sure. But I said, “This little piggy went to market. But this little piggy didn’t go anywhere.”
Yeah, that’s not quite right. But he did stay home. And then one of them had roast beef, which now suddenly seems really weird.
Right? That’s weird.
…Pamie. Roast beef isn’t made from pigs.
… Right. Right, I knew that.
It’s still weird. And I don’t know where he ate it, because they didn’t say. So you’ve got This Little Piggy went to market, This Little Piggy–
–stayed home. This Little Piggy had roast beef, and This Little Piggy had none. Which doesn’t rhyme too well, but whatever.
And then the little pinkie toe piggy went wee-wee all over the place.
That’s what I always pictured! This pig running around peeing all crazy, just running and peeing. Wee-wee, wee-wee, wee-wee all over the place. Hee-hee-hee-hee-heeeeee.
Not “all over the place.” He went home.
He’s still funny. Peeing and running.
For when you’re nursing your child and your mom stands super close to watch it while she chats, and then she gets so caught up in the moment that she leans in and kisses the baby’s head, just centimeters away from your bare breast.
Because that is what happened to me yesterday.
Oh, does that not happen to you on a Thursday? Then I guess maybe we don’t need a whole word for it. Maybe just a therapy session.
People like to say, “I bet your mom is so excited to be a grandmother. What did she do when she found out you were having a baby?”
“Oh. She immediately put her house on the market.”
And they laugh. They laugh and laugh. “That would be so funny,” they chuckle.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to. You can see it in my face, my tired eyes, my worried hair.
Their laughter fades away. They whisper, “Oh, you weren’t kidding.” Continue reading