Gymboree or A.A. Meeting?

We made a few discoveries yesterday at Gymboree that we think need to be shared with you. The first is that we figured out how our teacher always manages to be so happy and chipper. Even when we asked her normal questions and kids were not around, she practically speaks in song and Hallelujah! But, after being avid movie watchers for so many years, your mom and I have learned a thing or two. And, upon closer observation yesterday, we did confirm that your Gymboree teacher is indeed a Stepford wife. I know this may come as a surprise, but we will be there for you to help you cope with the fact that this nice lady is really a robot.

We're not sure exactly why we didn't notice the plastic smile and all-too-perfect skin before. But, when we thought about it it all made perfect sense. You see, anyone who's job it is to play with kids for 8 hours per day and stay happy would have to be a robot.

Yesterday, the Stepford teacher held her little circle time again. The question this week was "how do you capture all of your baby's first moments? Do you have a journal or do you use a video camera?"

Immediately I was struck by total fear. I grabbed your mom and whispered, "whatever you do, do not tell them the URL to our blog." Shit talking always comes back to haunt you.

Glamma showed up to Gymboree yesterday as well. After attempting to run through the various obstacles, Stepford pulled her aside and said, "It's OK if you visit, but you're going to need to crawl out of that tunnel." Glamma was having a little too much fun. A few jars of vaseline later, Glamma was out of the tunnel made for two years olds and we were back on track having a good time at Gymboree. (editor's note: Glamma didn't really play on the toys, but it's fun to think what would have happened if she did).

After Gymboree, we did our typical Starbucks run where we ran into one of the moms from Gymboree. She explained that Gymboree was so much fun because the kids reminded her of alcoholics. Alcoholics? we thought. She quickly explained that all of the kids act drunk because none of them can stand up for very long and they all fall over one another. It's like they're drunks at an AA meeting.

So we learned that Gymboree is really for alcoholics and that your teacher is a robot. And you learned how to say "bubbles" so we've all learned and everything is good in the end. Especially when there's vaseline involved.

You Got That Mullet From Your Daddy

Anyone wanna go to Nascar or watch Motley Crue?

Reasons We Had Ayjia

a. Our cat died and we needed something to pet and feed
b. We wanted to make dad feel better as now he's not the only one in the house that walks around with a bottle
c. We're conducting an experiment to see how weird names affect the lives of a baby girl
d. We weren't ready to make the commitment of marriage, but we needed something more in our relationship
d. all of the above
e. none of the above

Cave Exploration

OK, so it's a well known fact that embarassment becomes part of your daily life as a parent. Whether it's walking around in a shirt fresh from the dry cleaners only to have your little rugrat spit up chunky grape juice mixed with applesauce onto the front of the shirt on your way to work; or having to scream at the little tyke in the middle of the grocery store after watching him or her throw grocery product all over the middle of the aisle, it's no surprise that parentdom tests the humility of even the most liberal parent.

So, it should have come at no surprise last night when you decided to embarass your parents at the local pizza parlor. What happened you ask? Well, the tale goes something like this.

See, your mom and I had just ordered our pizzas and were discussing potential movie rentals for the night (the 300 movies we have at home plus the multiple rentals from Netflix were decidedly not up to par with our highbrow tastes this particular evening). Our waitress was serving the table right next to us, and in order to do so, stood directly behind you with her butt directly behind the back of your head. So, as your mom and I were engaged in our eventful conversation, we didn't notice (at least not in time) you turning around to face the gigantic ass and proceed to spank it.

Now, that in itself wasn't so funny or embarassing as it has happened before. What was embarassing was the waitress' reaction. You see, the waitress must have been unaware of her surroundings; so, not knowing that a baby was DIRECTLY BEHIND HER, she felt something grab at her ass. Her instints must have told her it was your dad because she began pulsating her pelvic region in complete astonishment; caught offguard by the sudden molestation of the junk in her trunk.

All was well once she realized that a dirty man was not the culprit of this very-public molestation. But, the experience did make us question your sexuality...just for a moment.

You Must Have Been Jealous Too

So, ever since our infamous trip to Gymboree (detailed events chronicled below), you have changed. You see, during our circle time (the one in which every parent bragged about their kid), a lot of the parents said something to the effect of "we don't experience any stress whatsoever because our son/daughter sleeps for 12 hours a night."

Your mom and I looked at each other and thought "they must be lying" and if not "why don't you sleep that long!"

I think you're more perceptive than we give you credit for because ever since then, you have been sleeping for 12 hours a night. And if that wasn't a gift from heaven in itself, you have also been taking THREE HOUR naps during the day. Three hours! That's almost enough to wactch the extended version Lord of the Rings . Almost.

So, now that you're sleeping schedule is so AWESOME, your mom and I can do more productive things like.....hmmm.....watch MULTIPLE episodes of our favorite television programs (instead of just one), sleep longer, and maybe if we're lucky we'll have time to take a shower.

Which will help reduce the stank in this house....but, as long as Auntie Stina comes over, there's not much hope for eliminating the stank completely. Especially when we have potato soup.

This Blog Entry Does Not Have Its Own Song

OK, so here's the deal. Lucky for you, your Glamma bought you a memborship to Gymboree for Christmas. Now, Glamma bought you this memborship because (if you haven't already guessed) your dad is a cheap ass (yes, like a Gemini as we learned last week), and the people who run Gymboree are filthy, money grubbers who would probably kill a baby seal incapable of defending itself if it would add an extra dollar or two to their bottom line. These are the same people that charge...oh, I don't know...something like $18 million for a 3 month membership.

And, that my fellow English majors is a hyperbole, not an exageration. Let us never be accused of exageration, because we are perfect in every way and by "we" I mean "your mom."

OK. So, here we are at Gymboree this last Saturday with about 15 other couples who either bought stock in Microsoft or sold their pancreas to the black market, because all of them seem to have no trouble with the $19 million dolloar memborship fee. Yes, we know, the memborship fee went up a million dollars during the last paragraph. It's called inflation people and it's necessary in a capitalist society, so get used to it and stop complaining because you pay more for 8 oz of coffee than you do for an entire gallon of gas and then you bitch about it. I don't want to hear it.

But, damn, the price of gas is awfully expensive lately.

FOCUS!! Ok, there is a point to this story! So, every week during our Gymboree time (which is Saturday morning for those of you who are stalkers), we have "circle time" where the parents form a circle, the kids play with each other in the center of said circle, your mother and I wait for you to hit the other kids cuz it makes us laugh, and each week we go around the circle answering "The Question of the Week" - which by the way is, like, the ONLY thing at Gymboree that doesn't have it's own theme song.

So, this past week, the "Question of the Week" was: How do you handle the stress of being a parent? Your mom and I happened to go first because....well, we don't know, but we did and we answerd the question like normal humans. It went something like this: "Well, as soon as Ayjia's sweet, adorable head hits the pillow, we run to our bedroom, remove our clothing and try to make her a sibling."

OK, that was an exageration, not a hyperbole. NOW you can accuse us of exagerating.

Ok, maybe it went something like this: "As soon as we put her down for a nap or down for bed, we take adult time and watch movies, surf the net, and talk shit about everyone else in this circle." I don't remember exactly, but it was something pretty close to that. It doesn't matter, what we said IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS STORY. Ok, so the REST of the incredibly rich, non-human parents who participated in circle time answered something like this: "Um, like, yeah...our kid is, like, THE BEST kid ever. He/She is in the 90th percentile of weight, the 99th percentile of height, he/she eats every meal to the very end in perfect silence without creating mess, and he/she was just accepted into Harvard because he/she is so smart."

And that is no exageration. Ok maybe the college part...but the rest of the stuff people actually said.

So, our dear Ayjia, as you learn to talk, if you ever get the urge to shout out, "I AM SURROUNDED BY FREAKIN' IDIOTS!" then we will understand. And we won't even make you sing a song about it.

Mrs. Potato Head

Mama's Got A New Pair of Shoes

Note: This one is long, but good.

So your faux-Uncle Steve gave us a $25 giftcard to Toys R Us for your birthday. Luckily Steve explained to your genius father that the gift card could be used in any store that ended in "R US" and after debating a trip to "IPODs R US" we decided that you would probably like something from Babies R Us better and drove down the street to get you some gifts.

However, our trip to the store was preceeded by....oh I don't know, let me see if I can recall....oh yes: going to Gymboree (where we discovered you love bubbles and hate other kids), Starbucks (I'm beginning to think that it is Starbucks who impregnate women, not the stork as widely reported, as this is an essential daily stop for anyone in the parent trap), Barnes & Nobles (why don't you have the magazine I'm looking for! No, not Geriatric Sluts!...Filter!), $1-2 Million Model Homes (Where we decided that we like our house payment much better...even if these houses did have music rooms and bars), Sushi (note: if you ever want to make your mom happy, buy her Sushi...Diamonds will work too, but Sushi is cheaper...although not by much), and Cingular Wireless (where your dad got a new bluetooth phone for god knows what reason and your mom got a cheap ass phone cuz she always wants a cell phone but never ends up usuing it). So, needless to say, your lazy ass dad was one tired mo fo.

But, we survived all of the above and we made it to our last stop.....BABIES R US! Now, what to buy? First, you needed more diapers. You only had one diaper left which meant the world was about to self destruct if we did not procure more. Your dad picked up a box of Huggies and your mom proceeded to ask....wait...backstory necessary here.

Let's think back to EXACTLY one year ago. You were a newborn, your mom was your mom, and your dad was gopher boy. I basically got anything for her that she wanted without much complaining because....oh, I don't know...SHE JUST HAD HER STOMACH CUT OPEN AND A 7 lb GIRL PULLED FROM THE OPENINING...so, your beautiful, wonderful, adorable mom sends me to get diapers. Being the cheap ass that I am (my mom and yia yia - or Grandma for those of you who aren't Greek - are Gemini's...so I learned young how to be a cheap ass...and if you're a Gemini reading this, I'm sorry...but admit it, your cheap. Astrology never fails us.), I returned from Toys R Us with the CHEAP GENERIC DIAPERS. At the time I wasn't getting much sleep and my triumphant return with my first purchase of a package of diapers was met with something like this...."You got the generic brand? What are you a dumb F*ck? The ONLY brand you will EVER buy to ensure the continued smoothness of my daughter's butt is HUGGIES! What were you thinking? Who buys the generic brand? Go back to the store NOW and get some goddamn HUGGIES like a real man would have in the first place?"

Me: "But these were like a third of the price and I'm the only one working now and..."

Mom: "Would you like your daughter's ass to fall off in the middle of the night? No, then GO BACK AND GET SOME REAL DIAPERS.....I didn't ask for paper towels!"

Of course, it didn't go exactly like that...I'm paraphrasing...it was actually much worse.

Ok, so back to the present. Wow, this blog entry is kind of like Memento. Continuing with that analogy...this part would be the color part. So, after I pick up the bag of Huggies (which trust me I have bought Huggies every single time you needed diapers since), your mom asks...."why don't we buy the cheap brand?"

Hmmmm....my brain begins to process. Is this question a setup? Why would she say this?

My brain flashes back to one year prior and the demon that was unleashed upon my return w/ the generic diapers in hand.

Brain flashes back to reality, sure this is a setup, I respond with my hand on my hip and diapers in the other hand ala Superman "No, we shall buy Huggies and only Huggies..even when we're old and we need diapers for ourselves, we will buy Huggies."

At this point, your ever-trying-to-please-your-mother dad was sure he had answered this test question right and knew he was about to get a report card with straight A's sent to his mother (your yia yia - no definition needed if you were paying attention above).

But, no, mom did actually want to help the bank account and buy cheaper diapers (couldn've used this information a year ago) and we argued for a while and ended up with Huggies (note: this isn't a reflection of your dad's ability to argue as much as it is a reflection of the persuasive power of a $5 off Huggies coupon your dad had in his pocket).

Ok, so this whole post was meant to be the story behind your new shoes. After picking up diapers we got you a pair of shoes, a fake cell phone (I think yours was more expensive than your mom's), and a fake set of car keys. Thank you Steve! Without your giftcard this blog entry would not have been possible.

And after that, we were so pooped that if we didn't go home and watch more of the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" DVD....well, our asses would have fallen off.

(P.S. {from momma} your father is Grrrrreat at fabrication and slander of your mother... also: please remember that your "ever-trying-to-please-your-mother" father had to be told from an outside source that your gift card was NOT to be used on himself. Why? Because that is what your perfect father would do... )

(P.P.S. {from dad} it's libel not slander as this is in print. So when you think of your dad remember he is great at fabrication and LIBEL)

(P.P.S.S. {from momma} Yes. Remember that your father is perfect when it comes to grammar and not integrity and strength of character. You get that from your mom. )

Your First Birthday

So, your mom and I would probably never attend a 1 year old's birthday party unless that one year old was ours. And, in this case, you are ours (although the paternity tests results still have to come in, the chances are pretty good), so we decided to not only attend your birthday party, but hold it as well.

Everything went well and we had a lot of fun playing with kids and opening your presents for you. We even gave you your own cupcake which you proceded to smash into your face. Which was very funny...but not fun to clean up...so we had grandpa do it!

Yeah, if nothing else, your parents are efficient.

Here's a picture of you exactly one year ago! My Have you changed.

Ain't she pwetty?

A Tale of Two Binkys

Once upon a time we owned two binkys (note: pacifiers for those unitiiated to the parent trap). And then we lost one.

...insert record scratch...

...cue pomp and circumstance horns...!!!!

New title: A TALE OF ONE BINKY!

So, yesterday your mom was very busy with her internship, school, putting curses on evil friends, and other wiccan related activities. After rushing home to do a paper for school at the last minute (it's not procrastinating, it's efficient...she is able to write a report in an hour if she only has an hour), she rushed out the door when I got home and drove off to school.

So, there we were. Dad and Ayjia. Hanging out! Oh, how your dad loves his nights with you.

So, you and dad are doing your usual thing and hanging out. You know, he is wetting his diaper and you are watching TV in the background and feeding him. And, around 6:00pm you koncked out and were ready for a nap. It had been a long day riding on mom's coat tails.

"Nooooooo problem" dad told himself. He has mastered putting you down for a nap w/o you crying. In fact, we call him "The Sleep Machine" because you will always fall alseep in his arms. But, on this particular day, sleep wasn't going to come so easy to you. (We just used foreshadowing for you non-English majors)

But "Why?" you might ask? I mean we have all the ingredients for a nap. We have a sleepy baby. We have The Sleep Machine. We have a crib. We have the binky.

Or....do we?

Now, let us digress and tell you how cool your mom and dad are. See, your mom and dad bought two binkys a couple of weeks before you were born. They have Pooh on them and you love them and we love them, and because we love them so much we have only lost one of the two binkys. But, the one that has survived has been with you YOUR ENTIRE LIFE! Have we purchased more binkys? Yes. Would you suck them if they were covered in chocolate? No. So, we're stickin' with the Pooh binky and everyone is happy. And your mom and I are efficient as hell with that binky which is why we never lose it. And were quite popular in Parenting magazine becaues we know how to keep a binky. In fact, we're in the Guiness book of world records. Or were we just drinking Guiness one night while listening to records? Who knows. But back to the binky.... It has four locations: the crib, our bed, the diaper bag, and your mouth. That's it!!!! In an entire year, it has been no where else!

OK...back to the story. So your dad goes to put you down, but needs the binky first. But, alas, where is the binky? It must be in one of the four locaitons right? Right. In the crib? No. In our bed? No. In your mouth? Definitely not. OK, well it must be in the diaper bag.

Wait...where is the diaper bag?

Downstairs? No. Upstairs? No. In the car? Yes.

Ok, so your dad takes you to the car. Hmm...the car is locked. He'll need the keys. On the key rack? No. Downstairs? No. Upstairs? No.

Hmmmmmm.....

IN MOM'S JACKET WHICH IS ON HER PERSON THUS BLOCKING DAD FROM GETTING THE BINKY? YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Panic sets in. It's OK, in the rare times a binky has not comforted you, we can fill a bottle with milk and stick the bottle nipple in your mouth. Perfect.

Now, let us digress once again. Up until a week ago, your mom and dad had three or four bottles. But aliens or big foot or evil cats did something and ALL AT ONCE, all but one bottle cracked IN THE SAME EXACT SPOT!! WTF!!?!?!

Have we purchsed new bottles? No. So, here's your first word problem. How many bottles do mom and dad have left? ONE!!

And where might that ONE bottle be? In the car?

YES!!!

So, now panic fully takes hold. No bottle or no binky! What the hell is a father to do? This has never happened in the history of mankind. We checked! We Googled for answers and Google returned, "Hahahahah! Good luck ya ass!"

Damn Google.

So, all this build up to a boring ending. Ok, prepare yourself for an anti climactic ending. Prepared?

Dad put you in the crib and you cried yourself to sleep in 2 minutes. Life went on and dad surfed the net.

Ok, so dumb ending but the story was fun, right?

"uhh.....no." Shut up google, no one was asking you.

Memorable Moments: The Swing

Oh, how times have changed. Another memorable moment we will share as we approach your first year is the Holy Grail that was invented by God himself: The Swing.

Alas, we can no longer utilize "the swing" because your mom and I abused our privileges when you were 3-6 months old. Yes, our time has run out and your swing patience has expired.

But, let us reflect on the beauty that was the swing.

You see, once upon a time, we were able to put your cute, frumpled, unable-to-sit up-on-your-own body into this contraption known as the swing. And, for the cost of 4 D batteries a month, we were able to push a button and you would sit in your swing and watch TV, fall asleep, laugh the room moving back and forth, etc.

Oh, those were the days. Your mom and I could do productive things like, oh I don't know....the dishes, the laundry, vacuum, homework, and watch TV. And, then, you would fall asleep and your mom and I could continue those activities. Life was grand. You loved the swing. We loved the swing. Everyone was happy.

But now you're a demon on wheels whose life's mission is to burn the house down. But, you're a cute demon and we love you and we love that you are trying to burn the house down. Who needs a house anyways when you have a swing.

Memorable Moment: How We Found Out Ayjia Was Coming

As we approach your first year, we thought it'd be cool to share some memorable moments from r with you. The following was written on one of your dad's flights to Malaysia before you were born.

Excerpt from Journal (How We Found Out Ayjia Was Coming):

I thought I would take some time on this flight and write you a letter which I can give to you someday when you grow older. I thought this would be really fun to read. Who knows what will happen between now and the time that you are able to read this letter. Even though your mom and I have probably told you the story about how and when you are born, I wanted to write this down before the story changes in our head.

About four months ago, your mom and I were in Los Angeles attending to Great-Grandma Mary (who – by the time you read this letter – probably will have past away). Great-Grandma was very sad because her husband, Great-Grandpa Carlos had past away a few months early. Since great-grandma and great-grandpa had been together for 40 years, great-grandma had no idea how to carry on when grandpa passed away. So, great-grandma became very ill. Anyway, you mom and I were down in L.A. to support great-grandma. Your mom and I have always loved Mexican food very very much. And, because great-grandma lived in east-L.A., the Mexican food was good and plentiful. There was one restaurant that the whole family loved to eat at called Rafael’s. One day, for lunch, your mom and I (and the rest of the family) went to Rafael’s for lunch and for some strange reason, your mom could not eat anything on the menu that day! It was at this moment that your mom and I thought we might be pregnant.

When we got home to Lincoln, CA...we talked about buying an “at-home” pregnancy test. I was adamant not to buy one because I figured, “why pay $30 for an at-home test that we will have to go to the Dr.’s office for to confirm the results anyways?” Why not just go straight to the Dr.’s office. Yes, your dad is a cheap trick

So, your mom went into the Dr.’s office and took a pee test. A day later, they called your mom to tell her that yes indeed, you were growing inside of her! So, your mom called me at work (I worked for Intel at the time doing customer support on the phone) to tell me the news. At the time, I sat directly behind my manager, so I wasn’t really able to get very excited….but I was extremely happy we were pregnant.

More Memorable Moments to Come...