I am Cousin It. My hair is as straight and fine as a pin, and if my mom doesn’t put it in a ponytail, it falls directly into my eyes. I also have a bit of a mullet thing going on in the back, but my mom isn’t yet ready to take me for my first haircut.

See that hair?

I nurse 235235 times a day, for about 10 seconds each time. When I want to nurse, I stick my hand down my mom’s shirt and squeeze her chest. She usually gets the hint.

When I’m done nursing I simply walk away, leaving my mom’s boob hanging out. This is also convenient during those times when I’m not done nursing but simply distracted, and I want to come back for more nursies in a few minutes or an hour or three. I like it when my nursies are ready for me immediately. Lifting up her shirt takes such effort.

Although I will nap easily I do not like to SLEEP; even when I’m in my parents’ bed I try my best to avoid it. I would much rather walk around their room, opening up every dresser drawer and removing all the clothes.

Who me, tired? NONSENSE!

I especially do not like to sleep when I’m tired, and it’s dark and everyone else is sleeping. 

Some people have suggested that my mom stop nursing me. To which I reply, “Are you kidding me?!?!?!” Nursing has a lot of benefits — especially for my mom. She still counts milk-making as an excuse to eat 2325 extra calories per day

Those same people think I should sleep through the night by now — especially because I was sleeping a good stretch of eight hours per night several months ago. To which I reply, “I’m just trying to keep it interesting!” Usually I wake up around 1am and my dad brings me into my parents’ bed, where I nurse and invade my mom’s personal space until the alarm goes off at 6am, at which point I spring to life.

To those who disagree with how I live my life, I eagerly await your direction on these matters. Please bear in mind that I am not yet 14 months old, so try to use small words. My parents recognizes this, which is why they continue to meet all my needs in a (relatively) timely manner. 

Sincerely,

Cousin It

My sisters and me. How cute are we?

1. I have tried and failed — on several occasions — to read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. I’ve heard it’s GREAT. It’s about TWINS. I have twins. One of my book reading twins, Jill — who also has twins — has raved about it. And yet, I have never been able to finish it. It’s almost… boring.

Flickr/gracewanderer

2. Same with Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese. Except now I feel morally obligated to read it because at book club last week, Bitter Divorcee actually SNORTED when I said I couldn’t get into a book that was so dense. She may have even snarked to the woman next to her about how SHE was not afraid to read a book without a lot of big words. For the record, BD: I’m on your ex-husband’s side.

3. I use paper towels with reckless abandon.

Flickr/jencu

In my defense, I have tried many times to end my paper towel dependence. I tried using those yellow microfiber things from Costco. The problem is that I accidentally put them in the dryer, which rendered their drying ability moot. Plus they picked up every particle of dust, lint, dog hair, dirt and human hair in my house. And we have a lot. I found that more distasteful, actually, than wasting paper towels (which, for the record, I do find distasteful) so I’ve continued using them.

Hey, at least I use cloth diapers! Even when I didn’t have to, even when I have about 23523 loads of laundry per week, I still use cloth diapers!

Flickr/snarky_momma

4. All my photographs of Animal and Mineral from when they were babies are “couple pictures.” For example:

Mineral and Animal, about 3 months old.

Mineral and Animal, 6 months old.

And so on. We finally hung up the kids’ professional photographs (which I do at 3m, 6m, 9m and 1yo) and I totally wish I’d done individual photos of Animal and Mineral. But no. I only did twin-y shots. Sorry, guys.

and yet, I raised $200 in that time.

I refunded it all, of course, with a nice thank you note to everyone who donated. Duh. Of course, there probably are some people who wouldn’t have refunded it, but do I really strike you as one of those people?

What happened was this: Megan, of Triumphant Tails, met with us three times. The first time with all of us, the second time with just the kids and me during a “normal” school day and the third time at Costco. She noted immediately that Mineral has severe ADHD. She also noticed his other issues — I guess the best word to use is SENSITIVITIES. He cannot control his emotions when his senses get overwhelmed (which is constantly because he’s so sensitive. And repeat.)

I literally cannot stress enough how sensitive he is — and it’s in ways that make absolutely no sense to you or me, yet it’s impossible to reason with him about these sensitivities.

Imagine if Hillary Clinton was living with Ann Coulter, and every time Hillary said something, Ann Coulter cried and went to her room — or had a violent outburst, either toward Hillary or someone nearby Hillary. Or toward just any old thing that was in the same room. Now imagine Ann Coulter had some talisman and when she was without those talismen, she behaved in ways that were not socially appropriate. The entire world is Hillary Clinton. Mineral is Ann Coulter.

After the second time we met, Megan suggested that we start fundraising, since a Service Dog is expensive. After emailing the few people I knew who have any kind of fundraising experience, I made a gofundme.com page and linked it to my personal Facebook.

• The first donation was from an amazing woman named Joy, who I’ve “known” in the online world since Animal and Mineral were little babies.
• The second donation was from My Chemical Romance’s sister, Julie, whose husband is currently training with the Army, while she’s home taking care of their son — and is pregnant! (I have three nephews, I’m really hoping for a niece.)
• The third donation was from a friend of Julie’s, who saw the information on her Facebook page. How generous is that — we don’t even know them personally!
• The fourth donation was from a homeschool mom who has taught Mineral twice in co-op. He loves her classes!

We met with Megan again on Friday, spending an hour in Costco with five kids, three adults and two service dogs. Megan helped Mineral work with one of the Service Dogs. Later she broke it down for me: She doesn’t think a Service Dog will help him ENOUGH to make the investment of time, money and energy worthwhile. Even when he’s on his ADHD medication, she thinks he lacks the focus to train consistently.

I can see that.

Further, she thinks it will be difficult within our family — for Mineral to have a dog that’s “his” yet still have to share it with the other kids, and for the other kids to see Mineral get a dog.

I can see that too.

She said that while she could get a dog and train with him, the effort would mostly be mine, not his, and that she didn’t think it was worth the time and money and effort I’d end up investing.

Ultimately, she’s the expert, and I think she’s right.

I was totally bummed out at first. But really, I just wish there was something — SOMETHING — that could help him be more “normal.” Occupational therapy helps, as does psychotherapy (his therapist recently said on the phone to me, “He’s REALLY sensitive,”) and speech therapy makes him better able to communicate. Psychiatry provides him with the meds that keep him as focused as possible. But even doing all that, he struggles, and I struggle as his mom.

• A pink sparkly wallet that could double as a cigarette holder — but only because that craigslister never responded to my email and took down the post.
• A copy of ROOM by Emma Donoghue.
• A dead fish.

I am giving away:

• Something TOTALLY AWESOME
• A live fish. Seriously — if you want one! I want to atone for my previous mailing-dead-fish sin. My Chemical Romance has a lot of extra fish in his tank and said I could send one to the winner. Yes, a fish can travel legally and safely and should arrive still… vital.

How to enter:

• Using the original blog (not Facebook) which I have kindly linked to above, comment on the Pink Sparkly Wallet Giveaway post.
• Using the original blog (not Facebook) which I have kindly linked to above, comment on the ROOM post.
• Using the original blog (not Facebook) which I have kindly linked to above, comment on the dead fish post.

Whoever comments on all three blogs first gets a 1, next person gets a 2, etc. I’ll use Random.org to choose the winning number (and I’ll take a screenshot to prove it).

Entries will close on February 29, 2012 at 11:59PM (EST)

Good luck, Sinkos!

The Informant and Mineral wish you good luck!

Here’s what they all have in common:

1. There’s always one woman who sits there with a pained expression like attending book club is some kind of torture

credit: http://thewhizzer.blogspot.com

She says nothing. And I’m constantly wondering, Why are you here? This does not seem enjoyable for you. ARE YOU PART OF WITNESS PROTECTION AND THIS IS YOUR COVER?!?!?!?!

2. On the opposite side of the room, is a woman who makes a lot of jokes that only she laughs at and talks way too loudly.

credit: Lisa Williams/Flickr

This may come as a surprise to many but I am not actually that woman! No, really. I’m not. I joke only about the book/books in general, and after spending all day with the kids, I speak fairly quietly.

3. There’s a bitter divorcee who bitches about everything

credit: flickr/tinfoilraccoon

The Hunger Games SUCKED. My ex-husband SUCKS. People who don’t want to read Cutting for Stone because it’s 700 pages long and full of detailed explanations of bowel dissection surgery that no non-medical person ever needs to read SUCK. (But I’m not talking about anyone in particular.) In fact, all people who don’t want to read SUCK. I’m just going to sit here sprawled on a chair with my dare-you-to-defy-me body language and glower at everyone who eats the pound cake. Because I’m on a diet.

4. They Hustle Out Like There’s a Fire

Or, as I might say, They leave with very little fanfare. Book club is over and they’re out. No THANKS SEE YOU NEXT MONTH THIS WAS REALLY FUN I LIKE WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT PEETA SOUNDING LIKE THE TYPE OF BREAD RATHER THAN LIKE “PETER”  AND HOW IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF SOCIETY’S DEPENDENCE ON REALITY TV THAT SOMETHING LIKE THE HUNGER GAMES COULD EXIST IN THE VERY NEAR FUTURE. Instead it’s like a bum-rush for the door and maybe a quick wave as the door slams behind them. What the heck? Have I been out of society for so long that it’s now considered rude to ask if the hostess wants help with putting the food away?

Next month I’m having a book club for the co-op moms, and I sincerely hope that they disprove all these stereotypes!

In the interest of self-improvement, I often Google how to blog, or write a good blog, or write a blog people like. After all, I only have like twenty-something followers (wordpress counts Twitter followers in my “followers” count, and I think half of those people are spammers) and yet I think if people read my blog, they’d enjoy it.

Mikey Likes It!

Most of the articles start with the advice to WRITE WELL.

To which I reply: Touche! Actually, I reply, “Oh, come on.”There’s nothing like intimidating a blogger by telling them that the only way anyone is going to read their blog is if they WRITE WELL. A good piece of writing is like a good round of golf; it doesn’t change in the face of anyone else’s game. It stands alone. And there’s room for a lot of it.

“Write well” wouldn’t be my advice. There are blogs I write that I put a lot of thought and time into — blogs that I think are well written — and blogs that I toss out there because it’s been a few days since I’ve done new content, and people don’t seem to notice much of a difference. In fact, I tend to get more comments on “throwaway” content than stuff I really think about and edit heavily.

My advice on how to blog is not write well, but write often. I think it’s a two-fold process: as you write more you’ll eventually become a better writer, and people will get to know you.

Take Hyperbole-and-a-half. It’s freaking hilarious, clever, intelligent, funny and a lot of other adjectives. It’s incredibly creative — and I really envy bloggers who add that touch of je-ne-sais-quoi, because I DON’T HAVE THAT. I write. I try to add a lot of paragraphs, and I try to stick to a good rhythm or cadence (one of the most important things I learned in creative writing classes), but please don’t ask me to add any kind of sensory experience other than words. I can’t even tell you people how much it pains me to add photographs to this blog. When should I add them? Where in the blog? Why? — but she only posts like once every eleventy-seven weeks.

Likewise, there are blogs I read that are not very exciting/creative/funny/clever/creative, but they churn out content like Monsanto churns out carcinogenic food and I feel like I KNOW THEM and I keep going back to their blog.

But honestly, I could be wrong about it. I’ve been blogging consistently for three years now, and I average about 75 hits per day. Maybe one or two comments (Hi, Melissa! xoxoxo) and sometimes very little traffic. I have a bunch of Facebook likes, but some of that could be because I’m soon going to have a giveaway.

What do you think?

Now a confession: I am a bad blogger, in the sense that I don’t spend a lot of time reading other peoples’ blogs**. I read Dooce, of course, because that’s DE RIGUERE for mommy bloggers. I read The Bloggess because Jenny cracks me up, and she’s very honest about her struggles with depression. I sometimes catch Mommy Wants Vodka and I always think, “I should read that more often!” I read the Pioneer Woman — I recently read her BOOK which is just a huge collection of her blogs. And I’ve been following RANTS FROM MOMMYLAND since it was a little fetus of a blog — I’ve even guest-posted for them. But the point is that those are all really well-known blogs in the blogosphere, nothing totally new or fresh. 

**I also read the blogs of moms I know personally, because I’m kind of a stalker like that.**

Anyway, Momastery’s readers/followers are called Monkees. And I thought, my followers need a name! And it just came to me: SINKOS. Because I’m Cinco de Mommy. Sometimes I feel like this blog could be called sinking de mommy. Sinkos. Sinkos! Perfect!

This segues totally nonsensically to Twilight. I used to be a Twi-hard. A Twi-Mom. Team Edward (books), Team Jacob (movies). I have seen every Twilight movie at midnight on opening day. Even when the original Twilight opened a mere two weeks after my weight-loss surgery and it hurt to walk, I was there at midnight. However, as the years pass and I get older and my daughters get older, I become less enamored with Twilight. I love the way Stephenie Meyer really seems to capture the intoxication of first love… and then after that, I kind of hate it.

Bella is wimpy and sucks. Edward is controlling and sucks. Jacob is manipulative and sucks.

I read a critical essay about Twilight (because yes, I do that in my spare time) and now I can’t find the link, but it was about Bella’s initial reactions to Edward. When Edward acts like he hates Bella, she thinks there’s something wrong with her. And then later, when Edward can’t read her mind, again she thinks there’s something wrong with her.

Oh, Bella. Other than being kind of a bland wishy-washy lip masher, there’s nothing WRONG with you, girl. 

She totally lost me there, because I’m the opposite: when I meet someone and they don’t like me, I assume (1) they just haven’t gotten to know me enough yet or (2) they’re an idiot. It could also be (3) they don’t have time in their life for someone like me, but back to (1), I think they would want me in their life. (When I lived in Charlotte, there were several women I met who I wanted to get to know better, but my life was really full from Jugs. So I can understand that point of view — to an extent.)

Just recently I was talking to a mom who hadn’t YET extended an olive branch of friendship toward me, when I realized that I really didn’t WANT her to extend an olive branch of friendship to me. That was a moment. It’s taken me a while to feel like I’ve cracked the code of mommies here in Raleigh. But once I get discerning, I feel like I’m in.

And besides, I know the right people. Case in point: after dropping off Mineral at speech therapy on Monday, I realized I had a flat tire. Speech therapy is 1/2 mile away — if I were more organized/enthusiastic and it was warmer than 20* out, we could walk  – so I just drove home and called My Chemical Romance. Once home I noticed the tire was completely busted open and I didn’t think I’d make it back to pick him up. So I called Kat. Kat is my around-the-block neighbor’s daughter who is a little younger than me, and works in a doctor’s office that’s one floor below Mineral’s speech therapist’s office. Voila — a ride home from speech therapy for Mineral. I do not know that many people in Raleigh yet. But I know the RIGHT people.

Most of the posts are wood, dirt or toilets. Unfortunately I have no way to mail those — in case the random winner lives far away! Not everyone who reads my blog is a Jug! — so I’m on the hunt for something small, mail-able and representative of my blog in some way.

Last week I found the PERFECT item. It was this

Click on picture for larger image.

In case it’s too small to read, here is what the description said:

Beautiful pink aluminum wallet used to protect your credit cards with a “pay pass” chip inside. The wallet blocks people from scanning cards inside your purse. It sparkles! Could also be used as a cigarette case. Pictures show the sparkles and general color of the case.

TELL ME WHY YOU NEED IT. I’m tired of getting rude people saying stuff like “I want this” with no other information. This is going to someone who is in NEED.

Of course I emailed immediately:

Hi there, I am interested in your pink aluminum wallet/cigarette holder. The sparkly one. Is it still available? 

It’s something I want to see again from him, a genuinely happy smile. I think a Service Dog will help him find his smile again.

We’ve already met with Megan from Triumphant Tails. She has observed Mineral twice (and will again on Tuesday; we’re all going to Costco). She thinks a service dog could help him — but it’s a long, slow process, and she wants to take her time before looking for a dog for him.  She mentioned last week that she’s concerned because our house is so small (for seven people and one dog. It’s got four bedrooms and the space is much better-utilized than in our last house, but of course we all share rooms.) And also because we have so.many.young.kids. Yep. Isn’t that always a problem?

The challenge with having so many young kids is making sure that Mineral works with a dog within the parameters of our life (meaning, with all of us around) but that the other kids don’t interrupt that bonding. Megan actually prefers that families who have other children also have another dog — so the other kids don’t feel left out and can work with the other dog. So it’s awesome great fantastic good that we already have Maizey.

My Masterpiece (holding Wolfie, The Informant's wolf) and Maizey

Meanwhile, as I’ve mentioned before, a Service Dog will cost about $8000. Megan charges a training fee, and then an itemized monthly bill for dog food, treats, crate and traveling. We do not have $8000. If we had $8000, I might be typing this post from an iPad, or at least from an iPhone. Or I’d be typing this post while both of our cars were paid off and we only ever used our debit card to buy things.

I reached out to a friend who works at the Humane Society and asked if she knew any rich eccentric dog-loving people who wanted to provide money so that Mineral could get a Service Dog? She said no. But she suggested a fundraising site. So I made a page for Mineral, where anyone can donate.

(By the way, at first I had all my pages linked — fundraising page with twitter and Facebook; my blog with twitter and Facebook — but it quickly turned into a clusterfuck of social media in which I’M CONSTANTLY ASKING YOU TO DONATE MONEY. I find that really annoying, so my friend Rachael from Letters to Ames suggested I detach everything and simply pick one day per week to bombard you all with fundraising stuff. Thus, Mineral Mondays is born! Thank you, Rachael!)

I have several donation levels, including a video of barking children if you donate $25!

And — here’s the one you’ve all been waiting for — a video of myself eating a dog biscuit if you donate $100! Our very first donation was for $100. This is for you, Joy!

Here’s what happened when I went to buy Castor Oil. I was staying with Miss Manners for the weekend and we decided to try the OCM. I got a little thrill, like we were in high school and dyeing hair or doing some beauty project together, rather than 30-something wives and mothers who should probably be considering botox.

I felt a little weird about buying castor oil. The last time I bought it, I was 9+ months pregnant with My Masterpiece and trying to have a baby. This time… I just wanted to wash my face. Still, there’s something about buying castor oil. It’s like announcing that you WANT diarrhea or need a laxative after you eat. Plus, my face was all red and pimply and bumpy.

But of course I convinced myself that none of that mattered — who the hell NOTICES what you buy when you shop at a drugstore? — and I was just being self-absorbed. Nobody would bat an eye.

I got to the cash register, castor oil in hand, along with some candy. Standing at the register was the manager and a cashier, and the manager nodded to my hand. “Castor oil, huh?” he asked, giving me a once-over.

GIVING ME A ONCE-OVER!

I am not as skinny as I once was

I was very cold and looked like Skeletor. This was Pre-Cousin It.

But for the love of god, I do NOT look like I’m pregnant! Nor would I buy Castor Oil just because I’m eating some candy. Jeez.

I stuttered something like, “There are many uses for castor oil.” Which is 100% true.

The manager nodded. He said, “My wife took it once…”

Now I was really at a loss. AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES ABOUT THE RULES OF CONVERSATION?!?!?! Discussing Castor Oil is right up there with things NOT to say, along with offering pot to neighbors. I did not want to hear why his wife took castor oil. I did not want to discuss why I was taking castor oil. I just wanted to get the damn castor oil (and the candy) and go back to Miss Manners’ house and wash my face!

I didn’t feel like staring blankly at the store manager (lest I commit this moment to memory forever and ever) so I stared at the floor for a while and finally, finally, FINALLY, he got the message and went outside (to smoke! I saw him while I was leaving! for shame!) and I purchased my castor oil in peace and went back to Miss Manners’ house to wash my face with oil.