The time we have all been waiting for has come; college football season is finally here! This past weekend I went to the CU alumni watch party for the game against our in-state rival, Colorado State. Long, truly kick-ass story short, Colorado won. I was in my element at this watch party. Surrounded by my fellow Buffaloes. It was great to talk about how amazing our college experience was and say things out loud that I am POSITIVE my swagger says for itself.
I LOVE this time of year, though I’ve come to realize that my love for drinking beer and yelling can be mistaken for a love for the actual sport of football. Let’s get some things straight. I could care less about any team other than the Colorado Buffaloes. I could care less about Colorado’s history with other teams. I could care less about Colorado’s odds in the present game. As long as I am wearing black and gold, have a Coors Light within in reach and can be prompted by those around me to yell obscenities then I AM GOOD. I can see how I confuse others when at the mention of college football I ask, “How ‘bout them Buffs?” This is asked not to start a conversation about our offensive line or our defensive prowess, because if those are the topics then, honestly, I don’t know ‘bout them Buffs. No, I ask simply to assert my blind loyalty and begin phase one of my newest project: Tell everyone I ever meet how great Boulder is.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Out of the Motherhood
Well it’s official. I’ve finished the “nannying” chapter of my life and am revisiting the “unemployment” chapter. And while I complained a lot about being a three-year-olds bitch, I’m going to miss that little guy. My time as a nanny was truly a give and take. With each positive came a negative. For example, there is nothing better than a hug from an overjoyed toddler, but there is nothing worse than a sneeze in the face from a sick toddler. In one simple move, a tickle of the toes, you can make a toddler laugh uncontrollably, but with a simple (and warranted) disciplining, you can make a toddler cry wildly. There are always delicious snackable treats around because the appetite of a toddler is ever present, but when they spot you eating your own snack you have to share because the nosiness of a toddler is also ever present.
Being a part-time mother has really changed how I think about a lot of everyday situations. I never realized how fire hydrants are so inconsiderately placed. Um, how am I expected to maneuver my stroller around this fire hydrant when there is a telephone pole on one side and a busy street on the other? Don’t be a jerk, city planner.
I never used to care but I now question whether I cut my food into small enough bites. Let’s be real here, guys; choking is a serious issue at any age.
I am aware of common objects/activities/toys posing a potential threat to a toddler. I surprised myself by how grown up and authoritative I sounded when I snatched a Frisbee out of the air and told the ten-year-old boys who were playing with it that they didn’t have good enough control of their throws to play so close to young children. I felt so accomplished, but it was a completely different sense of accomplishment than I had ever felt in my life. I felt the accomplishment of having just saved this child’s life. While at most I saved him from was a bruise and a good cry, the point is I SAVED HIM from that.
Throughout my time as a nanny I was exposed to some ridiculously annoying, grumpy, loud children. I was very lucky to nanny the boy I did. He was well behaved AND adorable. Because I wish to keep his identity anonymous, I will refer to the boy I nannied as “Mort” for the remainder of this post. The reason for the name Mort is two-fold. First of all, it was the first name that came to my mind. And secondly, it’s actually pretty fitting because he was very much like an old man stuck in a three-year-old’s body.
He had such well developed speech that I often had to remind myself that although he was using big words so casually he was still only three years old. His vocabulary tricked me into thinking he understood complicated concepts but when he would answer me in nonsense, I remembered he was just a child. It was very much like working with a senile old man. Mort would often repeat highlights of past conversations instead of addressing the issue at hand. Our conversations would go something like this:
Me: (after seeing him throw sand) Hey, we don’t throw sand. Do you remember why we don’t throw sand?
Mort: Because… because… We actually don’t throw sand because… I left all of my watermelons in the garbage truck.
Because he did not mumble like other toddlers, and spoke with such intent, it was hard to believe he didn’t actually think that was why we didn’t throw sand. Mort’s clear speech and large vocabulary produced hilarious quotes which brought me some of the most unexpected joy of my life. My top three Mort quotes are as follows:
3. (In reference to the sing-along songs we were listening to)
Mort: “Anna, who sings this?”
Me: “I don’t know, it’s just the same nursery rhymes we listen to every day.”
Mort: “I think it’s Lady Gaga.”
2. (Pretending a marker was a squirt gun)
Mort: “Anna, I’m going to squirt you with ice…and poop…and dog poop… and fire!”
1. (Wielding a magic marker as a magic wand)
Mort: “Anna, I’m a baaaaad guy. I’m, gonna turn you into a dress!”
Not only is it ridiculous that Mort knows who Lady Gaga is but he also followed up this comment by consistently humming the deep and rhythmic “mamamamaaa” from the beginning of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” while I made lunch. Being told you are going to squirted with the two most extreme temperatures and two different kinds of feces is borderline torture and just about the most unexpected thing to come from a three-year-old. And, yes, you are a bad guy if you are about to turn me into an inanimate object.
Ah, memories.
I will forever reflect fondly on my time as a nanny, but I am also so happy it is over. It is time for another environment to absorb, be awkward in and, obviously, blog about.
Being a part-time mother has really changed how I think about a lot of everyday situations. I never realized how fire hydrants are so inconsiderately placed. Um, how am I expected to maneuver my stroller around this fire hydrant when there is a telephone pole on one side and a busy street on the other? Don’t be a jerk, city planner.
I never used to care but I now question whether I cut my food into small enough bites. Let’s be real here, guys; choking is a serious issue at any age.
I am aware of common objects/activities/toys posing a potential threat to a toddler. I surprised myself by how grown up and authoritative I sounded when I snatched a Frisbee out of the air and told the ten-year-old boys who were playing with it that they didn’t have good enough control of their throws to play so close to young children. I felt so accomplished, but it was a completely different sense of accomplishment than I had ever felt in my life. I felt the accomplishment of having just saved this child’s life. While at most I saved him from was a bruise and a good cry, the point is I SAVED HIM from that.
Throughout my time as a nanny I was exposed to some ridiculously annoying, grumpy, loud children. I was very lucky to nanny the boy I did. He was well behaved AND adorable. Because I wish to keep his identity anonymous, I will refer to the boy I nannied as “Mort” for the remainder of this post. The reason for the name Mort is two-fold. First of all, it was the first name that came to my mind. And secondly, it’s actually pretty fitting because he was very much like an old man stuck in a three-year-old’s body.
He had such well developed speech that I often had to remind myself that although he was using big words so casually he was still only three years old. His vocabulary tricked me into thinking he understood complicated concepts but when he would answer me in nonsense, I remembered he was just a child. It was very much like working with a senile old man. Mort would often repeat highlights of past conversations instead of addressing the issue at hand. Our conversations would go something like this:
Me: (after seeing him throw sand) Hey, we don’t throw sand. Do you remember why we don’t throw sand?
Mort: Because… because… We actually don’t throw sand because… I left all of my watermelons in the garbage truck.
Because he did not mumble like other toddlers, and spoke with such intent, it was hard to believe he didn’t actually think that was why we didn’t throw sand. Mort’s clear speech and large vocabulary produced hilarious quotes which brought me some of the most unexpected joy of my life. My top three Mort quotes are as follows:
3. (In reference to the sing-along songs we were listening to)
Mort: “Anna, who sings this?”
Me: “I don’t know, it’s just the same nursery rhymes we listen to every day.”
Mort: “I think it’s Lady Gaga.”
2. (Pretending a marker was a squirt gun)
Mort: “Anna, I’m going to squirt you with ice…and poop…and dog poop… and fire!”
1. (Wielding a magic marker as a magic wand)
Mort: “Anna, I’m a baaaaad guy. I’m, gonna turn you into a dress!”
Not only is it ridiculous that Mort knows who Lady Gaga is but he also followed up this comment by consistently humming the deep and rhythmic “mamamamaaa” from the beginning of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” while I made lunch. Being told you are going to squirted with the two most extreme temperatures and two different kinds of feces is borderline torture and just about the most unexpected thing to come from a three-year-old. And, yes, you are a bad guy if you are about to turn me into an inanimate object.
Ah, memories.
I will forever reflect fondly on my time as a nanny, but I am also so happy it is over. It is time for another environment to absorb, be awkward in and, obviously, blog about.
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