Feb 26, 2012

To kvetch or not to kvetch

Readers, have you given up on me? My apologies for the hiatus, but my husband went back to school at the beginning of January just as my (paid) workload spiked. He's gone 16 hours some days, so there's been a lot of slack to pull up around here. And too many balls in the air makes Suzie something something, so I had to ignore my blog (and everyone else's too, lest I get too distracted and fail to meet my 1,200-word-a-day quota.)

Anyway, I am up at 6:30 a.m. on a Sunday so I can fit in writing here while my family sleeps. Now, I wish I were the type of person about whom others would say, "And she NEVER once complained...." but I'm unfortunately totally not. In fact, I envy my Jewish friends and neighbours most for the fact that they have words to sum up the two things I find myself doing frequently: kvetching and schlepping. And man, do I ever hate schlepping (and do I ever kvetch about it). But if you live in New York, and particularly, if you live in New York with a kid, do you ever spend a lot of time schlepping.

So I wish I could squeeze out my first blog post in months without complaining, but that's not who I am. And if you're back here reading this after giving me up for dead, then you probably love me anyway. (And know that I love listening to your complaints too. So if you need to get something off your chest, please leave it in the comments below, and I promise to read it, nod heartily and say to my screen: "You're SO right! Uggs DO make everyone look like they have fallen arches!")

Kids really are the worst. They somehow simultaneously ignore every word you say while shouting out demands and then berating you when you don't fulfill them to their exacting preference. It's emotional abuse, spending 12 hours a day with a preschooler. Akin to working with Anna Wintour, I believe. Kids drive you to drink.

Husbands really are the worst too. They take out the vacuum to clean up because they invited their cousin over on a day you have to work from home, and then leave the vacuum in the middle of the living room floor for days....and days....until it's a week later and everything needs to be vacuumed again anyway, so you just do it and put the damn thing away, which means you totally lost this game of Vacuum Chicken. Husbands drive you to drink.

Lucky for me the only word my kid can read is her own name, and my husband never looks at my blog, so I don't have to worry about either of them reading what I have to say about them.

Did you come back here to read about sewing? I have sewn a few things in the time since I last wrote: a couple jersey tunic tops, which have been in heavy rotation. I still can't think of how to write about them in any useful way. Also: Sewaholic's Minoru jacket, which I love and have worn on several occasions because it's been eerily warm in New York this winter. I have no pictures of it yet though, because my husband is gone 16 hours a day and I have no one to help me by taking photos. Also, he takes our camera to school, so even if someone stopped by (and NO ONE ever stops by because I still haven't made friends in our new neighbourhood) there would be nothing to shoot pics with. I kvetch.

I have to sew a shirt for my daughter's BFF for her birthday, but I can't get downtown to the Garment District to buy fabric. My kid suddenly hates riding the subway (I don't blame her; from where we live now, it's a serious schlep to get anywhere). So I can't drag her with me by promising a ride on the Bryant Park carousel anymore. That used to work. Now she just looks at me like "been there, done that" and starts screeching in a way that makes my blood pressure rise instantly. Kids not only drive you to drink, they also drive you to kvetch.

10 comments:

  1. On the other hand, drinking hydrates the skin -- as long as it's not alcohol of course, which is dehydrating. If you ever need a "Day of Beauty" in Chelsea, let me know! We can leave the kid with the chihuahuas.

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  2. I'd love a Day of Beauty in Chelsea! Lucy can run on the treadmill with your pups. I'm sure they'll all be fine.

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  3. i did not return for sewing, i came back to laugh. mission accomplished.

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  4. It's fabulous to have you back.

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  5. Thanks, peeps. I respond well to positive reinforcement. Which means I will try my darndest to keep you laughing more regularly.

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  6. Kvetch away! You're in a super tough situation! And dude, I don't even try to play Domestic Chicken anymore-- like 2 days go by and then I end up totally losing my cool and screaming something like "MOVE YOUR GODDAM HOCKEY EQUIPMENT BEFORE I THROW IT ALL OUT THE WINDOW AND STAB YOU IN THE HEART 50 TIMES!" And then I get the look like, "Hey lady, chill out" and it really takes every ounce of willpower I have to not flip the F out. Ah, wedded bliss... Maybe your man can take the kid for a whole day over a weekend SOON so you can chill out, relax, do whatever you want for a day.

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  7. Oh my god, I am so glad you are back. I was starting to worry.
    As for your topic today, I am really glad you are not one of those mothers who only has good days/kids and is completely over the moon at being able to gently lead them through an amazing exploration of life. I like it real is what I am saying and you are keeping it real. Keep up the good work.

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  8. I'm with you on the kids and the moaning. Love them to bits, but they're not easy. I have three girls and are a year away from the teen years, but the hormones have already kicked in. For example, umpteen requests to 'tidy your room' go ignored, then a comment along the lines of 'oh, but if you were stricter about tidiness it wold be second nature to us!' and then extreme shrieking and door slamming when asked again - arrrggghhh!
    that's my kvetch!

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  9. I'm convinced everything I have lost in the last 10 years is somewhere in my 19 year old son's room which resembles the "good" room in any Hoarders episode. I occasionally go in there and rake out but only when I can stand the smell of feet.

    I work with sick people and their concerned family's. As a result I have no "neediness" tolerance when I get home. And yes, I bug out at the cat whining/meowing at me. Poor kitty.

    I'm still looking at this pattern piece wondering how to fix it so it will fit me and alternately going on the internet to look a blogs as an avoidance strategy.

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