Saturday, October 29, 2011

Family Update

I realize that I don't ever talk about how things in the Rehder family are actually going. How are our lives? What are we doing? Welp, over the past few months, things have pretty much stayed the same:
  • Julia is still beautiful and intriguing.
  • Sloan is still *snooze*
  • And Ward is still just...lying on the floor.
Gazing with the urgent sincerity of a
boy band member.

Did I mention that I have a baby? I feel like maybe 
I haven't said that enough yet on this blog. GOT A BABAY

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Identity Crisis

Sloan: I think I'm gonna buy a new cover for the duvet.
Julia: Why? I just got that one like a year ago.
Sloan: I just...
Julia: It's a great duvet cover! And I got an awesome deal on it, baby. It's Pottery Barn damaged goods! Thank goodness for employees with--
Sloan: --poor box cutting skills, I know. It's just that...when I saw that picture you posted of me sleeping with my sword...I just...a man sleeping with his sword should be one of the most masculine moments in his life. But that fruity duvet cover ruined it.

Julia: want a manlier blanket?
Sloan: Well, yeah.
Julia: Ugh. Listen: I'm the girl. I am in charge of the things like bedding. If it helps, don't think of it as your duvet, think of it as mine that you're borrowing.
Sloan: Oh yeah, that really cuts down on the emasculation.
Julia: And besides, what would make a blanket manly? Chainmail? Blankets are cuddly, and cuddly is inherently effeminate. Like a woman's bosom. Or her womb.
Sloan: I'd just like to not be wrapped in pink flowers every night.
Julia: And besides, I don't really know why, but duvet covers are freaky expensive! Maybe it has to do with inflation or the stocks of things? The Fed? I don't know how that stuff works, but what I do know is that even the cheap ones are more than zero dollars, and that's always too much for something you already have one of.
Sloan: Tell that to the thirty-two mismatching dinner plates that we own.
Julia: That is a collection.
Sloan: Twelve glitter pumpkins.
Julia: How could one ever do the job of twelve?
Sloan: Six sets of sheets.
Julia: Changing out sheets transforms the room!!
Sloan: I'm going to the store.
Julia: K. Get some sheets.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011


Dear Dr. Phil,

Hi, my name is Ward and I live in an apartment. I can't tell you where that apartment is, because (as you can see) while I know how to read and write, use the internet, and upload photos of myself, I can't tell you where I live because I don't totally understand the concept of states. No, I GET that they are constitutional territories that form part of a federal union (I'm not an idiot), I just don't understand the nuances of their powers in relation to the federal government. That and I can't actually name any states yet. Buttercream? Is that a state? Or maybe Van Halen? I feel like that's a state.

Anyway, Dr. Phil, I was wondering if you could help me out. I was born in July and things were pretty great for a while. I got to sleep and eat all of the time, people were quiet, there was a lot of watching Judge Alex. It was summer and always sunny. Mom didn't shower, Dad didn't sleep, and I didn't have a care in the world.

But now it's October and things have changed.

I think I've got the depression.

I mean, I'm fine, I guess. I don't know. It's just that there are leaves everywhere and it's windy and my parents are making me wear this stupid hat that looks like a pumpkin, which makes EVERYONE stop and talk to me like I care what they're saying.

Yes, I know. So cute. Move along.
And Mom went back to work, so I'm stuck at home with Dad, and he doesn't lay around watching Divorce Court or even The View (!!!). He cooks and cleans and studies and tries to sing songs to me. And, even when we do stuff that I like, I...well...I don't know, Dr. Phil, it's just that nothing sounds fun anymore. Not eating, not bath time, not even chewing on stuff. It's all totally boring.

Anyway, I saw the show last week where you helped that obese woman get back into the dating game, and it really inspired me. Just like you, I thought she was a hopeless case at first, but you really turned her life around. And if you can help her, I just know you could help me. Right?

You gotta help me, Dr. Phil. I just...feel like...nothing. *sigh* Whatever. You know what? Forget it, just forget I ever sent this letter. It's worthless. No, it's not. I am. I'm worthless.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Julia's Kraft Korner

*ahem* Hello, and welcome to Julia's Kraft Korner: Where krafts are in the korner. Today, I will be showing you how to make a mobile for your maniac of a child who must be constantly entertained while awake or his incessant crying will cause you to stuff loofahs into your ears and crawl head first into a sleeping bag little rugrat!

Here are the materials you will need:
  • Sticks
  • Yarn
  • Hammer or hammer-like substitute (such as canned food, phone book, mostly full gallon of milk, etc.)
  • Christmas ornaments
  • Dental floss
  • More yarn (because you probably didn't get enough the first time)

Step 1:  Pour cranberry-flavored Crystal Light into a wine glass and pretend to get drunk.

Step 2: Stand on couch while holding wine glass and explain/slur to your mate that you are feeling "the primal urges of my human soul compelling me to create."

Step 3: Try to paint a landscape using nail polish on a piece of cardboard; if the work is proving insufficient in bringing forth any elan vital, break it over your knee in an angst-fueled rage. Note: Up until this point, you must not have put down your wine glass at any time.

Step 4: Buy sticks from Hobby Lobby, then come home and turn on Dancing with the Stars.

Step 5: Stack sticks on stop of each other in opposing directions, making what should look like a real-life asterisk.

Step 6:  Text friend about Ricki Lake's cha-cha routine (Love Ricki!! It's because she keeps her performances so honest.)

Step 7: Try to drive a nail through the center of stick asterisk to hold sticks together. Note: If you lack the upper body strength to nail the sticks together, pour some more wine and stand in front of your bathroom mirror berating yourself until you find the strength within. Googling "exercise htre arms for woman  pleaase" may or may not help in this process.

Step 8: Order pizza.

Step 9: When pizza arrives, pull wad of cash out from the elastic waistband of your maternity jeans and hand the delivery boy a semi-soggy five dollar bill.

Step 10: Fist pump to yourself when he says you can keep the fiver (wheelin and dealin, baby!).

Step 11: Once you have eaten the entire pizza by yourself, return to your project. Wrap your stick asterisk with yarn instead of painting it, because seriously, paint is overrated (see Steps 3 & 6).

Step 12: Blah blah blah floss blah blah hang ornaments blah yougettheidea blah blah.

Step 13: Drink more wine and recall the Christmas of 2009 when your niece kept calling them "hornaments" and no one corrected her because it was too funny.

Step 14: Hang completed mobile from either a hat rack or a broken floor lamp (if the latter, cover it with a pashmina to class things up a bit).

Step 15: Spin mobile vigorously to test its structural integrity.

Voila! Now you're a great mom!
(And I'm sorry I don't say that more often. You really are a treasure.)
 Note: You may need to reconsider the engineering of the mobile if the ornaments are being consistently propelled across the room when the mobile is spun. However, you could just deal with flying ornament problem later if it's unlikely that they'll actually hit the baby in vital areas, such as the face or groin.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

I'm not a robot

Because sometimes it's been a long day and you've made a mess in the living room because you tried  using some sort of strong spray adhesive to cover your shoes with glitter so you had to open the windows to air out the place and then the baby was cranky so you had to stand up and rock him while watching The Biggest Loser and things got pretty emotional because Bonnie was having a rough time hiking but Mike stepped in and helped her climb the big hill even though they were equally tired and in the meantime your no-good husband won't listen to you as you try to explain the emotional parts of the show and instead uses his phone to take a picture of you during a weak moment and by the way your nose is red and you're feeling fat.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Cultural Fusion

I was in a meeting at work and the woman next to me had a rotation of cutesy images as her desktop background. Baby otters hugging, a tiger cub in a basket, yawning kittens, wet puppies, etc.

Because my fresh as hell image is an important part of my life, I should be all like, "Psssh, horsies? Pocket kitten? So pedestrian." 

But I can't fight this. I DO think that a poster of a baby sitting in a paint can and clapping for joy is undeniably adorable. I do. And I WOULD like to hang it in my room to look at on rainy afternoons when nothing else seems to be going my way. But as much as I like uncool stuff, I still really want to be cool, like hipster cool.  I want to be cool like Ira Glass. I want to be cool like Brooklyn. Cool like big scarves and buying local. Cool like Scott Pilgrim and atheism and men's v-necks. Antiques. Existential angst. Sea salt.

This is what hipsters look like, Mom.
I love babies playing saxophones and kittens hanging on to a wire with the caption "Hang in There!!" But I have also fallen for the charms of irony, and now I want to wear Ray Bans and draw pictures of lumberjacks. Dilemma. ANYWAY, I'm not just a thinker, I'm a doer:

Ideas for Posters of Animals in Wacky Situations That Hipsters Will Like
  • Hamster wearing horn-rimmed glasses while reading "Catcher in the Rye"
  • Steampunk panda
  • Tiger cubs in suspenders feeding on a Republican.
  • Baby monkey playing ukelele version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
  • Clown fish with handlebar mustache riding a bike with a basket on the front
  • Baby snakes at an Arcade Fire concert
  • Bunnies in fishnets and vintage lingerie
  • Prairie dog in Vans and an American Apparel hoodie high-fiving a Corgi at the Occupy Wall Street protest
  • Armadillo eating a gluten-free cookie
I don't want to jinx it, but I really think I'm getting there. 

I'll get there. 

I can feel it.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Another masquerade post

Who knew that so much love, laughter, dancing, illumination, revelry, triumph, frivolity, and living could come out of preparing for one little masquerade? Oh, life!

Julia: I want Ward to have a mask, but he'll just get mad and pull it off. Will you draw one on him with my eyeliner?
Sloan: *sigh*
Julia: Pleeeeease? He will be SO CUTE and everyone will be impressed with how well we are able to parent whilst maintaining a youthful, edgy image by doing something unconventional with our newborn!
Sloan: He won't like it.
Julia: But really, does he like anything? He's a wet blanket.
Sloan: Touche.
*five minutes later*
Sloan: Baaaaby! Meet your new masked man!
Julia: Oh dear...

Sloan: Isn't he so cute?
Julia: Well...yeah. I just--
Sloan: Here! Take a picture with him!
Julia: It didn't really turn out how I thought it--
Sloan: Say cheese!!!

Sloan: Oh come on! Let's see that smile!

I love my little juggalo.
P.S. Here we are in the masks we made (Julia: Shiny; Sloan: Creepy) with our friend Holly. Thanks, Holly!

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Takes a creep to know a creep

Good: My friend Kira and her baby son Jeff have the same birthday!!! Cuuuuuute!
Good: Their birthday party is going to be a masquerade!
Bad: The masks I bought to decorate make Sloan and I look like we genetic disorder.
Good/Bad?: Ward likes it when we wear them...?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

I miss my babies

Just minding my business at work.
Text from Sloan

P.S. Other photos I get while Mr. Mom takes care of Mr. Baby:

Monday, October 10, 2011

Winter is Coming

Currently, Sloan is reading Game of Thrones, a fantasy book about like, dragons and warrior men and clans or whatever.

Did I ever mention before that Sloan likes fantasy? Probably not, because it's embarrassing. Does he play Dungeons & Dragons? Has he tried to learn Elvish? Did he hold up a map of Middle Earth in his high school's group senior picture? These are questions that will be met with silence. (But really, doesn't the silence say it all?)

Anyway, Sloan got a good amount of reading in on Saturday, and as is the case when he reads/watches anything fantasy, it made him obnoxious and insane for the rest of the day. After spending the majority of the night speaking with a (surprisingly good...) Irish accent, Sloan decided that my yelling at him to "Shut your creepy mouth or I swear I will take this baby and start a new life as a cocktail waitress in Reno," just wasn't as gratifying as it used to be. And so, like the warrior he is, he pushed on.

Before you read the following, you should also know this: Sloan keeps an imitation katana under his side of the bed "for protection." What's a katana, Julia? Well, you totally dumb reader, it's a Japanese samurai sword. These days, katanas are owned mostly by the "quiet type" teenage boys who draw disturbing pictures and argue over things like hit points and warrior classes.
Exhibit A
The Scene: In bed, falling asleep. Even Sloan's breathing somehow sounds Irish.
Sloan: *sits ups* Woman. Did ya hear that?
Julia: That squeak?
Sloan: Aye.
Julia: *sigh* It was just the bed when you were turning over.
Sloan: Methinks something is afoot. *slips out of bed, crouches*
Julia: I think you're confusing Shakespeare with...never mind. And what? No one is in the house. I just went through and turned off the lights. The doors are locked. It was the bed.
Sloan: *holding sword* You stay here. *strokes Julia's cheek* There's no need fer a woman tah see what's about tah happ'n.
Julia:  *ignoring*
*five minutes later*
Sloan: *putting sword back in its sheath* Woman, wake up. Arise!
Julia: *not moving*
Sloan: You should know...*leans on sword* I found no one in our beloved home.
Julia: *ignoring*
Sloan: But *dramatic sigh* because winter is coming, I shall keep Ev'nfall close this night.
Julia: I am not asking you what that means.
Sloan: *climbs into bed* Ahhhhh. *scratches chest* Sweet sleep awaits me this autumn evenin'.
Julia: Don't tell me what Ev'nfall is. I do not ca--
Sloan: *loudly* Ev'nfall is mah sword, woman! *pulls sword out from under comforter*
Julia: You named it? It's not even the right kind of swor--
Sloan: *throws head back* HAHAHA, silly girl!! *head shake* All good swords have names.
Julia: *silence*
Sloan: Now, quiet lass. *puts finger on Julia's lips* We slumber.
Julia: I wasn't even talk--

The End.

P.S. Many people think the Sloan stories aren't true. Oh they are YOU BETCHA. And he is skilled at these games; he will stay in character for DAYS until he wakes up to me holding a pillow over his face is through having his fun. And the above character in the above story was no different. In fact, the following day, when we were going to take our Sunday afternoon nap, Sloan got in bed first and meant only to hold this until I came in and got sufficiently annoyed. However, I continued messing around on my computer for quite a while and he actually fell asleep like this. That mistake is major because I could have never gotten this photo otherwise, and he would have done what he always does after I tell stories about him: vehemently denied everything to everyone and treated me like a mental patient while everyone else laughs nervously at our bickering. HA NOT THIS TIME, ARAGORN WILLIAM WALLACE STARK OR WHOEVER YOU THINK YOU ARE. Gotchaaaaaaaa! Don't it hurt yaaaa...

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Yarn ≥ Meth

Sloan: *walks in front door* Hey bab--oh my...yarn.
Sloan: You've been busy...
Julia: *still fist pumping* YARN WREATH! YARN WREATH!
Sloan: I see that. It's very cute.
Julia: *singing* MY YARN WREATH BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARRRD. *dancing with yarn wreath*
Sloan: Okay, just calm--
Sloan: Just--
Sloan: You need to sto--
Julia:  *Shania Twain impersonation* MAN! I YARN LIKE A WUMAN! *tips yarn wreath like cowboy hat*
Sloan: Where is our baby?
Julia: *Snoop Dogg impression* SMOKE YARN EVERYDAY.
Sloan: Why is Ward asleep in your yarn basket?
Sloan: And where are your pants?
Julia: *asleep on floor*

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Well that explains it...

Ward is just like his daddy. Only less self-aware about it. We get to hear this about 15 times a day...just listen:

Dr. Farnsworth: Looks like Ward is growing at a perfect rate. Great weight gain!
Julia: Yay! I knew those protein shakes were working!
Dr. Farnsworth: Wait, protein shakes? For him?
Julia: Oh, HAHA, no don't worry! I also give him some of my fries when I go to McDonald's. *serious face* You know, for the carbs.
Dr. Farnsworth: *vigorous head shake* No, no, no. He shouldn't be eating those things.
Julia: Listen, doctor. I don't buy that whole "Atkin's Diet" thing, and neither should you! It's a scam! Dr. Oz had a debunking episode on it last week, I'll send you the link.
Dr. Farnsworth: No, Mrs. Rehder, listen to me: Ward shouldn't be eating any solids.
Julia: Stop giving food to my baby? Is this some sort of sick joke?
Dr. Farnsworth: Only give him your milk. That's all he needs, and it's all he can handle.
Julia: Well, sir, I beg to differ! I'll have you know that he finished off an entire pack of Twizzlers in less than an hour yesterday!
Dr. Farnsworth: Oh dear.