Every holiday season, I go to events and parties armed with
an interesting tidbit that I work into every conversation. Here
are examples of conversation topics from my previous holidays: the existence of
Pachno Clause, Santa’s Mexican cousin; the fact that blood bounces on ice; Lithopedian babies are mummified in the womb; and how the condition known as the
“Jumping Frenchmen of Maine” is a real disease.
I’m a real hit at parties.
That is, I was a
hit. Last year, I walked into my first holiday gathering of the season, armed
with my tidbit about Saddam Hussein having an entire Quran written in his
blood. After a quick sampling of cookies, I was cornered by an uncle. Last
year, all he wanted to do was discuss the politics of the Middle East, so I
figured I’d try the blood Quran story on him. Only, I never got to use it.
“How’s the baby?” He asked.
“Oh, she’s great. Hey, crazy about the Middle East, right?
“Have you started her on solids yet? That’s when the poop
I blinked. Here was an intelligent, middle-aged lawyer and all he wanted to talk to me about was poop. But, it wasn’t just him. Since
having my daughter, all people want to me to talk about is my baby. And don’t
get me wrong, I love crowing about how she can say “handsome” and
“unbelievable” and how she shakes her booty to Rihanna like a boss. But
eventually, I want to talk about something else. I mean, I’m sure she hates me
talking about her when she’s right there, and I assume people get annoyed by my
stories of her criticizing my cleanliness (“uh oh, yucky mama!”). But I just
can’t change the topic of conversation. It all comes back to the baby.
This phenomenon baffles me. One peek at the internet tells
me that parents talk about their kids way too much and the rest of the world is
irritated. Sites like UnBabyMe and STFUParents have cropped up to address the
growing needs of the sans baby world to vent about how parents only talk about
their kids. And I don’t want to annoy you, you poor childless masses. But you
just won’t let me be normal. Once I proved that my uterus worked you were all,
“CAN SHE MAKE A CAR SOUND?!” When I try to turn the conversation to Downton
Abbey you’re all, “Can she tell me what color this is?”
So, I decided to create a guide of things you can talk to me
about that don’t deal with my kid.
1. Sherlock: So, the PBS Sherlock
series is pretty amazing. But what is up with Elementary? I can’t watch that without having Trainspotting flashbacks and why wasn’t Lucy Liu cast as Sherlock?
Johnny Lee Miller is too whiny and bumbling, like he’s playing Hugh Grant’s
2.Pinterest: What the hell is wrong with that site? I mean,
I own mason jars, but they don’t do all the crap that mason jars on Pinterest
due. My mason jars are lazy. And when I tried to make that face soothing face
mask I broke out into hives. What is this, Skynet? YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN
ME, PINTEREST?! YOU ARE NOT!
3. Hiding things in
walls: First of all, there is a word to describe this practice, it’s
“immuring.” So, basically that means putting stuff in walls is a thing, which
both allures me and freaks me out. Because people have been known to immure
babies in walls and then years later, hapless renovating home owners have to deal
with a mummified baby coming out of their walls. Wait, where are you going? I
want to talk about this!
4.Elmo’s World: Back now? Good. Let’s talk about why is the
Shade such a jerk to Elmo? He never goes up and you have to watch him, kvetch
and flap, and I’m all like, JUST GO UP SHADEY! JUST ROLL YOURSELF UP! But it
takes him forever and that’s time that we could have totally spent yelling at
Mr. Noodle, who has his own problems, like a 50-year-old man who needs
kindergarteners to tell him how to put toothpaste on a toothbrush? What are we
teaching our children?
5….Okay, number five. Um, gosh. This is hard. Here, let’s
just look at a picture of my child and talk about how adorable it is when she
tells me that she has gas. Except she says it “gah-sh” so, it’s pretty
adorable. Not like normal gas. Also, I’m pretty sure it smells better too.
Here, sniff it!