[Edited to add links to the posts I was updating, because that was getting confusing. Also to change the spelling of Raisinets, now that I have a bag to refer to.]

Henry is the first of my five children to not like the vibrating bouncy seat. The other four practically lived in it, and he’s all, “This is HELLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!”

Today is Day 17 of my mother-in-law failing to mention that she plans to visit us in October.

The comments you guys made on the wedding rant made me want to propose to each and every one of you. With so many of us awesome people being all rational about weddings, where do all those crazy people get their ideas? I suppose we’re all too polite to stomp them down.

And the baby names discussion in yesterday’s post is So! Much! Fun! I wanted to reply to ALL the comments with paragraph after paragraph after paragraph, but I think of the comments section as YOURS, and I didn’t want to hog it. Suffice it to say, that particular comments section is one of the best ever, and I think we should talk about baby names many more times in the future using some of those comments as starting points.

Thanks for all the answers to questions about chocolate-covered cherries, eight-year-olds and US Weekly, alcohol soreness, and men’s shorts.

• I contacted one of the 4-pound-box cherry places, but they say they don’t ship chocolate-covered products in the summer, which makes sense. She said to call in September. In the meantime, I’m going to check out the local health-food store, the Harry & David stuff at Target, and I’m also going to use Raisinets as a substitute.
• I told Rob that US Weekly was a magazine for grown-ups, and he didn’t persist, so I left it at that. If it comes up again, I’m going to use the idea about asking him what he likes about the magazine and going from there.
• I tried drinking tons of water and then drinking alcohol, because the dehydrated theory made the most sense to me. I still got all sore. Also, I don’t get much of a buzz: I get a funny feeling, and I wait for it to be over. My new theory is that for whatever reason, my body’s chemistry doesn’t respond to alcohol in the usual way. The upcoming mother-in-law visit makes me really, really, really wish this wasn’t the case. Luckily, my body over-responds to sugar, so I’ll just stock up on candy to hide in my room.
• I’m going to Target soon, maybe this evening or maybe this weekend, and I’m going to buy Paul a sampling of shorts to try.

Oh, and also thanks for the advice about getting Edward’s little paws off the DVD player! My favorite is the one about, you know, putting the DVD player out of reach. I, um, hadn’t thought of that. It goes under the TV! It can’t be MOVED!

It was good to hear I’m not the only one who dreads the 6-week mark. I shouldn’t have used the words “HAVE to”—Paul isn’t waiting there with a calendar and a mean look on his face. But when it’s been six weeks since the birth, and there was a time before the birth when nothing was happening either, I do feel like trying to see things from his point of view. Or TRYING to try—I’m not having much luck seeing it as anything except, “Oh my god, you are not seriously interested in that.”

I tried the Dove 2-in-1 Moisturizing Shampoo and Conditioner, and I really like it. It goes up there with my top three.

Did you notice that The Children’s Place has put their clearance down another notch? Last weekend I went to the physical store (as opposed to shopping online as I did the last time we talked about this) and got Elizabeth a pair of the funny wide-legged capris for this summer and another pair for next summer, a pair of really cool embellished shorts, and the two raglan shirts (one in pansy and one in bubble) that I almost bought online. I also bought Rob (because of handmedowns, I guess I should say “bought Rob and William and Edward and Henry”) a bunch of pairs of shorts. I would have bought way way more (I had a 20% off coupon to use, too), but there was very little left.

Hey, if I wanted to do the Couch to 5K running program, would anyone else want to do it with me? I like company, even if it’s only online. On the other hand, you’d have to be prepared that I might fink out on the second day. Seriously, maybe even the first day. I might never even get around to the first day. But if I DID—would you want to do it, too?

Edited to add this relevant and interesting article by The Baby Name Wizard: “Congratulations! It’s a…Uh Oh.”

Sarah mentioned in her post today that she and her husband have a really easy time choosing girl baby names, but a hard time choosing boy baby names. I commented that I think it’s because boy names are REALLY DIFFICULT—either too common or too out-there. It occurs to me, though, that not everyone would agree with that: perhaps some people find boy names easy and girl names impossible.

So please be so kind as to vote: Is it harder to choose a name for a boy baby, or harder to choose a name for a girl baby? You don’t have to have named any babies at all to venture an opinion. And please feel free to elaborate at length, as baby naming is one of my FAVORITE SUBJECTS IN THE WHOLE WORLD and I will be hanging on your every word.

I am crabby today because of a discussion my mom had with one of her friends about weddings. The friend claimed that if you attend a wedding, you have to spend on a wedding gift AT LEAST the amount the couple spent on your food. That is, at a $50/plate reception, if you and your husband and two children attend, you have to spend a minimum of $200 on a wedding gift.

No. The couple plans their own wedding and pays for it in whatever way they have worked out, and those costs don’t have to be reimbursed IN ANY WAY by the guests.

Wedding presents are in fact COMPLETELY SEPARATE from the issue of wedding expenses. The cost of the wedding present is determined by the guest’s finances and by what the guest feels is the right amount to spend on a wedding present for this particular couple. That’s IT. There is no requirement that the guest factor in how extravagant the catering was, or how much it cost to rent the reception location, or how big a mortgage the marrying couple has, or ANYTHING ELSE.

Otherwise, it would have to go the other way, too. The wedding guests would have to subtract from the gift budget the amount spent on travel expenses to get to the wedding, and also subtract how much it cost them to buy their wedding clothes, and also subtract any wages they lost by missing work to attend the wedding. And if the guest had expenses higher than what the marrying couple spent per guest, the marrying couple would have to rush out to purchase more expensive food for that guest. I don’t think this is a road the wedding couple wants to start going down. And if they DO want to go down that road, I am WAITING. With a BASEBALL BAT! BRING IT ON!!!

I do have sympathy for both sides. My brother got married last summer, and the cost of a wedding is…well, it’s appalling. If you want people to sit down and eat, holy crap you are SCREWED. My brother and his then-fiancee went out sampling various catering options, and they came home stunned and glassy-eyed, saying “You can get better food through a DRIVE-THRU than you can get catered for $40 a plate!” And of course there’s also the flowers and the photography and the music and the favors and the liquor. But! All of these expenses are purely optional, and none of them belong to the guests.

Guests could stand to learn a lesson or two about “purely optional” and “not belonging to the guests” themselves. I have heard guests complaining that it is “tacky” not to have an open bar, or to have “only wine.” I’ve also heard guests claim that the marrying couple should pay for their plane tickets, and I’ve even heard guests say “My presence is their present,” which, oh my god.

Perhaps if the marrying couple agrees to stop whining about what guests “owe” them, guests will kindly stop acting as if the marrying couple is in any way obligated to do anything at the wedding other than get married. It is not, after all, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get smashed at someone else’s expense.” If the guests think the wedding should be about overpriced food and booze instead of about being there when a couple gets married, the guests can choose not to attend a wedding at which the focus is on the ceremony. Of course, the marrying couple MAY serve expensive food! And how very very nice of them to choose to do so, and the guests should be pleased. But must the guest then choose a more expensive present? No. …Wait, I think we’ve been here before.

Let’s review, shall we, now that we seem to be going in circles anyway? The wedding is not about the couple scoring lots of loot, or getting paid back for their wedding expenses. Nor is the wedding about free food and liquor and entertainment for the guests. The wedding is about GETTING MARRIED. Neither side is obligated to put out a lot of cash for the other side. And if either side chooses to do so, the other side is not obligated to balance the scales.

My mother-in-law made us a cookbook as a wedding present. It would do nothing but gather deep, deep dust except that when she visits she asks to see it, and then pores over her own recipes talking about how great they are and how much Paul loves them. Reminder: they are not; he does not.

This morning Paul wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and he knew there was a recipe in that book, so he got it out. He got the dough made (the recipe just said “dough” so he made a usual bread machine batch), and then got to the part where you make the topping—which is made in the bottom of the pan, since you flip the rolls out upside-down when they’re done. The recipe says to “put in butter and brown sugar.” No quantities. Then there is a sentence about how she’s sorry but she just does this by eye. Well, how about a goddamn estimate, then? Is it a teaspoon of butter or is it two sticks? Is it a tablespoon of brown sugar or is it the whole pound-size box?

It is not a surprise to me that we would discover this problem in her recipes. My mother-in-law scoffs at people who MEASURE things, and has great admiration for anyone who can put food together creatively—such as herself. I admire people who can cook without recipes, too, but I also admire people who cook WITH them, especially when they get good results, and when they can pass those good results on to other cooks. My own personal top rating goes to people who start with recipes in order to learn, and then go branching off from there—and who DON’T SCOFF.

Here is what I think: you either respect recipes or you don’t, and you can’t play it both ways. If you like to think of yourself as the “I just cook from my heart and it always turns out PERRRRRFECT, I just don’t UNDERSTAND people who have to use RECIPES, isn’t it GLORIOUS when you finally become a good enough cook that you don’t NEED them” type, like my mother-in-law, that’s fine—but then you don’t get to pass your recipes down to the next generation as if a recipe is NOW suddenly a deeply important thing. “Cinnamon Rolls: YOU know! Butter! Sugar! Dough! Jesus, figure it out!” “Meatloaf: Well…you MAKE A MEAT LOAF! Duh!” “Chicken Soup: Chicken! Soup! Put ’em together, moron!” Great cookbook, there, Mother-In-Law. You should shop that to publishers. You can call it “Any Idiot Can Use A Recipe. Except, Apparently, Me.”

Blogging is light on the weekends, which makes me feel lonely and bleak. Perhaps others of you feel just as lonely and bleak, and we can use this time to solve the world’s problems. Such as:

1) Do you know where I can get more chocolate-covered dried cherries? I finished TWO entire two-pound bags, and now Amazon.com isn’t selling them anymore, and when I looked up the brand (Traverse Bay Fruit Co.) I found information about dried fruit but not about CHOCOLATE-COVERED dried fruit, and now that I know of its existence I don’t know if I can go on without it. I’ve tried Dilettante chocolate-covered fruits and those are pretty good too, but what I want is pretty much exactly like Raisinets but cherry-based instead of grape-based.

2) If I drink alcohol, my muscles start hurting about five minutes later. Does that…MEAN something?

3) Rob was looking at my US Weekly magazine. He was giving special attention to the “Bikini Special!” section. Rob is EIGHT YEARS OLD. Are we seriously THERE already? And am I supposed to….I don’t know, STOP it? Like, hide my US Weekly magazines?

4) The men in your life—where do they buy their shorts? Paul has been wearing the same shorts for about ten years now, and it occurs to me that he’s looking…out of date. But I’m not exactly hip to what the young people are wearing these days.

Bonus points if you can answer all four.

Edward will not (WILL! NOT!) stop changing DVDs in the DVD player. He takes a DVD out of the slot, puts it away, gets out a new one, puts it in the slot, repeat every 30 seconds. I’m trying to let the twins have as much time out of their playpen as possible, but he keeps ending up back in there because of this. I actually wouldn’t mind if he occasionally changed the DVD, since he knows how, but it is seriously one after another, and once he cracked a DVD trying to get it out of the case, and sometimes he presses the “record” button, and so on. Any suggestions on how to keep him away from it? Preferably something CHEAP.

Henry is six weeks old today. I am imagining you all greeting that news with Jerry-Springer-audience sounds: lascivious woooops or sympathetic groans, depending on how you felt or feel or think you’d feel about having sex after taking care of a newborn all day and night for six weeks following nine months of carrying another human being around in a body built for one.

I copied Devan’s idea and made my six-week OB appointment (note: for those of you who are not hip to the childbearing thang, this is the appointment at which the OB gives you permission to Resume Relations) for more like seven weeks, but even so, here we are within a headache’s distance of it.

Listen, I am well aware that many women CAN’T WAIT to start having sex again. Some of them are rumored to be so hot for it, they break the 6-week rule. I’m not saying we can’t be friends anymore if you feel that way about it, but I’m more at the end of the spectrum where Jamie from Mad About You tries to get away with telling her husband that it’s six months.

Having a baby is very, very physical, and I am not a touchy-snuggly person to start with. Holding and nursing the baby maxes out my desire to feel warm skin against mine. Burping and changing the baby maxes out my desire to deal with another person’s bodily fluids.

And that’s not even including topics such as whether I can imagine doing anything in a nice soft bed except sleeping, or whether I can imagine having sex with someone who spent his whole evening on the computer while I held a crying baby.

I’m not interested, that’s all. Part of it is hormonal (at my 6-week post-William appointment, my OB said cheerfully, “This is what you can look forward to after menopause!”), part of it is the circumstances (newborn, sleep deprivation, milk everywhere, incision just barely finished healing), and part of it is my own personal capacity for physical contact (low).

Simple to explain that to a husband? Um, no. So next week I have to choose birth control (all the options suck) and then I have to act Happy To See Him.

It is astonishing how bad you can feel if your hair is greasy and there are wet milk circles on your pajama top, and the baby first refuses to nurse and then screams steadily throughout the rest of the events of this paragraph, and then your son calls from the bathroom that you have an opportunity to look for the metal ball he swallowed two days ago, and the ball is still not there and then the toilet clogs and you can’t unclog it, and you go back out to the living room and notice a cat has barfed on the couch, and there’s a bad smell coming from somewhere in the house, and remember that baby has been screaming this whole time.

So let’s not talk about that! I have a different topic. My mom and I were trying to pin down which elements of a wedding make it seem tacky or tasteful, over-the-top or lovely, etc. My mom and I are similar in many ways, but we didn’t agree completely.

We have to tread a little carefully here, don’t we, because the things one person considers tac-KAY, another person thinks are awesome and romantic. On the other hand, it’s the snarky comments about the tackiness of weddings we’ve attended that make this conversation the dirty little pleasure it is, so, you know, don’t hold back too much. My day could use some happy snarking.

Henry woke me around 5:00, and by 5:45 he was back to sleep and I had to make the kind of decision that these days confronts me again and again and AGAIN and dominates my mental and physical landscape: Do I try to go back to sleep at this point and then have to drag myself up again in 15 minutes or 45 minutes or an hour, feeling nauseated and resentful? Or do I stay awake, because I’m already awake enough to feel okay about that idea, but then later feel exhausted and irritable because I should have slept more?

I got up. It’s 8:15, too soon to call the decision. Ask me again around 2:30 this afternoon.

I’m up and down as usual. Sometimes I’m despairing because I can’t seem to turn my mind to even one small thing such as a quick answer to a short email. Or because I seem to spend all evening pinned under a newborn, and then bedtime comes and goes with no change in the situation. Other times I’m eating a bowl of ice cream at the computer and I run out of computer stuff I want to do and so I sit there aimlessly feeling all groovy and bored. Or I get a bunch of things done one after another and feel all successful. Or I look back and realize I’ve been gradually successful: it’s uphill, and things don’t get done as often as they should, but for example Rob changed his sheets this weekend when he was cleaning his room, and I had to change William’s when he woke up wet a day or two later, and then last night I was clock-watching for the kids’ bedtime and realized I had a couple of free minutes to change Edward’s crib sheet, and so you see it DOES get done bit by bit and that’s encouraging.

But then at 5:00 in the morning I’m nursing the baby, and he’s writhing and keeps latching on and off, and when I burp him he spits up on my finally-got-it-laundered shirt and on my finally-got-it-showered self. And then I change his diaper and he spits up a little more, onto his finally-put-him-in-fresh-clothes outfits and into his finally-washed-that-kid’s-hair hair, the changing of which and the washing of which had previously been one of my encouraging accomplishments. And then as I sit back down with him, my body sore from sleeping in the recliner most of the night, he fills his freshly-changed diaper. At 5:30 a.m., things can seem cyclical and unending. But now it’s 8:30 and I’m dressed and damp-haired and blogging, and eating from a 2-pound bag of chocolate-covered dried cherries, and ignoring those suspicious sounds from the other room, and things are good again. These first few months are so nuts.

I have a book to strongly recommend! But there is a small problem. My mother-in-law is distantly connected to the author: the author is related by marriage to someone who lives in my mother-in-law’s town. To my mother-in-law, this is almost the same as having written the book herself, and she is taking an unusually intense interest in the book’s success. If I were to write about the book, it would not be astonishing for her to find my blog in one of her searches.

So! I must somehow communicate the book’s title and author to you without mentioning either one! Anyone up for a game of charades?

How about this instead: This super-secret link!

I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvved the book. As much as I liked the HARRY POTTER books, I kid you not! Maybe even…MORE.