Archive for The Cary News

Opinions confirmed

Posted in Current Events with tags , , , , , , , on March 10, 2012 by cwgala

GRIN #432

Take a look at this.

Lord in heaven. “What IS that?” you ask. It’s meatloaf. And, as I’ve always known, it does in fact suck. Fortunately, I didn’t actually make this. That would have run counter to my raw meat aversion. Instead, I purchased it–for the hub–from a place I quite like. And to see if I was missing anything. I am not. The flavoring was good and it smelled great. Here’s the problem. It looks–and tastes–like cat food. There’s just no way around it.

The texture is the problem. And with exhibit A, above, the problem is compounded. This is actually a stuffed meatloaf–a freaky ill-begotten spawn of my other ack-attack food, turducken. Why would you take good ham, good cheese and pollute it inside a loaf of meat? I’m still a little nauseous thinking about this.

Here it is on a plate: even less appetizing if that’s possible.

SECOND CONFIRMED OPINION: Baseballs/softballs hurt like hell when you catch them.

I learned this a long time ago. I’m not exactly a girly girl (okay, really, I am) but I do have an aversion to pain, in addition to raw meat. In sixth grade, I played one season of softball (ironically for The Cary News) and as a result of my ball-avoidance problem, the coach put me where the ball never goes (it’s either right or left field, I can never remember).

Anyway, it was a good bet. The ball only came to me once that season. Everyone was cheering for me to catch it, but I just stepped out of the way and let it drop to the ground. But instead of hitting the ground, it hit my thigh, and I cried like a baby. Not my finest moment.

ANYWAY, Tyler has baseball tryouts tomorrow and since the time hasn’t changed yet it would be dark before Jerry got home to throw him a few practice pitches. So I filled in. It was just as I remembered. You put a little heat behind that ball, even from an eight-year-old, and damn it hurts!

Me: Just roll it to me. Quit throwing it!

Tyler: Mom, just catch it!

Me: No!! It hurts!

Tyler: Quit jumping out of the way! You’re not even trying!

Me (jumping out of the way).

Tyler: Really, Mom?!!

Yes, really. It hurts. I am scared of catching baseballs and softballs even with a glove on. And, if I’m honest, I’m scared even when they’re just flying around. Frankly, volleyballs are no picnic either.

Anyway, I threw him the ball back and it clipped his right hand really hard and he started crying.

“I told you it hurt!” I said. “That’s why I get out of the way!”

And why I am not a good fill-in. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.


Happy Birthday, Mr. T

Posted in So true, Uncategorized with tags , , , on May 10, 2010 by cwgala

GRIN #106

If I’m honest about how I got my start finding GRINs (and writing columns) I’d tell you this: Motherhood just about did me in. It’s the dirtiest little secret there is.

Motherhood—parenthood for that matter— is HARD. A lot harder than I ever thought it would be.

I cried every day for the first three weeks. We had a new business, a new baby, no money, and I was in constant pain from a back injury brought on by the birth.

I thought “I better start finding the funny in this if I’m going to make it.” Below is technically my first GRIN, written when T was six months old. By then, I’d gained a little perspective.  The column, Parent Pathways, still runs in the Cary News.

Today, Tyler is 7  years old. Jerry and I look at him and know that he is the greatest gift we will ever receive. Happy Birthday, little buddy!

Those trying first weeks

By Christa Gala

I’ve learned more about life in the past six months than I did in four years of college and eighteen months (and counting) of graduate school. Namely, I’ve learned parenthood is hard. And not just hard, but positively hellish in those first few weeks. This is something they don’t tell you in the hospital.

Of course, now that my son is six months old, I can recall everything in a rather fond way, instead of sobbing maniacally along with a baby who won’t eat or can’t poop or seems to sleep only in seven-minute increments. This is what I’ve learned from my induction into motherhood:

  • A good meal in those early weeks is defined as one that is actually fully consumed, usually in about 90 seconds, while standing over the sink. Also, there’s nothing wrong with everyone eating three times a day the loaf of banana bread your neighbor brought over. If anyone complains, you have the right to kick him where it counts.
  • People with young infants frequently drive at excessive speeds. Now I know why. Simply put, driving around with a screaming newborn is a lot like having a lit cigarette shoved up your nostril—you want to get it out as soon as possible.
  • I can sleep when I’m dead. This heartening piece of advice was gleefully given to me on Day 5 by my good friend with two boys under the age of three.
  • In all likelihood, I won’t go to hell for hating the lying women who claim they wore their pre-pregnancy jeans home from the hospital, not to mention anyone who says they weigh less than they did before they got pregnant. For the record, those are disgusting statements, and we normal women do not want to hear them.
  • Motherhood is a crash course in bodily functions, including, but not limited to, using a bulb-like thingy to suction snot from the baby’s nose, and describing to the doctor in amazingly creative detail, the color, texture and consistency of a daily poop—if you are, in fact, lucky enough to get a daily poop.
  • The word “sex” is simply that—a word to denote whether a person is male or female. Any other considerations for the term are incomprehensible. In addition, both parties are generally terrified of the act that has now resulted in so much chaos.

On a more serious note, I’ve learned I’m not the worst mother in the world, and I’m certainly not the best either, and that’s okay. I’ve learned to let go of the guilt I often have about not doing something right or maybe being able to do something better. As my mother put it, Tyler’s stuck with me and I’m stuck with him. Someone put us together for a reason, and we’re just going to have to do the best we know how.

And nowadays, we all sleep pretty well, and I even wear makeup and wash my hair again. Dinners aren’t banana bread anymore, although I have to admit they’re not much better. Most of all, I’ve learned that Tyler is the most miraculous gift we’ve ever received. I am changed forever.