Straight From the Bottle

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  • A Week in Photographs

    First of all, I'd like to start by congratulating Babble's one and only Oz Spies for her brand new baby boy! As the only Babble personal blogger with a son, I admit I was rooting for some more testosterone up in this piece. Congratulations Oz and family! Ah, babies. Little teensy tiny babies. I want one. I do. Another one. It's true. But I'll get to that at a later date because this post set out to be a slideshow of sorts. Focus, Rebecca. Fo. Cus.

     

    Okay, so last time we spoke twas the eve of Halloween. Here is Archer posing in his Rubber Ducky costume (he makes bathtime so much fun) :

     

    Rubber Ducky

    Obviously, twas a family affair: 

     

    Family Portrait

     From left to right: Hal as Bert, Archer as Rubber Ducky and me as a crackhead clown Ernie 

     

    Here's a little secret: when the cameras are off and the gaffers have all gone to bed, Bert and Ernie push their E B twin beds together and make babies give each other jade rock massages. 

     

    Bert and Ernie

     

    After Halloween came a reunion of sorts with one of my oldest friends and her daughter, who is a whopping eight months younger than Archer and is so far advanced it's almost silly. She poops on the potty. She chews gum. She even complimented my makeup. Swear.

     

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  • One Friend Is All You Need

    It takes a lot for women to make friends. It does for me, at least. Always has.

     
    In third grade, the girl I always thought was my best friend paid "the new girl" two whole dollars to play with me. Her name was Susan.

     
    I overheard the whole thing. The transaction between my friend and Susan in the bathroom. They didn't know I was in there, in stall #3 peeing with my feet up, so no one would notice my white Keds and pink socks with the pom-poms on the heel. So no one would laugh at the tinkle sound I made when I peed. I was so afraid of being ridiculed. Because in those days I was ridiculed for everything.


    I pretended that I didn't know anything about what happened. I played with Susan on the playground. We did laps around the grass area and talked about her old school and I waited until I got home to cry.  

     
    Knowing that my friendship was worth the sum of a shitty hot lunch from the cafeteria was something I never really got over. Even when I became popular in High School there was always a looming feeling of outcast. There was always a chance I could be sold again to the hypothetical new girl. I was always skeptical of friendships. Defensive. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

     

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About the Blogger

rebecca woolf

Rebecca Woolf in LA

Who says becoming a mom means succumbing to laser tattoo removal and moving to the suburbs? This young writer and mother of two gives it to you Straight From the Bottle.

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