Baby food label template
A (former) place for broken moms to ask for and offer help.
2015.05.23 04:52 I3km A (former) place for broken moms to ask for and offer help.
Hello! I have taken the sub down. I have been considering it for several months, but this was the scheduled date of decommissioning as it's been more than a week since the last registration and request of assistance. Consider /assistance and their sidebar for alternatives.
2024.05.22 00:04 winteraddams Cat won't let me eat in peace
For context I adopted my cat 3 months ago, he's about 3 or 4 years old and neutered, lived on the streets for a while but was definitely not a stray his whole life, he's slept on my bed since the day we got him, never really hid, accepts and asks for affection etc.
There is one issue though: he cannot be around food (unless its fruit), he'll get inside the kitchen sink to lick any miniscule remnant of food and is unbothered if we turn the tap on, nothing cat stop him.
If I'm eating I can't be sat for longer than half a minute before I have to get up to get him off of the counter or table, its an exhausting ordeal and he'll slap my leg right after I put him on the ground, usually not aggressively or anything.
If I put him in my room with the door closed he'll scream at the top of his lungs and sometimes (like today) he'll actually get aggressive when he realizes I'm picking him up to take him to my room, scratching, biting and growling.
He doesn't meow when he's in "baby jail" as me and my partner call it, he screams, he doesn't have a normal meow in general but when he wants to get out of the room (to eat, always to eat) he'll use all his lung capacity to push out the most demonic bellow I've ever heard coming from a cat, some times they even sound painful.
A friend of mine told me it's bad to lock him in the room when I'm eating but I really don't know what else to do, I'm a first time cat owner (I'm a vetmed student but it's been no help at all in this case lmao).
He's fed every 4 hours by the automatic feeder but even if he's just been fed if my mom puts food on my dog's bowl he'll scream to get out of the room so he can go and eat it himself.
He only does this when he hears people in the kitchen/living room (its an open space), otherwise he'll sleep on my bed the whole day without an issue, I've tried playing with him but he shows little interest in it so tiring him out is hard.
Also if, after a thorough inspection, he finds that there's nothing to eat or lick in the kitchen he'll go back to chilling on a chair or on my bed, this behavior is usually only an issue when I want to eat after cooking, when there is food or dirty dishes on the counter.
Is it bad that I put him in my room to eat? He screams so loud and I feel so bad but having to get up every 30 seconds makes meals impossible to enjoy.
Edit: just for more context, he doesn't have any kind of food aggression, some times I need to take his food for a second to put medicine on it after it's dispensed by the feeder and he's never tried to attack me for it (well yesterday he slapped the bowl as I was picking it up so food could fall to the ground and he could keep eating, but he never tried to hurt me). The only time he gets aggressive is when I have to pick him up to put him in my room because we're eating or feeding Viper (the dog), and it doesn't always happen, some times he just lets me pick him up without issue.
submitted by winteraddams to CATHELP [link] [comments]
There is one issue though: he cannot be around food (unless its fruit), he'll get inside the kitchen sink to lick any miniscule remnant of food and is unbothered if we turn the tap on, nothing cat stop him.
If I'm eating I can't be sat for longer than half a minute before I have to get up to get him off of the counter or table, its an exhausting ordeal and he'll slap my leg right after I put him on the ground, usually not aggressively or anything.
If I put him in my room with the door closed he'll scream at the top of his lungs and sometimes (like today) he'll actually get aggressive when he realizes I'm picking him up to take him to my room, scratching, biting and growling.
He doesn't meow when he's in "baby jail" as me and my partner call it, he screams, he doesn't have a normal meow in general but when he wants to get out of the room (to eat, always to eat) he'll use all his lung capacity to push out the most demonic bellow I've ever heard coming from a cat, some times they even sound painful.
A friend of mine told me it's bad to lock him in the room when I'm eating but I really don't know what else to do, I'm a first time cat owner (I'm a vetmed student but it's been no help at all in this case lmao).
He's fed every 4 hours by the automatic feeder but even if he's just been fed if my mom puts food on my dog's bowl he'll scream to get out of the room so he can go and eat it himself.
He only does this when he hears people in the kitchen/living room (its an open space), otherwise he'll sleep on my bed the whole day without an issue, I've tried playing with him but he shows little interest in it so tiring him out is hard.
Also if, after a thorough inspection, he finds that there's nothing to eat or lick in the kitchen he'll go back to chilling on a chair or on my bed, this behavior is usually only an issue when I want to eat after cooking, when there is food or dirty dishes on the counter.
Is it bad that I put him in my room to eat? He screams so loud and I feel so bad but having to get up every 30 seconds makes meals impossible to enjoy.
Edit: just for more context, he doesn't have any kind of food aggression, some times I need to take his food for a second to put medicine on it after it's dispensed by the feeder and he's never tried to attack me for it (well yesterday he slapped the bowl as I was picking it up so food could fall to the ground and he could keep eating, but he never tried to hurt me). The only time he gets aggressive is when I have to pick him up to put him in my room because we're eating or feeding Viper (the dog), and it doesn't always happen, some times he just lets me pick him up without issue.
2024.05.22 00:02 Normal_Raccoon5772 No foxtails for this boy!
 | It's FOXTAIL season again. If you live anywhere where these evil things pop up and have ever had to have one removed from your dogs nose/ears/etc. you know how much of a pain and dangerous they are. submitted by Normal_Raccoon5772 to velvethippos [link] [comments] I use this Outfox for Dogs field guard and it's saved us for years now. He can drink through and carry a ball in or on the outside of it, and he doesn't protest it at all. It can also prevent food scavenging. People think it's a muzzle or he's aggressive because of it at first but when I tell them what it is they always go "OH THAT IS SO SMART." We've even had people say he legit looks like and they thought he was a pig with it on from far away. Lol I'm not affiliated with the brand I just love this product and it's saved me thousands of dollars and my babies a lot of pain. I have one for my Shep mix and will be getting one for my Dachshund too. (Photo featuring Aries in his L Short size mask, along with his cooling ice collar, and festive summer cooling coat!) |
2024.05.22 00:01 ikieneng My fanfiction - episode 4!
 | The next part is here! This episode is so long that I had to split it, and today, you're finally getting part 3 of 3. submitted by ikieneng to teamleanne [link] [comments] You can find the previous episodes in the side bar! (Community info page in the app) DISCLAIMERS (the same ones as before) The point of this fanfiction is not to be a straight-up continuation of events with the same themes, intensity, and tone. If you go into it with those expectations, you are probably not going to like it. Rather, it’s supposed to be how I wish things went if these events were real life. The resolution you want for a real-life situation isn’t often the right choice for a show, but it can be incredibly beautiful. Think of what you’re about to read to be a separate show then. Episode 1 of this fanfiction begins after the episode “2:00” (season 2 episode 4), so it replaces the episode “Cake” and the ones that follow it. This fanfiction expects you to have seen the entirety of seasons 1 and 2, so you should watch those first. I myself am bursting into the story here. The narrator and me are the same. While my character is like 95% real me, don’t take events about my life described here as facts. Some aspects of my life have been changed for the story. In my head, I started writing like an “alternate me” character in 2016, fulfilling a lot of the things that I wish I had in life, adding that to my story. I’m not really from Ukraine. I speak fluent Ukrainian as a foreign language, I started learning it in 2014, and I’ve talked to tons of people from there, but I’m not from Ukraine. I also don’t have as much money as I do in the story. I wish lmao. If you want to post your own fanfiction, feel free to do so! To get your own post flair for your fanfic, and to appear in the side bar, please message me. Part 3 (days 3 and 4) We’d wake up on day three, and still, nothing would be any different - we’re still locked up. We’d both feel really worried not knowing if we’ll have to forfeit our whole plan because we might run out of food and water and take the risky route - calling the police and getting ourselves into a situation where we’d have to be freed by force, which would be so dangerous because the Turners have proven that there’s nothing they’re not prepared to do to us to “get Jericho back”. Leanne would ask me “What do we do if we call the police, and Mrs. Turner comes up here and tries to hurt us?” At first, I’d insist that we start thinking about that when we do run out of food the next day, but she’d insist we should come up with a plan. I’d point at the corner on the edge of the attic facing Spruce Street, the corner that’s to one’s right when coming up into the attic, https://preview.redd.it/knoz0zwpou1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=bd1694f292bb546ea45339ebecea7ffacfe33541 and say “Then you’d curl up and hide over there, and I’d take the radio, you’d take the metronome, and I’d sit down in front of you, shielding you, and if she gets in here before the cops do, we’ll defend ourselves. And we’d record everything on my phone. And we should probably hide behind the sofa. Maybe then, she might not notice we’re still up here at first. She’d probably be in a state of panic.” She’d look at me with sad, but touched eyes and just hug me and say thank you. I’d reply “Of course”. After some silence, I’d tell her “If anything happens to me… Please bring me back”. She’d be touched by that, but say that if she reanimates me, the Church of Lesser Saints will come after ME as well because they’ll believe that I’ll be obligated to join. With a worried smile, I’d say “I know... But they’re probably already gonna do that, right? Because I won’t let them get to you!” We’d both nod with the same half-happy, half-worried expression. “And if things go terribly wrong and you have to bring me back, we can try again!” I’d ask if I’m getting it right that the “great sins” they think she’s committing are not spending time with the Church and helping another family from the one that was assigned to her. She’d say yes and add that there’s a lot more they hate her for, like her “disobedient and rebellious streak”, disobeying their instructions, putting curses on people, and now, leaving the Marinos. https://preview.redd.it/4obn4r9uou1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1e77adafbde221c320999ba1169adb0a1c6b2b17 After a few seconds of silence (out of shock that this is how the Church of Lesser Saints frames it), I’d be like “If you disobey so many of their instructions, then...”, look her directly in the eyes, and go “Good! Keep on disobeying them! I’m actually kind of stunned that this is how they frame your actions, because that is so manipulative. Wanting to have a life where you don’t have to worry about your every step being watched and controlled, where you can actually freely explore what you believe – not what they tell you to believe, but what YOU believe, where you can do totally normal human things like listen to music, and where you can go wherever you want and make some basic decisions for yourself and work wherever you want, that doesn’t make you...” (doing the “quote-on-quote” with my hands while I say it) “quote-on-quote ‘disobedient’ or ‘rebellious’, it makes you a normal human being. If they forbid every little thing that people do that makes you happy, if you then look for happiness elsewhere, that’s on them. You can’t take every bit of joy away from people and then expect them to just deal with it. You wanting to run away, that’s the logical result of their bullshit. And you didn’t ‘leave’ the Marinos, you were taken. Don’t let them think you’re at fault in any way!” She might have never heard any verbal confirmation before that her feelings about leaving are valid, and this would be so reassuring to her. She’d tell me that whenever she did things like not be there for meals at the Church, skip assemblies, or curse people without permission, she would be brought before May and the rest of the community, get questioned about her behavior, and she’d have to self-flagellate to receive forgiveness. https://preview.redd.it/roex7c20pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=32cecf94a41a97e66b1c74967cb074ca89321777 I’d go really still and quiet when she mentions the self-flagellation, which she’d then explain is a frequent punishment. That would freaking break my heart... I’d ask her when was the last time she hurt herself, and it was a little less than two weeks ago, before she was forced to leave the Turners. Very carefully and quietly, I’d ask her if it would be okay if she can show me her scars and add “You do NOT have to if you’re not comfortable, PLEASE don’t do it if you’re not”, and after a second, she’d nod and show me her back. My heart would break for her even more seeing her scars, I’d just express how horrible it is that they made her do that… I’d show her some of my cut wounds from when I self-harmed, which I hadn’t done in like three and a half years at that point. I’d want her to know that way that I get the urge, that I really do, but I’d tell her that hurting oneself achieves nothing. All it does is make you feel horrible mentally and physically, and every time you do it, there’s a risk of infection and even death. I’d just tell her I understand while taking her in my arms. I’d ask her to please look me in the eyes and tell me she won’t hurt herself again, and that when she feels like doing it again, to please talk to me first. She’d quietly say “I promise” while looking me in the eyes, and after some longer embraces, we’d both smile a bit, that would make me really happy to hear! I’d ask that when we’re out of here, if we can call a doctor sometime soon and get them to look at her scars to make sure none of them are infected, if she’s comfortable enough, and she’d nod and smile at me a little bit some more. We’d eat after that. We’d run out of tomato soup that meal, and I’d tell her that when we’re getting out of there, I’d get her all the tomato soup in the world! “We’re gonna fill a whole hotel fridge with tomato soup!” “And with Ben & Jerry’s?”, she’d ask, and I’d say yes and say that we’re probably gonna need more than one fridge. I’d say we’re gonna pick the nicest and most expensive hotel to stay at, an idea that she’d love! “You still think Allentown is a good idea?”, I’d ask her, and she’d think my reasoning from the day before makes sense and say yes. We’d look for the nicest hotel in Allentown online and see that there are “only” three-star hotels in Allentown. Leanne would ask if getting such an expensive place to stay is really okay, and I’d say “Money is not an issue, don’t worry about it” while reaching across her back and like caressing her right shoulder, looking her in the eyes, and smiling. “And besides, let’s spoil you, you fucking deserve it after all this!” We wouldn’t book anything yet because we wouldn’t know when we can get out of there yet, but looking at all those insanely nice hotels would lift our spirits a bit. After eating the first half of that day’s rations (only two half day’s rations would be left after that…), we’d think that it would probably be a good idea if we started writing the document for the police right now. Writing it can take hours upon hours, and there’s no point in delaying the rescue to write the document after I leave if we can do it right now, so we’d begin right that moment. It would begin something like “My name is Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999 in Odesa, Ukraine, residing in 501 Pembroke Ave, Philadelphia 19050, Pennsylvania...” (I don’t live there. I have no idea who does. Please leave them alone lmao) “...I sent this statement to my Facebook friend Liam [...] (residing in Tipperary, Ireland, using Facebook as Liam [...]) as a PDF file and told him to call the Philadelphia police and read this statement to them if I don’t come back online and confirm that I’m okay by 10 PM Philadelphia time / 3 PM London, UK time on December 22, 2022. If he is reading this to you, it probably means that there was no sign of life from me by that time, and that I’m not safe, probably kidnapped and locked up by Dorothy Turner, Sean Turner, Julian (I’m not sure about his surname, but I’m referring to Dorothy Turner’s brother - redhead, not very tall, moderately overweight) in the attic of their residence at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvania”, and then document everything I’ve seen in chronological order and everything that Leanne has told me, with a link to our video and photographic evidence, references to DNA evidence that can probably be found in the hole in the basement if they haven’t covered it up by now, and a statement at the end saying that I’ve written it together with Leanne to make sure that everything is correct. That would take a really long time, hours for sure. But when it’s done, I’d run spell- and grammar checks on it and send it to my printer at home, to be queued for printing when I get home and turn it on. We’d also know that today (December 21) or tomorrow will be the day when we leave one way or another, so I’d schedule a text message to 911 in 30 hours from that moment. The message would say “This is a scheduled message. If you’ve received it, then Leanne Grayson (born October 13, 2001)...” (We only ever learn Leanne’s birth year from the gravestone. October 13 is Nell Tiger Free’s birthday, so October 13, 2001 being Leanne’s birthday is kind of my headcanon) https://preview.redd.it/0hr9niq1pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=4dbead2015781ed8beee236188b8273aac1b3fb0 “...and me (Daria Horenko, born July 30, 1999) are probably not safe, abducted and locked up against our will by Dorothy Turner, her brother Julian, and Sean Turner in the attic of their house at 9780 Spruce Street, Philadelphia 19139, Pennsylvania or somewhere else on the property. We need help immediately. The Turners should be considered dangerous and very clearly willing to use violence and intimidation. We need help NOW. Details in our prepared statement: [the link]”. Because we’re holding out hope that we won’t have to call the police from inside the attic, the document would include information on what our plan is to get Leanne (and me) out of there as safely as possible and call the police from the taxi, but that if we run out of rations, we won’t have a choice but to call the police while we’re unarmed and while the Turners still have the upper hand. We would debate whether we should include information about the Church of Lesser Saints right away or tell the police about them later because we know how that sounds, considering that this would hurt the credibility of our testimony, https://preview.redd.it/sinvabf3pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=e37811b53eb90cb8a066bfcb30f6244bb9f34ad4 but we’d modify the document and include the most important information about them as well, with more believable explanations - how they forced Leanne and other members to self-harm (meaning that current members or those who recently left), where they’re currently operating from in Lancaster, https://preview.redd.it/mxbm8445pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1f9b5f1c671c15afce7149eeb90926c2c29b9bdb that they faked their deaths, that they forced Leanne to leave the Turners, and the necessary lie that they took the real baby, and that Leanne hasn’t seen it since that day and doesn’t know where they’ve taken it. We’d also include names and stuff, and most importantly, reference the baptism tape and say that it shows May and George watching us from the sidewalk outside the church less than three weeks ago, and that piece of evidence would change everything in regards to investigating the Church of Lesser Saints and make the police believe us. We’d add that it’s probably among the other DVDs in the Turners’ living room, and that I’ll try to get it when leaving the building if our original plan is still going to be an option, rip the DVD at home, and add a link to the video file to the document. We’d modify the scheduled text message as well, and we’d charge both phones, mine first because the scheduled message is so important, but it’s an iPhone, so we could charge it to 100% rather quickly and then charge hers. And we’d add that we’d want the police to get Leanne’s things from the Marino estate. All her stuff being there would be further evidence that she was taken suddenly and against her will. We’d also add what number Leanne can be reached at for now with the Samsung Galaxy phone. And then, I’d send the document to Liam on all platforms where I know how to reach him, followed by a message to alert the authorities if I’m not back online confirming that we’re both okay in what’s now probably more like 29 hours, the phone number of the Philadelphia police, and caps at the beginning saying that it’s an actual emergency. Out of nowhere, I’d ask her if she’s seen “Titanic” lmao, and with her near total isolation growing up, she wouldn’t have seen it. “I’ve only seen movies on TV”. I’d be like “I can show you lots of movies if you want! I got several subscriptions to streaming services, and also a bunch of stuff offline on an external drive at home.” https://preview.redd.it/lr58woa7pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=63537b149270faeebb2c3f1be9ba2af0d259e1b7 Back on talking about “Titanic”, I’d tell her it’s wonderful and so freaking romantic, albeit over-the-top at times for sure and a bit overrated. It has that glossy feeling and some superficial characters to it that all James Cameron movies have, but it’s still really wonderful. After explaining the plot to her (since she’s grown up so isolated), I’d tell her about one scene that I’m thinking about a lot from time to time - near the end of the movie, when old Rose is done telling the researchers her story, she says that she doesn’t even have a picture of Jack, and that has hit me so hard from the first time I’ve seen the movie. https://preview.redd.it/96bgw8s8pu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=476c1a4cbee498c26a0be4651ef83258f0aa7748 She has no physical memories of him, she can never see his face again, and she can never show people what he looked like. That just rips my heart. I’d ask Leanne if we can take some pictures together. We’d look pretty horrible because we haven’t been able to shower in days, but we wouldn’t care and take them anyway and really, genuinely smile so hard. I’d send them to her email address (leanne_grayson@icloud.com, that email address is on her resume in the show), https://preview.redd.it/frfz9e7apu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=1b65065ab622e71f52edc6e9b84a2974e7efe9cb manually sync my gallery with iCloud, and I’d send them to Liam. I’d ask what phone she got back at the Marinos’ and if she’s got any pictures of herself in her iCloud gallery, but she’d tell me she’s rarely ever taken pictures of herself, only for the resume she applied at the Turners’ for, and I’d be like “Whaaaaat? But you’re so beautiful!”, and she’d smile hard, a bit embarrassed. I’d look her straight in the eyes and say it again and say that I mean it for real, she is so incredibly beautiful! It’s probably so rare that anyone’s ever said that to her in her entire life (her mother definitely didn’t, and given that the Church of Lesser Saints believes that anything that feels good is dangerous, https://preview.redd.it/msylzejbpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=b343bf8d10b86f7c731eed3c8a5204460daec4d4 it’s rather unlikely that they did), Tobe saying it in “Balloon” might even have been the only time ever… https://preview.redd.it/jdce6tndpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=c9edaacd72634c3dbe7dbf29abcc84f2412a10d4 I’d then add “Inside AND out!”, and she’d smile some more in a bit of embarrassment and then look me in the eyes and say “You, too, Daria!”, and as you’d expect, I’d smile so hard and even with my eyes! It would be rather late by then, so we’d eat and listen to some more music together from the Spotify playlist I created for her and talk so much about what we’re hearing. After dinner, she’d bring the topic up on her own (this is kind of making fun of these fan theories) - she’d tell me that some in the Church of Lesser Saints think she’s the Devil or Lilith because of her rebelliousness, and how she’s inspired doubt in some people in the Church. I’d make such a weirded-out face. After realizing she’s serious, I’d say “If you are the Devil, then hail Satan! Like, seriously, if YOU are what God is threatening will happen if we don’t follow him, then that’s literally the weakest threat I’ve ever heard of. Then God is the villain here. We need more people like you in the world!” Shy as she still is, she’d still be almost embarrassed to hear this (she’s so not used to compliments), and I’d make it clear I’m serious, that I really think she’s fricking wonderful and the sweetest, and that she clearly has a huge heart full of so much love, and that she deserves so much better than what she’s ever experienced! Almost in denial, she’d see in my eyes that I really mean it and just smile and hug me, and then, we’d both smile even more! I’d rub her back a lot in that moment and promise her again that everything will be okay. “I’ll make sure of that!” After some more music together, knowing that tomorrow will be the day we leave, no matter which plan we’ll go with, we’d make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Looking around, I’d realize I have to give her my earphones with a cord because the internal mic of my Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini is essentially useless. I’d tell her that when I call her the next day to tell her it’s safe to come downstairs now, she should answer the call, plug in the earphones, and then, it will take a few seconds until I can hear her, but then, it should be fine. We’d set a code phrase that I’ll mention to let her know if the Turners got me and it’s NOT safe to come down. She’d suggest “tomato soup”, and I’d smile and say yes, that’s gonna be our code phrase. “And if it IS safe to come down?”, she’d ask, and I’d suggest “ice cream”. I’d realize that we should probably find her fresh clothes in the attic and a coat right now, so as I said, it’s not too obvious that she’s been locked up for a long time the second she walks out of the door, because if she’s in dirty clothes or nightwear, with it being obvious that she hasn’t showered in days, and I get her out of there and into a taxi to drive off while I got a gun, it would look as if I was kidnapping her, so we’d find her a nice dress and coat up there, and I’d turn around and close my eyes while she puts it on, and when she’s done, I’d tell her again that she looks amazing! 😊 https://preview.redd.it/zp5gbjwfpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=777d2120f72b5002e2d5e5e9ffe4760ab2d5fada And she’d smile and thank me this time, sort of the way she says it to the makeup artist at the street fair in S3E5 “Tiger” in that typical way of hers that’s so adorable for real, https://preview.redd.it/fuu6x7ohpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=ec5f23b8de4568996bd6e4c706ab4f95b8f98063 and she’d look in my direction and say “You look really beautiful, too!”, really shy, before peeking me in the eyes for a moment, and we’d just look at each other for a moment. “Can I have your pictures?”, she’d ask me, and I’d say yeah, open my iPhone, and select ALL pictures of myself in my gallery and send them to her email address, and send her those that are too large via a Google Drive link (iCloud isn’t great for sharing files lol), and then, I’d take her Samsung Galaxy S5 Mini, download them all (which would take a while because that phone is ancient), and set one of the pictures we’ve taken together as her wallpaper, and then set it as my wallpaper on my iPhone as well! 😊 We’d consider if there’s anything else we’ve missed. She’d mention that parts of the floor screech, especially one tile, so when I sneak out, I gotta be careful on the stairs, especially with that one tile. https://preview.redd.it/nijqz08jpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=6f6756ae6c304a5f5133c21ef857e0f91c6c91d7 After a few seconds, she’d ask me if we wanna book a hotel now, and I’d smile and say sure! “Did you like any hotels in particular, out of the ones we looked at?” She’d say “The one with the big jacuzzi looks great” with big eyes and enthusiasm in her voice, like she does during some of her conversations with Tobe in S3E5 “Tiger”. “You’ve ever been in a jacuzzi?”, I’d ask her, and she’d go “Nooo, but I wanna try!” in the same tone, https://preview.redd.it/6rh2p63lpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=987a19161b85fe5ee6a500f452c168ba7dec961b and so, after lying down now, we’d look up which hotel she was talking about and book a two-room suite in that hotel in Allentown for three weeks. I’d add “So we can easily look out for each other, and so you’ll also have some privacy.”, and she’d smile and nod, that consideration would probably mean a lot to her. We’d then get ready for bed. For the next day, I’d get some better clothes as well and put them on while she’s turned around with her eyes closed. I’d take the last ration of food out of my backpack, put the clothes I just took off at the bottom of it, above Leanne’s Bible (the porcelain baby and card are already in one of the other pockets), and put my phone and the chargers in another pocket. I’d look around and ask her if there’s anything else I should take with me to safeguard, and at first, she’d also look around because she wouldn’t know how to answer right away, but she’d then point at Mrs. Barrington with her face, https://preview.redd.it/amqsh2mmpu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=12d0bfe376210a8798671d45f31e96e28037870b and I’d be like “Well, I think she’s a little too big for my backpack, but I can talk to the police when we’re out of here, maybe we can try to get her!”, and Leanne would nod with a big smile again. We’d lie down on the mattress and share the covers again. Just like the night before, I’d lie down on the side of the mattress that’s closer to the stairs, in case Dorothy changes her mind and tries to assault Leanne again… On the mattress, she’d suddenly hug me really tight, break into tears, and thank me over and over again, and I’d just hold her tight, say “Of course”, and assure her that everything’s gonna be okay, that we’ll get out of there tomorrow. I’d wipe some of her tears off her face 🥺 On the mattress, we’d just look each other in the eyes and both just smile more and more, and after a minute or two, she’d kiss me on the lips for a tiiiiny moment and then, we’d just smile at each other even harder! She’d say “I’m not supposed to do that” while still smiling just as hard and looking me directly in the eyes! “Says who?”, I’d reply. She goes “My aunts and uncles”, and I’d say “I don’t think they’re a reliable source!”, and we’d kiss each other some more and longer, and both feel each other’s smile on our lips, and peek at each other a few times in between 😊🥰❤️ We’d both put our arms around each other before telling each other good night and before I promise her one more time it’s all going to be okay! https://preview.redd.it/08fqmdqspu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=477498f6f3e6260f2a0429defebf98475b14eda1 At some point during the night, she’d wake me up, and when she does, I’d realize I had a nightmare, like, not from my night terrors, and she’d tell me I had a nightmare, that I was sniffling in my sleep, and that I told her two days earlier to wake me up if this happens. Still feeling terrible (the feeling of immediate dread always takes a while to subside for me), I’d thank her. I’d ask what I was saying, and she’d say that I wasn’t speaking English. I’d consider if I should tell her for a moment, but then, I’d take a deep breath, look up for a second, and with a heavy voice, slowly say “What if we try plan A tomorrow, and I fail? I’m scared… I don’t wanna mess this up… I don’t wanna fail you…” And she’d slowly look at me and just say two words: “You haven’t!” I’d look at her and almost laugh a bit out of joy. I’d smile and just cuddle up to her a bit, and she’d do it back. I’d say I’ll try to listen to music for a while to calm down because doing something else makes it much easier for me to zone out of the feeling of dread again. “Why only you?”, she’d ask. “I don’t wanna keep you awake”, I’d say, “You need the sleep”, and she’d say “It’s okay” and just smile a bit, and so, we’d listen to some music together for about half an hour. I’d tell her that my sleep is so horrible (she’d say she can tell) because I don’t have my meds, and I’m really fricking looking forward to taking them again. Without them, the quality of my sleep is terrible, and it takes so long for me to fall asleep at all if I don’t take them. She’d ask if I’ve taken them for a long time, and I’d say that I haven’t taken these particular meds for long because whatever I take, my body builds up some resistance to them pretty quickly, so after a while, I always have to get new ones, but I’ve taken sleeping meds for years now. “It sounds like they’re really helping you, right?”, she’d ask, and I’d nod and say “Yeah, they really do. I’m also taking antidepressants, and they were an absolute gamechanger for me. It’s okay if I don’t take them for a few days because they don’t work in the moment, but they like rewire your brain over time, and they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my mental health. Before I started taking them, it was so hard for me to avoid bad thoughts or resist them, like, it was hell, but ever since then, it got sooo much easier, and not letting things get to me or not letting bad things really take over me is just so much easier now.” After a while, I’d say “I was at a psychiatric clinic voluntarily for six months, but I also had nowhere else to go, and the doctors and employees really abused their power. They only intervened when there was physical violence, they didn’t intervene in any other conflicts, so because of them, the patients constantly bullied each other. My doctor switched to another department while I was there, so I got a new one, and the new one wasn’t perfect, but at least, she cared. I got really lucky to get a place at a living group for mentally ill people, which was when I could finally leave. But honestly, all my experiences with mental health professionals since then have been better. I went to a different clinic for four or five days voluntarily in 2019, and even they were far better. “That sounds scary…”, she’d say. I’d reply “It was. But things got much better after that. I had lots of setbacks, like, you know, but if you get help, it’s always better.” After the current song’s over, we’d lie down to try and sleep again. We’d smile at each other again in bed, and I’d give her a short-ish kiss before saying good night, and we’d both smile even harder after that 😁 And we would fall asleep for good after a while (it would still take me longer than her). In the morning, Leanne would wake me up again. She’d show me that the door is unlocked and open by a little bit now (they’re “letting” her out for a few hours…), https://preview.redd.it/sqql9udupu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=b2505bc6f7795639777433a1897f0d31e5753d67 and we’d both just embrace and chuckle in huge joy, as we can go with plan A now, the less risky one! We’d remember to quiet down after a few seconds and whisper from then on out. I’d go to the toilet roll, take eight pieces, rip them into two bands of four pieces each, and roll each of them up into a little bunch. I’d give them to her and tell her to put them into the wall pieces of the door when she gets out (so it looks like the door is closed while it can’t actually lock) and give me an audible signal when the third floor is clear, so I’ll get out with my backpack, take out the toilet paper, and hide in her room. https://preview.redd.it/bzze2o6wpu1d1.png?width=304&format=png&auto=webp&s=aaa155b611408db6e9960485f6f726125fc2698d “Is there anything you want me to get from there?”, I’d ask. “No. Everything is here or at the Marinos’.” I’d go “Okay” and move on - since I’m almost definitely unable to come down to the second floor right away (I’m using American English in all of these episodes. “First floor” in American English = “ground floor” in British English; “Second floor” in American English = “first floor” in British English; “Third floor” in American English = “second floor” in British English, etc.), she’d give me a signal when coming back upstairs. We’d agree that when she comes back upstairs, if it’s safe to go to the second floor, she’d shout something, maybe in conversation, maybe some sort of cry, doesn’t matter, and if not, she’d kick something. She’d be locked upstairs again after that, so I’ll have to tell when to get further downstairs myself, which I’d do as soon as I’ve heard absolutely no sounds from inside the house for at least a few minutes. On the first floor, I’d get the DVD from March 11, 2001, and if the baptism tape isn’t clearly labeled among the tapes, I’d unplug the DVD player from the TV, turn on the player, open the DVD slot, and if the tape isn’t in there, I’d take all unlabeled tapes. I’d then listen in on the basement door for a few seconds, and if I hear no sounds from down there, I’d quietly open the basement door and go downstairs, and if no one’s there, I’d get out through the side entrance down there, out through the back gate, walk back to Spruce Street, drive my bike home, take a shower, watch the tape from March 11, 2011 like she told me I could, hide it somewhere at home, print out the document for the police, take it with me in an envelope, print out a second version of it to give to the taxi driver, so I can say “If I’m not back in an hour, please call the police for me and read this to them”. I’d then call a taxi (a taxi with a large trunk whose driver is allowed to drive to Allentown and back), load my gun, and leave for the Turners’ and get Leanne. We’d see that Liam has replied by now. Of course, he’d be super worried, but he’s got our backs for the plan, and that would be really reassuring. We’d look each other in the eyes, and then, I’d hug her sooo tight for several seconds, and we’d have one loooong kiss (hoping it’s not the last time we see each other…) before she goes downstairs while looking back at me on the way before putting the toilet paper in the door. I’d then put on my backpack. Once Leanne loudly shouts “Mister Turner?”, that would be my signal, and I’d hide in her room for about 45 minutes before she’s “let” back upstairs and shouts “You can lock me in now, Mrs. Turner”, https://preview.redd.it/uy9loclypu1d1.png?width=975&format=png&auto=webp&s=16abd51170405f1ef3123ff22f4559642a0c0c92 which is when I’d sneak into the storage/guest room and wait. It would take like five hours until I hear nothing for a while, which is when I’d sneak onto the first floor, look around to make extra sure no one’s there, and go to the living room. I’d get the tape from March 11, 2011, and the baptism tape would be among the labeled DVDs, and I’d put it into the box of the March 11, 2011 tape (I’d put the original DVD loose in there and use the spot inside the box for the baptism tape because it’s probably more important. I then wouldn’t hear anything from the basement, so I’d slowly and quietly go down there. No one would be there, so I’d leave as planned and go home and take a shower. I’d watch the March 11, 2011 DVD. I’d be surprised to see the interaction between Leanne and Dorothy for sure, but sort of knowing her, I wouldn’t think anything bad of it. I’d actually get it because of my past celebrity crushes (which I know isn’t what she was feeling for Dorothy) and the desire to meet them, especially with Blanche. I’d get why Leanne wouldn’t want the police to see it, it would look bad for her. I’d wrap up the DVD in a thick piece of paper and tape it to the back of my closet, between the closet and the wall. I’d burn the piece of paper in the DVD case in my bathtub with a bucket of water next to me just in case. I’d test if the DVD of the baptism tape still works (it does), rip it, upload the video file to Google Drive, add it to the document for the police, cancel my printing queue, print the document (two versions of it. The one for the taxi driver would just have a short introduction at the beginning, like, that I’m the person who ordered the taxi), order the taxi, pack my things for the next couple of weeks and anything that Leanne might need, so I’d include any clothes that I think could fit her, and go to the taxi. I’d tell the driver to get me one block away from 9780 Spruce Street (which isn’t actually a real address, by the way) and wait there for me. Before leaving for the Turner house, I’d give him the envelope with his version of the letter for the police and tell him what I said I would tell him. I’d then get my backpack with the gun in it from my luggage in the trunk, and walk to the Turners’ house. I have already "written" so much more in my head, but I've now reached the end of what I've actually written down, so it will take longer until the next episode is out now! Hope you've enjooooyed this one! |
2024.05.22 00:01 Gossip-Luv2 Retrieved the content of Tweets on SLB's eccentricities - The Mythmaker’s Legacy - Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, I am the Greatest of Them All!
Thanks to Patron Member u/Entharo_entho - Here is the wiped out Tweet retrieved
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.
submitted by Gossip-Luv2 to BollyBlindsNGossip [link] [comments]
Context - Wiped out from Internet
In March, I got a chance to work with filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali right after he made Gangubai Kathiawadi, and Alia Bhatt, playing the titular character in the film, retweeted me.
The headline (in my head) was going to be, ‘The Boy From Kamathipura Goes To Bhansali Mandi.’
Then reality struck in April.
One of my closest friends Sweta called me from the Shivapuri National Park near Kathmandu and put me on speaker. Two other friends Mona and Ayush were listening to the WhatsApp call.
‘How’s it going with Bhansu?’ Sweta asked.
‘We are not working together anymore,’ I said.
‘Whaaaaaaaat?’ the three people shrieked, creating a wavy disturbance in audio frequency.
‘Whyyyyy?’ they cried, collectively anguished.
‘He said he is not feeling the vibes.’
‘What?’
‘Vibes,’ I said aloud, causing a seismic tremor in the audio frequency.
‘What vibes?’ Sweta jibed, ‘Maybe he can’t feel the vibrator.’
Laughter upped the vibes.
First, a little context on how I got that far. Check this, this, this & this.
So my tweets were going viral in February-March.
In the second week of March, a woman DM’d me saying she loves the tweets. I said thank you. She said she works at Bhansali Productions.
Whoopsie Daisy!
I asked if I could be a part of the production. She checked with SLB and team. He said he wants to meet now.
NOW!
How?
I was in Calcutta.
I called an actor friend in Bombay and told him about it.
“They will book your tickets and put you up in 5-star,” he said, “Like Hollywood.”
“This is Bhansaliwood,” I said, “Yahan dhanda hamesha manda hai.”
I flew (on my own expense) and met him.
I was ‘prepared’ by his team for the meeting with His High and Mightiness.
I was told:
Arre, then what do I say?
I sashayed in a brown kurta and white linen trousers. Please see Madhuri Dixit-Nene’s brown ghagra for aesthetic reference I used from my very limited wardrobe of the only kurta I had at the time. By the way, the chorus sings ‘Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje,’ aesthetically referencing you know what, right?
He was lunching with his minions (strictly calling them minions from his pov) when I arrived in his pristine white dining hall in a building called Magnum Opus. Where else should he reside, no? Both his house, and his office (where I was ‘prepared’ earlier) were tastefully done in creamy white.
It was, as I said to my friend later, like walking into a cumulus cloud, or like sitting on his favourite singer Lata Mangeshkar’s lap. Calm, serene and quite surreal. I was inside his snow globe. Violins from a Bach concerto (in my head) were replaced with say Madan Mohan’s doleful rendition of ‘Mai ri main ka se kahoon peedh apne jiya ki.’ (Side effect of writing this on Mother’s Day.)
I look for books when I enter a house for signs of intelligent life. There were lots of lamps and candelabras but where were the stacks of books they were perched on? The aesthetic was high on film set disposable kitsch. I stared into a cumulative void.
The minions were intensely debating Darjeeling momos. What’s that? I spent my childhood there. Never heard of this GI tag!
SLB relished his meal and said, “I want puranpoli today.”
Puranpoli appeared not out of thin air, but a house-help flipping wishes instantly on a griddle on the fifth floor. We were on the first floor. Although the puranpoli is shaped like a flying saucer, it doesn’t fly, perhaps burdened by the weight of excess ghee and crowd-pleasing expectation. It does, however, reach SLB’s plate at the speed of light.
‘Give him some,’ he asked a minion to serve me while I waited on the sofa.
‘I’ve had lunch, thank you,’ I said, trying to behave. The plate arrived. I took a mousy bite to exhibit my failing attempt to transform into a champion minion.
When he came to chat, he noticed the unfinished food and gently reminded me how there were days he went hungry. I should have rolled my eyes for my own lean days.
‘One should not waste food,’ he said.
‘I don’t,’ I said, ‘I was going to parcel it home in a doggy bag.’
Hearing the word doggy, his well-behaved dog came over to inspect me.
He observed me. I petted her perfunctorily. Am a cat person. Stereotypical writer stuff — allergic to undesired petting and attention.
‘So, what have you done?’ he asked, sitting on a sort of empire-style bergere chair. Full marks for faux-ornate.
‘A novel, some writing for a series,’ I said nervously, dismissively.
‘Anything I might have seen?’ he asked.
‘No, not worthwhile.’
‘Are you interested in direction also?’
‘No, am not delusional.’
A moment passed. I might have displayed an errant repartee.
‘I mean, I can only write, or am trying to,’ I said. L’esprit de l’escalier.
He gave me a spiel on writing, how screenplay is an art not many understand, etc, et cetera.
I nodded to make his voice disappear.
‘What are you writing now?’
I showed him the cover of my new book, The Last Courtesan, featuring my mother, on my phone.
‘Oh, this is so fascinating,’ he said.
He spoke rapturously about Calcutta’s great food and colonial architecture when I mentioned growing up in Bowbazar kothas. If you watch any of his interviews now on YouTube you will realise he only speaks in raptures. He’s always explaining things like an impassioned conductor at a dime-store opera. It can exhaust the boorish audience immediately. He spoke about living in the Kamathipura area as a child when I said I had lived there. The mythmaker was interested in exoticising his own legend as an ‘outsider’.
‘But how will you work here if your mother is in Calcutta?’ he said, ‘I am a maa-ka-bhakt.’
Everything is about him or his mother. I have reached that stage too, though only by circumstances unavoidable.
‘Actually it was my mother who asked me to come here. I told her it would only work out if you understand that I will have to vacillate between the two cities initially. Jaise Sanjay ki Leela hai, waise meri Rekha.’
Corny dialogue, but worked. No one calls him by his first name, except perhaps his own mother. He is sir for everyone.
‘If I am speaking to you for so long means I like you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise, I would have asked you to leave long ago.’
Barely five minutes into the conversation, he asked me to return to his office and inform his team that I was going to be a part of his writer’s room.
I went back to his office and read a script. This is the part I cannot mention. His legal team sits in the adjacent room.
I flew to Calcutta and was to return after a week. I had to make arrangements for my mother’s tri-weekly dialysis sessions at a nearby hospital, figure out a tiffin-delivery service for her, find a house help (she sent four nurses scurrying in the past), all of which is a bit of a task in this retrograde city.
Remember the woman who had DM’d me about my tweets? She messaged. She had met SLB after my meeting. He said this about me: ‘What a wonderful find. That boy has so much potential and is talented. Most importantly, he is sensitive.’
I told her I’d get this engraved on my tombstone.
Like how he wants to take Alia Bhatt’s golchakkar in Dholida to his grave.
“It’s a shot that I will take to my grave. If there’s any shot that I want to be played when I breathe my last, it would be Alia doing that shot. It is the best thing I have seen an actor do in a very long, long time.”
I was only emulating the high priest of hyperbole in my tombstone comment. Perhaps I was regressing into a minion.
I had only managed a few tasks for mother when I was back in Bombay. It worried me that the old, frail woman with shaky limbs and slurred speech was trying to be brave to send me to work. I hadn’t worked since the pandemic; she was in and out of hospitals so frequently that I had surrendered the thought of getting another job ever again. Taking care of her was my full-time job.
The first day in his office was to chill in my new, aesthetically pleasing kurta I had shopped for in Gariahat. There was a security camera in every corner that was apparently accessible on his phone. My skin tingled with this information. Chilled. He was at home. Probably watching. That’s a great way to create a myth.
The next day, there were more minions on the lunch table in his first floor apartment. The magically appearing steamy and fragrant sheera was delicious. A minion deemed it the best sheera in the city. I nodded to make that statement evaporate.
A courier boy interrupted for a document signature. SLB flared at a spelling mistake in the document papers.
‘Go wash your face and come back,’ he yelled at the young man.
The minions at the table laughed nervously. I so wished I was wearing a mask to cover my surprise emoji face.
The minions on the table were writers and assistant directors.
‘Dastavez,’ SLB said, ‘would that be correct to use?’
‘Kaaghzaat,’ the minion replied.
‘Kaaghzaat is paper, dastavez is document,’ said the second minion.
‘You always mislead me,’ SLB sternly reprimanded the first minion. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
Only that minion tried to laugh, offering an apology. He shut the minion down.
My mask, my mask emoji face.
A third minion was sulking in a corner before I arrived for the writing session. This minion had reportedly offered a script suggestion, which he disliked and barked down. I liked this minion the most. Relatable.
A faint noise of a person running or perhaps just a rumbling sound from somewhere outside interrupted the room. He looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘No one lives there. Am certain it is a ghost. I hear running sounds all the time. I have heard sounds of furniture being dragged.’
I wondered if he actually believed in half the things he uttered, or was he just saying it to create enigma about himself. Mythical thoughts certainly kept him preoccupied.
Reality bored him. SLB had nothing good to say about the ‘current plague’ of South Indian films upsetting the Bollywood cartel. He compared them to a circus. He wasn’t kind to the actors he had worked with in his last film. He cracked lame jokes about everyone and everything. The minions laughed and kept him busy. I chuckled a few times to blend in. The mythmaker revelled in his prophesies about the impending doom of charlatans with no aesthetics: just crass, commercial peddlers pimping art. It was all said to amuse and bemuse while he fussed over the yellow shade of fabric from several swatches.
When he left for his music session, the minions bitched him out, and how! All the horror stories I had heard over the years about his moods, behaviour, language and violent temper were true. How else will he create myth about himself as a maestro? The Glomar response. Let the plebs indulge in hearsay. I will neither confirm nor deny. The minions sang effigy songs in happy tunes, if I may stretch this part a bit like his penchant for high camp.
That night, when I went to my actor friend’s house, where I was temporarily staying, I said to him, ‘I don’t think I will last a week there.’
I was rattled by how he spoke to the courier boy and the minions, with no filter. Well, at least it was clear he had no tact, endearing as that might be of a ‘genius’ if one compromises with his erratic behaviour. The CEO of his company does it beautifully and advises to develop a ‘thick hide’ around him. Cows, essentially.
Verve
The words genius, great, master, maverick, were so loosely bandied by his office staff even in his absence that I was tempted to add auteur, if they could spell or pronounce it. They worked in perpetual fear of him turning up at any hour and checking on their tidiness. A minion whined she wasn’t dressed appropriately for his surprise visit. Once, he even cut pay for unscheduled leave, said another minion. A minion narrated a shot he copied from a photographer in Gangubai Kathiawadi. Another minion recounted how he made her cry on shoot by screaming at her for a silly mistake. Minions couldn’t leave the office till his evenings were scheduled. It was a well-paying job so long as they did not have to see ‘chacha’s’ face and only applaud his cinematic sorcery.
His office team would assign me desk-work and warn me not to inform him about it.
‘What am I supposed to say if he asks?’
‘Make up something,’ I was told.
‘Why should I?’
‘You will slowly understand,’ I was told.
His team of assistants would sneak around me. I didn’t know who was reporting what back to him. He would interrogate the management team. They would lash out at me for informing the assistants. The management wanted to control me a certain way because ‘sir’ does not need to know everything. It was quite a guessing game. He had created an ecosystem of complete chaos and loved the hubbub. New people were hired for him to use the ‘new energy’ to rekindle the ‘old energy’ that needed to be reminded it could be snuffed out and replaced. He thrived on confusion because it all boiled down to him to sort out the mess. He was the provider so long as the minions ingratiated and served their grand master.
One time he called me upstairs, what his CEO called the god’s chamber aka the Shahenshah’s durbar: his office on the seventh floor. Walls were lined with giant posters of his films. We minions sat on the fifth floor. I was of course by now a week old in the toady mill. On the seventh floor, production team members, set designer, director assistant, young people sat on the floor, armed with notebooks and laptops, alert and sugar-tongued. He sat on a throne and dictated each one about their duty. A masseur massaged his leg. He asked me what I thought of a script. I said it was lovely. He asked me to elaborate. I said I liked a character’s resolve. He denied it was written. I said that’s my interpretation. A minion promptly backed me.
‘What changes do you suggest?’ he asked.
‘We should sit on it collectively and decide,’ I said.
He mumbled something. My suggestion was dismissed. I was dismissed. I bowed out. A minion whispered to me, ‘We all walk on eggshells around him.’ I had to be a chicken in a coop I suppose.
Another time he dismissed my suggestion for a scene saying, ‘That’s not how art is made.’ I had referenced a scene from Bandit Queen to illustrate my point. Just like his entire oeuvre is homage to a classic. How else does he make his art?
Allow me to illustrate with a frame from his first film Khamoshi: The Musical. The second image is from Pakeezah.
Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam references Red Beard, Woh 7 Din.
Devdas references Pakeezah more than once.
Black references The Miracle Worker.
Saawariya references Pyaasa, Awaara.
Guzaarish references Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Goliyon Ki Raasleela: Ram-Leela references Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet, West Side Story.
Bajirao Mastani references Mughal-E-Azam.
Padmaavat references Mirch Masala.
Gangubai Kathiawadi, let’s give him the benefit of doubt is all his own, original artistry.
The American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch once meta quoted the French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard when he said:
“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery — celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.”
SLB believes he takes art and betters it, removing the grubby coat of slime from the sublime, often not concerned with acknowledging the source. He is a master’s master, elevating it to an otherworldly experience, the creator of a mythoverse.
He asked me to rewrite a scene I didn’t agree with. He banged the script folders on the table like a petulant, little child. I watched his posture change into a frump. Tiger Shroff’s ‘Bacchi ho kya,’ dialogue comes to mind.
‘You are talking like those critics who find fault but don’t know how to write. They should write the film,’ he said.
That argument will never make sense to me but since I write movies now and not just about them, I rewrote the scene in half an hour and showed it to him. He found it rubbish.
I was not called to the writer’s room for a week.
His CEO said I should go to his house; hang around him, like the other assistants whose only purpose in life is to feed his ego. We are slaves to his vision, she said. She thought I was a better writer than the team he had assembled. ‘From whatever I read, only three lines of your work on social media, I could sense it,’ she said.
Either she was encouraging, or bluffing with a perfectly Zen face. From the hundreds of Ganesh idols stacked in her room, it was clear she wasn’t a reader. She was good at reading numbers, data, and stats. She would sense a sign if one of the metal idols sucked milk from a spoon on the day she enquired about box –office figures.
There was more than one right-wing hardliner in his office. Secular staff was invisible. A pretty minion in baby pink t-shirt, whose main grouse was that another minion called him a Barbie doll, said he was happy with the Modi government building roads in his home state Bihar. Another minion countered him by asking: What about the persecution of minorities by the same government? The pretty minion said he didn’t care for that. He was assisting ‘sir’ because he wanted to be an actor. Which lead me to wonder how many Muslim actors has this production worked with? Silly of me to think, right? Given that I myself don’t use my Muslim surname. I’ve now successfully planted a myth in your head. That’s how it works.
In the time that I was in Versova during my brief stint at Bhansali Productions, I met several people with their own SLB horror story. A producer said, ‘He is a difficult man but life changes for good after you work with him. Some people want to go through hell first. Life bann jaati hai.’ I didn’t understand why purgatory was necessary. Another former assistant said, ‘When you work with the worst (SLB) and the best (KJO), you are ready for the rest.’
A young woman gave him a thesis she wrote on his films. He asked her to write a book on her. She said she wanted to assist as a director. She never heard from him. A filmmaker said SLB was too friendly with another assistant, suggesting intimacy. A writer wasn’t given credit in a film.
Another writer was promised his script will be turned into a film but it never took off and now he feels his life has been ruined. A young filmmaker’s debut movie SLB produced was delayed, not promoted, and called ‘kachra’ to his face.
The young man said SLB is sexist, homophobe, classist, fat shamer, emotional abuser, and a body shamer. “He is a joyless pit of darkness where happiness goes to die. And those are the nicest words I can think of to describe him,” he said. Another filmmaker said a choreographer was in a relationship with SLB and wanted to marry him but he wouldn’t even touch her, a hotly discussed conversation amongst his minions.
Everything sounds hokum. A successful man is likely to upset a few. The few will talk. Their words may ring true through a gossamer veil of implausibility. Myths magnifying his persona.
There are too many myths about his personal life, aroused by his silence on the subject but all too obvious in his work. When people want to confirm with me, I am equally appalled at their lack of aesthetics. Like the great reader of curtains, Edgar Allan Poe, you only have to look at SLB’s use of billowy curtains in films to guess.
Above stanza, courtesy Poe, poem: The Raven.
Hope you get the drift, or draft, hawa ka jhonka! By the way, am digressing now, is the weirdly named character Sameer Rosselline in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam the first mainstream Hindi film hero to pass wind? The ruffled curtains are first to be cautioned though.
Unlike most people willing to swallow their pride to work with SLB, few like the eponymous Gangubai character choose izzat. The house-help employed in my actor friend’s house was asked to work as a cook in his house. When she heard the whimsy, dessert-craving demands, she declined the offer. I identify with her no-nonsense style.
In November 2021, a filmmaker read a film script I wrote and said, ‘This is SLB territory. Only he can make it. It is the modern love-story he has been wanting to make for a long time.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, somewhat flattered but also bewildered.
‘Yes, we just have to change the setting from Calcutta-Bombay to Calcutta-New York. It is what he has been trying to crack. I’ll get him to read it.’
I never spoke to SLB about my script. I did not want to look like a schemer. I had only got a chance because of my mother’s story. I had come to write courtesan songs. Hindi films are recognised by their songs. His films have show tunes that live on long after the sequins and mirrors reflect a decadent style. He employs the old-fashioned method of making Hindi films, which is to stitch scenes around a song, not the other way round. And when you glean your references from the best of classical melodies, how can you falter?
My own SLB story is that after watching Saawariya in 2007, I wrote a few songs, moved to Bombay, lived in Versova, close to Magnum Opus, and hoped to meet him, but made no effort even though I came in close contact with people who worked directly with him. I never requested for a meeting. Over the years, I too had heard a few horror stories about him. I only believe in what I see. I waited when he would call for me, my work would have to speak for itself.
A day before Good Friday, his CEO sat me down and said it’s not working out.
There’s a mythical story of how Lata Mangeshkar was on her way to record a song for SLB but the heavens poured and she had to turn her car back. A typical SLB frame of hope and hopelessness.
Never work with your idols. You’ll have a better story to imagine and create myths.
I was so relieved to leave. I hadn’t got a moment to read, or write, let alone think since I got here. Why I wanted to work with SLB was to not believe in hearsay. I will either confirm or deny.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘everyone deserves an off on Good Friday.’
The office was unsure about public holidays. SLB’s mood dictated the calendar.
Before returning to Calcutta, I met a friend entrenched in the film business.
When she heard of the fiasco, she said, ‘I’ve heard he is very anal, is he?’
The vibrator jokes never stop.
2024.05.21 23:59 TheSeaFortress Good Steward New Release (this one is loaded!)
Hey Everyone! We just made a new release! Please find release notes below:
🚀 Improvements
submitted by TheSeaFortress to goodsteward [link] [comments]
🚀 Improvements
- Custom report enhancements.
- Upon clicking bars in the graph, the app will navigate to the transactions list with appropriate filters applied.
- Added daily and weekly intervals to custom reports.
- Transactions page updates:
- Ability to create a rule from split transactions.
- Option to disable reconciliation when importing OFX and CSV files.
- Budget table updates:
- Click on any actual amount to view the transactions that make up that actual.
- Budget groups can now be collapsed in the budget table.
- Balances are now shown in category autocompletes.
- Improvements to the Reports overview page, including clearer chart titles.
- Budget vs Actual reports now have color-coded amounts for better clarity when the number is zero.
- Updated frequency labels in the planning/budget template for better understanding:
- Bi-Weekly: Every two weeks
- Semi-Monthly: Twice a month
- Bi-Monthly: Every two months
- Semi-Annually: Twice a year
- Fixed various bugs and stability issues.
- Resolved issues in the demo warning modal:
- Budget not resetting after the time limit.
- Broken button visuals.
- Enhanced the tracking view with spacing changes and added a new row for “NET” for added clarity.
- The budgets file list view now shows when the budget file was created.
- Improved drag and drop functionality to prevent mixed-up order instances.
- Budget quick-fillers (such as copy last 3 months average) are now available on mobile.
- Reports can now be accessed on mobile devices.
- Enhanced mobile usability and UX.
2024.05.21 23:59 Dry_Bear_8332 What can cause a weakened immune system? Can someone please offer an opinion 🥰
I’d really appreciate any advice and reassurance.
I (29 year old female) have felt something was off for two years after having a baby in 2022.
It started with unexplained gut issues: - fast bowel motility - undigested food in stools - a weird pattern of major 3 day long cramping sessions accompanied with frequent diarrhoea that would resolve when I stopped eating for a day or two. Cycle happened a few times a month. - low b12 and iron but I eat meat regularly
As time went on: - dermatitis-like rashes in breast that come and go - also dry red skin on vulva area - noticed the appearance of flat warts in numerous body locations - more recently, have been dealing with constant staph infections (mainly boils, one turned into a nasty abscess and needed antibiotics) and still am.
My gut issues are still here two years on but Amitryptyline medication has reduced the cramping episodes by 80%. My breast eczema comes and goes and the staph&warts are more recent (within 6months).
At the beginning of this year (2024):
Tests I’ve had for my gut in late 2022: - colonoscopy (polyps removed) - gastroscopy (gastritis) - mri small bowel (no findings) - abdominal ultrasound in 2023 (clear)
I’ve had normal fbc, lft, kidney function tests, protein electrophoresis etc through these two years. The only exception was:
Previous bloodwork showing some abnormalities:
https://ibb.co/VT7CHcG
https://ibb.co/GdYSFXy
As compared to my normal results, done a week after the odd ones:
Most recent bloodwork:
https://ibb.co/Msr6GpH
https://ibb.co/kSRmN53
https://ibb.co/99VFjTw
https://ibb.co/bzH9V7F
Other info: - I’m a very anxious person, the last two years have been chronic stress filled. - major health anxiety after having a baby due to my gut issues and ocd, for a year I felt like I had cancer and still worry about it. - my appetite hasn’t been there since gut issues started, it’s like I’m disconnected from my gut - I don’t get hunger pangs etc anymore. - breastfeeding for 25 months
I’d really appreciate any opinions on whether this is likely to be something sinister or not. I’m constantly worried I have cancer and going to lose my child 😣 I really appreciate any comments.
Thank you
submitted by Dry_Bear_8332 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
I (29 year old female) have felt something was off for two years after having a baby in 2022.
It started with unexplained gut issues: - fast bowel motility - undigested food in stools - a weird pattern of major 3 day long cramping sessions accompanied with frequent diarrhoea that would resolve when I stopped eating for a day or two. Cycle happened a few times a month. - low b12 and iron but I eat meat regularly
As time went on: - dermatitis-like rashes in breast that come and go - also dry red skin on vulva area - noticed the appearance of flat warts in numerous body locations - more recently, have been dealing with constant staph infections (mainly boils, one turned into a nasty abscess and needed antibiotics) and still am.
My gut issues are still here two years on but Amitryptyline medication has reduced the cramping episodes by 80%. My breast eczema comes and goes and the staph&warts are more recent (within 6months).
At the beginning of this year (2024):
- I’ve dealt with joint/bone pain that comes in episodes.
- When I’m sick or highly stressed, I get deep aches in some of my bones, shooting pain (especially leg)
- also what feels like arthritis-type pains in my or near joints (fingers, hands, knees, hip/groin).
Tests I’ve had for my gut in late 2022: - colonoscopy (polyps removed) - gastroscopy (gastritis) - mri small bowel (no findings) - abdominal ultrasound in 2023 (clear)
I’ve had normal fbc, lft, kidney function tests, protein electrophoresis etc through these two years. The only exception was:
Previous bloodwork showing some abnormalities:
https://ibb.co/VT7CHcG
https://ibb.co/GdYSFXy
As compared to my normal results, done a week after the odd ones:
Most recent bloodwork:
https://ibb.co/Msr6GpH
https://ibb.co/kSRmN53
https://ibb.co/99VFjTw
https://ibb.co/bzH9V7F
Other info: - I’m a very anxious person, the last two years have been chronic stress filled. - major health anxiety after having a baby due to my gut issues and ocd, for a year I felt like I had cancer and still worry about it. - my appetite hasn’t been there since gut issues started, it’s like I’m disconnected from my gut - I don’t get hunger pangs etc anymore. - breastfeeding for 25 months
I’d really appreciate any opinions on whether this is likely to be something sinister or not. I’m constantly worried I have cancer and going to lose my child 😣 I really appreciate any comments.
Thank you
2024.05.21 23:53 Strange-Hall9900 What are your thoughts on eating baby food?
submitted by Strange-Hall9900 to AskReddit [link] [comments]
2024.05.21 23:44 Ashes84ca Food bank tik tok
You know what really bothers me? I came across a few feeds on tik tok. There's one "homeless" guy that takes meals from different outreaches in my city then has the nerve to critique it (ie, "only soft boiled eggs with toast and fresh fruit today, where's the ham and bacon?") and has the audacity to tell outreach programs to "do better".
There's also people that go get packages of food from the food bank and critique it. I watched a woman on TIK TOK say "I only eat organic so I'm throwing out these cans of veggies". I'm lucky enough to be able to live comfortably and if it was the other way around I can't see myself throwing out groceries because it's a no-name label product. And before you say "it's only tik tok" I've know people who have done this. And me helping them is a whole other story.
What is wrong with people.
submitted by Ashes84ca to ChoosingBeggars [link] [comments]
There's also people that go get packages of food from the food bank and critique it. I watched a woman on TIK TOK say "I only eat organic so I'm throwing out these cans of veggies". I'm lucky enough to be able to live comfortably and if it was the other way around I can't see myself throwing out groceries because it's a no-name label product. And before you say "it's only tik tok" I've know people who have done this. And me helping them is a whole other story.
What is wrong with people.
2024.05.21 23:43 spilks2 Beech nut baby/kid food (Social Nature)
 | Two offers appear but the other disappeared once I made a selection, so seems like you have to pick one or the other. I chose the one on the right and it was for Walmart. A number of different products are included: submitted by spilks2 to AwesomeFreebies [link] [comments]
|
2024.05.21 23:38 Redditor_AR First birthday party
Does anyone have suggestions for a first birthday party? We don't know too many babies, maybe 6 kids and 20 adults? So we'd like something for the babies and something (food?) for adults.
We could use our community room for the space if necessary. Any entertainment suggestions?
submitted by Redditor_AR to QuincyMa [link] [comments]
We could use our community room for the space if necessary. Any entertainment suggestions?
2024.05.21 23:34 reflected_alice "Breakfast (from Hell) at Tiffany's"
TLDR; my mother-in-law endangered my child's life over breakfast food.
I (31F) and my husband (30M) have been married for 5 years. My mother-in-law, let's call her Tiffany, has never really been fond of me. I didn't understand why for a while, and assumed I was misreading the vibes, until we got engaged. She immediately told me she always thought he would marry a blonde, like her and his younger sister -let's call her Ella . I'm half Latinx, and this was the first of several comments she made that showed that she didn't approve of that. That's just a tiny context for the following tea:
My husband and I had a little girl together a little over 2 years ago. She's adorable and wonderful in pretty much every way - and I'm not just saying that because she's mine. She potty trained herself, she's always been ahead milestone wise, she slept through the night at 6 weeks, and everywhere we go people talk about how beautiful she is. Even as a 2 year old, we have minimal tantrums - she's just a sweet, great kid, all credit to her - she just came that way. But, Tiffany tries to claim credit for anything and everything good about her, and blames anything "wrong" with her on me and my "mystery" genetics. One of those things is her food allergy. Our girl has a SEVERE allergy to eggs. Think what you typically hear about with nuts, but eggs. Contact reactions, anaphylaxis, the whole 9 yards. We found out about this allergy not long after she started eating solid food, so it's not new news to Tiffany and her family, but them being careful about it has been an absolute non-stop battle, and she has made every possible effort to blame it on me, my parenting, or my genetics (for the record, neither of our families have a history of food allergies - it was a total fluke).
Most recently, we went to visit for a weekend (why we still even do this at all is a whole other post's worth of info), and because I was hesitant to do so with the history we have had, Tiffany swore up and down that she would have an egg-free kitchen so it would be safe to prepare food for our daughter. I didn't trust it, but my husband begged me to give her a chance, so I agreed. First thing when we arrived, she informed me she had "forgotten" to throw her eggs away, and asked if she should just take them to a neighbor. I told her she didn't have to do that, as long as they were in a sealed container in the fridge, unbroken, it would be fine. She said they were, but my alarm bells were going off like crazy. We ate out with them that night, and I ran my usual checks with the restaurant, no problem. It seemed to annoy everyone else at the table, but whatever, the restaurant was super kind and accommodating.
Fast forward to the following morning. Ella, who is pregnant, and her husband Josh arrived for breakfast after a supposedly intense workout. We got there from our hotel shortly after them (no continental breakfast unfortunately). As we walk in, Tiffany says "Oh, by the way, I put eggs in the pancakes, so those won't be for you, but you can eat whatever you can find that doesn't have eggs in it." I just stared a bit shocked, because I knew I had told her before that most pancake mix contains powdered egg, which can be really dangerous if our daughter breathes it in. And not only did she use a pancake mix that had eggs in it, but also had added additional eggs (this is what I figured out by inspecting the kitchen).
So, I pick up my daughter so that she can't touch anything that might hurt her and start looking around the kitchen for something she and I can safely eat. I generally avoid eggs too because I don't want to risk the cross contact, unless I'm in a space I can fully control. I find us some fruit and yogurt, and we sit down in the dining room. The table is small, so there's not much space to put food down, without it being a little too close for comfort to everyone else's egg filled pancakes, but I try to be careful to keep the peace. As we are eating, Tiffany begins cooking again in the kitchen. I assume she is making more pancakes or something and ignore it. Ella and Josh, who are sitting across from us, have not even quite finished their pancakes when Tiffany brings in a heaping platter of scrambled eggs and sets them on the table directly in front of us. She says, without looking at me "here you go dear, I know you need all the protein you can get to grow that sweet grandbaby of mine! Plus, Josh just had a big workout, so he'll need the extra protein too." They happily thank her for the food and start dishing up, so I stand up, grab my daughter, and walk out of the room, and explain to my daughter that we can't go in the kitchen or dining room anymore because it's not safe for her. She's had enough reactions that she is aware of how sick eggs make her, and she is really careful as long as she's aware that she's not in a safe space. Tiffany walks past in a huff, clearly offended that I've told my daughter that grandma's house isn't safe.
The rest of the trip she continued to make passive aggressive remarks about her allergy, and how no one told her she needed to be accomodating, shoving ingredient labels in my face and demanding I read them because she doesn't want to get her glasses, or saying that if I hadn't introduced her to eggs so early, she wouldn't be so allergic in the first place (all her doctors say the opposite). My husband thinks she didn't intend to do anything dangerous, and was just thinking about her pregnant daughter. I argued that she clearly knew what she did was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have promised an egg free kitchen in the first place, and that forgetting to check a label is one thing, but actively adding eggs to the food and making scrambled eggs is another thing entirely. I also didn't expect her to accommodate - she is the one that promised she would, and on the advice of my husband I gave her a chance to do so. I wish there was a more satisfying conclusion to this, but it has more or less remained unresolved. Advice is appreciated🫠. BUT, that is my story of my "Breakfast at Tiffany's" from hell.
submitted by reflected_alice to CharlotteDobreYouTube [link] [comments]
I (31F) and my husband (30M) have been married for 5 years. My mother-in-law, let's call her Tiffany, has never really been fond of me. I didn't understand why for a while, and assumed I was misreading the vibes, until we got engaged. She immediately told me she always thought he would marry a blonde, like her and his younger sister -let's call her Ella . I'm half Latinx, and this was the first of several comments she made that showed that she didn't approve of that. That's just a tiny context for the following tea:
My husband and I had a little girl together a little over 2 years ago. She's adorable and wonderful in pretty much every way - and I'm not just saying that because she's mine. She potty trained herself, she's always been ahead milestone wise, she slept through the night at 6 weeks, and everywhere we go people talk about how beautiful she is. Even as a 2 year old, we have minimal tantrums - she's just a sweet, great kid, all credit to her - she just came that way. But, Tiffany tries to claim credit for anything and everything good about her, and blames anything "wrong" with her on me and my "mystery" genetics. One of those things is her food allergy. Our girl has a SEVERE allergy to eggs. Think what you typically hear about with nuts, but eggs. Contact reactions, anaphylaxis, the whole 9 yards. We found out about this allergy not long after she started eating solid food, so it's not new news to Tiffany and her family, but them being careful about it has been an absolute non-stop battle, and she has made every possible effort to blame it on me, my parenting, or my genetics (for the record, neither of our families have a history of food allergies - it was a total fluke).
Most recently, we went to visit for a weekend (why we still even do this at all is a whole other post's worth of info), and because I was hesitant to do so with the history we have had, Tiffany swore up and down that she would have an egg-free kitchen so it would be safe to prepare food for our daughter. I didn't trust it, but my husband begged me to give her a chance, so I agreed. First thing when we arrived, she informed me she had "forgotten" to throw her eggs away, and asked if she should just take them to a neighbor. I told her she didn't have to do that, as long as they were in a sealed container in the fridge, unbroken, it would be fine. She said they were, but my alarm bells were going off like crazy. We ate out with them that night, and I ran my usual checks with the restaurant, no problem. It seemed to annoy everyone else at the table, but whatever, the restaurant was super kind and accommodating.
Fast forward to the following morning. Ella, who is pregnant, and her husband Josh arrived for breakfast after a supposedly intense workout. We got there from our hotel shortly after them (no continental breakfast unfortunately). As we walk in, Tiffany says "Oh, by the way, I put eggs in the pancakes, so those won't be for you, but you can eat whatever you can find that doesn't have eggs in it." I just stared a bit shocked, because I knew I had told her before that most pancake mix contains powdered egg, which can be really dangerous if our daughter breathes it in. And not only did she use a pancake mix that had eggs in it, but also had added additional eggs (this is what I figured out by inspecting the kitchen).
So, I pick up my daughter so that she can't touch anything that might hurt her and start looking around the kitchen for something she and I can safely eat. I generally avoid eggs too because I don't want to risk the cross contact, unless I'm in a space I can fully control. I find us some fruit and yogurt, and we sit down in the dining room. The table is small, so there's not much space to put food down, without it being a little too close for comfort to everyone else's egg filled pancakes, but I try to be careful to keep the peace. As we are eating, Tiffany begins cooking again in the kitchen. I assume she is making more pancakes or something and ignore it. Ella and Josh, who are sitting across from us, have not even quite finished their pancakes when Tiffany brings in a heaping platter of scrambled eggs and sets them on the table directly in front of us. She says, without looking at me "here you go dear, I know you need all the protein you can get to grow that sweet grandbaby of mine! Plus, Josh just had a big workout, so he'll need the extra protein too." They happily thank her for the food and start dishing up, so I stand up, grab my daughter, and walk out of the room, and explain to my daughter that we can't go in the kitchen or dining room anymore because it's not safe for her. She's had enough reactions that she is aware of how sick eggs make her, and she is really careful as long as she's aware that she's not in a safe space. Tiffany walks past in a huff, clearly offended that I've told my daughter that grandma's house isn't safe.
The rest of the trip she continued to make passive aggressive remarks about her allergy, and how no one told her she needed to be accomodating, shoving ingredient labels in my face and demanding I read them because she doesn't want to get her glasses, or saying that if I hadn't introduced her to eggs so early, she wouldn't be so allergic in the first place (all her doctors say the opposite). My husband thinks she didn't intend to do anything dangerous, and was just thinking about her pregnant daughter. I argued that she clearly knew what she did was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have promised an egg free kitchen in the first place, and that forgetting to check a label is one thing, but actively adding eggs to the food and making scrambled eggs is another thing entirely. I also didn't expect her to accommodate - she is the one that promised she would, and on the advice of my husband I gave her a chance to do so. I wish there was a more satisfying conclusion to this, but it has more or less remained unresolved. Advice is appreciated🫠. BUT, that is my story of my "Breakfast at Tiffany's" from hell.
2024.05.21 23:29 Teacher-mom- Middle schooler just made fun of how I dress
I lost almost all my baby weight but I still have a pouch and flabbier skin plus my boobs from breastfeeding look like hanging small raisins. I also struggle with what to wear during the day because it gets food all over it or it just doesn’t look flattering. I found these athletic dresses at target (one pieces) and my middle school neighbor, who I used to babysit, came over to me with her friends and super snarky goes “wow going somewhere?” And I explained to her it’s just an athletic dress and she looked me up and down and goes “looks like you’re going somewhere” I was also wearing like studded sandals because it’s all I have. I’m not buying more because money is tight with one income.
I could see where she got it from because it was black and I asked my husband if it looked dressy or athletic and typical husband says it looks fine. I’m not usually this emotional but it was her tone that was kinda hurtful because it was mocking. Her mom was right there which sucked too because I’m friends with her. If I wouldn’t have been so shocked I would’ve made a joke about being a mean girl or something to let her know it wasn’t friendly.
Ugh I’m perseverating but mostly because I went from being so stylish and fit to looking like a saggy blob.
submitted by Teacher-mom- to stayathomemoms [link] [comments]
I could see where she got it from because it was black and I asked my husband if it looked dressy or athletic and typical husband says it looks fine. I’m not usually this emotional but it was her tone that was kinda hurtful because it was mocking. Her mom was right there which sucked too because I’m friends with her. If I wouldn’t have been so shocked I would’ve made a joke about being a mean girl or something to let her know it wasn’t friendly.
Ugh I’m perseverating but mostly because I went from being so stylish and fit to looking like a saggy blob.
2024.05.21 23:23 DuallyKitty Easy and guilt free foods?
 | First post here! Here my 15 month old had baby cheetos, goldfish (milk ladder), avocado, and chicken nuggies. I'm running out of ideas as someone who doesn't spend lots of time in the kitchen. What are some of your favorite easy, fast, and guilt-free foods for your babies? Mine is scrambled eggs and avocado! One takes 2 minutes and the other you literally just cut up and serve lol. My kid has CMPA and we're working our way through the milk ladder. Really looking forward to the addition of cottage cheese! Lol submitted by DuallyKitty to foodbutforbabies [link] [comments] |
2024.05.21 23:17 Setgo17 Is it an ARFID if you're not up to eating from stress? [23M]
Also someone else told me I have a food intake disorder while this other person doesn't so i am confused
we both eat around the same calories (600-1200 calories here and there) on certain days but they got the diet label while i got the disorder label. They said it's because i'm too skinny and they need to lose weight...Is that truly how labels work?
When I said that we both walk or jog a few miles here and there for whatever reason i also got told i have a disorder but the other person doesn't because they need to lose and i should be gaining but i only exercise cause it feels good
We both don't want to gain weight but it's still similar and i don't get why i got the label that i did.
I'm hoping to be able to tell myself that I don't have this label & move on & not feel bad about my habits.
6'0 125lb
submitted by Setgo17 to AskDocs [link] [comments]
we both eat around the same calories (600-1200 calories here and there) on certain days but they got the diet label while i got the disorder label. They said it's because i'm too skinny and they need to lose weight...Is that truly how labels work?
When I said that we both walk or jog a few miles here and there for whatever reason i also got told i have a disorder but the other person doesn't because they need to lose and i should be gaining but i only exercise cause it feels good
We both don't want to gain weight but it's still similar and i don't get why i got the label that i did.
I'm hoping to be able to tell myself that I don't have this label & move on & not feel bad about my habits.
6'0 125lb
2024.05.21 23:17 Aware_Examination264 My nine-month old wasn't introduced to solids at six months
Context, I'm not the actual parent, but I take care of this child majority of the day. Recently, she went to an appointment, and she came back underweight, and I didn't really think anything of it. Not really, because, averages are not specific to every child. That could just be the make-up of her body. Whatever, right?
Until my sister casually said it's probably because she doesn't eat solids, and I did a double take. Because, she's supposed to be eating solids? I knew, of it, I knew babies = messy baby food smeared all over them. My sister had once done it, even. So I knew it was a thing, but I also did not know at all. And I take care of her a majority of the time, I'm the one meant to be doing all this stuff. But I was never told, oh, at six months she should be introduced to food. My sister never said a thing. I'm too afraid to ask to be more doctor-ly involved. And maybe I should have known about it, or been looking into this, but I genuinely only saw my position as a babysitter. Like I couldn't be more involved (she already makes these uncomfortable comments about the baby thinking I'm her mom). But I didn't think, or realize it'd be like this. I may lack foresight.
But truly, I was ignorant. We'd had a baby sister, but, again, it was more like a babysitter position. Especially considering I had three other people forced to help too, along with a parent who actually took over when she was done with work. I just knew bottle feeding and diapers. I don't really recall the stress of feeding my sister solids. I don't remember doing that at all.
So, point is, baby is underweight, and it's probably because she doesn't eat solids. And me hearing this, of course, I panic. Because what do you mean she's supposed to be three months into solids? So I went online. How much is she supposed to eat at nine months? How many calories? How many for food, and how many for formula? What foods can she eat? Eating schedules (alarmingly full of food)? Upon this research, and asking more questions because my sister obviously wasn't going to say anything, I find out baby's eating even less than I thought she'd been (I thought she was having a bottle in the middle of the night). So that means she's eating less calories than I'd calculated, which means my head is on fire and I am unwell.
So I'm entirely too stressed at this point, but I just—start trying to feed her. That's all I can really do at this point. And, it's slow, and I crumble up half a cookie in her slop and she actually eats it all (definitely not a 1/4 cup like all these websites talk about). Yay! But over the next few days there's a regression. Not only in the food department. Her naps are not napping. She's not taking as many bottles. I'm panicking. I'm always in a constant state of stress and I don't want this child to be somehow stunted, or something (i don't know). I just want to put her back on track. So she can be an average little child at all her appointments.
Amidst this freakout, I babysat a little boy, ten months old (he's a screamer, but, you know, you help out when you can). The mom was surprised about the whole thing, but talking to her did help to calm me down. She said I could ask her questions, which I will be.
She'd also talked about some kind of program with the hospital , where a person comes to the house to like, do something, and she really just talked about how valuable the information was. I was like, yes, that sounds so helpful. I actually told my sister about it (I'm very hesitant to, like, involve myself outside of the apartment, but I needed help). She got suspicious and asked if I was talking shit about her to her friend. I don't think I did, but, who cares, actually. I'm struggling and you literally starve yourself to the point you have no energy to help.
But today, I tried to feed her, I have anger issues as much as my sister tbh, and I don't like messes either. I'm not proud of how I acted. It was bad, and I gave up, and I cried because I am so overwhelmed and stressed and her mother refuses to even try to feed her on the weekends, or when she gets back from work. So I feel like any progress I make is just ruined, and the next day, or Monday especially, I'm starting over and am at a loss.
I think it's been two or three weeks since I found out. Baby is now almost ten months. I don't know what to do at this point. Because this baby was supposed to be eating three months ago. I read all this stuff, I have all this information, and it's only made me paranoid and more stressed. Do I "introduce" her to foods like she's six months old? How do I feed her this certain number of calories if she suddenly won't take it? How do I attempt a schedule when her mother will come for lunch and disrupt it? Should I just feed her real people food instead of baby food? Why is she suddenly refusing the food she was OK with four days ago? Should she be finishing a whole baby food container in a day? Half? At all? I just don't know what to do. All I can think to do is try and feed her, again and again and again until three months has passed and hopefully she's eating like she should be for her age.
And we're not even addressing the sippy cup issue...
Has anyone had similar experiences in the feeding department? Or similar experiences in the stress department? I'd love to know.
submitted by Aware_Examination264 to NewParents [link] [comments]
Until my sister casually said it's probably because she doesn't eat solids, and I did a double take. Because, she's supposed to be eating solids? I knew, of it, I knew babies = messy baby food smeared all over them. My sister had once done it, even. So I knew it was a thing, but I also did not know at all. And I take care of her a majority of the time, I'm the one meant to be doing all this stuff. But I was never told, oh, at six months she should be introduced to food. My sister never said a thing. I'm too afraid to ask to be more doctor-ly involved. And maybe I should have known about it, or been looking into this, but I genuinely only saw my position as a babysitter. Like I couldn't be more involved (she already makes these uncomfortable comments about the baby thinking I'm her mom). But I didn't think, or realize it'd be like this. I may lack foresight.
But truly, I was ignorant. We'd had a baby sister, but, again, it was more like a babysitter position. Especially considering I had three other people forced to help too, along with a parent who actually took over when she was done with work. I just knew bottle feeding and diapers. I don't really recall the stress of feeding my sister solids. I don't remember doing that at all.
So, point is, baby is underweight, and it's probably because she doesn't eat solids. And me hearing this, of course, I panic. Because what do you mean she's supposed to be three months into solids? So I went online. How much is she supposed to eat at nine months? How many calories? How many for food, and how many for formula? What foods can she eat? Eating schedules (alarmingly full of food)? Upon this research, and asking more questions because my sister obviously wasn't going to say anything, I find out baby's eating even less than I thought she'd been (I thought she was having a bottle in the middle of the night). So that means she's eating less calories than I'd calculated, which means my head is on fire and I am unwell.
So I'm entirely too stressed at this point, but I just—start trying to feed her. That's all I can really do at this point. And, it's slow, and I crumble up half a cookie in her slop and she actually eats it all (definitely not a 1/4 cup like all these websites talk about). Yay! But over the next few days there's a regression. Not only in the food department. Her naps are not napping. She's not taking as many bottles. I'm panicking. I'm always in a constant state of stress and I don't want this child to be somehow stunted, or something (i don't know). I just want to put her back on track. So she can be an average little child at all her appointments.
Amidst this freakout, I babysat a little boy, ten months old (he's a screamer, but, you know, you help out when you can). The mom was surprised about the whole thing, but talking to her did help to calm me down. She said I could ask her questions, which I will be.
She'd also talked about some kind of program with the hospital , where a person comes to the house to like, do something, and she really just talked about how valuable the information was. I was like, yes, that sounds so helpful. I actually told my sister about it (I'm very hesitant to, like, involve myself outside of the apartment, but I needed help). She got suspicious and asked if I was talking shit about her to her friend. I don't think I did, but, who cares, actually. I'm struggling and you literally starve yourself to the point you have no energy to help.
But today, I tried to feed her, I have anger issues as much as my sister tbh, and I don't like messes either. I'm not proud of how I acted. It was bad, and I gave up, and I cried because I am so overwhelmed and stressed and her mother refuses to even try to feed her on the weekends, or when she gets back from work. So I feel like any progress I make is just ruined, and the next day, or Monday especially, I'm starting over and am at a loss.
I think it's been two or three weeks since I found out. Baby is now almost ten months. I don't know what to do at this point. Because this baby was supposed to be eating three months ago. I read all this stuff, I have all this information, and it's only made me paranoid and more stressed. Do I "introduce" her to foods like she's six months old? How do I feed her this certain number of calories if she suddenly won't take it? How do I attempt a schedule when her mother will come for lunch and disrupt it? Should I just feed her real people food instead of baby food? Why is she suddenly refusing the food she was OK with four days ago? Should she be finishing a whole baby food container in a day? Half? At all? I just don't know what to do. All I can think to do is try and feed her, again and again and again until three months has passed and hopefully she's eating like she should be for her age.
And we're not even addressing the sippy cup issue...
Has anyone had similar experiences in the feeding department? Or similar experiences in the stress department? I'd love to know.
2024.05.21 23:12 SLEEZYMACHINE INSANE CLOWN POSSE
There never was and there ain't never gonna be nothing like this again. People wish and claw and try so hard to replicate it but they can't. Juggalos are a onetime thing and you'll never see anything like it again. Even through all the years of hate from the mainstream and society Juggalos stayed United. These dudes are the KINGS the GOATS of the underground and it sucks to see the way things have been headed lately. It's honestly really sad but it's just crazy to think nobody could take out ICP, besides ICP themselves. Either way no matter what happens, these dudes made a fatass mark in history and even if nobody admits it, people are forever going to continue trying to recreate the magic that is Juggalos. I'm just happy I got to be apart of it and see it all go down. Psychopathic baby! The label beneath the streets! I C motherfuckin P.
submitted by SLEEZYMACHINE to juggalo [link] [comments]
2024.05.21 23:12 dokha Beware of Pepsi’s SNEAKY Tactic.
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If you live under a rock , Aspartame is bad for you , please do extensive research about it if you haven’t already. Comments here defending Aspartame will be reported . Please spread the word in arabic through Facebook and WhatsApp. |
2024.05.21 23:11 Foolscap77 I think my house is haunted and figured I'll share my experience.
I'd originally posted in another thread, and some of the commentors ( u/one85fortunes and u/Jeciew) had asked for elaboration as to the incidents that happened in my house.
I'll try to fill in as much as possible. This will probably be ridiculously long, so strap in.
My SO and I moved into this house a little under 2 years ago. It's an average looking rancher, built in 1990. We're the second owners of the house. The original owner was an older man, who'd cared for his wife after she had a stroke. She ultimately passed away (not in the house, but in hospice) and being in his late 70's he'd decided to move to Florida. We met him briefly during one of the inspections, and he wasn't creepy or anything. Nothing in the house seemed off. No signs of satanic rituals, etc. All jokes aside, I add these details because I assume some of these questions will come up.
There was a hurricane the night we moved in. Rushing back and forth from the AirBnB to get situated with our two cats that first night was stressful to say the least. We basically throw down an air mattress, got out the litterbox, cat food, and other basics and then passed the hell out.
When I woke up the next morning my cat Oscar was dead. As he was only 7, and not knowing if a danger existed that would harm his brother Max or us, I rushed and had an autopsy done. The vet said he basically threw a clot, probably because of the stress of the move. I miss him, he was a hell of cool cat. I think he's still around - his spirit or whatever, and I am almost positive he visits and plays with Max some nights. Just seeing Max start chasing (literally nothing) around, the way they used to chase each other. I'm probably crazy but I feel better believing it.
One of the first weird things that occurred was a few weeks in. I was in my office building some shelves. An idiot proof kit, with hardware in bags numbered, you open them depending on the step you're on. I was on the last step, which involved hammering in these four feet.. each one similar to a giant thumbtack. Just big enough to keep the shelf system from scratching up the floor. I hammered in the first 3, and the 4th was just gone. I stood up, searched the room. Searched the hallway (no clue how it could have moved, I was sitting immobile on the floor but who knows). It's nowhere. I check Max, he's a Maine Coon so maybe it got stuck in his hair. After an hour of tearing apart most of the house, I give up and stack some quarters where that foot would have gone. Told my SO to keep an eye out for it. We then found it 3 days later on the top shelf of my coat closet, under a ballcap. It's about this point I should mention it's just the two of us, no one else lives in the house, at least not full time. We do have a room over the garage that one of the kids calls home when she's not in college. As this was all around early October, she was away at school.
We'd start hearing things. The amount of times (to this day) we'll rush into one of each other's rooms only to find neither of us called each other, but one of us at that time had distinctly heard someone yelling for us, well it's not even scary anymore just annoying. Maybe the entity wants me to lose some weight and get my steps in *shrug*. Other times we'll hear crashing sounds. In the early days, with boxes and things scattered and being unpacked, I figured the cat just knocked something over. I'd go check and find nothing amiss.
Lights would start being on in rooms we hadn't used. Again, we chalked a lot of this up to confusion, or carelessness. It's a new house, neither of us had our routines yet, it was all a bit of a hot, sleepless mess, and I can't always swear I didn't go into that back bedroom and maybe turn the light on while on autopilot (even though I totally didn't). I'm a big fan of horror (post history proves that) and I don't spook easily. I'm also pretty pragmatic and realistic, so I'll try to find a rational reason for most things before jumping to the paranormal and metaphysical concepts.
Eating dinner one night we heard a weird noise, and we got up to investigate to find the bathtub running at full blast. Around this time we'd also find oddities like pictures on the walls being askew. Overall things started escalating. My SO and I promised to each other, on penalty of ending the relationship, that neither was pranking the other. That pact holds to this day.
At this point in the game, I'd started looking into metaphysical things that I could do to help. I'm talking amethyst and obsidian pieces in the house, saging, stuff like that. I honestly don't believe in it, but I also don't NOT believe, so what can it hurt. It didn't really do much that I could tell. Things continued to happen.
Twice in the same day, at vastly separate times and in different bathrooms, we both experienced an incredibly loud pounding in the attic over the bathroom as we were doing our business. I assume the ghost doesn't like whatever we ate that week. My bad, homie.
The locks had been changed at this point. I started looking throughout the house, wondering if someone was phrogging. I've seen a few horror movies about it. Nothing out of the ordinary. The attic has two entrances, one needs a ladder from the hallway, and the other is through an opening in the eaves, which you can get to from the FROG (Finished Room Over Garage). I stacked things in front of that eaves door, just to make sure nothing was coming and going. I did come to the realization that the attic was FULL of stuff from the previous owner. Luggage, clothes, random stuff. I still haven't cleaned it out, so maybe something up there is tied to an entity. No clue.
I've never felt anything malicious from the entity/spirit/energy/demon/whatever. My other half is terrified of it. Came home from the store one day to find the last rites crucifix in the bedroom turned sideways and half opened. Also felt every hair on my body stand up when I went in the room. The hair-on-end happens often when activity is spiked, I can't tell if it's energy literally raising my hair, or just me being creeped out.
I went to check the aforementioned stacked items in the FROG one night to find that all the LED strips the girl had put up were blazing red. She hadn't been home in weeks and never uses that color. I was up there just a few days prior and all the lights were off.
Halloween was fun. Giving out candy, talking with the cul-de-sac neighbors. One cute kid, maybe 4 years old turns to look to his right (my garage) and says you have a goblin in your garage. We didn't have any decorations on that side of the house. I'm sure just random kids being weird kids, right?
I have a habit of being flippant, and I started talking to the entity. SO also tried it once. At this point we'd started hearing breathing in the dark sometimes. One night she's in the hall, cleaning the cat litter. She felt something behind her, heard breathing. She calmly said "I'm busy right now, please leave me alone". The feelings and sensations instantly left, then all the doors in the hallway slammed shut. We both started wearing amethyst and obsidian jewelry, just in case.
I noticed movies I'd leave up on my computer (I watch stuff while I'm working) would be playing, or finished when I know I had them paused. I thought maybe if you are a ghost you're bored af, so I spoke to the ghost and setup a dozen books in the back bedroom. A mixture of my stuff and my SO's, not knowing what the thing might be into. I'm nothing if not a gracious host. The next day one of the books was turned upside down and opened, as if being put down after being read. I kept more books out but it never happened again.
For Xmas we had 6 different mini-nativity scenes throughout the house (yes, she has a problem lol). We found various pieces from the nativity scenes moved into scenes they didn't come with. We also had these little xmas gnomes that we sat on the curtain rods, we found one sitting upright in the middle of the couch one morning, a good 12 feet away from where it was before.
One night we were sitting out front having a smoke, came inside and heard music. There was a snowglobe that was playing music. It was an old heirloom, she'd forgotten it also could wind up and make music.
A box of kleenex that we keep on the living room end table was found in the garage one day.
One night, she sends me a video while I'm out - We have a first gen Alexa, that was playing Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran. She came inside from having a smoke and recorded it blasting away. I had unplugged it earlier that day when our new toaster arrived. FYI, first gens dont' have battery backups.
Another night we came back inside to find one of our butcher knives on the kitchen floor, instead of in the knife block.
One evening while getting ready for bed I noticed an earring on my night stand, it was part of a set her grandmother had left her, the other part was buried in a box under some clothes in a drawer.
One night I woke up to hearing knocking at the front door. I could see through the glass it was a decoration we had hung outside, beating against the door. I opened the door expecting to see a storm brewing but the night was completely calm, the trees weren't even swaying. No wind whatsoever.
The previous house owners smoked in the house at one point, that much we know. Weirdly, sometimes when you go into the back bathroom it'll smell like someone is actively smoking a cigarette.
There's been a crazy amount of times we've been outside and see movement, what appears to be a person in a window out of the corner of our eye. Friends and family who visit have also noticed this kind of stuff.
Things go missing, and reappear in random places far too often.
So those are most of the big things. I'll try to pre-emptively answer the common questions.
If you've gotten this far thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
submitted by Foolscap77 to Paranormal [link] [comments]
I'll try to fill in as much as possible. This will probably be ridiculously long, so strap in.
My SO and I moved into this house a little under 2 years ago. It's an average looking rancher, built in 1990. We're the second owners of the house. The original owner was an older man, who'd cared for his wife after she had a stroke. She ultimately passed away (not in the house, but in hospice) and being in his late 70's he'd decided to move to Florida. We met him briefly during one of the inspections, and he wasn't creepy or anything. Nothing in the house seemed off. No signs of satanic rituals, etc. All jokes aside, I add these details because I assume some of these questions will come up.
There was a hurricane the night we moved in. Rushing back and forth from the AirBnB to get situated with our two cats that first night was stressful to say the least. We basically throw down an air mattress, got out the litterbox, cat food, and other basics and then passed the hell out.
When I woke up the next morning my cat Oscar was dead. As he was only 7, and not knowing if a danger existed that would harm his brother Max or us, I rushed and had an autopsy done. The vet said he basically threw a clot, probably because of the stress of the move. I miss him, he was a hell of cool cat. I think he's still around - his spirit or whatever, and I am almost positive he visits and plays with Max some nights. Just seeing Max start chasing (literally nothing) around, the way they used to chase each other. I'm probably crazy but I feel better believing it.
One of the first weird things that occurred was a few weeks in. I was in my office building some shelves. An idiot proof kit, with hardware in bags numbered, you open them depending on the step you're on. I was on the last step, which involved hammering in these four feet.. each one similar to a giant thumbtack. Just big enough to keep the shelf system from scratching up the floor. I hammered in the first 3, and the 4th was just gone. I stood up, searched the room. Searched the hallway (no clue how it could have moved, I was sitting immobile on the floor but who knows). It's nowhere. I check Max, he's a Maine Coon so maybe it got stuck in his hair. After an hour of tearing apart most of the house, I give up and stack some quarters where that foot would have gone. Told my SO to keep an eye out for it. We then found it 3 days later on the top shelf of my coat closet, under a ballcap. It's about this point I should mention it's just the two of us, no one else lives in the house, at least not full time. We do have a room over the garage that one of the kids calls home when she's not in college. As this was all around early October, she was away at school.
We'd start hearing things. The amount of times (to this day) we'll rush into one of each other's rooms only to find neither of us called each other, but one of us at that time had distinctly heard someone yelling for us, well it's not even scary anymore just annoying. Maybe the entity wants me to lose some weight and get my steps in *shrug*. Other times we'll hear crashing sounds. In the early days, with boxes and things scattered and being unpacked, I figured the cat just knocked something over. I'd go check and find nothing amiss.
Lights would start being on in rooms we hadn't used. Again, we chalked a lot of this up to confusion, or carelessness. It's a new house, neither of us had our routines yet, it was all a bit of a hot, sleepless mess, and I can't always swear I didn't go into that back bedroom and maybe turn the light on while on autopilot (even though I totally didn't). I'm a big fan of horror (post history proves that) and I don't spook easily. I'm also pretty pragmatic and realistic, so I'll try to find a rational reason for most things before jumping to the paranormal and metaphysical concepts.
Eating dinner one night we heard a weird noise, and we got up to investigate to find the bathtub running at full blast. Around this time we'd also find oddities like pictures on the walls being askew. Overall things started escalating. My SO and I promised to each other, on penalty of ending the relationship, that neither was pranking the other. That pact holds to this day.
At this point in the game, I'd started looking into metaphysical things that I could do to help. I'm talking amethyst and obsidian pieces in the house, saging, stuff like that. I honestly don't believe in it, but I also don't NOT believe, so what can it hurt. It didn't really do much that I could tell. Things continued to happen.
Twice in the same day, at vastly separate times and in different bathrooms, we both experienced an incredibly loud pounding in the attic over the bathroom as we were doing our business. I assume the ghost doesn't like whatever we ate that week. My bad, homie.
The locks had been changed at this point. I started looking throughout the house, wondering if someone was phrogging. I've seen a few horror movies about it. Nothing out of the ordinary. The attic has two entrances, one needs a ladder from the hallway, and the other is through an opening in the eaves, which you can get to from the FROG (Finished Room Over Garage). I stacked things in front of that eaves door, just to make sure nothing was coming and going. I did come to the realization that the attic was FULL of stuff from the previous owner. Luggage, clothes, random stuff. I still haven't cleaned it out, so maybe something up there is tied to an entity. No clue.
I've never felt anything malicious from the entity/spirit/energy/demon/whatever. My other half is terrified of it. Came home from the store one day to find the last rites crucifix in the bedroom turned sideways and half opened. Also felt every hair on my body stand up when I went in the room. The hair-on-end happens often when activity is spiked, I can't tell if it's energy literally raising my hair, or just me being creeped out.
I went to check the aforementioned stacked items in the FROG one night to find that all the LED strips the girl had put up were blazing red. She hadn't been home in weeks and never uses that color. I was up there just a few days prior and all the lights were off.
Halloween was fun. Giving out candy, talking with the cul-de-sac neighbors. One cute kid, maybe 4 years old turns to look to his right (my garage) and says you have a goblin in your garage. We didn't have any decorations on that side of the house. I'm sure just random kids being weird kids, right?
I have a habit of being flippant, and I started talking to the entity. SO also tried it once. At this point we'd started hearing breathing in the dark sometimes. One night she's in the hall, cleaning the cat litter. She felt something behind her, heard breathing. She calmly said "I'm busy right now, please leave me alone". The feelings and sensations instantly left, then all the doors in the hallway slammed shut. We both started wearing amethyst and obsidian jewelry, just in case.
I noticed movies I'd leave up on my computer (I watch stuff while I'm working) would be playing, or finished when I know I had them paused. I thought maybe if you are a ghost you're bored af, so I spoke to the ghost and setup a dozen books in the back bedroom. A mixture of my stuff and my SO's, not knowing what the thing might be into. I'm nothing if not a gracious host. The next day one of the books was turned upside down and opened, as if being put down after being read. I kept more books out but it never happened again.
For Xmas we had 6 different mini-nativity scenes throughout the house (yes, she has a problem lol). We found various pieces from the nativity scenes moved into scenes they didn't come with. We also had these little xmas gnomes that we sat on the curtain rods, we found one sitting upright in the middle of the couch one morning, a good 12 feet away from where it was before.
One night we were sitting out front having a smoke, came inside and heard music. There was a snowglobe that was playing music. It was an old heirloom, she'd forgotten it also could wind up and make music.
A box of kleenex that we keep on the living room end table was found in the garage one day.
One night, she sends me a video while I'm out - We have a first gen Alexa, that was playing Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran. She came inside from having a smoke and recorded it blasting away. I had unplugged it earlier that day when our new toaster arrived. FYI, first gens dont' have battery backups.
Another night we came back inside to find one of our butcher knives on the kitchen floor, instead of in the knife block.
One evening while getting ready for bed I noticed an earring on my night stand, it was part of a set her grandmother had left her, the other part was buried in a box under some clothes in a drawer.
One night I woke up to hearing knocking at the front door. I could see through the glass it was a decoration we had hung outside, beating against the door. I opened the door expecting to see a storm brewing but the night was completely calm, the trees weren't even swaying. No wind whatsoever.
The previous house owners smoked in the house at one point, that much we know. Weirdly, sometimes when you go into the back bathroom it'll smell like someone is actively smoking a cigarette.
There's been a crazy amount of times we've been outside and see movement, what appears to be a person in a window out of the corner of our eye. Friends and family who visit have also noticed this kind of stuff.
Things go missing, and reappear in random places far too often.
So those are most of the big things. I'll try to pre-emptively answer the common questions.
- No, we don't have cameras inside. We've considered it. Feels like a lot of work to maybe catch something moving. Having video proof of any of this isn't going to sway a non-believer either (anything can be faked on photo/video imo). That said I do have photos and videos of some of the events (the alexa, the music box, the butcher knife).
- The neighbors filled me in a bit about the familial history of the home. The father worked hard, his kids were drug addict shitbags who trashed the place and partied a lot. No one died in the house that I know of, nor were there any other weird activities. Could they have gotten drunk and sacrificed a cat on a ouija board? Sure, I dunno.
- We considered getting the church to bless the home, but she was raised very catholic and I'm more of an agnostic mutt so I haven't jumped on board the idea. Again, I don't believe but don't NOT believe when it comes to most spirituality, mysticism and religion.
- I did look to see if there were any paranormal investigators nearby, and it doesn't look like there are any local ones. The activity in the house is so intermittent that I can't justify offering someone to come down when there are months that go by with nothing, then a bunch of stuff for a week straight. I thought maybe it was cyclic, tied to an event, hell even the phase of the moon, but so far I've got no clue. I also really have no interest in paying someone to investigate.
If you've gotten this far thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
2024.05.21 23:09 No-Anxiety-9811 How to Start Solids?
Our little guy is almost 5 months old. At the 4 month checkup, the pediatrician said we can start solids and that there's basically no wrong way to do it since it's done differently in many cultures. She just said to give him a teaspoon of the same food (ie: pureed) daily for the whole week to see if there's any allergic reactions. We were hoping for a little bit more of a 'plan' or guidebook. What's everybody else doing? I've heard some people mix the puree with breastmilk and put it in the bottle. Some people start with spoon feeding. Let the baby grab it and try to put it in their mouth themselves. Foods to start with or avoid at first? Anyone have any resources they love? Thank you!
submitted by No-Anxiety-9811 to NewParents [link] [comments]
2024.05.21 22:48 UnusualFreedom7435 locals- tell me your must go spots
Hiya, we travel every year to different parts of Southern California cities with our pupper. This time its different, we are with a baby, 4 months old and the pupper.
We love beer, outdoors, sunsets, food, bakeries so would love recommendations that are baby and pupper friendly.
What are some good trails, sunset spots, foods that we must try and any other local recommendations! appreciate you all! we are at #Huntingtonbeach @Huntingtonbeach
submitted by UnusualFreedom7435 to orangecounty [link] [comments]
We love beer, outdoors, sunsets, food, bakeries so would love recommendations that are baby and pupper friendly.
What are some good trails, sunset spots, foods that we must try and any other local recommendations! appreciate you all! we are at #Huntingtonbeach @Huntingtonbeach
2024.05.21 22:39 Jiynxe Mother in law is gross [qc]
My husbands mother has had an issue initially with bedbugs and hoarding due to illness. while hoarding is an illness in itself we deemed that she simply could not be left alone mentally an need to care for her. we spoke often about how ill she was and both came to an agreement that we must care for her and what better way then get an extra room and simply care for her. shes been living with us for a few years now. and im starting to see her and what her issues are.. she WAS ill at one point but got much much better. i realised that she had issues at one point but she will not help herself in ANYWAY shape or form to the point that she justifies being disgusting. when she lived on her own we tried twice to get her out of a nasty situation. she had a major bedbug infestation in both of her houses. we cleaned out her house and basically got rid of everything but there were still some hanger ons and it infested her second place that we helped her out of....
this second place was next door to us. so we could of been closer. she neglected her dog and made us go out pick up SOME stuff for her. while we had that space she let the dog shit and piss all over the house and never even bathed she would simply buy new things an sit on her ass while trash and shit and piss would build up around her (this was when it was very bad and we decided to take her in) she got out of there which i though was for her own good. she brought in the bed bugs into a few of our homes and they infested our stuff us needing to start over constantly. we even got many exterminators but also costly. we changed to some natural fungus treatment and FINALLY it worked after 3 years of trying to get rid of them.
just this year alone i have a child on the way and its increasingly frustrating that even with a cleaner environment, her getting mental help. getting the proper meds and support i over heard her say to her therapist that she feels unwelcome because of how apparently obsessively clean i am. I am also NESTING and i never really lived in a messy home i dont like it. im not even asking her to clean her own room it is her space but my husband and my step son have tried to clean her room because frankly it does smell to some degree. and theres alot of clutter(way less horrid then what she had but bad nonetheless)
she just orders clothes instead of cleaning them even upon offering to clean her clothes for her. she hoards trash around my house saying she will recycle but she doesnt (beside the recycling bin itself) so i do it for her and she gets angry. she does have incontinence issues so she wears diapers. while she can go to the bathroom on her own she sometimes misses (understandable) but she leaves her dirty diapers on my counter instead of putting them in the trash literally next to the toilet. and leaves feeces and blood on the toilet seat for me to clean. she always makes us buy her things now and horribly unhealthy food all the time and complainss when we sometimes make food for her she doesnt like. (in an attempt to be sure everyone eats what they like we all take executive decisions as a group on what to eat). i feel like were leaving alot of legroom regardless even if we dont like it but its never good enough. this woman refused to eat a pizza because the peperoni was under the cheese..... my husband started getting angry (i always was and i regret this decision)
but i need a more clean home for my baby and i can no longer tend to this woman (aswell as myself and the rest of the familly. my husband has stepped in ALOT and talks to his mom telling her that she needs to for the child but she always gives me these passive aggressive or petty comments. like when i clean she says (my mom used to move furniture around to clean it). or (can you leave the bathroom door open ((so she can breathe but she never had an issue with the window open) i keep it closed to keep the animals out. her cats cant even pee properly so were constantly cleaning the cat litter for this woman. we run errands for her. we setup her appointments for her, we attempt to help her clean her room but she refuses putting everyone else at risk. she gets angry with us for not doing things her way. sometimes me and my husband argue and she says WE bother HER when we argue. to basically stop arguing because it makes HER uncomfortable. after being forgiving for so many years she runs the entire familly bending all of us around her damn fingers for her own convenience. frankly i gave her the benefit of the doubt for a very long time and i just cant take it anymore. even establishing to her that we need her to take care of herself a bit more so we can focus on the end of my pregnancy and when that baby arrives. she still acts like we HAVE to do everything for her. weve asked her to move her own car simple as so that we dont have to pay for tickets... today i just picked a ticket off of her car and she WILL blame my husband for not moving it. we work from home and dont always have the time to do it on time while she has zero responsibilities and NOTHING to do . i was at a point once where i told myself she cant shes sick. but she has no issue going out on her own when she wants to go shopping. she rarely leaves the house but shes perfectly able. i hate to say this but shes flat out LAZY and aa HOARDER simple as and is trying nothing to get better for herself when we directly ask her she gets better for 2 days then she reverts back to slob and (do everything for me go buy me more coke) attitude. i know i shouldnt butt in to the whole therapist thing either but she makes them housecalls instead which means we cant even live in our own house while the therapist is around. and when she sits on the couch.... she then stays there fo DAYS. making my livingroom a mess and TMI but i can SEEEEE her skin sheds ON MY COUCH.
im cleaning 24/7 my husband cares for me and helps me clean and so does his son. and we all contribute. except for her. its a big familly. and when i cant, i ask for help and i get it. BUT i see the stress my husband also undergoes. we have to care for absolutely everyones incompetence with a baby on the way and its extremely stressfull. the LEAST that i want is to keep her own stuff in check but she is completely ignorant.
I need to vent and i frankly want to yell at her and just tell her to wake the fuck up and take care of herself or shes out of my house. but truth is i have still seen my husbands mood improve to some degree knowing his mom is still in a better environment regardless. we cant just kick her out again to be left to her own.
sadly however im starting to think she should just no longer be my business and it should just be me taking care of my house regardless of her being here no matter how anngry or pettty she gets. she completely disagrees with how i handle my house. my relationship. and my familly as a whole. again i dont want to listen in on someones therapy session but the walls are thin. she makes her therapy sessions about how shes uncomfortable and dislikes how I handle MY life decisions and MY kids and MY relationship with my husband.
i love him and she cant even be grateful that we took her in to help. she cant even be grateful that she has a cleaner home to die in. and shes definitely taking advantage of us. when she doesnt need to. Im just TIRED
submitted by Jiynxe to BabyBumpsCanada [link] [comments]
this second place was next door to us. so we could of been closer. she neglected her dog and made us go out pick up SOME stuff for her. while we had that space she let the dog shit and piss all over the house and never even bathed she would simply buy new things an sit on her ass while trash and shit and piss would build up around her (this was when it was very bad and we decided to take her in) she got out of there which i though was for her own good. she brought in the bed bugs into a few of our homes and they infested our stuff us needing to start over constantly. we even got many exterminators but also costly. we changed to some natural fungus treatment and FINALLY it worked after 3 years of trying to get rid of them.
just this year alone i have a child on the way and its increasingly frustrating that even with a cleaner environment, her getting mental help. getting the proper meds and support i over heard her say to her therapist that she feels unwelcome because of how apparently obsessively clean i am. I am also NESTING and i never really lived in a messy home i dont like it. im not even asking her to clean her own room it is her space but my husband and my step son have tried to clean her room because frankly it does smell to some degree. and theres alot of clutter(way less horrid then what she had but bad nonetheless)
she just orders clothes instead of cleaning them even upon offering to clean her clothes for her. she hoards trash around my house saying she will recycle but she doesnt (beside the recycling bin itself) so i do it for her and she gets angry. she does have incontinence issues so she wears diapers. while she can go to the bathroom on her own she sometimes misses (understandable) but she leaves her dirty diapers on my counter instead of putting them in the trash literally next to the toilet. and leaves feeces and blood on the toilet seat for me to clean. she always makes us buy her things now and horribly unhealthy food all the time and complainss when we sometimes make food for her she doesnt like. (in an attempt to be sure everyone eats what they like we all take executive decisions as a group on what to eat). i feel like were leaving alot of legroom regardless even if we dont like it but its never good enough. this woman refused to eat a pizza because the peperoni was under the cheese..... my husband started getting angry (i always was and i regret this decision)
but i need a more clean home for my baby and i can no longer tend to this woman (aswell as myself and the rest of the familly. my husband has stepped in ALOT and talks to his mom telling her that she needs to for the child but she always gives me these passive aggressive or petty comments. like when i clean she says (my mom used to move furniture around to clean it). or (can you leave the bathroom door open ((so she can breathe but she never had an issue with the window open) i keep it closed to keep the animals out. her cats cant even pee properly so were constantly cleaning the cat litter for this woman. we run errands for her. we setup her appointments for her, we attempt to help her clean her room but she refuses putting everyone else at risk. she gets angry with us for not doing things her way. sometimes me and my husband argue and she says WE bother HER when we argue. to basically stop arguing because it makes HER uncomfortable. after being forgiving for so many years she runs the entire familly bending all of us around her damn fingers for her own convenience. frankly i gave her the benefit of the doubt for a very long time and i just cant take it anymore. even establishing to her that we need her to take care of herself a bit more so we can focus on the end of my pregnancy and when that baby arrives. she still acts like we HAVE to do everything for her. weve asked her to move her own car simple as so that we dont have to pay for tickets... today i just picked a ticket off of her car and she WILL blame my husband for not moving it. we work from home and dont always have the time to do it on time while she has zero responsibilities and NOTHING to do . i was at a point once where i told myself she cant shes sick. but she has no issue going out on her own when she wants to go shopping. she rarely leaves the house but shes perfectly able. i hate to say this but shes flat out LAZY and aa HOARDER simple as and is trying nothing to get better for herself when we directly ask her she gets better for 2 days then she reverts back to slob and (do everything for me go buy me more coke) attitude. i know i shouldnt butt in to the whole therapist thing either but she makes them housecalls instead which means we cant even live in our own house while the therapist is around. and when she sits on the couch.... she then stays there fo DAYS. making my livingroom a mess and TMI but i can SEEEEE her skin sheds ON MY COUCH.
im cleaning 24/7 my husband cares for me and helps me clean and so does his son. and we all contribute. except for her. its a big familly. and when i cant, i ask for help and i get it. BUT i see the stress my husband also undergoes. we have to care for absolutely everyones incompetence with a baby on the way and its extremely stressfull. the LEAST that i want is to keep her own stuff in check but she is completely ignorant.
I need to vent and i frankly want to yell at her and just tell her to wake the fuck up and take care of herself or shes out of my house. but truth is i have still seen my husbands mood improve to some degree knowing his mom is still in a better environment regardless. we cant just kick her out again to be left to her own.
sadly however im starting to think she should just no longer be my business and it should just be me taking care of my house regardless of her being here no matter how anngry or pettty she gets. she completely disagrees with how i handle my house. my relationship. and my familly as a whole. again i dont want to listen in on someones therapy session but the walls are thin. she makes her therapy sessions about how shes uncomfortable and dislikes how I handle MY life decisions and MY kids and MY relationship with my husband.
i love him and she cant even be grateful that we took her in to help. she cant even be grateful that she has a cleaner home to die in. and shes definitely taking advantage of us. when she doesnt need to. Im just TIRED
2024.05.21 22:38 rampagingseagull I had to send my sweet Kirby across the rainbow bridge today.
My sweet Kirby was just over 3 years old. She lived a difficult life.
We originally adopted two bunnies from the same litter and were told they were both boys. We found out in the months to come that one was definitely not a boy. Most of the baby bunnies were adopted, but two of them had disabilities and were never adopted. Kirby, and her brother Hazel, were born without the use of their back legs, while Kirby was also partially blind. The vet described it as being able to see through dirty glasses.
She was the most lovey little bunny you ever met. She hated being picked up unless you brought her up to your face where she could nuzzle under your chin. That was her happy place.
She hasn't been eating for the past 24 hours when she usually goes to her food bowl as fast as she can when she hears the ruffling of the bag. I notice her back end is swollen and red. I immediately made an appointment and got her in as quickly as I could.
Upon examination, the vet said she had blockage in her stomach. Possibly a tumor or hardened poop. With her back legs not able to support her back end, things can't flow properly. Things eventually became blocked and she could no longer poop. The vet and I decided together that quality of life isn't there and the best option was to have her euthanized.
I know she isn't in pain, but I sure am. The vet said it was amazing that she was able to make it this long. I hope she enjoyed her short time on this earth because it meant everything to me to have her here.
RIP my Sweet Princess Kirby
submitted by rampagingseagull to Bunnies [link] [comments]
We originally adopted two bunnies from the same litter and were told they were both boys. We found out in the months to come that one was definitely not a boy. Most of the baby bunnies were adopted, but two of them had disabilities and were never adopted. Kirby, and her brother Hazel, were born without the use of their back legs, while Kirby was also partially blind. The vet described it as being able to see through dirty glasses.
She was the most lovey little bunny you ever met. She hated being picked up unless you brought her up to your face where she could nuzzle under your chin. That was her happy place.
She hasn't been eating for the past 24 hours when she usually goes to her food bowl as fast as she can when she hears the ruffling of the bag. I notice her back end is swollen and red. I immediately made an appointment and got her in as quickly as I could.
Upon examination, the vet said she had blockage in her stomach. Possibly a tumor or hardened poop. With her back legs not able to support her back end, things can't flow properly. Things eventually became blocked and she could no longer poop. The vet and I decided together that quality of life isn't there and the best option was to have her euthanized.
I know she isn't in pain, but I sure am. The vet said it was amazing that she was able to make it this long. I hope she enjoyed her short time on this earth because it meant everything to me to have her here.
RIP my Sweet Princess Kirby