WTH am I doing?

Ms. WTH is having A

2011-06-06T16:52:00.003-04:00

Baby!

Now, you didn't seriously think I'd make it all that easy, did you?

I figure what better way to re-enter the bloggy world than with the announcement of the gender of the fetus, right? People will actually click for that, right?

::crickets chirping::

Ok, well, humor me.

...and pay no attention to the fact that it's been 2 months since I've posted. Yes, I know that's not cool & no one wants to follow a blog that doesn't regularly post.

Again, humor me.

I had the ultrasound last Friday. The tech was very generous with the pictures.

Seriously. I have like 20.

Way back in March, we started out with this:

Awwww....look at the cute little....uh...Lima Bean!

Then we moved on to this:

Awwww....it looks kinda like a little baby...

...with little stubby appendages.

And at last, we got to the ultrasound! The ultrasound that would determine whether I could start buying boy onesies or beginning my plans to thwart the sea of pink that would ~~drown~~ wash over me.

Lima is so cute!

...huh...there is definitely a family resemblance there too.

so Lima, you think I should let everyone in on the secret?

I'll take the thumbs up as your approval/consent for this next one...so no suing me for inappropriate photos of you later...

IT'S A

gratuitously unnecessary arrow!

The Universe and My Body Are in Cahoots

2011-04-06T17:26:00.000-04:00

You know, I had always thought that my body was on my side. Being that I'm the one who cares for it & all, I kinda assumed it would have my back. So to speak.

But now? I wonder.

The morning sickness (morning? Pfft. Yeah. Whatever) and ~~complete and utter exhaustion~~ slight fatigue are, I suppose, to be expected. I mean, creating an entirely new human being? Not a minor endeavor. We'll cut the body some slack here.

Where I start questioning the body's motives, however, is in the fact that it basically turns off its immune system while creating this new human. Which seems like a design flaw to me.

I mean, I'm not an omnipotent creator or anything, so I'm sure I'm missing something...but does it not seem like a good idea for the body to ramp up the ol' immune system? I mean, should we not be amassing an army of protection for the fortress guarding the developing human?

Wouldn't a more immunologically robust - thus healthier - mother unit be of benefit? Isn't that the basis for the theory that I'm supposed to eat only organic everything sent from the heavens itself along with my prenatal vitamin?

I get that the suppression of the immune system is to keep the body from "fighting off" the new lil' life as a foreign invader. I get that.

But shouldn't the body that is designed to reproduce recognize reproduction in action and not see the new little human critter that the body was designed to produce as a foreign invader? When said critter needs to be expelled, there's a whole process for that. A whole process not really involving the immune system at all.

Unless it could help push. Ahem.

The immune system should just mind its own business and stick to the real foreign invaders. That way, it wouldn't just up & go on vacation while I'm busy incubating a human life and allow any ol' Tom, Dick, and Harry germ to just mosey on in and take up residence.

Like whatever the hell Germ moved into my chest and gave me bronchitis. That Germ? Doesn't belong here. It has made itself entirely too comfy. I mean, it's partying at all hours of the day and night. And it doesn't help that it's dragging Lungs, Throat, and even my freaking Bladder to the parties.

The Germ gets things started, then the Lungs show up & start with their hacking. The Throat shows up shortly thereafter all sore and usually brings the Nose with it. Although, the nose is a bit sloppy at parties & can't ever decide if it should show up running or stuffed.

And the Bladder. Hmph. The Bladder has no self-respect whatsoever. When the party gets going? The Bladder just lets it all hang out, leaving me really grateful that the bathroom is a quick dash from the bed. I've tried to send the Kegels after it to keep it in line...but that thing is just incorrigible.

And here's my body, sending the troops out on leave while I'm trying to grow a person here. Who is supposed to control all of this nonsense?? Isn't that what I have troops for??

I mean, usually I can enable the germs' bad habits with a little pharmaceutical action, and while they're chilling on the couch, the troops can come in and kinda scoot them out without much fuss. Which would seem ideal, what with the shortage of available troops and all, but no. I'm growing a person and responsible mothers do not fling pharmaceuticals at their germs.

They use Tylenol. Which, frankly, seems a bit like selling the germs oregano and then being shocked when they get pissed about that.

cough

The pain of forgiveness

2011-03-22T12:32:00.000-04:00

What is the truth of forgiveness?

I do not believe in forgive and forget.

If you forget what you have forgiven, does that not diminish the forgiveness?

If you forget what you have forgiven, how can you take meaning from what happened? How can you protect yourself in the future?

Forgiveness means scars. It means accepting those scars, that they are there. That there was pain in their acquisition. Pain that changes what was there before.

Sometimes the scars are obvious and ugly. Blistered and twisted like a burn on the soul.

Sometimes the scars are legion, making their wearers unrecognizable. Only a shadow of what could've been hidden behind hash marks of pain.

Sometimes the scars are deep and hidden away. These are mine. Stowed away in the darkest night of my soul.

With the years of childhood I don't remember. With the feelings of helplessness. The sadness. The betrayal. With the mask I wore to hide the real from everyone around me. Because those things doesn't happen in good families.

Sometimes the wind of memory blows the curtain aside and the scars are exposed. I want to look away as disgust crawls over my skin like a swarm of insects scurrying from the disturbance. The ghosts of the past steal my breath. Cloud my mind. Bind my feet. My soul screams for it to stop. As my mouth remains silent. As it always did. Ashamed. Confused.

Then I pull the curtain closed. I take my mind somewhere safe and quiet. There is no need to revisit them more often than necessary. Those scars will live with me forever.

I keep them safely tucked away. Hidden from prying eyes. In the cold. In the dark. In a place where scars should never be. I keep them in the same way they were made.

I acknowledge them. The one who gave them to me. And I know that I am who I am because of those scars. Because of that pain.

The value of that strength? Has outweighed the anger from the pain.

For me, this is forgiveness.

WTH happened to Ms. WTH??

2011-03-22T10:26:00.000-04:00

So my apologies for being gone for a while. This seems to happen to me from time to time. Perhaps it is some kind of mood cycle or lunar cycle or just when all the shit in life finally catches up with me.

I've been squashed under pregnancy exhaustion, lots of work, a birthday party, some unexpected family drama, and pregnancy exhaustion.

Have I mentioned that I'm really tired? I am a black hole for sleep. Not sure I mentioned that.

Sometimes? Something just has to give. And I'd rather not write at all than to dump a boring and/or stinky pile. Although this blog is primarily a cathartic exercise, I am trying to develop my catharsis into more of a "craft" as opposed to haphazard emotional venting.

So Yeah.

There it is.*

*50 "holy crap" points goes to anyone who can identify this movie quote.

I will not sink

2011-03-08T16:09:00.000-05:00

I stared at those two lines for a long time. Watching as they began to wobble and blur with the trembling of my hand and the welling of my tears.

The meaning of those parallel little pink lines washed over me like a flood.

My life was going to change in a way I had all but decided I never wanted. I was no longer walking the road I thought I was. The landscape was not what I thought it was.

The nights of numbing escape from my past? The nights of drinking with that handsome coworker? Had yielded unexpected consequences.

As I sat there, stomach knotted with fear, reality began to warp in my mind. My perspective began to bend and twist in response to this new information.

Decisions began to take shape before I consciously realized they needed to be made.

The creepy stalker ex? Twisted into more than an annoyance. Now, he was a threat to my family.

The blurry carefree nights of stress numbing? Melted into a dangerous health hazard.

My 1-bedroom apartment suddenly shrunk and filled itself with pointy, toxic choking hazards.

My income was now squeezed into inadequacy, failing to stretch itself to the new boundaries soon to be required of it.

A list began to materialize in my mind. My doctor must be called. Prenatal vitamins must be purchased. The handsome coworker must be informed. The income must be stretched, expanded, or perhaps even supplemented. The stalker must be eradicated.

I knew there were other things, but I allowed those to remain fuzzy at the outside edges of my thoughts.

This whole baby thing? Was completely alien to me. I was an only child with no experience with children. There was so much I didn't know. The immensity of it all threatened to suffocate me with its weight.

As it happens so often in my life, I had been shoved into the deep end. Without warning and without the knowledge I needed to swim.

But as it happens so often in my life, I would refuse to sink. There might be splashing, flailing, coughing, and spitting. It might be ugly at times. But I would not sink.

Even as I watched those lines tremble, I knew I would not sink.

Assignment: When meeting someone for the first time, describing a scene from your life that would help show the person your true self.

Dating a pregnant chick

2011-03-03T15:34:00.002-05:00

When I met the man who would eventually become my husband, I was in an unusual state of mind.

For most of my post-pubescent life, I have been, perhaps, a bit boy-crazy. Once I figured out what they were for, I wanted one of my own.

I just had a hell of a time trying to find one that I wanted to keep.

There was the white trash reject, the we-should've-just-stayed-friends guy, the spineless emo guy (complete with tiny junk), the completely unmotivated pothead (with a very hot roommate...coulda, shoulda, woulda...*sigh*), the astonishingly-immature-even-tho-he-was-way-older stalker, the drunk, etc.

The drunk knocked me up and left the state upon learning of said knock uppage. Real sweetheart, huh?

By this point, I was 26, had been a serial monogamist for 10+ years and completely done trying to date. I had a kid coming that I had to consider & really, it was just easier to be on my own.

I met Hub when I was 6 months pregnant and still very determinedly not interested in dating. I was working 2 jobs & was still feeling the sting of being knocked up & left.

Fuck men.

Figuratively speaking.

Hub had previously been with his baby mama who really didn't want to do anything on her own. She preferred to "contract out" any work that might need to be done with a "service exchange" program. With pretty much anyone who might be willing to exchange services.

Ahem.

Ew.

Hub meets me and is all enamored of my "can do" attitude (i.e. the "fuck everyone I'm going to take care of this shit myself" attitude). He was amazed at how hard I was working to make things happen.

I told him we would not date. I had no desire to date. None. Plus? I was gigantically pregnant. No. Dating.

So about a month later we were dating.

Ahem.

He had told his family (on the other side of the country) that he was dating a woman with a kid. Which was true. He just omitted the fact that the kid? Was still IN the woman he was dating.

Details.

I didn't know this until right before I delivered. I was suitably frowny and told him he'd have to own up. If he didn't? It would bite him in the ass later. He agreed.

On the day I delivered Boo, he called his family to tell them the news. Here's how that went:

Ring....Ring.....Ring...

"Hi, Mom? I'm Ok. I just wanted to let you know that I'm in the hospital right now."

POP (this is the sound of my eyeballs flying out of my head)

"What? No, I'm fine. It's the girl I'm seeing"

Me: facepalm

"Um...you know how I said she had a kid? Well, actually, she just had him. No, just now. Yeah, sorry about that."

If my son ever makes a phone call like that to me? I think I will implode. Just saying...

Tell me what you love about your daughters!

2011-03-01T11:57:00.000-05:00

Because I know how my life works, I am deeply suspicious (read: confident) that this baby that I'm growing (and here I go assuming that it's only one. HA!) will be a girl.

If you have read more than just this post, you'll know that I've had a tough time with my stepdaughter, Princess. She has not been a great representative for all girlkind.

I used to be a girl, and I remember being fabulous. Well-behaved, intelligent, and witty. The perfect child.

I imagine my parents - my mother in particular - did not share my viewpoint of perfection.

Ahem.

We may or may not be hoping for a boy.

Ahem.

However, I know my life. And if I were a betting [wo]man, I'd put my money on girl. I so would. I am that sure.

I would like to keep the wailing and gnashing of teeth to a minimum in that 16 week ultrasound appointment, tho. I don't want to get that look from the ultrasound tech. I want to be able to plausibly pull off the "yay! it's a girl!" reaction.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not hating on girls. I'm really not. So many people talk about how much they love their girls and how they couldn't imagine having boys. I want to hear about all those things that y'all love about the girls.

What I love about my boy? The rationality. The logical thinking. The general lack of drama. The general good-nature. That everything is not a tragedy. The love of science & figuring stuff out. The fact that he is Boo no matter the circumstances - he does not put on a big fake show for people & then turn into Satan when those people leave. He will equally be Satan whether those people are there or not.

I am not a girly girl. I kinda hate pink. I think princesses suck, on the whole. Not that it stops me from watching their movies on occasion, but they still suck. With their lack of substance, personality, and low standards in men. I mean, prince is all they look for & if he's a idiot or douchebag...eh, whatever. They just sit around & wait for him to rescue them. Who wants to wait around to be rescued? I'll bail my own ass out thank you. And I have yet to meet a prince charging in on a white steed to make all my dreams come true. Pfft.

I digress.

I get along better with boys. Let's take this thing apart. How does it work? Let's talk logic & figure stuff out! Let's talk about ideas! Bring me some Tonka trucks so we can dig around in the back yard! Oooh, but watch out for the little brown logs back there...

I just can't deal with constant travesty. It makes me stabby. Life is always going to suck in some capacity (at least until Princey shows up) so get over it already.

Parents of girls? Throw me a bone here. What makes them so cool? What do I have to look forward to in a daughter? Other than the fact that I will have more than 1 dusty rack in the corner from which to choose her clothes.

I'm still here...more or less

2011-02-23T14:59:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted. I actually hate it when that happens.

Ideally? I'd like to be a 2-3 times a week poster. Not too much, but a couple of consistent posts per week.

Yeah. That's clearly working out for me.

Hmph.

As I'm sure many of you will be shocked to discover...I'm actually feeling a little run down lately.

gasp!

In some ways this pregnancy has been easier than my 1st. I sorta know what's going on, etc.

In other ways? Even tho I'm only 6 weeks? It's been harder. I've been queasy for the last couple of weeks. Usually, it's not too bad. But if I don't nibble regularly? It can get kinda bad.

I have yet to throw up. ::knocking vigorously on wood:: But I have come very close.

And I'm tired. Well, tired-er.

On the whole, I'm not too psycho. I've been even-tempered enough that Hub's head has time to grow back between "episodes."

I'm also rounder than I want to be. Already I have jeans that are quite uncomfortable around my middle. Everything else fits fine (thank God), but the waist? Muy uncomfy.

I continue to hope that this is because it is my 2nd child and not because I'm incubating a litter.

So, physically? I feel pretty "bleh." Mentally? I'm pretty happy. Combined? I'm generally in a robust state of "meh."

I am still (slowly) making the rounds to everyone's blogs...but I'm not feeling as commenty as usual. So my apologies for my lurking.

I'm trying to work up some good writing...but my general state of "meh" has made it challenging.

A V-day quickie. Woo!

2011-02-14T11:32:00.001-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

And welcome to my 100th post! Which I actually just noticed. And my super awesome 100th post? Is going to be a quickie.

I hope you like quickies.

Because I am absurdly busy with work. Which is not a bad thing, as I am rather fond of the regularly occurring paycheck & all, but it does cut into my quality blogging time. Work is one of the few places that I can get 20 minutes of uninterrupted time to crank out a post (on my break time, of course...ahem).

Being that I don't want to blog at 3am.

Or from the toilet.

Also? I think my family might become suspicious, or perhaps even concerned, if I spent half an hour in the bathroom with my laptop. I mean, I would probably become ~~suspicious~~ concerned if Hub sequestered himself in the bathroom with his laptop for half an hour.

Ahem.

Anyway, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who left congratulations for me regarding my knocked upness. That was not only very awesome to feel that level of support, but it was also pretty awesome to smoke my record for number of comments.

I may have mentioned that I'm a bit of a comment whore.

But, not to let the day pass without a Valentine's Day story...

As I was getting ready for work on Friday morning, Hub "nonchalantly" asks me about my shipping habits. I often purchase things from Amazon because

1. I hate shopping, and

2. I like buying things & having them just arrive. I pay & it comes. No hassle for me. No long-term commitments or anniversaries to remember...wait...what?

I usually have my packages sent to my office. Because I know there will always be someone to receive them. Plus, we have regular deliveries from the major services, so in my mind, my stuff may arrive sooner.

It's like getting little presents at work.

But why is hub asking me about having stuff sent to work? Perhaps he wants his Amazon stuff to start arriving at his job? Or maybe my job?

He continues.

"So, um, have you ever accidentally sent something to the wrong address?"

"Um...huh? What do you mean the wrong address?"

::Lightbulb::

We recently (as in last June) moved to a new office. We are a half mile in the other direction now.

"You mean have I ever accidentally shipped to my old office address?"

"Um...yeah."

"I dunno. I don't think so. We have had some idiot vendors who can't seem to get our new address straight, but I don't think I have done that..."

"Oh."

::crickets::

"So, um...what do you do when something is going to the wrong address...?"

My mental lightbulb is starting to flicker at this point.

"We sic our highly efficient Admin on them & that usually fixes the problem"

"Oh. Um...I can't do that."

"What?"

"Um. Nothing..."

My husband almost managed to surprise me. Almost.

I was wrong

2011-02-09T10:48:00.000-05:00

Apparently? I was wrong.

A tale of 2 chihuahuas...and a cat.

2011-02-08T12:43:00.000-05:00

So we have this dog. She is actually chihuahua #2.

She is the second chihuahua we never expected to own. But here she is. She has a much different personality than our 1st chihuahua. She's also shaped somewhat differently than our 1st chihuahua.

Boxy.

And somewhat loafish.

And there are a few conflicts.

The 1st has been the sole dog for probably 6+ years. Now, we have introduced an interloper. An interloper who has a much more dominant personality.

She is also about as graceful as a brick.

This square loafish brick often tries to mount the much larger cat, Gandalf.

Boo, upon witnessing this feat once, announced to me "Look mommy! She's trying to pick up Gandalf!"

But I don't think it was the same kind of "picking up" he had in mind.

Ahem.

Another fun tidbit about this dog? If there is attention to be had? She bull-dozes her way in because SHE must be the center of said attention. She has forcibly plowed into and knocked over the smaller, more demure chihuahua #1 to get in on petting action.

If there are other animals between her and what she wants? Pfft. Whatever.

Species is really irrelevant.

When the kids aren't around, we have come to call her the whore loaf. Because she so is.

A couple days ago, I'm pleasantly scratching chihuahua #1 behind the ears. She is loving this. Yeah, that's the good stuff right there.

Enter chihuahua #2. Forcibly.

Chihuahua #1 goes sprawling, with an expression of great offense.

With my customary eye roll I inform chihuahua #2 that she is, in fact, a hooker.

"Mommy, what's a hooker?"

Dammit.

Dichotomous Heart

2011-02-06T23:03:00.000-05:00

This evening I got some news I didn't want.

I can't say that I'm surprised. That happens a lot, actually.

It tends to happen when I get my hopes up for something. It seems to happen more often when I tell people about that thing about which I have my hopes up.

I know that is just perception. That I just notice the bad things more. That I make a note of things that reinforce my belief and kinda disregard the rest.

I don't remember if I got that tidbit from my psych education or a book on tape I listened to. Either way, it came with a bunch of references and citations. None of which I ever bothered to verify. Because I'm just not that anal.

Nonetheless, because something was not unexpected? Does not make it any less disappointing. And I often don't handle disappointment well. Especially if others are around to witness my disappointment.

Again, I think it's perception. I really don't handle the disappointment any better by myself, I just don't feel like a boob acting like an ass in front of myself.

Hub told me that I should prepare to have Princess with us for at least another year. That he has not seen her mother (Skankula) prove that she can be at least semi self-sufficient. Which is his requirement for returning custody to her mother.

And he is right. Fuck if he isn't right.

And I so profoundly wish that he was not. So much.

I am not bonding with this child. She epitomizes much of what I have hated in children before I had Boo.

See, Boo surprised me with the knowledge that I could love a child. That I could have that ooey gooey mommy feeling.

One of my greatest fears during pregnancy - aside from being a total and complete failure as a parent - was that I would not bond with my child. I had never liked children. I did not have that squishy "I'm going to be a mom!" glow while I was pregnant.

But as much as I want her out of our house, and as much as I don't miss her when she's not here (hate me if you want...but I'm being honest)? As much as I really feel all of that? I can't in good conscience send her somewhere that I know is actually bad for her.

As I may have mentioned before? I have all these stupid principles. And sometimes? they really get in the way of what I want. What I also believe the other members of this household want. What her mother wants. What she wants.

Despite my frustration with our situation and the problems she brings to our household, I can't send her into an awful situation. Plus? I support my husband. I agree with his logic.

So? I focus on the logic. I try to harness my feelings. I try to make the best of a less than ideal situation.

I just wish I could be happy about it.

The Monster Inside Me

2011-02-03T16:49:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I posted about some of my fears about having a baby.

In retrospect, I almost feel like a bit of a boob. Almost.

I know that the things that are freaking me out are either superficial or statistical anomalies. My brain knows this. Truly, it does.

But other things sneak in. Little tidbits, like barbed seeds, they stick in my brain & begin to grow.

Every time I hear some tragic story about death, loss, or great pain - usually with a tag line akin to "appreciate what you have, because at any moment it could be ripped away from you!" - I feel the monster stir.

I am acutely aware of this. That there are no guarantees.

A meteor could plummet to Earth obliterating us all in a fiery maelstrom.

Earthquakes.

Tsunamis.

Plagues.

Serial killers.

The end of the Mayan calendar.

Car wrecks.

Freak accidents.

Political Unrest.

I understand that life as I know it? Could be gone in an instant.

And most of the time, I ignore this and go on about my day. Living in the moment. Enjoying the little things. Occasionally blowing stupid things out of proportion.

But ever once in a while? Those nasty, prickly little seeds grow. They spread thorny vines of worry and fear through my mind and my heart.

The thorns scratch and poke until they rouse the monster.

Anxiety.

And the monster takes over. Pushes out all thoughts of reason. Drives me to obsession with my fear. Fuels the obsession with worry and "what ifs."

It shows me all the myriad possibilities of what could go wrong. All the awful things that could be.

And I can't argue it into submission. Because all of those things could come to be. Even if there is a .02% chance of something happening, there is still a chance. I cannot conclusively exclude it from the realm of possibilities.

And that .02% of people to whom that thing happens? Don't suffer any less because of the rarity of their circumstances.

I am not special. There is nothing that precludes catastrophe from happening to me. Nothing at all.

The odds of a plane crashing into my head on my walk out to my car? Are minuscule. Laughable, even. But there is nothing unique about me that conclusively prevents this from happening. It could happen to anyone.

Safety is an illusion. And the monster never fails to remind me of this. When I say goodbye to my son in the morning.

As I drive to work every day.

As I pass by people, not knowing their state of mind.

As I eat food of which I am unaware of its origin.

A million things could go wrong. At any moment. And that's where the monster gets a foothold, because I can't argue that it's wrong.

I am not in control. It's not up to me what happens.

And those little "always appreciate what you have" lines attached to horrific stories just piss me off.

I do not need to be reminded that life is fragile.

I do not need to be reminded that my heart could be ripped out, literally or figuratively, at any moment.

Those things just rouse the monster.

I already appreciate the little things. Because losing myself in those little things, forgetting about what could be? Is the only way I can drown out the monster.

So is there a baby or not???

2011-02-02T15:46:00.004-05:00

In case you're new, or have short-term memory loss, or just don't remember the silly details of my existence, Hub and I decided over Thanksgiving that I would go off the pill.

What followed? was months of illness, unexpected "visitors," and generally getting the finger from the Universe.

So as we bring month 3 of "trying" to a close...the big question is Am I Pregnant?

And that would be a no.

Technically? It's a little early to tell, but based on when we didn't have sex and some of the PMS-y feelings I'm having? I'm pretty confident that it's a no, take 3.

I have mixed feelings about this.

Part of me is so sad every time this time of the month rolls around and there is no baby.

There is a part of me that believes that if I don't get knocked up? It's just not meant to be. I have already decided that I don't want to go down the infertility treatment road. We each already have a child and it's just not something to which we're that dedicated that we'll incur the expense and endure the stress of all of that.

There is also a part of me that is now a little scared of getting pregnant. And there are a number of reasons for that.

I've had time to really think about our decision. And I've gotten scared of all the things that could be.

My son is an amazing child, was a great baby, and an easy pregnancy (except for the 60 pound weight gain).

Having a baby with my husband will make a different baby. And this could mean anything.

It could mean I have another moderately easy pregnancy, great baby, and awesome kid. A baby that I can enjoy being a mother to, bond with, and generally revel in all that is new babiness. This is obviously my hope.

But that is only my hope. I have nothing more than hope that having a child with my husband will be the kind of amazing experience that my first child is.

I thought I knew what to expect because I've had a baby once before...but really? That doesn't mean much. Every kid is different. So really? I don't know crap about what to expect.

Which leads me to all the fear. Because I suck with ambiguity and not knowing.

I fear what will happen to my body by having another child. I am still a good 50 pounds overweight from my 1st pregnancy. It has been an ongoing struggle to get that weight off. An unsuccessful struggle thus far. And even tho I'm not giving up? It's hard to not lose all hope of having a healthy-ish body again. And I'm really afraid of what another pregnancy will do.

I imagine more pounds that must be lost, the greater lack of energy, and more feelings of sadness and frustration with my body. Because really? Who gets pregnant and doesn't gain weight? I'm supposed to gain like 20-30 pounds and only maybe 10 of that will go when the baby is born. Leaving me 10-20 pounds deeper in the hole.

This may seem shallow...but the idea of being even further behind with my weight AND having another child to take care of? Makes me a little nervous.

I fear that I won't be able to handle an infant on top of everything else.

I fear that we might have a baby that is like Princess.

I have the fear of having a "high needs" baby...because I don't think I could do it. Adrienne bravely writes about her experience as a mother to a mentally ill son. And I am fucking amazed at her strength and her ability to keep fighting.

Amazed.

But I don't think I have what it takes. Frankly? I don't want to have what it takes. I don't want to be that strong.

And while I realize the odds of that happening are relatively slim? It scares the shit out of me.

Then I go back & think about what it could be like...what it was like with Boo. And I think it might be alright. That same kind of amazing experience that made me a mother in the first place. The take-your-breath-away kind of joy that Boo brings me every day...but in another, different child.

Stupid fear.

I fucking think too much and it is way annoying.

This? Is part of the reason that I wanted to get pregnant right away once we decided. Because otherwise? I have all this time for thinking.

And thinking just freaks me out.

A trip or 5 to the DMV

2011-01-28T17:39:00.002-05:00

When we moved to Maryland, there were all kinds of fun things to do. Get settled in our dumpy apartment infested with Rhaphidophoridae, find jobs, and get our cars all legalled up.

So, Hub and I walk into ~~a bar~~ the MVA (which is Marylandish for DMV - or MVD if you only speak Arizonian) and the ~~bartender~~ lady at the triage desk says ~~what are you in for?~~ what are you in for?

We explain that we are here to get our cars properly registered and get driver's licenses.

Now, this is not the first time we've done the MVA dance. Oh, no. We have been here several times before.

For many hours.

With an 18-month-old.

Waiting for them, as well as the lien holder for Hub's car, to get their collective shits together.

This would be another episode in disappointment as far as registering his car was concerned.

Which did not make Hub happy.

At all.

Then we move along to the driver's license portion of our trip.

Whee.

Hub goes first while I wait off to the left.

Now, Hub has a suffix on his name. It is numeric. Typically numeric suffixes are expressed as Roman Numerals such as IX, XII, VIII, etc.

Apparently, the social security office does not like these Roman expressions and Hub's social security card just uses regular old numbers (9th, 12th, 8th, etc).

In order to be granted a driver's license, we must present 2 forms of official identification.

Hub presents said identification.

Keep in mind, Hub has been to the MVA many times, only to be given the bureaucratic run around and sent home in frustration, task not accomplished.

The clerk at the window informs him that his forms of identification do not match.

Hub is perplexed.

"Huh...?"

His Social Security card uses boring old regular numbers in his suffix, while his AZ driver's license uses the fancified Roman Numerals.

i.e. his Social Security card says he's the "10th" (he's not the 10th, but I'm not telling how many he is) and his AZ driver's license says he's "X". Thus, they do not match.

At this point, Hub has an absolute fucking meltdown.

He starts cursing at the lady asking her what the fuck her problem is. Clearly they are 2 different expressions of the same thing.

Etc. Etc.

Shockingly, the clerk does not become any more helpful.

Then he essentially says "Fuck this." Collects up his materials and angrily leaves to go outside and smoke (we had been waiting inside for a loooonnnnggg time).

And the clerk calls the next customer in line.

Guess who that is?

Yeah.

Fuck.

So I go up there with my stuff...understanding Hub's irritation, but nonetheless needing my own driver's license.

She evaluates my materials. Deems me acceptable. And then asks for payment.

Fuck.

Hub is the only one with a job at this point. I have no money.

Hub is nowhere to be found.

I now have to contort myself into freakish positions trying to get a cell signal to call my livid mate so he can come back to the very window from which he angrily stalked so he can pay the unhelpful clerk for my driver's license.

Which may or may not have been awkward.

Ahem.

Forbidden Desire

2011-01-25T13:55:00.001-05:00

Just the thought of you fills me with desire.

In my mind's eye? It's just the two of us. Alone. Away from prying, judgmental eyes.

I breathe deeply...and the smell of you is subtle, but intoxicating.

I close my eyes and I can still see you.

We have a wicked chemistry, you and me.

I imagine having you all to myself. That in this moment? You are mine.

All of you.

I can feel you all over my body.

From breasts to waist to hips to thighs.

And my ass. Oh, I can definitely feel you there.

I take you in my hand. And I can feel the length of you.

The anticipation is almost more than I can bear.

I want you.

So much.

I bring you to my lips. Take you into my mouth.

Taste you.

Feel your fullness.

Rapture.

And then the delightful creaminess slides over my tongue and into my throat.

It is everything I had hoped it would be.

You take my breath away.

Alas, you are forbidden to me.

My sweet chocolate eclair.

You make me fat.

Feeling Cantankerous

2011-01-14T10:17:00.002-05:00

Today is not going as I had hoped. I need an outlet so that I don't explode or cry. Neither of which is seen as particularly professional.

And since it's officially a bloggy boycott day? I feel today would be the perfect day to chuck the (possibly) interesting post I had in mind and just go for the vent since my 7 readers will not be reading today anyway.

I have been battling a cold for over 3 weeks now, and while some aspects get better, some things come back. Or new things will appear. The past 2 days? I cannot breathe because my nose is all stuffy....which is something I. Just. Can't. Stand.

Also? My head hurts. Just a little, but it hurts. And it feels stuffy too.

All of this shit? Means I haven't slept well in weeks.

I'm also officially not pregnant for month 2. Which is not unexpected, being that hacking, coughing, sneezing, & being generally filled with mucus is not much of an aphrodisiac. It is, however, still a bit of a let down.

Due to all of the above, I've not been spending much quality time with Hub...which probably contributes to the whole "not pregnant" thing. And it seems lately that, more so than usual, every time I try to talk to him there is something else going on that pulls his focus.

This is part of the danger in being married to someone with ADHD. Focus isn't really their thing. Most of the time I'm used to it, but lately it has really bothered me. And what's even more annoying? Is that I don't really have anything to say...so even if he gave me his undivided attention? I don't really have a whole lot to talk about.

Perhaps I'm just feeling needy and pathetic because I've been sick for so long. I don't normally get sick like this & am usually able to just "man it out." Which is a bit of an ironic thought...being that most men I've known are giant pussies when it comes to being ill...but I digress.

So tonight was supposed to be our evening to spend together. To have some us time. Some special us time. Unfortunately for me, my "guest" T.O.M. has arrived 2 days earlier than scheduled and Hub is not into threesomes. Hmph.

So I suppose I might be a little hormonal and possibly slightly irrational. Perhaps.

I just want something. Perhaps a nice conversation about a topic I enjoy.

Or a series of nights where I actually sleep well.

Or perhaps some good, dirty sex.

Not necessarily in that order.

Or for this motherfucking cold to go away. Seriously.

I'm just feeling very ornery and cantankerous. I feel very cynical and bummed right now...and I don't like being that way. And I don't like having bitchy blogs.

At some point? I want this blog to reflect my actual writing ability...instead of being a glorified journal that 7 other people also read.

But that is a post for another day.

Hmph.

An Open Letter to the Evil Head Cold From Hell

2011-01-10T12:14:00.001-05:00

Dear Evil Head Cold From Hell (EHCFH),

Your Christmas arrival was most unwelcome. The fact that you keep finding new and inventive ways to torment me? Also very unwelcome. You & I need to part ways, EHCFH, because this is just not working out between us.

In fact? You're just pissing me off at this point.

First? There was the scratchy throat. Yeah, ok. Not impressed. It's the end of December. With the cold, dry weather? A scratchy throat is basically par for the course. Moving on.

Next? It was a runny nose. Pfft. Whatever. Bring it, EHCFH. I've got soft name brand tissues that I bought when your cousin Evil Allergy Attack From Hell visited for Thanksgiving.

Then came the stuffiness. Ok. Fair play EHCFH. Fair play. You're not playing around at being some kind of minor inconvenience are you? Ok...that's fine. I'll just root around in my nightstand and viola! Astrogl--no wait, that's not what I wanted....um....Viola! Nasal spray. Ha. I will be able to breathe, at least while I sleep. And only for 3 days because of that whole rebound thingy...but dammit, I will breathe for those 3 nights! HA!

And this, dear EHCFH, is where you got crafty. You pulled the symptom troops back a bit. You let me think I was defeating you. I fully believed I was well on the road to recovery.

Then? The sore throat came back. With a vengeance. And hung around for nearly a week. WTF EHCFH? Did you juice up the sore throat on steroids or something, because it was not that strong before. Breathing hurt. Swallowing hurt. There was no sleeping with that sore throat around. And no matter how many fluids, hot teas, and steamy showers I threw at it? I couldn't soothe the bastard.

Damn if my kidneys aren't sparkly clean tho.

Ahem.

And what is with all this mucus?? I mean really. Is this much lubrication ever really necessary?? My membranes are moist enough, thank you very much. I have been coughing like I've been smoking 4 packs a day for the last 52 years. And that is so not sexy.

And now? That I'm into week THREE of this skirmish? I'm coughing constantly...all day and all night...because of the stupid tickle you've strategically placed in my throat. Not coughing anything up...just coughing.

Did I mention all the sleep deprivation? I haven't slept properly in over a week. I know I've been posting all this chatter about having another baby, and it could be argued that you're giving me a taste of what it will be like to have a newborn (since the sleeplessness and exhaustion associated with newborns are currently relegated to Denial Utopia)...But I heartily believe that pretty much any newborn I produce will be way cuter than you, EHCFH. Way cuter. And cute? Will make a lot of annoyances more bearable.

Oh, yeah. And you've made sure I've been deprived of sex, too. For some reason Hub doesn't find the mucusy, hacking, grouchy version of me as attractive as the normal grouchy version of me. Not cool, EHCFH.

And the final indignity of it all? I'm now forced to go to the mall (shudder) to obtain some eucalyptus oil for my vaporizer. I am determined to sleep for a whole night without a coughing fit every 2 hours. I'd also like to sleep in my own bed for a whole night and not be driven to the couch from guilt that my hacking is preventing Hub from sleeping.

I will get you, EHCFH. Make no mistake. You're wearing me down. I'm sleep-deprived, sex-deprived, and hacking...but I get to be a crazy bitch after a while. And this crazy bitch? Is coming after your ass, EHCFH.

You have been warned.

....and failing that? This crazy bitch might go to the doctor and get some drugs....

Stowing my emotional baggage

2011-01-06T12:57:00.000-05:00

Recently, Kris from Pretty All True wrote a post that really got me thinking. It was a very deep and touching post about her differing experiences as a mother to her two daughters. If you have not already read it, you should.

Yes, I'll hold.

::hold music plays::

...How on earth did they make elevator music out of Poker Face...?

...I'll just check my email...

...they're probably reading through the comments....

..."Your blog is very important to us! Please remain on the line and readers will return in just a moment!"

...maybe a quick game of Solitaire....

You're back? Ok, great.

I know that it is expected to have different relationships with different people, so it is no great leap in logic to assume that parents would have different relationships with each of their children. Being that each child is a different person & all.

I also truly appreciate what Kris is trying to say...and not say...with her post. She writes about a gift her youngest daughter gave to her as a mother.

And I understand this kind of gift. My son has given me a similar gift.

Except he was mine before I knew Princess. I grew to have certain expectations of what to expect from kids and from myself as a mother. Boo helped me believe that I could not only like children, but love them as well. I did not like any children much before I had him.

And she? Is pretty much the archetype of what I didn't like about kids before I was a parent...and what I still don't like in many children.

I didn't fully understand this gift he was giving me initially because he was the one setting my expectations of parenthood.

Boo set the bar high. And Princess arrived having been taught some very poor habits and having some personality traits that are very alien to me.

So there is a bit of a gap. And unfortunately for me (but fortunately for my stupid personal growth...dammit...), as the adult? It is my job to find a way to bridge that gap. To try to be a good mother figure to this child that I just don't like much.

My feelings are ultimately irrelevant. She is what she is. Our situation is what it is. And if I want my marriage to be successful? I must find a way to make it work. Preferably without irrevocably damaging anyone in the process.

No pressure, right?

But it wears on me.

And there is the guilt.

Sometimes, I know I'm not being the best parent I can be. I can see that in the moment as it happens. But I'm just so tired that I can't seem to stop myself from letting my real feelings show. I behave immaturely and my irritation is hanging out for everyone to see.

I don't hide my feelings well. But as a parent in a blended family, I find that I need to keep some of my feelings stashed securely in the overhead bin. I'm too cheap to check them...plus, I don't want someone mishandling my emotional baggage and sending it to Abu Dhabi by mistake.

When I'm tired...whether it be emotionally, physically, or mentally...I get all haphazard with the emotion-stashing and they occasionally drop out of the overhead bin and land on my head. Or, as often is the case, on the heads of my family.

So, here I am, attempting to add another member to our family, and I still have not mastered myself. And the fact that I have not mastered my feelings toward Princess? Makes me fear some kind of karmic doom with another child. That this new child will be a mini-Princess. A mini-Princess that does not leave every other weekend to allow me a brief respite.

I was raised religious (not Catholic, so there are no angry nuns with rulers populating my anxiety-ridden imaginings...), so I always anticipate punishment for things I view as failings. I have created great fear in myself that altho I do the best I can do, I do not have the swoony love connection to Princess and therefore? I will have a child just like her that I must develop said swoony love connection to...because I will no longer have the excuse that the child is not "mine."

Kris tells me that love is more than the swoony feeling. And I believe her. I know that she is right.

But still, there is the fear.

The fear that I may be placing expectations upon myself (by having another child) that I may not be able to live up to.

And it scares the crap out of me.

Development of Important Instincts

2010-12-30T13:38:00.000-05:00

My stepdaughter is not the healthiest of kids. Honestly? If she is not loaded up with mucus I'm surprised.

We believe that she, like Hub, has asthma and that it is reactive to allergens. Personally, I think it is mold. Much the same way Hub develops Wheeze-a-palooza whenever he visits his mother's house, Princess tends to develop nasty, phlegmy coughs whenever she has spent any length of time in their house.

More reason for her to not be in over-indulgence central...but I digress...

So, every time she spends any time at their house, she starts coughing like a 3-pack a day smoker. It's gross. Plus? There's not a whole lot we can do to help her. More often than not, she's not "ill" in the sense that we could give her antibiotics or something. She just gets more breathing treatments and some cough medicine before bed.

We have also discovered another exacerbating factor. And this discovery has shocked me with its weight. I had no idea that such developments occurred so early in life.

We have discovered that when she hacks up her considerable mucus, she does nothing with it....and this lack of dealing with it leads her to gag. Usually late at night while she's in bed. Which is fun for all involved, with the cleanup and sheet changing and late-night laundry.

So, Hub then has to have a conversation with her. "Princess (he uses her real name - Gertrude), if you cough something up, you need to either swallow it or spit it out."

Who knew that "spit or swallow" was determined so early in life? Because really, you can't just leave it sitting in your mouth or it will so make you gag.

She still hasn't gotten this concept. And her sitting with a bunch of phlegm in her mouth? Is also making me gag.

So My MIL Drugged My Husband and Other Christmas Happenings

2010-12-29T12:21:00.001-05:00

Christmas this year was quite the experience. As usual, we had to have several different Christmas celebrations.

My Father-in-Law's family is all in North Carolina. And they drive down every year to visit the family. So, they come visit us before hand so we can open gifts with them and send the NC gifts with them. That was the weekend before Christmas.

Then, we have my Mother-in-law's family. She is one of 5 sisters - 4 out of 5 of whom have multiple kids. And some of the kids are starting to pair off & have kids. So this celebration of 40 of our closest family members takes place on Christmas night in the great-grandparents' 2-bedroom house in the ass-crack of West Virginia. Seriously, I think I heard banjos on our drive in...a few miles down the dirt road to their house.

The fun part? Happened on Christmas Eve. My MIL's house is, um, not fastidiously cared for. When re-doing upstairs bedrooms? They knocked out a load-bearing wall. And they had some roof leaks which left the boxes in one room green and fuzzy before they got around to fixing it. So, yeah, they're a little blase' about stuff.

Hub also has asthma. His asthma was great in Arizona. Never saw the man use an inhaler once in the 2 years we lived there together. Once we got here? The inhaler came back. And whenever we visit his mother's? Wheeze-a-palooza. We think it's the mold.

So, we show up Christmas Eve to do our family gift exchange with them. Almost immediately upon arrival, we are plied with wine. Ok. I'm fine with that. A little bit later, Hub walks in with 2 pills. "What are you taking?" I ask.

"My mom gave me some allergy pills..." he says, washing them down with the wine.

"Ok, probably good since we forgot your inhaler."

About 45 minutes later, we head out to the porch so Hub can have a cigarette. He looks a little off. "Are you feeling ok?" I ask.

"I feel a little dizzy." He says. "I think it was the wine..."

"One glass of wine & you're dizzy? Puss." I scoff.

After a few minutes he says "I really don't feel well...I feel really light-headed & dizzy..."

At this point, MIL's expression changes a bit. She excuses herself. She comes back & informs us that she may have given Hub her anti-depressants instead of allergy medication. Being that she keeps them both in the same bottle & all.

WTF.

By this point, Hub is laying in my lap all non-verbal. He has mumbled that his heart is beating fast & he's short of breath. We call the emergency nurse line & they tell us we need to get him up & walking around.

Oh, and if he stops breathing or collapses, we should go to the ER.

WTF?!

He doesn't want to walk around. He's nauseated and wants to stay horizontal and immobile. Also? He hates going to the doctor.

I inform him that he will either get up & walk around with me...or I will enlist the aid of his grizzled old redneck Vietnam vet stepfather to wrastle him into the car and he will go to the ER. "Don't fuck with me," I tell him. "You're already poisoned, you won't be able to put up much of a fight...."

So, we walked around the block several times. He started feeling a little better.

I knew he'd be fine when he started arguing with me on the way home.

Oh, and I got a neat head cold for Christmas. Pfft.

An Unwelcome Visitor...and a (swear-laden) Rant

2010-12-20T13:11:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was a bit of a crazy one for me. I'm likely not in the minority, being that there's some sort of holiday or something coming up I think.

Saturday was errand-packed with a visit from my father-in-law & his wife. Sunday was allocated to my mother- and brother-in-law for assorted family holiday activities.

As y'all may or may not have noticed, Hub & I are working on a baby (not right this second...I can't multi-task that well...). I had been feeling suspicious for about a week & 1/2. Sore boobs, and some assorted other gastrointestinal symptoms which I will leave to your imagination.

Yesterday morning, however, I started feeling crampy. More than just the "beginning of pregnancy" crampy. Being that I'd had a week + change of getting my hopes up, I was somewhat anxious about the cramps.

Hub finally asked what was wrong and I told him I was feeling crampy and was anxious about that. He had a brief moment of looking horrified, and then resumed discussing breakfast plans.

Ladies, may I ask...does anyone else find it annoying that men shrivel up into a rocking fetal position when anything even vaguely menstrual is mentioned aloud? I mean really?

Don't get me wrong, I love my Hub dearly and I am not questioning his masculinity (quite the contrary, actually). I just find that men are huge pussies when it comes to that. I mean, I actually have to get in the trenches and deal with it. It makes me psycho. It makes me goat-like in my ability to eat. It is messy (yeah, I said it). It brings me to my knees with pain. Yet I cope, sans fetal position. It is just a part of my life.

But I can't even mention cramp to him without deer-in-the-headlights meets whimpering-fetal-position?

Hmph.

So, I may have become a little frustrated with Hub for his non-reaction to my stress.

Perhaps. Just a little.

Ahem.

I had hoped that cramps would subside a bit and I could relegate the experience to "early pregnancy symptoms."

Alas, not so. Mid family visit? I discovered the unwelcome visitor. I had to keep my game face on for the rest of the family event...because if I do get knocked up? We're presenting it as "surprise news" to the family.

We are trying to conceive because we want to...despite all the drama and stress associated with Princess. We do not wish to allow her that level of control over our lives and relationship. But we will get passive-aggressive guilt trips from family members for having another baby....unless it was a "surprise."

Warning...swear-laden rant ahead...

Seriously, hell of a lot of swearing upcoming....

F-bombs galore....

...you have been warned...

Truthfully, I'm about to tell a lot of family members to fuck off anyway. I'm getting really tired of Princess being treated like a poor baby. At almost 6 years old? She's old enough to be responsible for her behavior. And I'm sorry, but screaming, whining, absurdly dramatic behavior is not acceptable behavior and said behavior should yield some consequences.

Can we quit fucking fawning over her like her shit doesn't stink? Can we quit treating her like she's some poor tortured kitten who needs to be rescued from us evil, cruel parents? Can we quit accusing me of playing favorites when I discipline her for unacceptable behavior while you all but ignore my son?

Because truthfully? If my son acted the way she did? He would probably get more severe punishment than she does, at least from me.

Her treatment? Is a direct result of her behavior. And I will not let her off the hook just because someone is watching.

Fuck you for judging me behind my back without even knowing what it's really like every day.

Fuck you for being a Goddamn hypocrite saying I'm playing favorites while I watch you consistently ignore my kid and fawn over her.

Fuck you for indulging her brat behavior making it that much more difficult for us to get her to act appropriately.

Loving a kid doesn't mean giving them everything they want.

Loving a kid doesn't mean always making them happy.

Sometimes loving them? Means bringing down some hell when they fuck up. Because it's OUR job as parents to teach them how to be good, functional human beings. Teaching her that histrionics and manipulation get her what she wants? IS NOT A GOOD THING, PEOPLE.

Not everything can be solved with hugs and rainbows, so save your fucking judgment...or at least have the balls to say it to my face.

I'm tired of the stink eye. I'm tired of pulling knives out of my back. And I'm really tired of feeling like I have to fight family to be a good parent.

Yeah, I don't like her. Sorry, I'm human. I'm doing the very best I can to try & develop a relationship with her. Learning to care for someone? Takes time. Especially when you're trying to care for someone that disrespects you, your spouse, your other child, and your home more often than not. Being able to like a kid with real behavioral problems? Isn't easy.

But I do care about her and what happens to her.

I do everything in my power to ensure that I'm fair between the kids, if for no other reason than I don't want Boo to grow up being an entitled asshole. I don't want HIM getting unfair special treatment, either.

Princess is not making it easy for me OR her father.

And anyone who has spent any real time with her? Clams up with the judgment pretty fuckin quick. It ain't me just being a bitch.

Walk a mile or two in my shoes before you decide I'm just a bitch playing favorites. And also? Fuck off.

**end rant

So, yeah. That's been my weekend.

Some Mondays? It's good to be back at work.

On the upshot? I'm supposed to be fertile over New Year's. As someone else said to me...maybe we can ring in 2011 with a BANG. Hehehe.

Antlered Up

2010-12-16T15:42:00.000-05:00

So, Kristin over at Taming Insanity has an antler contest going. While I can't compete with the cute kids/pets/modes of transportation already posted...I do have antlers. This is probably about as much of me as you'll ever see.

Also? I may or may not have inadvertently taken a picture of myself in an embarrassing (should it leak to the public) state of undress. Don't ask why I was taking antler pictures in any state of undress. Ok, Ok, I wanted to take the picture before I took a shower and wilted my hair & removed my makeup. This was a late-breaking idea.

Sigh.

I blame Kris. It was accidental, altho obviously not an original accident. Like Kris? Mine was immediately ~~forwarded to my entire adress book~~ ~~sent to Hub~~ deleted.

Random Bits & Boobs...er, Bobs

2010-12-14T14:59:00.001-05:00

Today? Is going to be a random day. I don't really have a whole post in mind...but I have a few odds & ends rattling around in my head that I feel like babbling about. And Hub isn't available. So I guess you (my 7 loyal readers) will be the ones subjected to my random babble today.

Enjoy!

Whenever I have to pee in the middle of the night, but am too stubborn to get up and pee? I always dream about finding bathrooms. I will search & find a bathroom, but when I find it? It is the foulest, nastiest bathroom ever. There will be pee all over the floor and the seat. Often times the toilet is backed up with waste and near to overflowing. Perhaps this is my body's way of telling me to get my ass up & pee?

I attempted to go Christmas shopping at Toys R Us today. Toys R Us is in the shopping center behind Target. So, I set off driving in that direction. Parked. Got out of the car. Realized that I was at Target, not Toys R Us. Damn Autopilot. *Sigh*

I am constantly amused that Hub, while talking to me on his Bluetooth headset (thus appearing to others as if he is talking to them or himself), is fine telling me he loves me while in the men's room, but is uncomfortable saying so in front of the random people walking around in the lobby as he comes back inside from his smoke break. Apparently professing love around the urinal is less embarrassing than in front of random lobby people.

Today, we had a minuscule dusting of snow. Even calling it a "dusting" is a bit generous. Yet schools were delayed for 2 hrs. WTF. We got bigger accumulations of snow in the damn Sonoran Desert and school was not affected. Really, people? Really???Yes, snow does happen in the desert. Rarely. I remember it happening twice in the 30 years I lived in the desert.

I keep finding myself wandering through baby aisles when I go shopping. I refuse to buy anything until "the deal is sealed," so to speak. (except that cradle swing for $20 on Craigslist...I'm not going to walk away from a $120 savings when it's down the road from work)

I've spoken to my son about how he would feel having a little brother or a little sister. He says that he'd rather have a little brother because he already has a sister. Duh.

Also? I told him I could grow him a sibling in my "tummy nest." He looked at me and said "Mmm. No." I'd better come up with a baby-growing backup plan PDQ.

I just realized last night that I need to start chugging the wine that's in our wine cabinet so I don't have to see it there and hear it calling to me once I'm knocked up.

When the hell did it get to be December 14th already? I had all these grand plans to Christmas shop early online & have everything shipped on time. Dammit.

Hub had better stop hoarding the sperm. These little tales of "I feel nauseous" and "I think I have food poisoning" will only work for so long buddy...Hmph.

So, tell me about your pregnancies...

2010-12-13T11:06:00.002-05:00

Sometimes? This blog is my own little social experiment. I become curious about things, even things I'm not obsessed about...and I can post about it here to pick your brains.

Ahem**.

So. Being that I'm currently "focused" on reproducing (and the effort has been going well, now that the universe has chilled out a little...), I'm wondering what this (hopefully) upcoming pregnancy will be like. If it will differ from my previous pregnancy with Boo. I'm wondering if I will be able to tell the difference if I end up pregnant with a girl.

Many people I've talked to had different experiences between boys and girls. I've noticed that those pregnant with girls have been more moody and struggled more with morning sickness. I've known a couple of people who gained a ton of weight with their girls, had complications, etc., but had virtually trouble-free pregnancies with their boys.

So, I'm sending out the request to all you mothers of multiples:

Tell me about your pregnancies! How were they the same? How were they different? Did anyone have different pregnancy experiences and still have the same gender of child? How about pregnancies that were virtually the same except for the gender?

Now, since I don't want to ask you all for something that I am not willing to do myself? I'll regale you with the tale of my 1st pregnancy...and we can see how the 2nd one goes...whenever it goes.

After a Cinco de Mayo of tequila, whatnot, and a guy who didn't do what I thought he was going to do, I noticed that my boobs were really sore. Kinda like the sore right before your period...except that almost never happened to me anymore. Hmm. That's odd. Plus? It went on for like 2 weeks. Even when they did get sore? It was for maybe a day or two.

I knew the possibility of pregnancy was possible, but it took me several tests to confirm it. I knew something was up well before the pregnancy test.

Physically? I didn't have too bad a time of it. I didn't have any issues with morning sickness. Other than being tired and stressed the hell out? It wasn't too bad.

Due to my circumstances (read: the dude was a douche bag and was basically using me (I may have been a bit naive. *cough*), so when he found out he knocked me up? He left the state and left me to deal with the baby on my own. Fine. I can totally handle my own shit.), I ended up getting a 2nd job to help pay for the unexpected baby expenses.

This 2nd job was actually one of the better things I've done. It gave me a sense of control over my situation, cash to pay for baby stuff, knowledge of how to make special (expensive) coffee beverages, and? A ton of nice maternity pants that I hope will come in handy.

Unfortunately, the 2nd job also meant that I was always either working or sleeping. There was no time for cooking, so I was not eating as healthy as I should've been and I had zero time for exercise. This? Translated into 60 pounds of weight gain. The weight gain? Was really the worst physical part of my pregnancy. Ok, well, except for the labor part. That hurt. A lot.

At least none of the doctors were lecturing me about being in labor. Ahem. You'd think a doctor that worked with pregnant women all the time would know better than to tell her she was getting too fat.

Apparently not.

I went into labor at about 3:45 am on a Thursday morning. I woke up, had to pee, got the usual "I just peed" contractions, and went back to bed. And laid there for an hour, eventually realizing that the contractions weren't going away.

I'd read that if they go away while walking around? It's not real labor. I figured this would be an excellent time to pack my hospital bag. I could walk around & if the contractions stopped? Well, at least I finally had my bag packed.

I again had to pee at about 5:45. Only I didn't pee. But the sound was still there. Yep. This is actually labor.

Went to the hospital (damn, has this road always been this bumpy??) and tried to "man it out" for a couple of hours. Then they offered the epidural again. I restrained myself from pouncing on the epidural guy, but have since built him a small shrine.

I had to stay on my right side because if I laid any other way, Boo's vitals got all goofy. By the time I got the "go" to push? My right leg was a big useless slab of meat. Boo was facing up, so I had to push for about an hour to get him out, but even still, he was born at 2:08 (or maybe 2:07...bad mommy for not remembering...) Thursday afternoon. In all? About a 10 hour labor. Pretty quick for a first-timer.

I'm so going to be that lady giving birth to a 72 pound baby on the side of the highway this time...

*whimper*

So tell me? What was different for you the 2nd (or 3rd or 4th, etc) go 'round?

**I love The Far Side by Gary Larson with all of my little heart. If you've never seen it? Check it out. Assuming you thought the (freakishly large because Blogger won't play nice) comic up there was actually funny. If you think it's sick and deranged? Well, things might not work out between us....

This Could Get Me a Baby!

2010-12-09T12:03:00.003-05:00

Ok, so don't hate me...but I'm doing a meme. I'm doing a meme for a giveaway. Because this giveaway? Could get me pregnant!

Ok...stay with me here...

In the 1 in a bazillion chance that I won this giveaway (pay no attention to the reality of the odds...)? I would so get enough sperm that I would have to get pregnant. No fertile woman could be exposed to the amount of sperm to which I would be exposed if I won this giveaway and NOT get pregnant. True story.

...Altho, I'd have to hurry up & get my sperm before the prizes arrive...or I may not ever get pregnant...hmm. Well, let's not think about that part. We'll send that the way of "labor pain" and "being pregnant forever" and "swelling" and "lack of sleep." Those all have a special place in Denial Utopia....

So, TodaysMama and GameStop have coordinated to give away GameStop giftcards (Hub is a gamer...and I can never seem to pick out the right game for him...Hmph) AND the Grand Prize is a whole crapload of game systems (including the DSI XL, over which he has been lusting...) AND a $1000 GameStop gift card.

See? So you understand why I must do this meme and participate in this giveaway, right? I. Need. The. Sperm.

Mama’s Holiday Wish List Meme

TodaysMama and GameStop are giving away a sleighful of gifts this holiday season and to enter I’m sharing this meme with you.

1. What is your holiday wish for your family?
Hmm. A holiday wish for my family...I'm entirely to practical in my wishing sometimes...mostly? I just wish that we are all safe & healthy. Also? Maybe? That we can have a fun Christmas that is not dominated by whining, fits, or arguing. I would like our Christmas to not be ruined the way our Thanksgiving was. Sigh.

2. What is your Christmas morning / Hanukkah Nightly tradition?
We wake up and open our family gifts. We usually have the kid(s) pass out gifts and rotate who opens a gift. We end up having several Christmases because we have lots of family to cover, with all the stepfamilies, etc.

3. If you could ask Santa for one, completely decadent wish for yourself, what would it be? Besides a baby ("XY" model)? Hmm. I would say an addition to the house to give us another bedroom...and a bigger kitchen/dining space...and a bigger master closet. All of these things are on the same side of the house...so one addition would do it. :)

4. How do you make the holidays special without spending any money?
Christmas music and decorations usually do it. It makes me festive & the kids like it too. Money helps, tho.

5. What games did you play with your family growing up?
Well, there really weren't any fun games that were played at Christmas in my family. There were plenty of passive-aggressive dysfunctional games...but that wasn't really fun.

6. What holiday tradition have you carried on from your own childhood?
Other than ME putting up the Christmas tree? Nothing, really. Hub and I? Are working to establish our own traditions. The fun kind.

7. Where would you go for a Christmas/Hanukkah-away-from-home trip?
If it were up to me? I would go visit my dad. I only see him maybe once or twice a year. If I had to choose a non-family related trip? ...I have no idea.... The idea of traveling with kids at Christmas? Is actually not that appealing. I like the comfort of familiarity, honestly.

8. Check out GameStop and tell us, what are the three top items on your GameStop Wish List this year?
My top 3 gift items...hmm...I would say:
1. W.O.W. Cataclysm (for Hub)
2. The 360 Kinnect
3. DSI XL (a set for Hub & I...I would be jealous if he got one & I didn't...)

So, there it is. Now? I will hold my breath & wait to win!

Me vs. The Universe

2010-12-02T15:25:00.006-05:00

Before I get started, I found a nifty new (to me) blog yesterday. I laughed heartily at the handful of posts I read & because I'm a humor whore (along with being a comment whore and a pumpkin whore), I went ahead and followed jillsmo's blog Yeah, Good Times. Lo and behold, I was the 100th follower. So today I mosey over to read her post and lil ol' me is in her blog because I was her 100th follower! Head on over & check her out, because she is funny! I likes me the funny.

We now resume our regularly scheduled blog post.

Anyone laughing at the "regularly scheduled" part? Will be punched in the junk. My hormones are all whacked. It is not wise to antagonize the hormonally imbalanced woman.

Anyway, moving on.

I have had this ongoing battle with the universe for a while now. I'm not going to complain too much, because I have my family, job, place to live, etc. There are those who do not and I don't want to antagonize the universe into stepping up its game.

However, it does seem that the universe likes to give me the finger whenever I try to make decisions to direct my life along a certain path. Not in a "fuck you, you're going to live on the street alone in misery" kind of way. But I do think that the universe likes to fuck with me. For its own amusement.

When I decided I would take control of my health and start going to the gym? The universe led me on. I found an affordable gym close by and it was just what I was looking for. Except the Goddamn thing was never open. The dude would just randomly leave during the afternoon. WTF?

Then my kid got sick. Then I got sick. Then? Just as I was feeling human again? I mysteriously injured my knee. And by mysteriously? I mean I have no clue WTF I did to it. It just hurt. A lot.

After that, I managed to find a new gym. I went once. Then the sickness/injury/work commitment thing happened again. I paid for the next month. And went once.

The universe was conspiring against my going to the gym. I fought it for several months...and now? I'm kinda tired of fighting with it to go exercise. It's not like exercise is my favorite pastime anyway.

Universe: 1, Me: 0

So last week, my baby fiending came to a head and I talked to Hub about it. Surprisingly? There was little convincing involved. Hub was on board! I went off the pill while we were doing our Thanksgiving travels. Hub was extra-frisky at the idea of knocking me up, but we had to wait for T.O.M. to go away (plus the whole kids in the bed adjacent to ours thing is kind of a turnoff...)

T.O.M. abated. We returned home from the trip from hades. And?

We all got colds. The neat, everything ends up in your throat/chest after making your head all slimy for a couple days kind of cold.

It is not slime! It is mucus.

Sexy image, right?

Universe: 2, Me: 0

So, T.O.M. has abated, cold is kinda gone (or at least less facially mucusy), it's GO time, right? I'm off the pill...Hub is frisky & ready to impregnate (or at least try a lot to impregnate....and....and....

T.O.M. returns. Painfully. And very unexpectedly. On my way to work.

Fuck.

Or not, as the case may be.

Universe: 3, Me: 0

I've not had any in a couple of weeks now. I am getting crabby. And waiting to be impregnated, dammit.

I can't properly fantasize about buying baby stuff or maternity clothes when I'm not even pregnant yet. Plus? I'm almost 33 and apparently according to some fertility chart I saw somewhere, there's only a 60 something percent I'll get pregnant this year, as opposed to the high-80 something percent chance back in the day when I got pregnant with Boo.

So there's a little anxiety there.

Which could be easily alleviated with a little bit of good sex.

Ahem.

Universe? Could you throw me a bone here? So to speak....

Gratitude & Crap - Epilogue

2010-12-01T13:39:00.002-05:00

ADD Moment - I hope I spelled epilogue right.

I had intended to blog with all my gratitude in life throughout the Thanksgiving holiday. However, I discovered that having a computer at my disposal makes blogging easier. I determined that I was not going to write a blog post via my Android touch screen phone.

ADD Moment - why in the hell I thought I'd like a touch screen phone is beyond me. It looks really sexy...but I've always hated touch screens. The reviews talked about how nice the touch screen is. For a touch screen. I still hate touch screens. No matter how sexy they are. Hmph.

Now, the gratitude will be condensed into an epilogue (no squiggly lines! I think it is right! Yay me!) format. You get concentrated thankfulness all at once. Don't you feel all special like?

I am thankful that we are back in our own state and living in our own home again. Being cooped up in a (very nice) hotel room with 2 kids gets tiring. Especially when one child becomes the devil when the extended family is not around.

I am thankful that the "aren't I such a cute little princess" face came on when the extended family was present so we at at least a few hours break from the screaming, punching, kicking, throwing, whining, ridiculous monstrosity that is Princess. It was bad, people. Really, really bad.

I am thankful that at least one other authority figure in Princess' life sees through the attention whore drama and doesn't give her the "poor princess" treatment that continues to enable her obnoxious behavior. For a while there, I thought Hub and I were the only ones to see her as a child responsible for her own behavior and not a poor little victim of big bad life.

I am thankful that the colds we all got had a short "shoot me now" period and we are all now functioning again. Our house sounds as if we're chain-smokers who have mined coal for the last 30 years, but dammit, we can function again.

I am thankful that the cat did not actually explode from horking down 2/3 of his feeder of food over the 3 days we were gone.

I am thankful that Hub is on the "let's have another baby" page with me and agreed pretty readily that I should go off the pill.

I am thankful that the painful and embarrassingly unexpected return of TOM (Time Of Month) due to the aforementioned going off the pill did not appear until after I was again functional from the cold. Who needs cramps and mess and a cold?

I am thankful that the universe is apparently no longer conspiring to keep me from going to the gym! Now? It's conspiring to keep me from having sex. Not cool universe. Not cool.

I am thankful that the idea of procreating with me? Seems to get Hub very frisky! So he can be all denied and unsatisfied while he waits for the contagion and TOM to pass. Just like me. But without the cramps.

I am thankful that I have come to terms with the possibility of minivan and the destruction of any few remaining MILF points I may have had. Now if I could just find a way to pay for one. That isn't 15 years old with 500,000 miles on it and missing a door.

I am thankful for the internet which can baffle me with its sheer volume of information about any given topic. FYI - cloth diapering? Not as straight-forward as it was in my infant days. After spending some time in a fetal position under my desk, I think I understand the basics of cloth diapers. Kinda.

I am thankful that this weekend is a non-Princess weekend. The constant whining, complaining, screaming, etc.? Makes me stabby. My family is getting tired of seeing me all stabby. Plus? I'm afraid this crazy-eye look is going to stick this way if it goes on too much longer.

Gratitude & Crap, Day 2

2010-11-23T12:05:00.001-05:00

In my continuing effort to "embrace gratitude" in my life, I am doing a series of posts, conveniently during the week of Thanksgiving, to express things for which I am grateful.

I am grateful that I can almost walk normally today.

I am grateful that the story of my dumbassery and klutz has provided much amusement for friends and family.

I am grateful for the workout my legs are apparently getting from the days of limping. Apparently? Limping is great for the calves and hamstrings. And the combination of sore, stiff muscles with sprained ankle? Makes me a very graceful creature indeed.

I am grateful that an ~~argument~~ discussion with Hub last night seemed to reveal that we're on at least a similar page about something I haven't yet had a chance to talk with him about in-depth.

I am grateful that I have this blog and you, my 7 loyal readers, to keep myself sorta kinda sane.

I am grateful that when I throw out feelings like:
* I really want another baby
* I don't know if I'm ready for another baby
* We'd have to find infant care - it's expensive, but Boo will start kindergarten next year & his childcare expenses will be less.
* I don't have a vehicle that accommodates 3 car seats & still have 2 years left to pay on my existing vehicle
* Where would we put a baby? It seems unfair to make a 5 or 6-year-old share a room with a baby, but we don't have any more bedrooms.
* What can I expect with a 5-6 year age gap between kids? And that's if we started now. What if the age difference is more like 7 to 8 years?
* I have no siblings and Hub points out that I don't know what it's like to have a sibling. I worry that my inexperience with this could be an issue.
* A new baby will be different than either of our existing children. I'm afraid of the unknown & my ability to handle it.
* I occasionally get enough sleep. Am I insane??
* What will a new baby do to our existing routines?
* Will our existing kids revolt and throw us and/or the new baby out?
* I really want another baby

that I will likely get input from people with many perspectives and my comment box will overflow with things for me to think about *cough*HINT*cough*

I am also grateful that I am mostly organized for our trip tomorrow, which means I won't be up until 1am getting everything packed up & ready...right...?

Gratitude & Crap

2010-11-22T11:55:00.001-05:00

I was visiting over at Go, Pop, Go!'s blog today & he gave me an idea for blog posts this week.

ADD Moment: Ok, seriously. How am I supposed to punctuate the possessive here? Should it be "Go, Pop, Go!'s" or "Go, Pop, Go's!" Grammar fiends...help me here. I will lose sleep if this remains unanswered!

This week I'll be posting on what I'm thankful for.

I'm that person who always buys the humorous cards for any occasion that humor would be appropriate.

Although if Hallmark made a funny "Dude, bummer about getting fired" card? I would probably buy it. Just saying.

So, point is, this is more of the "Things I'm Grateful for, by Jack Handey" approach to being thankful.

If you're looking for puffy, foil flowers & calligraphy? Keep moving. No satisfaction to be found here.

So, to kick things off...

Today, I am thankful for ibuprofen. Sure, taking it in significant amounts can cause some mild gastrointestinal "discomfort," but it works so well! Especially when hormones and dumbassery combine to cause pain in varied locations and intensities.

I am thankful that the same dose of ibuprofen I took for the horrid hormone-induced migraine also worked marvelously for the T.O.M. (Time Of Month) cramps that arrived simultaneously.

I am also grateful that when I, in my infinite grace, stepped off the sidewalk with an ankle-rolling crunch in front of our home as I was walking to the car to lazily purchase food instead of cooking for my family as a good wife/mother would do, that same dose of migraine-dulling, cramp-killing ibuprofen also kept the swelling in my ankle down.

I am thankful for my husband who allowed me to keep my foot elevated on his lap while he gamed from the couch.

I am thankful that only once did he say that he felt like he was helping his grandmother hobble along as he helped me hobble around the house.

I am thankful that he was creeped out when I said, in a feeble old lady voice, "Why, thank you sonny!" as he helped me hobble around the house.

I am thankful that I finally sprained the other ankle, as the left one has 3 severe sprains under its belt already.

I am thankful that, while I look like a shuffling zombie, this sprain is not severe, and I can still walk.

nnnnnggggh.....Braaaaaainnns!

Ahem.

I am thankful that we are returning from our ~~dreaded~~ ~~obligatory~~ annual family trip (2 states away) on Saturday instead of Sunday this year. This will allow me a day of ~~weeping~~ recovery before returning to work.

That's my list for today. I'm going to try to be grateful all week, being that it's Thanksgiving & all. Plus, my life coach said I should try to embrace gratitude in my life. So, here it is. I still have to pack for a 6-hour drive with 2 kids before Wednesday, so we'll see how the "grateful every day" thing works....

Flipping Stuff Off

2010-11-19T13:22:00.001-05:00

Ok, I haven't done Friday Flipoffs in a while. But I'm feeling crabby and cantankerous today. Plus? I've got shit to flip.

First? I'd like to flip off the dudes jackhammering outside our house last night. At 3 am. I have no idea why. A few weeks ago, some dudes dug a hole in the street in front of our house. Hub called to warn me of the hole. It was filled in by the time I got home. Last night, I got home to see trucks parked across the street. With those big lights on a generator things. They proceeded to dig a larger, more square hole in the same spot as the previous hole. The trucks did not indicate who these guys were or why they were digging a hole. It appeared to me as if 1 dude was actually digging the hole & the other 7 were standing around looking intently into the hole. But apparently? They all agreed that jackhammering was necessary at 3 am. Flip off.

Our phone/internet. Ok, I don't really care so much about the phone. I only have a landline so I have a crap number to give all the people that ask for my number. I'm so not giving my cell phone number out to Retailer A so they can call me & bug me and then sell my number to Sneaky Retailer B (or worse yet, Political Candidate B) so they can call me & bug me. However, we are rather attached to our internet. Particularly since Hub needs it to work (incessantly) from home. He picks up Princess from school 2 days a week & thus works from home. We NEED our internet to work. It went out Wednesday morning. They said it should be fixed by Monday night. There had better be an effing discount on our next bill...flip off.

Sick coworkers. Flip off. Seriously. Big fat huge flip off. Don't bring your contagion to work. You are clearly ill. Thanksgiving is next week. I do not have time to be sick because you are too inconsiderate to stay home. FLIP OFF.

Thanksgiving travel. We are doing the obligatory "we haven't seen this side of the family in a while" road trip to North Carolina next week. With 2 kids. 2 kids who like to argue. 1 punctuates everything with whining. Always. I am dreading this trip. This is one "vacation" that will leave me far more exhausted and grouchy than a full week of work. I don't want to go. At some point, I'd like our holidays to be about our immediate family and less about obligation to extended family. It's not that we don't love them, but no one visits us. And I hate having so much stress and grump associated with holidays. Flip off.

My kids. Boo? Seriously, stop antagonizing Princess. You will only make her whine more than she already is. It's not amusing. Please stop. Princess? Stop stealing. Stop lying to everyone about everything. You suck at it. Stop complaining about everything and for the love of all that is holy, stop the effing whining. The world does not revolve around you and you are not in charge of what direction people look, how they walk, what they think is funny, how loudly they breathe, or how they play, so stop screaming at them for it. You? are doing 98% of the screaming in our household...and the other 2% is often because of you. Life isn't supposed to be a big selfish, tortuous tragedy until you hit puberty. Shut up & be cute. Or at least shut up. I will accept that if it's the best you can do. Flip off.

Baby indecision. The Ute is getting all twingy and I'm starting to fiend hardcore for another baby. A baby with Hub. But I keep going back & forth trying to decide what I really want to do. Babies mean getting round, hot flashes, maybe stretch marks, maybe morning sickness, labor, delivery, lack of sleep, sore boobs, the need for a Sherpa to leave the house, the cost of infant daycare, the need for a vehicle that can fit 3 car seats (which probably means minivan ::shudder:: since you have to be 35 and 250 pounds before you can just sit in the seat with a seat belt), etc. I know about all of this. But I'm 32 and the ticking is getting loud & distracting me from all these logical concerns. Plus? I really want to have a baby with my husband. But having Princess living with us is about all I can tolerate. I'm not sure if I could handle a baby on top of all of her behavioral problems. But should she have that much control over our lives? Should she be able to keep us from having a child if we want one? Could we handle our current responsibilities and a baby? Indecision? Flip off.

Ok. I kinda feel better. But I need a nap. Perhaps I should flip off the fact that the U.S. still has not embraced the wonderful idea of siesta...

Hormones? I hate you.

2010-11-15T15:05:00.001-05:00

Hormones suck. That is all.

Ok, no. That's not all. If that were all? This would be a Tweet. I'm not that hard up for blog posts that I'm resorting to five word posts.

Not yet, anyway.

The thing that I hate most about hormones? Is that they're sneaky. I don't get any kind of memo, special cramp, hallucination, or text from my hormones. The bitches just show up and crap up my life.

Thankfully, since mine are semi-regulated by ~~court-ordered medication~~ a prescription, I can usually be on the lookout for them about the same time every month.

Right around Wednesday in that 3rd row of pills, I have learned to be on the lookout for the signs.

About this time? I start having revelations. Revelations like "Wow. I look very puffy today." Followed shortly by "I have to pee! I have to pee! OMG...."

The revelation that I'm really F*ing tired hits me as I'm nodding off at my workstation. But I just slept 10 hours last night, how could I be tired??

Ok, see, that bit up there? Was just to give you a brief moment of insane jealousy. I don't *actually* get to sleep for 10 hours. Not in a row. The point is that I'm exceptionally exhausted, regardless of the length or quality of my sleep.

Really, tho, if you believed that? I'm worried about you...

And I'm hungry. Really hungry. Not for anything in particular. I don't really get cravings, per se. I just want, well, everything. I don't enjoy the food and really? I don't actually want it. It's more like a primordial drive to eat. Everything. Now.

Then there's the levitating pets. And my kids cowering behind the sofa. And my husband covered in green pea soup. And wow, my neck is really sore...

Ahh, yes. The demon psycho-bitch has arrived.

And there's poor little possessed me thinking "Gee, it's really not that big of a deal that Hub put the juice on the wrong shelf. What's with the sawed-off...wait..."

(Counts on fingers & reflects back to last night's pill location in the ~~court ordered medication~~ prescription)

Dammit.

It's the hormones.

Really? It would just be nice if there were of siren or something that would alert me to the arrival of hormones. Because nothing is more annoying than the question from Hub.

"Jeez...what, are you PMSing or something?"

"NO. Maybe. Shut up."

::flings levitated pet in his general direction::

Confessions of a boring average chick

2010-11-11T12:43:00.000-05:00

Ok. Ok. I have so enjoyed reading everyone else's confessions, I thought I'd jump in here with my own. Which are probably pretty dull.

Also? My last two posts have no comments. Which makes me a sad panda. Perhaps I need to focus on something besides my maternal stress.

So, without further ado...confessions of a boring chick.

1. I'm a natural blonde.
2. I'm a bit of a control freak.
3. I am blind as a bat.
4. I secretly wish I could be on What Not to Wear so I could blow 5 grand on really nice clothes for myself.
5. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
6. I'm a pack rat that wishes she were a neat freak but doesn't know how.
7. I think being a pack rat has often paid off for me.
8. Also? Procrastinating has worked out well for me on many occasions.
9. I really like nice things but am too cheap to buy them.
10. I love to bellydance & fantasize about actually being good at it.
11. I only wash my hair every other day.
12. I am an anti-establishment tattooed metal mommy who secretly wishes she could be a stylish June Cleaver. With tattoos. Who listened to metal while baking cookies.
13. I have a Britney Spears song on my mp3 player. On purpose.
14. I could watch Wolverine & Victor Creed fight it out all day. Throw in Jack Sparrow? & My life would be complete.
15. I have an amazing amount of completely unrelated knowledge in my head.
16. I may or may not have been a raging "herb" user in my 20s.
17. I like herbs better than alcohol.
18. I can eyeball almost anything. Well.
19. I envy people who know how to be stylish.
20. Sometimes? I'm just a little too lazy to be really accomplished. I'm not a "go getter."
21. I could never be a good SAHM.
22. I'm a total perv in my head...but no one on the outside would ever know it. Um, except you people reading this...Ahem.
23. I like unusual things. Everything is more amusing with extra eyeballs & tentacles.
24. I believe that cooking a steak beyond medium? Is blasphemy.
25. I have never cheated on anyone. I could have. But never have.
26. I am addicted to Criminal Minds. It's my crack.
27. I wanted to be a profiler way before most people knew what profilers were. But I am too empathic. I couldn't stomach it.
28. I am still going to shop at Amazon because I desperately hate going out to Christmas shop.
29. I was a floutist through college.
30. Drumlines? Still make me hot.
31. Powerful things? Also make me hot.
32. I desperately wish I still had a close girl friend, but I don't have the time to maintain a proper friendship.
33. Push-on bathroom faucets? Make me stabby.
34. I am also addicted to chai lattes.
35. It took me an hour to come up with 35 "confessions."

If you have made it this far? I admire your attention span.

I'm won't eat my young...

2010-11-10T17:26:00.001-05:00

I won't. I won't. I won't.

I hope.

Lately I've been having mommy issues. I posted recently about my stress from adding my stepdaughter to our household. But it's more than just that. Kinda.

While she is there, for however long that may be, I must find a way to deal with the situation. While I much preferred the full-time family consisting only of Hub, Boo, and me? That is not my reality now. Like it or not.

So, that being said, I'm having some real issues dealing with the situation. I feel like I'm Evil Fire-Spewing Demon Mommy more often than not.

I am fairly old-school in the sense that I have rules (and by I? I mean the royal "I" of Hub and I...) and I expect them to be obeyed.

At least make an effort to obey.

Could you pretend to obey?

Jesus, at least try to make it look like you're obeying.

Dammit.

I try not to sweat the small stuff. I try to be relatively laid-back as long as no one is doing anything illegal, immoral, destructive, or inherently dangerous.

When I explain rules, I try to explain the general principle

(no playing on the stairs!)

and then try to close the loopholes

(that means no jumping on the stairs, no sliding down the stairs, no bouncing down the stairs, no throwing anything down the stairs, no rolling anything, no dropping anything - by "accident" or on purpose, no tossing anything. Do not play on the stairs in any way!)

CYA is important with kids. They're like little lawyers. They will find the loophole and exploit it.

I've learned to be consistent with discipline (about 98% of the time...I'm not God after all) and I have also learned (and am fervently trying to teach Hub) not to threaten things if I can't follow through.

I don't bluff.

Unfortunately? I kinda suck at discipline, in the sense that I'm just not very creative.

I was a very obedient kid. I didn't like disappointing (or angering) my parents. I got spanked a few times as a kid, got grounded a few times when I got older, and eventually (because I am an introvert and had virtually no friends and grounding was therefore kinda pointless) my parents took things away from me. Not a whole lot of creativity in my punishment background. And really? I wasn't punished that often because I didn't do much to deserve it. I saved most of my idiot behavior until I was an adult.

Hub? Was beaten. If he was being disciplined? He got "spanked" with various inanimate objects (switches, belts, etc.). He spent a fair amount of time being beaten by drunk father-figures as well. That didn't work out so well for him over the years. And it didn't keep him (or his brother) out of trouble. At all.

So our backgrounds are not offering a whole lot of useful information from which to draw.

I do make a strong effort to reinforce the positive. I have a psych degree. I know all about behaviorism. Reinforce the positive, punish the negative (well kinda, but I'm not going to argue the various forms of positive and negative reinforcement vs. punishment, how & when each are to be applied, etc. If you want that level of anal specificity? By a book on behaviorism.)

But dammit, they just don't seem to learn. We go thru the same stupid things over & over. Getting punished for it every time. And. They. Still. Keep. Doing. It.

Gaaaaahhhhh!

And my God, do they push my buttons.

I don't want to be the parent with those kids when we go out. I refuse to shop with both of them anymore because it's just too horrendous. Princess has her own special behavioral problems I discussed before. On his own? Boo is very well-behaved. With both of them? Everything goes to hell.

Perhaps it's just because I have 2 kids that are only 10 months apart. Perhaps it's because Princess has some serious behavioral issues as a result of her early childhood. I don't really know why. I can't quantify every variable.

But I do know that it is wearing on me.

I resent having to always be angry and disciplining. I resent that I no longer look forward to seeing them after work because they are so damn frustrating. Consistently.

I want my sweet Boo back. The one that is polite and isn't constantly trying to push buttons (he does this on purpose for his own amusement because Princess always whines to the occasion. Always.) The one that asks me science questions and wants to learn. The one that will talk to his mommy instead of squealing and grunting at her. The Boo that I knew for 4 years and still know every other weekend.

I want to find they joy I used to have in being a parent. I want less frustration when I go home at night. I don't want every night to be a tortuous countdown to bed time.

This situation is kicking my ass. The bad mood resulting from the constant frustration brings guilt. Guilt that I am so angry with the kids. Guilt that I sometimes scream at them when I've already asked a dozen times & they haven't listened. Guilt that Hub bears the brunt of the bad moods & the moods aren't even his fault.

I'm tired of feeling guilty. And I'm tired of being angry. But I can't just let them run wild. They have to learn and understand the whole concept of consequences and accountability. I refuse to raise spoiled, entitled little brats.

Does this require so much constant frustration & guilt?

Anyone...?

Bueller?

Bueller?

Coming out of my cave

2010-11-08T11:37:00.000-05:00

I'm the kind of person who likes to hovel up in her own little quiet cave, away from people. I'm not terribly social. I can be, if I must. I'm generally quite personable & most people like me.

But I am not very social. This is my preference. I find extensive social interaction to be draining. Then I want to retreat back into my cave with my pointy stick and poke at anyone who disturbs me.

That being said, I enjoy the connections I make through blogging & Twitter. Perhaps because these interactions are more on my terms. I log in when I have time/the inclination to do so. My phone does not alert me when I have new emails or new @s...despite the fact that it is set to do so. Ahem. I have not "fixed the glitch" because I find that it works for me.

After nearly 5 years of motherhood, however, I am discovering that the connections I am making with other parents? Is way helpful.

I don't often go looking for help. I really prefer to do things myself. Ask Hub about this.

But I've discovered that raising kids? Is not as straightforward as it might appear to an outsider. Sometimes, I become very stressed about a situation, thinking I'm failing miserably as a parent, only to discover that most kids are like mine & most parents are also unsuccessful with such situations. Or discovering that other parents also have to let things slide sometimes (*cough*cleaning*cough*putting away laundry*cough*).

I have been holding myself to an unrealistic standard. And sometimes I have been holding my kids to an equally unrealistic standard. This whole parenting thing? Is confusing. Having other people around to let you know that you're not completely tanking as a parent? ...Or support you when you do occasionally tank as a parent? Most helpful.

So, to all of you who are with me on this foggy, pot-hole laden, sniper infested marathon through the jungle of parenthood? A hearty thank you!

Oh, and could we get those little paper drink cups filled with vodka occasionally? Water isn't cutting it for me.

WTH did I do to my hair...?

2010-11-04T17:28:00.000-04:00

I'm hopping into Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week since I have a good story for prompt #4 A hair disaster.

I was probably 18 at the time. I had decided that I would dye my medium blonde hair black for Halloween. I got the temporary black dye - the kind that says "Washes out in 6-8 shampoos!" right on the box. My hair was long enough that it actually took 2 to get it all, but I got it all. And it was pretty cool.

But then, about a week or so later (yeah, about a 6-8 shampoo period), the black was not washing out the way the box claimed it would. My hair was now a sickly blackish-green color. Dammit.

Kept waiting for it to wash out. Just became less black, more green. DAMmit.

So, using color wheel technology, I bought a nice red/brown color to counteract the green. Added this to my hair. Was WAY redder than the box claimed it would be, but ok. At least red is a naturally occurring hair color. I bought semi-permanent this time. I wanted slower-acting color change until the green had plenty of time to realize its defeat!

But as time went on, the brown began washing out of the red/brown color. And my hair was becoming quite orange. Rather carrot-like, in fact. Dammit.

Again, I apply my color wheel technology and I buy a nice ash blonde to counter the orangey red...but not go so far as green. This color did the job. But promptly washed out in 6-8 shampoos. Son of a...

I got another box of ash blonde, hoping that by the time this one washed out, most of the orange would've come with it.

Nope.

Now, I threw in the towel. I went to a salon. $100 later, I had my "root color" which is essentially a light brown. I was told to return later to get the blonde highlights put back.

When I returned, they put a plastic cap on my head (reminiscent of my great grandmother's plastic kerchief thing she used when it rained...) and proceeded to use something resembling a crochet hook to pull out pieces of hair from beneath the plastic cap.

Mind you, my hair was probably mid-back in length. Pulling little strands up through a plastic cap? Is not going to end well.

While I did get my blonde back, it cost me like $200 and resulted in like 2 days of conditioner-laden combing.

Beyond a couple of minor kool-aide bang-dyeing excursions, I have never again messed with my hair color.

A difficult situation

2010-11-02T14:37:00.000-04:00

I write this post with the fear that I will be causing strife in my home. More often than not, my husband does not read my blog. But sometimes he does. And while I believe I have said everything that is in this blog to him (I firmly believe in honesty in a relationship), pouring it all out at once may not have positive results.

But I write because I have to. If I keep my feelings bottled? Bad things happen. I have been struggling for a while now and I am hoping that you, my 7 loyal readers as you all have in the past, can offer me some insight or advice that might help me make some progress with this situation. I am trying to do the right thing...but what is "right" has become a little bit fuzzy....

The past few months in our household have been difficult ones.

Last April (the week of our Honeymoon, actually), we got custody of Hub's 5-year-old daughter (aka Princess).

She has always been a bit more...um...high maintenance than my son (aka Boo). To be fair, Boo (who is 10 months younger than Princess) is a very well-behaved little kid. Very low maintenance on the whole. So understand that I have been, perhaps, a bit spoiled on the child-rearing front.

Getting custody of her was not my life's ultimate dream. She had generally not made a good impression on me with her histrionics, and I found our weekends with her (pre-custody) to be very stressful and tiring.

Again, to be fair, I think just adding another child to the mix is an instant chaos inducer. And chaos makes me twitchy. Me no likey the chaos. I do not wish to lay blame at her feet for all of my stress related to the situation. Some of it just had to do with managing another kid. I think any parent of 2 or more kids will attest to the fact that going from 1 to 2? Is a big deal.

My hope had been that if we had Princess full time, some of our structure, routine, and discipline (all of which she had previously been seriously lacking) would kind of smooth things out a little.

Yeah. It hasn't. At all, really. Some things have gotten worse.

Princess has some issues that I'm worried about, for her sake, for ours, and for her influence on Boo. She steals rather frequently, she lies a lot (even when she has clearly been busted), she manipulates, she believes she is entitled to whatever she wants, she destroys toys (hers most often, but too often the toys/possessions of others), she throws obnoxious fits when she does not get her way (and has been known to purposely break things during said fits), she gets angry and hits Boo (often without remorse), she destroys most things she touches, nothing seems to make her happy, and she complains c.o.n.s.t.a.n.t.l.y. about everything.

Pretty much anything Boo does, in her eyes he's doing it wrong. If he moves wrong, says the wrong thing, looks at her, points in her general direction, hums, plays his own way, laughs at something she has not deemed funny (seriously), etc. I mean nearly anything he does. And she will yell at him for it. Pretty much anything we do or buy for her? Isn't good enough. More complaining/whining/etc.

This is not the example we set in our house. I'm aware of the influence we as the role models have & we monitor our behavior closely. This? Is not a monkey-see, monkey-do thing. At least not from our household.

I realize that to some extent this kind of behavior is "normal" in a kid, altho I can't imagine even a fraction of her behavior being tolerated by my parents. The idea of me trying to pull this with my parents? Gives me the shivers. ::shudder:: But this kind of behavior isn't rare, or unusual, or even "not the norm." If she is not doing one or more of these things? We are pleasantly surprised.

It is that constant people. Seriously. And trying to manage/discipline that? Is frustrating and exhausting. Constantly.

Now, Boo is not blameless. I do not put him on some pillar of perfection, because he is not. He can be really frustrating at times. He is also a boy, so when he finds something that gets a rise out of Princess, he will exploit it. Which, since she complains about everything, is not a difficult endeavor.

Most nights when I get home from work, I spend the entirety of their remaining waking hours mediating arguments and sending them to their rooms because I can't stand the constant agitation. I've tried explaining, I've tried ignoring (i.e. depriving them of the attention for their behavior), I've tried requesting nicely that they stop, I've tried yelling when repeated requests go unheeded, and finally? I have just started punishing with time-outs to their bedrooms. Get along, or go sit by yourselves. I'm tired of it.

She complains. Boo provokes. She complains more. He keeps up with the provocation. She starts yelling at him and occasionally this has escalated to her kicking or hitting him. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get the dogs out, cook dinner, make lunches for tomorrow, and (insert whatever other miscellaneous tasks that need doing before tomorrow here).

Hub's relationship with her has suffered as well. The atmosphere in our household when she is gone? Is monumentally different.

This leaves me with some internal struggles.

1. If we continue to have custody (which is a real possibility), how will this affect our relationship, our family, and Boo? It has not been a positive experience thus far. At all. What if I have to cope with this for another 13-15 years? I love my husband. Tremendously. I do not marry easily. She is part of the package. That is something I have to accept. And I painfully want for it to be easier to accept.

2. I feel tremendously guilty and selfish for feeling the way I do and for wanting her to go back to her mother. Hub has accepted and treated Boo like his own. The love he has for Boo? Is obvious. It breaks my heart that I am unable to do that in return. I am very principled, so rules and expectations apply to all...but I cannot create an emotional attachment where none exists.

3. I really want to have a baby with my husband, but the idea of adding a baby to the current situation? Kinda makes my skin crawl.

4. Are all girls like this? If Hub & I do have a baby, there is a very real possibility it will be a girl. Is she just a bad representative for females? I don't remember being like that...and if I'd tried? My parents would've beat. my. ass. Seriously.

I am not the only one with these kinds of feelings. Others have expressed things to me as well. And Hub's relationship with her continues to suffer.

I know that being a parent requires sacrifice. I know that it's not all butterflies and rainbows. One could argue that sometimes people don't like their own biological children. And then what? Would I want to send her away then?

I understand the point there, but I am also a firm believer in nature+nurture. There are things that are fundamentally hard-wired at birth. The dozen healthy infants thing? Is crap. Genetics matter. And they make a difference. Environment? Shapes how what is naturally there manifests itself.

That being said? If she were my biological child, her environment would've been much different from birth, and she would be comprised of altogether different maternal genes. Not necessarily better, but different. She would not be the same child, so it is not a fair comparison.

But it does play into internal struggle #4. Sometimes parents don't like their biological children. What then?

I'm scared, confused, stressed, frustrated, concerned, guilt-ridden, and anxious. I cannot force myself to like someone I don't like. I can be civil, but that's about it.

So now? I wait. And I hope.

Parenting, For Realz

2010-10-20T17:57:00.001-04:00

When I was in my early 20s, my best girlfriend was in her late 30s. She has 3 kids and had been married a couple or 6 times. I've always admired her faith in love and marriage...if not her choices in men. At that point, I was recently divorced with no kids. She would tell me about things that went on in her life and I watched how she handled her kids.

I often asked her "do they hand out crack in the delivery room so you can keep up with those kids??" I was amazed at how much she did with them, how little she slept, and how high-maintenance kids are in general.

Imagine my horror when I discovered that there are, in fact, no stimulant prescriptions handed out in the delivery room.

What I did discover, though, is that with my role of "mom" came a sense of responsibility that outweighs stuff like sleep, illness, and the general sense of "I don't wanna." There's all this unimaginable love and protectiveness and stuff. Not to mention all these stupid principles I have that make me feel guilty if I'm not a responsible parent giving my best effort to nurture good, responsible individuals.

The things that get done? Get done because they have to be done. My inconvenience? Is irrelevant.

Poopsplosions must be managed. The unending step-sibling argument storm must be weathered (seriously, do siblings ever get along??).

When Boo gets up at 3:45AM, decides it's "morning," and begins getting dressed, I must haul my happy ass out of bed & get him back to his bed. Without waking the rest of the household. Except the dog loaf. It is impossible to get out of bed without rousing the dog loaf and inciting the 120 decibel ear flapping.

Lunches must be made, homework must be done, notes to teachers must be written (and if they are to be written legibly I must write them), appointments made, chauffeuring to be done, peace maintained, medication dispensed, backpacks assembled, "whys" answered, laundry done, meals prepared, punishment doled, and snuggles stolen.

Sleep is foregone. Showers are skipped. Privacy is eliminated. Money pours out like a blast from a fire hydrant. Corporate casual must be pulled from the wrinkled heap in the laundry basket that has been waiting for a week to be put away and hopefully has not been peed on by any members of the household. Grown up TV is relegated to illicit late-night viewing. The illusion of maturity must be maintained. Swearing must be curbed. Phone calls from angry teachers and parents regarding the swearing must be dodged. Sex is relegated to clandestine secret ops only to be completed by the most elite of special forces. The good snacks must be stashed to be consumed only during ugly AM hours or while engaging in illicit late-night television viewing.

All of this for the loving gratitude of my darling children. Ahhh, listen to the sound of that gratitude...

(crickets chirping)

"I don't like these pants."
"these shoes are too tight."
"I don't want to wear socks."
"but I wanted that one."
"I don't like that food."
"you're mean."
"I don't want to go to bed."
"how come you didn't get me that one?"
"I want that."
"I want that, too."
"he's looking at me! Make him stop looking at me!"
"can't you do that instead?"
"No."
"I don't wanna."

Sigh. You're welcome guys.

I think I'm beginning to understand the reason parents push their adult children to create grandchildren. It's not because they so love the pitter patter of little grandchild feet.

No.

It's revenge.

(insert creepy pipe organ music and maniacal laughter here)

Perhaps I'm a masochist. Or just stupid.

2010-10-14T15:04:00.000-04:00

I scheduled my routine feminine grooming maintenance for Tuesday of this week. Due to the poor coordination of my "cycle" and my paychecks, I was "a bit" past due for said maintenance.

And by a bit? I mean it was waaaaay too 1969 down there. I'm not that natural. So not. After 30 minutes with my esthetician, all was cleaned up and ready to go. And a bit chafey. Fun.

For Wednesday, I scheduled my graduation present to myself. A lovely phoenix on my right shoulder blade. Note that the bra strap you see? Is a racer-back. Without that context, the placement of the tattoo would be weird. And I would have a very fat shoulder.

As you might notice, my skin is pretty red. 2 1/2 hours of tattoo leaves one rather sore. So now I'm chafey and sore. I'm thinking perhaps I should schedule a nipple piercing or something for this afternoon just to round out the pain trifecta for the week.

In what universe was I thinking that a Brazilian and a tattoo on successive days would be a good idea? Are there restraints & ball gags in my future? Or am I just a dumbass??

Wait. Don't answer that...

sigh

P.S. I am planning a follow-up to my previous post (A Requiem for My Dream). Possibly tomorrow. Not today. The feedback I've gotten has stirred my brain, but my thoughts are not yet congealed. I would prefer to wait until they are rather then dump a senseless gooey mess out there

A Requiem for My Dream

2010-10-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

I have been giving my blog a lot of thought lately. I have been all guilt-ridden for not posting as frequently as I think I should. As frequently as I really ought to if I want people to keep reading it.

I have still been reading a few others' blogs because they bring me joy to read. I look forward to reading posts from these people. Not out of any sense of obligation, just because I like to read what they have to say.

In doing this, however, I have come to a realization about my writing. It is a realization that I've already had in other aspects of my life, but not about my writing.

This realization? Makes me rather sad.

In other areas of my life, I never had any real passion for the subject, so the realization wasn't so bad. About my writing? I am sad. For this is one thing I have always loved and have believed that it was something at which I was at least moderately adept. I have believed that with practice and hard work? I could take moderately adept to some kind of wonderful.

But practice doesn't replace ability. Practice only refines what is already there.

My realization? Is that I'm just not meant to create. I am unable to craft something from nothing.

I know this ability when I see it. I'm the daughter of a creator. I'm the wife of a creator. I'm actually the ex-wife of a creator, too. And I? Am not a creator.

What I can do? Is see what makes something a worthy creation. I know talented versus well-trained but passionless musicians when I hear them. I know good photography when I see it. I know an artist with genuine talent when I meet them. I know good when I see it. I see the qualities of their gift and their passion that allows them to create something wonderful from the depths within themselves. But I do not have these qualities within myself. When I look inside myself? I do not see those raw materials that, with inspiration, create beauty. My depths are full of feelings and mush that all turns to imitation goo when I try to do anything with them.

I had hoped that maybe I just didn't have creative musical ability or creative artistic ability or creative photographic ability or the ability to create pretty solutions to problems. I had hoped that my lack of creative gift was because I hadn't found the right "thing" yet. I don't think that's it. I think it is more a general lacking of the ability to create.

What I can do? Is tinker with something existing. I can tweak stuff to make it a little better or a little different, but I have to have something to start with. Someone else has to do the creating before I can do the tweaking.

I guess I'm a tweaker. Isn't that lovely.

So where does that leave my illustrious blog? I don't know. I'm a bit of the competitive sort, and I'm not real big on propagating mediocrity. While I never had any dreams of quitting my job & writing for a living, I still prefer to be among (or at least in the same ball park as) the best if I choose to do something.

I said I started this blog for myself, and that was mostly true. But honestly? There was a part of me that wanted my writing to blossom into something beautiful. Sadly though, while I gave it my best, it has kind of withered, like so many of the plants I've tried to nurture over the years.

Ironically, I'm going to try gardening next spring. Let's not discuss my head and its sandy location.

Please understand that I'm not fishing for anything. For the most part? I keep my self-pity fishing pole stored under my bed for occasional use on Hub when I need a little verbal stroking & he's not getting the hint. Comment as you like, but I'm not trying to incite anything. I feel as if I need to explain why I have not posted lately, as well as mourn a dream. My realization was a surprise to me & hit harder than I would've expected.

Will I continue to post? Possibly. Even probably. Writing is a compulsion for me, regardless of it's quality of content. But it has become like that friend you have. And you really want to take it to that level beyond friendship. But that friend? Has other ideas. Other loves. The friendship means to much to me to abandon completely. But I am sad that we cannot have the love affair that I had hoped for.

Just you wait...

2010-09-30T15:04:00.001-04:00

When I was younger, say mid teens through early 20s, I had all these opinions. And they were strong opinions. Because of course with all that life experience from which I could draw, I sure knew what I was talking about.

I had political opinions. I had opinions about kids, abortion, sex, relationships, etc. Since then, I've aged.

Matured, even.

A little bit.

Kinda.

Through my experience, I've learned that a.) things are usually not that black & white and b.) I don't know shit.

I try to keep this in mind when dealing with others. I try not to be too judgy of people who do not have the benefit of my experience. Or any experience really.

And while I try to keep this in mind, it doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes & thinking some judgy stuff when I'm presented with certain situations.

My stepbrother & his wife are a good example. They are 21 & are going to have a baby in a couple of months.

Now, at 32 I know what I think of 21-year-olds. Insert eye roll here. I can only imagine how those of you with a decade on me feel about me. A 51-year-old woman called me a fetus last week, so that gives me an idea.

I like my stepbrother. He's cool. A little short-sighted & thus a little lacking in the responsibility department, but he has a good heart. His wife? Not so much. Her gravitational pull is a little more than I can tolerate.

I like to imagine peas underneath her mattress whenever I find her a little too ridiculous. She doesn't work because she just doesn't want to (even before she was pregnant) and she constantly complains about not having any money. Whenever they do get money? They show up with new $400 cell phones, new jewelry, or some other unnecessary extravagance. Then she begs money off of other people to buy plane tickets to go home to visit for the holidays because they just can't get the money together on their own...

Does anyone else find it hard to restrain the "oh puh-lease...."?

But...I know what's coming.

A baby is coming. And they have no clue what that means. No clue at all.

Because no one does. That's part of the joy of becoming a parent for the first time. That "Ohhhh shit...." realization.

When you realize that you don't know what the hell you're doing, but a life depends on you doing it right. A life to which you're probably pretty attached.

I chuckle when she complains about having to get out of bed at noon. Or when she will post about how she's loafing around on the couch all day.

Someone's in for a rude awakening.

I hope that this child will give them the grow up kick in the ass I believe they need. To start thinking beyond what they want for themselves at this very moment. To realize that sometimes someone else's needs come before your own.

I know it's not my kid, it's not my relationship, & therefore, it's not my business. I disagree with many of their attitudes and choices, but I don't share my opinion with anyone because this is their journey to figure out. I just have a pretty educated guess about what's coming (based on my experience with the amazingly easy Boo) and I worry. I know what kids can do to relationships. And I know what ridiculously selfish parents can do to kids. And I worry.

Because that's what I do. And for his sake, (as well as my stepmother's, who I love dearly), I don't want to see my stepbrother fail at something as serious as marriage and parenthood. Sometimes it's really hard to stand by and watch something you're pretty sure is going to be a fiery train wreck and do nothing but pray you're wrong.

Top 10 Things I love about my job

2010-09-23T12:11:00.000-04:00

It's been a few weeks since I've participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, so I thought I'd jump in again this week, since I'm being all posty this week.

This week I chose Prompt #5.

10 Reasons why you love your job.

1. The Paycheck that comes fairly regularly. Every week when I get my "Payday" reminder in outlook? I'm all happy that I will have the illusion that I have money again. For a few minutes.

2. My boss is not an asshat. This is important. I think he is the first non-asshat boss I've had. It really makes a difference, actually. He's actually pretty amusing, which is an extra bonus.

3. It is not the Post Office. I did 7 years hard time as a postal worker. The stereotype of "going postal"? Is there for a reason. I determined that no matter how much I hated my job, my idiot supervisors, and many of my idiot coworkers? None of them were worth jail, than you very much.

4. The internet is there. What else needs to be said? I <3 the internet. So much.

5. I have 2 monitors. Now I'm just bragging. The 2 monitor thing? Is so freaking awesome. Altho it does make my laptop at home seem woefully inadequate, what with it's single screen and all.

6. I have not slept with anyone I work with. Sleeping with coworkers has only worked out well for me once. I married that one. Previously? I ended up dealing with really immature men creating drama. And one stalker.

7. We frequently get cake. Everyone in this place is pregnant. I'm afraid to drink the water here. But all these pregnant people? Get baby showers. And baby showers mean cake. I <3 cake.

8. I have a whole file drawer full of snacks. Munchies? Are crucial to maintaining my sanity through the day. Seriously. If I don't eat regularly? I turn into psycho bitch. And no one likes that.

9. There is a Chipotle within lunching distance. No explanation is necessary for this one.

10. I love the feeling of being just Me for 8 hours a day. No one expects me to clean up their poop, cook for them, or do their laundry.

Tales of an Asshat

2010-09-22T00:02:00.002-04:00

So, I got some inspiration from Kristin over at Taming Insanity about being an asshat. Go read her post because it's funny. I'll wait.

...

Back?

...Helllllooo?...Hey! You were supposed to come back! Hmph.

Well fine then. I'm still going to tell the tale of my asshattery. Even if I'm talking to myself. Well, typing to myself. Oh, never mind.

So. A while back, my stepdaughter Princess had a bit of a "poo incident" as we like to call them. I discovered this when Hub emerged from the bathroom carrying her shorts and underwear with 2 fingers at a significant distance from his person.

"She didn't make it to the bathroom on time." Oh, goody. "What should I do with these?"

Burn them? Throw them in a bucket of turpentine? Take this opportunity to teach Princess how to wash her own clothes?

Sigh.

"Put them in the utility sink thingy downstairs by the washer. I'll get it later."

So, he dutifully takes the offending soiled garments downstairs & tosses them in the sink, just as I have asked him to do. Good Hub. Thank you. You have listened well.

Later on, I threw in a load of laundry. I don't remember what I washed, but it was something with which poo crusted underwear was not compatible, so I did not throw those in with the wash. I left them in the utility sink where hub had tossed them for me.

Fast forward an hour or so. I go into the laundry room to put the load in the dryer. I notice, as I step in it's cold, squishy goodness, that the rug in front of the washer is wet.

First thought? Is "damn cat peed on the rug!" I glance around the laundry room & notice that a lot of the floor is wet. Gandalf (cat) has done some impressive things in his day, but this amount of wet? Is out of even his league.

See, the floor is not just a little wet. There are puddles.

I start to panic, thinking the water heater has sprung a leak. I start running through scenarios of how I'm going to break this joyous news to Hub. And the freezing shower I'll have to take that night.

Then it occurs to me, I had just given Boo a bath & the water was plenty warm. Probably wouldn't be the case if the water heater was in the process of its explosive death throes.

Then I notice the sink. And the underwear that are now stuffed in the drain. Our washer drains into this sink. So it is kinda important that the drain remain unobstructed. Didn't occur to me when I told Hub to toss the underwear in there. Or when I started the laundry.

It's amazing how much of a mess a poo incident in a tiny pair of underwear can make when the situation is managed by an asshat like myself!

Ooops. And guess who got to mop up the laundry room? It even flooded the cat box. Yay me.

Sigh.

Cawfee Tawk

2010-09-21T09:51:00.002-04:00

Today, I pose a question for you guys.

And I'll answer my own question, too. Just because I'm verbose like that. Plus? I don't want to post a 2 line blog. I think I'd feel like I was cheating.

Can a bad person be a good parent?

Discuss.

My answer? I don't really think so. I know you guys have all had some really diverse upbringings, so I'm terribly curious to get some opinions on this.

This came up in one of my classes recently (did I mention I'm precisely 2 weeks away from being done with my bachelors?) and the thought intrigued me.

I suppose one would need to define "bad person" before one could adequately answer the question. And even that? Is relative. What I think the criteria for "bad person" are? May be far different than what you think qualifies.

I think that a huge part of being a parent is setting an example for your kids. I am so not a "Do as I say not as I do" kind of parent. I always hated that as a kid.

I kind of have issues with hypocrisy. But that's another post.

I think if someone is a bad person, they would be setting a fundamentally bad example for their kids. I think they would be prone to making poorer parenting choices.

I think a bad person could really love their kids. I think a bad person could want the best for their kids. But if that person is fundamentally flawed in their thoughts and/or behavior? I'm not sure how that could translate into good parent.

I suppose it could be argued that said bad parent could be setting the example of what not to do. I know I learned a lot about what I didn't want my marriage to be based on my parents' relationship. So I could, perhaps, see that point. Perhaps.

I really am curious. If you disagree, I'm totally cool with that...as long as you explain yourself! Tell me...what do you think?

This morning sucked.

2010-09-20T12:15:00.000-04:00

Ok, so this morning sucked. You may have already gotten this impression from my clever title. Perhaps.

I mean really sucked. In the "my eyes are still puffy and irritated, and I had to do disaster management on my makeup" kind of way.

I hope the universe isn't trying to give me the finger again. I like it better when the universe likes me.

*sigh*

When dealing with kids, one has to learn about behavior management. We want to encourage the behavior we like and discourage the behavior we don't like. Right?

Right.

I'm discovering that marriage is much the same way. Not in the sense that I'm "training" Hub to be a good little Stepford Husband. In the sense that if I want an actual honest relationship? I can't freak out & go all psycho bitch on him for being honest.

Assuming he wasn't an asshat in the delivery process.

Today? I feel like the asshat. One big rectal-cranial juncture.

Today? I want to scream.

And cry (some more).

And throw something.

Wait, I'd like to punch that thing before I throw it.

Today? I've realized that there are some battles? I just don't have the energy to fight. The battle will still be there. It will always be there. I realize that now. And it's a battle I can't win. Knowing I can't win a battle that will always be there? Makes me feel stupid for even trying to fight. Maybe that makes me weak. I dunno.

Also? I really hate those arguments where I know he's right and by knowing he's right? I also know that I have done something stupid/mean/unfair. I hate being stupid or unfair. Feeling stupid? Sends me from zero to psycho bitch in 3.7 seconds.

And I just plain don't like injustice.

Being mean? Eh. I can deal with that from time to time. Being a mommy has desensitized me to mean.

Pffft. Mean.

So this morning? He was right.

And the whole asshat thing? Makes it really hard to get my makeup on right. We will not even discuss blow-drying. ::Ow::

I so hate it when he's right.

This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster

Friday Flipoffs

2010-09-17T00:00:00.002-04:00

Ok, trying to get back in the groove here. I've been slacking lately with only a post or 2 a week...and (sniff) I think (sniiiiffff) that people (sniff sniff) HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME (insert tearful wail here).

::composes self::

Er, I mean, my comments have really dropped off and since ~~I'm such a comment whore~~ I really enjoy the dialogue with my readers, I need to get back into better writing habits.

Plus part of the reason I have this blog is so I can write. So I really should do that occasionally.

Anyway, moving on to the interesting part...

First, I'd like to flip off the circumstances keeping me from my cousin's bachelorette party in New York this weekend. She is a very cool cousin (in law) & she's spending the weekend in NYC for her bachelorette party. Hosted by her drag queen uncle. I should so be at this party. But? I'm broke. And? I'm smack dab in the middle of my last class (insert hallelujah chorus here) before I get my degree. Not conducive for dropping everything & going to NYC, particularly since I have to do 99% of my homework on the weekends. Kids? I think Hub would watch kids for me to go, so I don't flip them off. They're cool. But the rest? Flip Off. I've never been to NYC. :(

Next, I'd like to flip off my stepdaughter's school. As you may have read in my Princess Chaos post, the school keeps losing my stepdaughter. Ok, the last time was kinda her fault (she's a little nefarious), but really. Please stop losing her. It's getting annoying for all involved.

Oh, & a second flip off for the school. Today? Princess ~~Bulldozer~~ came home with a ziplock full of paint. So she could learn to trace letters with her finger. Ok. Cool idea for the classroom, not so much for the home. That child? Is a disaster ninja. And if I get a ziplock full of dark purple paint on my new couch? Someone is getting a ninja star up their...

...anyway...Flip Off!

And, for an honorable mention...Knee pain. Again, I flip you off. I am glad you're almost gone now. Three weeks later. But you have been keeping me from reestablishing my gym routine. This does not please me. I'm not old enough to be all pathetic and infirmed. Please stop with the debilitating pain. Seriously. Flip Off.

That is all. I feel better now. And all on time & stuff. Yay me.

A special thanks to Momma Kiss for hosting the Flip Offs this week! :)

Princess Chaos

2010-09-14T16:23:00.000-04:00

So, we have custody of my stepdaughter while her mother "gets her life back on track." Which, as I've said before, implies that it ever was on track. In fact? I don't think her mother even knows there is a track & that she should be on it, much less where said track is & how to get back on it.

But I digress.

Princess comes with chaos.

I like plans. I like sticking to said plans. Plans give me a feeling of control. I like control. I don't like deviating from the plan.

Chaos? Was not in the plan.

This particular strain of chaos began her 1st week of school. A mere 4 weeks ago.

When kindergartners start school in our district, they are on a "staggered start." Which means 1/3 of the class goes on Monday, the next 1/3 goes Tuesday, the final 1/3 on Friday. Princess? Was to start Tuesday. This means we had to come up with alternative care arrangements for Monday & Wednesday.

Might I mention that I think this staggered start thing is DUMB? I understand, more individualized attention, blah blah blah. Personally? I think it's giving kids false expectations of what to expect from school. But I am not an educator. I'm curmudgeony & reflective of my 1st day of kindergarten, where I just got dumped at the door & was expected to suck it up.

After walking uphill both ways. In the 200 degree desert. With no shoes. And broken glass lining the sidewalk.

I digress.

So, we scrambled to find alternative care. It was expensive, but we found some.

Thursday? The school lost her. They sent her to after-care when Hub was supposed to pick her up. He discovered this after waiting for an hour to get her. Then got to go wait at after-care until the bus arrived...another 1/2 hour later.

Did I mention he was supposed to be working?

The following Monday (beginning of week 2), Princess managed to face plant onto something concrete. Hub got the call that she might need stitches. He immediately left to retrieve Princess. Only to discover that I had the insurance card & HSA credit card.

Did I mention that we both work 30 miles in opposite directions from our house?

*sigh*

So then I left to take him the cards.

She somehow managed to miss the outside of her face altogether. When her face hit whatever? She hit it gums first. Big, ugly gash over her incisors.

Urgent care? Could do nothing. She had to rinse her mouth & we had to watch for gray tooth death. Dentist said the same thing. Oh, & she can only eat soft foods.

Cutting up her sandwiches into teeny tiny bite-sized pieces? Not the joy of my life.

Did I mention Wednesday was school picture day?

We tried to get her to smile with her mouth closed. She didn't really get it.

Wednesday at after-care, she wasn't paying attention & didn't notice the boy in front of her stop. She kept going. And hit the back of his head. Face first. Reopening the mouth wound.

Thursday? I told her not to hit her face on anything. She didn't. Yay!

Friday? She hit her mouth on a clothes pin at school.

?!?

She left for her mother's that evening & returned with a nasty cough.

So Hub took her to the Dr. on Thursday (Week 3) & got a new drug regimen (allergy drugs & an inhaler) to get rid of the cough.

Yesterday (beginning of week 4)? They lost her again. Somehow, between when she was released from her class to the class where she was supposed to wait? She decided she didn't want to wait in that class. And thus, missed her bus.

*Sigh*

Did I mention that I don't like chaos?

I pray that not everything with her will be this ridiculous. None of this? Even covers the chaos at home.

*Sigh*

A Nefarious (or stupid) Cat

2010-09-07T15:17:00.000-04:00

I am writing this post as a result of the inspiration provided by Lori's The Evil Done by Cats post.

Because I'm a "grown up" (Ok, stop laughing. Seriously. Whatever beverage you just spit all over your screen? Is not going to clean itself up. And it's going to get sticky if it dries there.) and have kids and responsibilities etc, I am going to alter a few inconsequential components.

So, back in the day, when I was maybe 23 or so, I lived by myself with 2 cats. Each had their own unique proclivities. One was very personable and gorgeous, but was prone to urinary blockages. He was expensive.

The other was kind of a cantankerous old man, pretty much since kittenhood. He would get angry & whip his tail around vigorously. Often, he would vigorously whap people in the head from the back of the couch. Really, why did you feel the need to sit on the couch and invade his dance space? He also had an affection for plastic. Many a night I would have to yell at him for licking a plastic grocery bag and waking me up at 2am.

Both cats liked to puke at 2am. Loud enough to wake me & spur the thought "I need to remember not to step in that in the morning...." which would inevitably lead to me waking up & stepping in it in the morning.

Also during this time? I was very into, um, herbs. I was particularly fond of special fresh oregano. This special fresh oregano? Tended to be fairly expensive. On this one particular occasion, I purchased a small ~~nug~~ bit of the fresh oregano. The proprietor of said oregano was out of his usual ~~baggies~~ shipping materials, so he instead utilized some Saran wrap as a means of keeping my oregano fresh during transport.

One evening when I was ready to ~~bake~~ cook, I went in search of my special fresh oregano and could not find it. I did, however, discover in my travels some cat puke. I remembered waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the plastic-loving cat licking away at the plastic. Stupid cat must have eaten some of the plastic.

Now, I know what you're thinking. But the cat had always been very put off by any kind of oregano. If he even saw me get out any of the cooking supplies? He left the room. Oregano? Always offended him.

I chocked up the whole situation to me not putting my oregano back where it belonged when I was done cooking. It would show up again eventually.

So, the next morning, as I am getting dressed in the bathroom, my cat comes up meowing and proceeds to drag his butt across the floor. Um, gross. He's never done that before. As he gets up from his butt dragging, I notice something odd.

About 3 inches of Saran wrap hanging out of his butt.

Dammit.

Apparently, oregano does not do much to cats. Other than make them puke at 2am. Which they do anyway. Or it could have been the large wad of plastic wrap in his gullet.

So I think to myself...self, you can't really leave the cat with Saran wrap hanging out of his ass.

If I can't leave him like that....then I have to remove the Saran wrap.

Sigh.

So, I find myself sitting on the floor, trying to restrain my angry, tail-whipping, oregano-eating cat while I pull Saran wrap out of his butt.

Pulling 8 inches of plastic wrap out of a feline rectum? Not on my list of things to do that morning. Also? Not that easy.

I might add that the oregano did not survive it's journey through the cat. The Saran wrap was devoid of its original contents by the time it was fully removed from the cat.

Staff Meeting Sideshow

2010-09-01T23:53:00.000-04:00

This week has been a doozy already & it's only Wednesday. Let's just start with Monday morning, shall we?

On Monday, I had a staff meeting. Not only is there all the joy that is associated with a general staff meeting, but it also means I have to be up early & at work earlier than usual. To be fair, "usual" is like 9 or 9:30, so early? Is not really saying much.

I think I may have mentioned previously that I'm not a morning person.

This particular staff meeting had a little sideshow entertainment however. The meeting took place in our conference room which has many large windows that overlook a somewhat wooded area. Just as the company president started her "Welcome!" speech, a couple of guys came walking by outside the window.

With a chainsaw.

From the gallery I hear "Is that a chainsaw?" And I start snickering. Uncontrollably.

As we start going through our 3rd quarter performance, the guy starts firing up the chainsaw. Apparently, they need to cut down a tree directly outside the window.

So, I'm trying to focus on our profit margins, but find the guys sawing down the tree infinitely more interesting than our revenue to date.

Then the guy sawing the trunk jerks his hand back from the chainsaw & looks at it as if it has offended him. He returns to sawing. Then he jerks his hand back again & this time stands up & looks around.

I do not see any blood spurting or missing digits, so I am baffled.

Then he starts swatting and running around all panicked. Chainsaw is still running & buried in the tree trunk.

Apparently? They have found a collection of stinging insects in the area.

Now, I'm not completely insensitive. I do feel bad for the guy. But still. Corporate goals versus chainsaw guy running around in a panic swatting at invisible attackers?

There really is no contest here. Particularly for my pitiful little attention span.

And this little sideshow? Is only the beginning. Perhaps I should've heeded the foreshadowing of my week to come.

Really, though? If the week is going to continue like it has been? I sincerely hope it maintains that little bit of "funny" to take the edge off. Makes ridiculousness & stress a little easier to stomach. And? It makes better blog fodder if it's not all grouchy and crap-like.

Where have all my posts gone?

2010-08-31T12:39:00.000-04:00

I have not been posting as much lately. This has partially been because I've been obscenely busy. But that's not the only reason.

Part of it? Is because I don't think I've found my voice. I think I've become somewhat intimidated by the writing of others. There are several people that I just *love* to read what they've written & I get all happy and excited whenever they post. I get all envious (in an appreciative way - not in a weird mean way) and wish that I could write like they do.

But I can't. Because it's not me. And those aren't my words.

I need to figure my voice out. I know that I am a good writer. I'm not amazing, but I know I'm good. It's just not readily apparent at the moment. And that is not working for me.

I don't want to be sad about it. I don't want to give up. But I don't want to be fluffy drivel, either. I see no purpose in that. I will never get better if I don't do it more.

Besides, it makes me feel too good when I do get it right to give it up.

Friday Flipoffs

2010-08-27T22:21:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Kludgy Mom, even with all of her balls in the air, for creating/hosting this meme!

It's time for the Friday Flipoffs! As usual, in my paranoia that I do not tempt the universe with brazen flipoffs, I have a corresponding "Yay!" moment, too. Which is always nice. I like the weeks where I actually have those corresponding "Yay" moments.

To start....

My current gym. I wanted a little hole in the wall kind of place where I could just go in, work out, & leave without being harassed to buy anything, wait in a crowd to use machines, or be forced to buy years of memberships. When I joined? The guy said that sometimes he was the only one there & occasionally he'd have to close for a little while so he could eat lunch. I was fine with that. But. I tried to go from anywhere between 11:30 in the morning & 2:00 in the afternoon & the gym was closed far more often than it was open. I have finally had enough. I'm not going back. A big fat flip off! No pun intended.

My Yay! moment? Is that my aesthetician recommended a similar gym where she goes for personal training. It's a little further away, but $10 cheaper a month & has a 24-hour member-access system. So I'm going to visit next week & unless the guy is a total creeper, I'll join that gym & get back into the swing of things. So this week? Double bonus bikini wax! Thank you universe!

Flipoff #2 goes to the ridiculous toilet seats in my new office bathroom. They are ridiculously narrow & curve upward at the outside edges so they dig into your legs painfully when you try to sit. I just want to pee without injury or falling into the community bowl. Flip Off.

Flipoff #3 goes to the stupid push faucets in the same bathroom. The point of a faucet in a bathroom is to clean & sanitize your hands after fishing around in your crotch region for post elimination cleaning. If I push the button to turn on the water, I've just contaminated it with my fishing germs. Then? The water runs out before I've washed off all the soap. Thus forcing me to push the button again, recontaminating my hands. Not cool. And Flip Off...with a germy, crotch-fishing finger.

Flipoff #4 goes (lovingly) to my stepdaughter. I know you're capable of speaking without whining. Please attempt to exercise this ability. You do not come with a mute button and most people frown on the use of duct tape on children. Please, you are driving your father & me insane. We don't have much sanity to spare. Throw us a bone here & just *speak* to us. Trust me, we'll be amazed into rapt attention if you speak to us without whining. Flip Off.

That is all. I started this post this morning & due to work crises, have just now had time to finish. *sigh*

Perhaps I should've added "work crises" to my flipoffs...but I don't really want work to go away...Ok, technically, it's just the paycheck that I don't want to go away, but thus far I've not been able to figure out how to get the paycheck without the work...short of being a useless loaf & sucking off the state. But then I can't talk crap about my stepdaughter's mother without being a hypocrite. Ah, well. The sacrifices we make...

Happy Weekend! :)

I am Not Mozart

2010-08-26T12:11:00.000-04:00

When I think of mediocrity? I immediately think of the movie Amadeus. If you have not seen it, it is essentially composer Antonio Salieri's lament of being a mediocrity compared to Mozart.

Salieri dreamed of nothing more than to be a great composer. He pledged his chastity to God in hopes that he would be blessed with an amazing musical talent. Yet it was Mozart, an irresponsible, overgrown child, who was blessed with the amazing gift of music.

I feel for Salieri. I do. I have dreamed many times of being amazing at something I love - writing, music, art, even psychology - but, like Salieri, I am apparently meant only to recognize and appreciate amazing talent when I see it. I'm not meant to possess the talent.

I don't think I'm as resentful as Salieri, but I didn't go & pledge my chastity for anything, either. If I had been chaste my whole life, I'd probably be a tad more grouchy about the whole situation.

Like Salieri, I'm not bad at most things I do. I'm usually pretty good. Pretty good. Not amazing. He was a court composer...but he was not a Mozart.

Musically? I can carry a tune, I can tell if I'm out of tune, I can occasionally harmonize. When I was a flautist (flute player. This one time at band camp....), I was always near 1st chair. Often 2nd or 3rd (out of like 30). But I was never 1st.

As a writer? I don't suck. Usually what I write makes sense, is spelled correctly, uses the right to/too/two or there/their/they're (altho, I did accidentally use the wrong "their" in a comment the other day & it is still bugging me because I can't go back & fix it....), and occasionally I'm even funny. But I'm mediocre, even at that. I don't make people laugh until they cry like Kris, or craft fabulously amusing posts with a rich vocabulary like Lori, or eloquently get to the heart of things with a sense of humor like Adrienne. I just don't have that gift. I'm readable, but not amazing.

For the most part, I can accept being adequate at a lot of things. I'm glad that when I do things? I almost never completely suck at it.

Not sucking is not the same as being good. No one is amazed at the brain surgeon who doesn't suck. Lots of people don't suck. There's really no "wow" to that.

Mostly I accept my mediocrity and I live with it. Usually it doesn't bug me. I am happy to just not suck.

But like any other unrequited passion? Sometimes the want gets to me.

This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! Weekly meme hosted by the Nerd Mafia Dons Liz at a belle, a bean, and a chicago dog; Kristin from Taming Insanity; and Natalie from Mommy of a Monster

My Birth Story

2010-08-25T23:22:00.000-04:00

So, you want to know about my birth story, huh? Well, several people have already mentioned the possibility of a difficult pregnancy resulting in an easy birth.

Well, I had an easy pregnancy. No morning sickness. No real horrible mood swings. Nothing more than an achy back, an unbelievable craving for beer, and that last 6 weeks of beached whaledom.

There are things that I don't tell 1st time expectant mothers. One of those things? Is that the last month of pregnancy? Sucks ass. Everything is uncomfortable.

But I digress.

I was due on January 31st. I was wishing painful boils and other such unpleasantness on all people saying I would be 2 weeks overdue, sending me links to stories of 18 pound babies born in cars stuck on the freeway, and 90lb coworkers who felt the need to crank the heat all the way up in the office because they're cold. Wahhh. You can put on a sweater. I can't take off the pregnant.

Again, with the digression.

I left work on Wednesday the 25th, large, uncomfortable, and with a number of tasks that still needed to be completed on Thursday. At about 3:45 in the morning, I woke up and had to pee. Shock, I know. With my pregnancy, I often had contractions after I peed. Mostly because I held it too long, I think. I don't like peeing. And at 9 months pregnant? There are certain clean-up aspects of this task that get decidedly more difficult to accomplish.

I have issues staying on-topic apparently.

So, I head back to bed, all contracty. I have work in the morning & want to get back to sleep. After about an hour, I'm still all contracty. Hmm. Perhaps I should walk around & see if they go away. All the books say that if you walk & they go away it's not really labor. So, I begin pacing around my apartment at 4:45 in the morning. Contractions aren't really mellowing. Hmm. Perhaps I should pack my hospital bag while I'm pacing. At this point? I had about 2 comfortable outfits & I wasn't going to have 1 clean, comfy outfit wasting away in a hospital bag for weeks. Besides, labor lasts a long time, right? Plenty of time to pack the bag.

At about 5:30, I had to pee again. Or so I thought. Conveniently enough? My water broke while I was on the toilet. Yes! No mess for me to worry about.

At this point, I decided I'd better call my boyfriend. He lived across town about 25 minutes away. After about 3 calls, I finally managed to wake him up. I figured I had time to finish up my bag, get dressed, & grab a snack before he got there. I had nearly half an hour, right?

He made it there in 10 minutes.

The hospital was about 30 minutes away. And lordy, I had never noticed how bumpy the roads were between home & hospital until going over them while in labor. Ugh.

I had decided to try to go the natural birth route, altho I was not against drugs, should I change my mind. I've always had really bad cramps, so how much worse could labor be?

A whole hell of a lot worse, that's how much. When I got to the transitional phase? I did not even finish one contraction before the next would start. It was excruciating. They kept telling me to breathe & I couldn't. They asked me if I wanted an epidural.

HELL YES I WANT AN EPIDURAL!

And to this day? I still have a small shrine honoring the epidural dude.

I had to stay laying on my right side, because if I turned over, the baby's heart rate showed distress. So, by the time it was time to push? My right leg was a worthless slab of meat. No feeling, no control, nada.

Boo was face up, so I had to push for about an hour. He came out very coney. Thankfully his head returned to a normal shape by the next day.

From start to finish? My labor was about 10 hours. So I can't complain about duration. But the pain? Was God awful.

And if we ever have another baby? I'm packing the bag by 6 months and we're picking a hospital close by. If baby #1 came out in 10 hours (delayed an hour because of how Boo was facing), I can totally see myself being one of those "birth on the highway" stories....

The little stuff

2010-08-18T09:45:00.000-04:00

As I go through life, I have realized that it is the little things that really make the moments in my life shine. Today is my homage to the little things that have perked me up lately.

The county fair yielded several of those little moments. This is the 2nd time we've taken them & it was a huge improvement over the 1st fair experience.

Kids Ooooohed and Ahhhhed over all the tractors & farm animals we made them look at. Apparently roosters? Are way more deserving of Oooohs and Ahhhhhs than bunnies. Who knew?

They cheered and clapped at the pig & duck races.

They happily sat for 20 minutes watching horses jump obstacles & picked out which horses they liked best.

Boo did not throw the "No! I'm Scared I Don't Want To!" flag milliseconds before landing in the saddle of the pony as he did a couple months ago & successfully navigated his very 1st pony ride.

We got $90 worth of rides out of the $40 wristbands purchase. Hub meticulously calculated how many ride tickets we would've used, had we instead chosen to use tickets, to ensure we got sufficient value from our wristband purchase.

And in those rides? Was Boo's first real deal ride. The Tornado! This was no baby ride!

We only had 2 real meltdowns in a whole day spent (in 2 parts) at the fair. I think parents will agree that for a whole-day outing with 2 kids, having only 2 meltdowns is quite the accomplishment.

We had 1 from Boo when we had to leave mid-afternoon to lunch & nap. The website had lied to us & said the rides would open at noon. They didn't open until 1 & that was too late to let napless kids start riding. Boo felt we had lied to him about the rides & was rather upset with us for making him take a food/nap break. Stupid food & sleep anyway. Hmph.

Our other meltdown came from Princess after she was chastised by a fair employee for bulldozing in front of like 5 kids in line for a slide. This initiated pouting, followed by full on meltdown...exacerbated by Boo repeatedly asking Hub & I why Princess got yelled at - even after we repeated explained to him what had happened. Apparently Boo's insensitive male gene is already fully functional. Sigh.

Then on Sunday morning? The coup de gras. Hub got up with the kids & let me sleep! How freakin awesome is that? The suckish thing is that my bladder was resembling an overfilled water balloon & that sorta distracted from my attempts to continue sleeping...but I could lay there with the non morning dog & vege for a while. When I got up? Kids had breakfast & milk & were quietly watching TV with Hub...who thought I definitely should've stayed in bed longer.

Boo has also been pooping (more often than once every 11 days) regularly in the BIG potty! This is a huge deal in our house. Boo has been very anal retentive...perhaps the literal retentiveness will lead to obsessive detail orientation later in life. Hopefully not in a Monk-like way though.

Oh! Oh! And the other thing? My learning team had all of their assignments posted early! And they didn't suck! Their work? Appeared to have been written by people who can actually read and comprehend the content of the syllabus and text book! I know! Amazing!

Another thing? I've been on-time to work for 3 days in a row. I'm starting to freak out my coworkers...which is almost worth the 5:30 am start & 1.5 hour commute! I'm not a morning person & I have a flexible schedule. So this is a big deal. If you're one of those naturally half an hour early people? Don't poo on my joy. It's not that easy for everyone. Perhaps I do lack discipline at times. But saying so? Counts as pooing on my joy. Just so you know.

So, despite the fact that the universe pooed all over me last week, perhaps it was just a good way to help me appreciate all that little stuff. Because sometimes? It's the little stuff that really matters.

Friday Flipoffs, Vol. II

2010-08-13T22:00:00.000-04:00

This week? I have a lot I'd like to flip off. I'm just not quite sure how to go about it.

This week? Was one of those weeks that the universe just had it out for me. But I can't very well go flipping off the universe, now can I. That would just be dangerous. I'm not one to tempt the universe by flipping it off or making statements like "well, things certainly can't get any worse..."

First? I will flip off myself. I arrived to work on Monday morning to discover, first thing, that I had screwed up something significant. Which needed to be rectified. Immediately. The rectification? Meant no break for me. No going to the gym. No grocery shopping. Nada. I have no good excuse for what I screwed up. I just missed something I should've seen. And it was a biggie. Sigh. So? Flip Off, me.

Next, I will flip off the traffic on the highway on Wednesday. My commute from home to work takes about 35-40 minutes in the morning. There is 1 major highway that takes me where I need to go. And only one. On Wednesday? I sat on that highway for over an hour. I got to work at like 10:30. So, yeah. No break. No gym. No grocery shopping. Nada. Traffic? Flip Off! (On a side note? I am grateful that I was not the accident that closed the freeway...while I flip off the traffic? I'm still grateful....)

Finally, I flip off my lack of sleep. Monday? I had homework that kept me up late. Tuesday? Hub actually cut himself off of work after only like 14 hours & wanted to spend some time with me. Not going to turn that down. Wednesday? I had more homework. & to top off the staying up late for Wednesday homework? We had a gigantic, freakish storm hit at like 5:30 in the morning on Thursday. Sigh. I am exhausted. Sadly? I need 7-8 hours of sleep, fairly regularly, to function like a semi-human. If I get 4? I can kinda function the next day (with a large coffee infusion). If I do that 2 days in a row? I start to get mushy. And perhaps a little grouchy. Perhaps. After 2? I'm pretty much useless. And a wee bit grouchy. Unholy bitch might be an apt way to describe me. Perhaps. Exhaustion? Flip Off!! You hang around way too much. I don't even really like you that much. At all. Really. Take the hint.

A hearty thank you to Kludgy Mom for providing this delightful meme. Go visit & see what others are flipping off this week!

I am woman...Raaarrrrr!

2010-08-11T11:29:00.000-04:00

So, it's been a week since my metabolism condemnation post.

Just so you know? I have not forgiven my metabolism. In fact? I'm going after it.

Hey, I gave it fair warning when I flipped it off on friday.

Seriously? I'm going to kick its ass. It has straight pissed me off.

My strategy? Is to wear it down. I've gotten some advice from some friends who are more well-versed in the whole "healthy" thing, including Kristin from Peace, love, & muesli. Might I add that she has been a fantabulous encouragement.

So, utilizing advice both from Kristin as well as my in-training life coach (who is actually my ex-husband's new wife...my life is weird like that...), I have made a few adjustments.

1. I've been going to the gym. And surprisingly? I don't hate it like I used to. Perhaps I appreciate the "me" time now that I'm a mommy. I'm pleased to say that I did not keel over & die. I was a little worried tho. As an added bonus, I feel all accomplished and, well, Raaarrr! when I'm done.

2. I'm trying to drink more water. It's safe to say I do not drink enough. I've been told that the water in tea & coffee don't really count. Also the lemon I bought to make water more drinkable? Is apparently very good for detoxifying, according to my life coach...who heard it from a body-builder guy she works with. It does make the water more tasty and it makes my sink smell nice when I grind the peel in the garbage disposal. So yeah.

3. I'm working to add higher protein snacks to keep me from being hungry during the day. I bough some raw almonds & I also have some nifty Kashi crackers that are awaiting a hummus purchase. Kristin also gave me a link to some recipes that I'm working up to trying.

4. I bought some extra-dark chocolate squares to help curb my sweet cravings without being too obscene with the sugar. I have to say, tho, that the 86% cacao? is kinda gross on its own. I had to eat something else to kill the bitter aftertaste. 72% is perfect. And now? 60% is downright sweet to me. Usually 1 chocolate square gets me my fix & I can go about my day (serving size is 4, btw).

Honestly? I hope the metabolism gets the message. I really don't want to have to go all Rambo on it. No, really, I don't. There's only so much life-change I can do at one time. While I am working hard? I'm inherently a little lazy & I don't want to have to raise the bar too high, because frankly? I don't know if I can sustain too much change.

My goal here, is not only to lose 40-50 lbs of baby weight, but also to feel better.

I admit, I do feel better. I have a lot of pride in myself that I have made these changes, stuck to them, and kept plowing along even tho I've been discouraged. I'm trying to make this goal realistic tho. I'm not willing to nibble lettuce leaves for the rest of my life so I can be skinny. I might be skinny, but I'd be a huge bitch.

Trust me on this.

I believe food is to be enjoyed. I just need to moderate some things & find some healthier alternatives that also bring me joy. I will eat pizza in my life. I will eat the occasional baked good.

The occasional french fry? I'm a good girl in that regard...I'll get the fruit side for me.

...BUT....

I feel that if I purchase the food? & not only did I purchase the food, but I was a good girl & got the "healthy" side? I'm entitled to any "bag fries" that might jump out of my husband's fry container during transit. Those 3 or 4 fries? Are the best. fries. ever.

And no, I don't "accidentally" dump out half of his fries into the bag. Really. Seriously, I don't....

And my reward?

Last Wednesday I was hovering at 203-204.

As of this morning? I'm hovering at 200.

And that makes me happy.

Plus? Once I get to 190? I get to treat myself to a new handbag. :)

Friday Flipoffs

2010-08-06T13:05:00.000-04:00

Today, I'm coming out of the Flipoff Lurker shadows & finally participating in the Friday Flipoffs. A hearty Thank You to Kludgy Mom for starting this thoroughly therapeutic meme. :)

Today, my flipoffs start with my metabolism. I have had a bit of a mental setback this week. Eating healthy for several weeks should equal weightloss, at least in my mind. But no dice. Metabolism? I won't let you beat me. I'm going to make some adjustments & then I'm coming for you metabolism. A big fat Flip off. No pun intended...

Knee pain? You're up next. Note, I'm not flipping of my knees. I like them & would prefer they continue working. I would just prefer that they would work as they are supposed to...without pain. I'm 32 years old & am not old enough to be hobbling around like a grandma. Nor do I have any flashy "old football injury" stories to compensate. Knee pain? Flip Off.

Deadbeat Learning Team Members. You suck. Seriously. The rest of us who are working hard to earn a semi-decent grade in our online class? Hate you. You do not deserve to get the same grade as the rest of us who actually do the work. We are tired of you riding on our coattails to pass the classes & get your degree. I sincerely hope I never get the brain surgeon that was the deadbeat team member. Ok, well, I really don't want to need a brain surgeon, but if I did...it better not be the deadbeat. Flip Off.

And Mornings. Don't think I forgot about you. You and I? Have been going around & around on this for years. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you come...it the "I'm glad the world didn't end while I was sleeping" sense. But it the effervescent "Yippee! It's a new day let's get up & greet it cheerily!" sense? Not so much. Any effervescence I might be feeling is likely leftover liquor from the night before. And that's really closer to indigestion than effervescence. Mornings? You have your bubbly bright-&-early people. I'm not one of those people. It's nothing personal, but seriously? Flip off.

This post has been a sneaky double-purpose post. I'm participating (but certainly not flipping off) in the Nerd Mafia's Word Up, Yo! weekly meme.

Metabolism? I hate you.

2010-08-04T23:34:00.000-04:00

Ok, let me warn you...this is a bit of a rant. If you're looking for inspiration (especially on healthy eating or weight loss) step away from the blog now.

You have been warned.

So, as you may or may not be aware, I have been trying to "make more healthy choices" recently. For a number of reasons. I am realizing that to be the best mate/mother/person I can be, I need to love myself and truly take care of myself.

Right?

Right.

Ok, so given that, as I have also previously mentioned, I have 50 pounds of baby weight that needs to vacate.

Let me say, I have been quite disciplined these past 3 weeks with my eating habits. Granted, I had pizza once and I did eat 1 hamburger. In 3 weeks. That was my cheat. Otherwise? I have been a pretty good girl. By that, I mean oatmeal for breakfast, a tuna wrap (not tuna salad - tuna) and organic yogurt + fresh fruit for lunch, and assorted (much smaller than my average portions of) dinner.

I have slightly increased my activity. Not much yet, but more than before. I drink no soda. I have 1 unsweetened coffee in the morning with a little organic milk (I can't quite go black).

So, I have been a good girl, right?

**WARNING** THAR BE SWEARIN' AHEAD, MATEY... I mean a hell of a lot of swearing....

Not 1 fucking pound lost. Not a single Goddamn pound.

I nibble once or twice a day on tiny <100 calorie snacks between "meals" to try to keep the "I'm not eating much" migraines at bay (which is why I can't starve myself thin, even if I wanted to. I have to function/work/parent/etc & migraines preclude that). Most of those snacks? Are whole grain/organic/etc.I'm not fucking around here.Yet still? Not 1 pound.Let me tell you, I am angry as all holy hell. I can eat tasty filling food & drink soda & hang out at 203 pounds. Why the F am I spending all this money on whole grain organic stuff, fresh fruits etc if nothing is happening? In 3 weeks, something should be happening.

I'm hungry constantly, my tummy is in knots over all this fabulous fiber & whole grain stuff I'm eating, I have migraines hanging in the wings....and not 1 fucking pound.

Tomorrow, I step it up with a gym membership. But let me tell you, I'm really discouraged right now. I am terrified that I'm going to blow money on a gym membership, take "spare" time I don't have much of to faithfully work out....& still not lose any weight.

I say this because it has happened before. I spent a good 2 months eating healthy & faithfully walking (+ tiny bits of jogging...which is what killed my knee) 3 miles a day like 4 days a week. Again, no weight lost.

I'm freaked out because I don't want to be putting forth this much effort & be this far out of my comfort zone and have nothing but wasted time, money, and migraines to show for it.

Oh, & lest we blame it on an underactive thyroid? No luck. Tested that. I'm as normal as normal can be (at least as it pertains to thyroid function...)

So, I have to say...WTF?

Seriously, I need some positive reinforcement from my F*ing metabolism. Fat needs to come off.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled happy blogs.

Sorry. My scale pissed me off. I've been working hard & I was actually quite crushed.

Love, Hate, Hope, and Fear.

2010-08-04T00:00:00.001-04:00

When I got pregnant with my son, I was terrified. I suppose most people are terrified when they find out they are expecting. But I am an only child with very, very little experience with kids.

Frankly? I didn't like them much. Mostly (I now realize) because I didn't know what the hell to do with them. Imagine someone runs up to you and hands you a koala. They say "Here! This is legally & morally yours! Take care of it!" Do you know anything about marsupial care? Are eucalyptus leaves really the best food for them? And where does one find the best eucalyptus? What do they drink? How do they drink? Can I get a koala bottle at PetsMart? Crap. It is awfully cute tho...

So, I find out I'm going to be a mommy. Surprise! I was terrified that I would not develop that bond with my offspring that mothers are supposed to have. During pregnancy, I did not feel any kind of magical bond with my baby. Most of what I felt was along the lines of "wow, I'm getting fat!" or "Gee, a baby kick feels a lot like gas" or "dammit, quit kicking my bladder."

Not quite the spiritual "mother" experience that I was expecting.

But once I had my son? Things changed. Don't get me wrong, the "what the hell am I doing" part still hasn't gone away (hence the name of my blog...), but that child became my reason for breathing. I discovered a level of love that I did not know existed.

And honestly? It scares the crap out of me to love someone so much.

Despite being a fiercely loving (and perhaps occasionally a smidge overprotective) mama bear, I have kind of a love/hate relationship with being a parent. I considered describing my feelings as bipolar, but I would feel like an ass for doing that after I read Adrienne's excellent points on the subject at No Points for Style .

Me and my stupid principles, anyway.

I love that Boo can always make me feel better. If I stub my toe? He will pet my toe, tell me it's ok, & ask me if it's all better.

I hate that I've had to retrain my truck driver mouth so Boo is not dropping F bombs in preschool. I had a very colorful (and often extremely therapeutic) vocabulary. Commuting without my full vocabulary? Not cool. But, I don't want to get that many phone calls from assorted parents & school administrations. "Mrs. B? About your son...We do not believe 'asshat' is appropriate language in this environment. We have other children to consider. And what exactly is a 'fuckstick?'" These are conversations I don't need to be having.

I love to see him learn and develop new skills.

I hate that with every new skill learned, I have to be on the lookout for the new trouble that he is now capable of causing and/or getting into.

I love that he told me that I have to stay young (he thinks I'm young!!) because if I get old I will die.

I hate that my little guy knows about death and fears my death. Seriously, it made me cry when he said that. Even if he was on the toilet at the time.

I love that he inspires me to be a better and (occasionally) more mature version of myself.

I hate that I have to be mature. I'm not very good at it.

I love that being a parent forces me to really examine and understand my principles.

I hate that my principles won't allow me to be a hypocrite, and I actually have to follow the principles I'm trying to teach him if I expect him to take me seriously.

I love that he comes to snuggle with me when he's hurt or sick.

I hate that he has to be hurt or sick to spend any length of time snuggling with me. When everyone told me to enjoy the infant stage? I should've listened more closely.

I love that I understand him better than anyone else in the world.

I love that seeing him first thing in the morning or when I walk in to preschool at the end of the day never fails to brighten my day.

I love that he will sometimes say "Oh, nice dress mommy!" When I walk into his room to get him up in the morning. And he SO did not learn this from Hub, I might add. Hub is not that free & easy with the wardrobe compliments. If I don't have any organs hanging out? Hub is happy...assuming that other people are going to see me, that is.

I love that he needs me.

I hate that as he gets older, he'll need me less and less.

I love that as he gets older, he'll need me less and less.

I fear that I can't control how his life will turn out.

I hope that I lay a strong enough foundation that he will make good choices.

I fear that all those alcoholic genes that he has might be too much for him to control.

I hope that our example of moderation and honest attitude will be enough to take some of the mystery and taboo excitement out of alcohol.

I fear that I will not be strong enough to let him go and let him be his own man.

I hope that in the time it takes him to grow into his own man, I will have grown enough myself that I can let him go.

I fear that he may not realize his potential, that he may not grow into the man I see that he could be.

I hope that he does realize his potential and becomes more than I could've ever hoped he would be.

I fear what's out in the world, what could happen to him.

I hope that he grows with experience and comes out on the other side of adversity a stronger, better man.

There is so much that fills my heart and tears at it, all at the same time. It is a very dichotomous feeling, both fulfilling and frightening. There are times? That I'm scared to the point of tears.

With this post? I haven't even addressed my fears for my stepdaughter...that is a whole other animal.

Being a parent? Is some seriously scary and mindbending shit.

And I would never, ever trade it. For anything. Ever.

Soul Bits

2010-07-30T16:26:00.004-04:00

I keep a notebook. I used to carry it around every day. Lately it has been relegated to my headboard. This morning, it's back in my purse.

This notebook? Contains little pieces of me as described by someone else. It is full of both vocabulary words (defined) as well as quotations that are meaningful to me. My best friend also kept a notebook. She never let anyone but me read it. It's amazing how much you can tell about a person from what they keep in such a book.

I don't know why I do this. For a long time, I had no idea my friend did the same thing. Sometimes, when I'm a hot mess & I need too cool off & straighten up, I read through them & laugh. Or think "wow" and I feel my brain cells stretch a little. Sometimes, they soothe me.

Today, I'm cheating. I have a lot of work to do, but I need to blog. I'm getting a twitch from not blogging. It has just been one of those weeks. So today? I'm sharing some of those bits.

Enjoy my soul bits. And perhaps? You'll know me a little better.

Percipient - adj - discerning

Acumen - n - mental keenness

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
~Oscar Wilde

"The intelligent man finds almost everything ridiculous, the sensible man hardly anything."
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)

"It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others."
~John Andrew Holmes

"Other than that, how did you like the play, Mrs. Lincoln?"
~Anon

"Twenty years from now, you'll be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did."
~Mark Twain

"Events in the past may be roughly divided into those which probably never happened and those which do not matter."
~W.R. Inge (1860-1954)

"A physicist is an atom's way of knowing about atoms."
~George Wald

catachresis - n - (1) use of the wrong word for the context. (2) use of a forced & especially paradoxical figure of speech

rectitudinous - adj - (1) characterized by straightness or moral integrity. (2) Piously self-righteous

"It's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong."
~Voltaire

"in fact, Mozart's preoccupation with the anus and anal products never waned."
~Anon

"It is hard enough to remember my opinions, without also remembering my reasons for them!"
~Friedrich Nietzche

"A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the word you first thought of."
~Burt Bacharach

"We hang the petty thieves & appoint the great ones to public office."
~Aesop (620BC - 560BC)

"He is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death."
~Saki (1870-1916)

"If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; but if you really make them think, they'll hate you."
~Don Marquis (1878-1937)

"Only 2 things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."
~Albert Einstein

"Any woman who thinks the way to a man's heart is through his stomach is aiming about 10 inches too high."
~Adrienne E. Gusoff

"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."
~Umberto Eco

"Always and never are two words you should always remember never to use."
~Wendell Johnson

When Logic & Feelings Collide

2010-07-23T16:11:00.000-04:00

So, what do you think about p*rn? I don't really mean in the moral sense (i.e. it is a sin & should never be viewed/participated in/etc.), I mean in the realistic sense of it's everywhere & odds are someone you know is looking at it...or maybe you are. And doesn't everyone have a sex tape?

My feelings on it have vacillated over the years. In some relationships, I didn't care. In others I was just oblivious. The relationships I cared most about? Are the ones in which it bothered me. And in this relationship...I care. A lot.

I'm going to hang it all out here...& I may risk TMI...so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing...Well, thanks for stopping by. I'll try to make my next post funny. Or something.

...

And for the rest of you? This isn't going to be an x-rated post. Just honest feelings...and some insecurities.

...

Ok. Still here?

...

Hello? (crickets chirping)

Oh, well.

So, my general thoughts here are that I don't have a moral issue with p*rn...provided that everyone is a consenting adult....and it doesn't replace a partner when a relationship exists. I do think for some people, it can be a problem. Many people can drink alcohol with no problem...but there are those who just can't drink at all without it turning into a problem. I believe p*rn is much the same way.

It's not really my thing. I'd rather be having than looking.

However, I am a female & my understanding is that we are not as visually driven as men. Apparently? Looking is a big deal to guys.

So here is where my problem comes in. After the 80 pounds of baby weight? I don't feel so sexy. Hub says I'm sexy...but, really, what is he going to say? I realize there are douche bags out there who would say "EW! You're fat. Get away!" But he is not a douche bag. I also know that he likely would not be with me if I repelled him.

But I don't think people would be downloading me from the internet.

Honestly? I'm threatened by those downloadable people. Even though they are "real" people (& not the plasticky pay-for kind) - I'm still threatened by them. I don't want to be compared to people that are 80 pounds thinner than me. I don't want my husband to realize "you know, she is pretty chubby..."

I don't want to be threatened by that. Hotter people do exist, even the real kind that you don't download. They have the nerve to have jobs; frequent retail & food establishments; and even just walk around in public.

And I don't want to be threatened by them. Or feel bad about myself because of them.

I know, on some level, that this starts with me. That it is an insecurity of mine. I miss my thinner body...but even then? I still didn't feel particularly sexy. Even at 120 pounds - which is still 20 pounds too fat for a model, but made me look like I was all bobble-head and collar bones - I was still threatened by other hotness.

But what do I do about that?

I can't expect Hub to be blind to every other woman but me. As long as he isn't a douche bag about noticing and he doesn't touch them, I shouldn't be threatened.

But I am. And I feel bad about that. Because when I feel threatened? He feels like a douche bag. And I don't like that.

It seems like I'm being unfair. Logically, I understand this. He married me. We have an active "intimate" life. Logically, I understand that I have nothing to worry about.

But my feelings? Are another story. My feelings are rooted in deep mistrust of men and personal insecurity.

And I'm still threatened.

My feelings have always been troublemakers. I don't want Hub to feel like a douche bag. But until I can learn to not be threatened by other people's hotness, real or virtual? He will continue to feel that way. And I feel really bad about that.

Is this your ear?

2010-07-21T11:37:00.000-04:00

Last night after Boo & Princess were in bed, as is our routine, Hub and I went outside for his after kid cigarette. He likes to have company while he smokes. Or perhaps it's just because I don't let him smoke in the house.

As we are sitting on the porch, enjoying the finally decent weather, our two ~~oversized rats~~ tiny dogs start barking up a storm. No one likes yappy ~~rats~~ dogs so we attempt to Sshhhh! them before they ~~drive us insane~~ disturb anyone. We look over & there is our Friendly Neighbor at our fence. Hub starts to walk over & asks if I'm coming. I've been zombiesque all day & am now nearly comatose, so I request that he say "hi" for me & I then scuttle inside so I can finally, blissfully, sleep....ahhh....

I'm snuggled down, cozy in bed. I hear yapping ~~rats~~ dogs. Shut up, you stupid ~~rats~~ dogs. Yap! Yap yap yap! *sigh* Yappity yap yap yap! Stupid Dogs....drifting...off...to....sleeeeeeep.....ahhhh.....

(door bursts open)

"Oh, my God!" It is Hub. He has a story he must tell me this instant.

Apparently, Friendly Neighbor's elderly dog had run away. He asked Hub if we had seen Elderly Dog. We had not. They chat for a while longer. Friendly Neighbor is having problems with his girlfriend and is ~~drunk off his ass~~ a wee bit tipsy.

As the conversation is winding down, Hub looks toward our house & notices Elderly Dog in our other neighbor's yard. Invisible Neighbors have no fence, so Hub offers to go retrieve Elderly Dog. Friendly Neighbor is irritated at Elderly Dog & tells Hub just to leave him for now. Hub doesn't want Elderly Dog to get run over, so he insists on retrieving Elderly Dog, as it is the right thing to do.

Hub retrieves Elderly Dog & returns to our yard. Friendly Neighbor is also in our yard, waiting for Hub. Hub hands over Elderly Dog & is headed back toward the house when he notices Friendly Neighbor fall over. Hmm. Perhaps he ~~fell over in a drunken stupor~~ tripped. Then Hub notices Friendly Neighbor ~~freaking out~~ showing signs of extreme irritation with Elderly Dog.

He walks over to investigate and discovers that Elderly Dog has bitten Friendly Neighbor. And half his ear is missing. Hub is a little queasy. He asks Friendly Neighbor if he can drive him to the hospital since he is ~~drunk off his ass~~ injured. Friendly Neighbor refuses.

Hub: "No, really, I think you should go to the hospital...."

FN: (laughing) "Nah. I'll be fine. Man, this stings..."

Hub: "That's really going to hurt tomorrow...are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital...?"

FN: (still laughing) "Nah, it's ok. It sure stings tho..."

Hub was distressed by the event.

Apparently Friendly Neighbor survived the night. I saw him leave for work this morning. I think I would've called in sick....& hopefully remembered to hold the phone up to my other ear...

What Business is it of Mine?

2010-07-20T15:47:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about conflict. Working vs SAH moms. Bottle vs Breast debate. Pro life vs Pro choice. Leagalize vs Criminalize. Public school vs Private school vs Homeschool. Religion. Race. Gender. Sexual Orientation.

So many divisive topics - & I have an opinion about each of these.

Our brains are designed to categorize. It is part of how we assimilate information. But at what point does the categorization become judgment?

I like to understand my opinions & why I have them before I go spouting them off in front of others. It sucks when someone questions you on an opinion & your mind is filled with chirping crickets. Embarrassing, really.

Ultimately, I wonder what business is it of anyone's what I choose to do with my life, as long as I'm not hurting anyone else.

Sometimes? Believing in a principle is hard.

For example, I am technically pro-choice, only because I don't believe the government should regulate morality. I believe that morality is beyond the scope (and comprehension) of the government. In my mental imaginings, government would exist as a basic framework so we're not running about all rambunctious and amok.

However, actual abortion? Makes me a little ill. I am anti-abortion.

Really, I'm pro-responsibility. If you don't want to get pregnant? Either protect yourself or don't have sex. If the protection fails? That's the risk you took. Now, suck it up & accept the consequences.

I also understand there are many circumstances that turn this into a shades of gray issue. Rape, incest, certain death of mother or fetus, etc., make the choice far more complicated. I have had friends who have had abortions because they weren't "ready" for children. I disagree with their choices, but those choices were not mine to make.

When it was my turn? I wasn't "ready" either. Not even close. I made my choice. People disagreed with my choice. But it was not their choice to make.

When I got pregnant? It was because I was irresponsible. He was not planned. Nor his father "parent" material. When I got pregnant? I took responsibility for the consequences of my actions. Because the choices I made to get there? Were mine.

Also? I work. Because I have to.

But if it wasn't necessary? I don't know that I would be a SAHM. There are a lot of other factors that influence that decision besides monetary necessity. Am I a bad mother because I work? No. Would I be a better mother if I stayed at home? In some ways, I think yes, & in others, no. Much would depend on the circumstances.

Do I judge other women who work because they work? No. Do I judge SAH mom's because they stay at home? No. If that's what is best for their family, what business is it of mine?

Do I have opinions about choices people make? Yes. Do I think some people continually make stupid choices? Yes. Will I offer my opinion? Yes. Am I sometimes snarky about what people choose to do? Yes. Do I still sometimes judge despite my best efforts not to? Yes.

I do not claim to be perfect. I do not claim to have all the answers. But I also know that no one else has them all, either. My life is my journey. No one else's. I have my own lessons to learn. If you have a different opinion about a choice I've made? Congratulations. Feel free to politely explain your point of view. You might give me some new perspective that I can use to update my own viewpoint.

If you want to tell me what an idiot I am because of my choice? If you want to sanctimoniously condescend to me because you know the choice I clearly should have made? Be prepared to either be ignored, made fun of, or given suggestions as to where you can shove this "knowledge."

Besides, I have found that the people who are most sanctimonious and condescending? More often than not have no idea what they're talking about.

Yep, It's Monday

2010-07-19T21:54:00.000-04:00

Woo. It's Monday. It's an early day for me. Up by 5:30 so I can get all the kids appropriately shuffled. I get home by about 6:45 & get my butt in the kitchen & cook dinner for the fam. I'll get to do the same thing tomorrow...which reminds me, I need to take the chicken out of the freezer to thaw for tomorrow's enchiladas...just a sec...

...

Ok, I fixed the seasoning ratio that I'd written down wrong for tonight's dinner.

...Oh, wait...that's not what I got up for. Dammit.

...

What did I get up for again...? Oh, chicken. Right.

...

Ok. Chicken out of freezer & on the counter for a while to defrost. Hopefully I remember to get it into the crock pot before I go to bed and not just leave it moldering on the counter all night like I did that one time...

This is my life. A bunch of stuff I should be doing. A lot of it that doesn't get done the way I wish it would. And all of it? Happens in a very ADD kind of way. I always think "when I have more time..." or "when I get out of school..." but I don't know if that will really make a difference.

Perhaps I just need to embrace the fact that dutiful organization? Is just not me.

I've had enough now

2010-07-16T19:22:00.000-04:00

So, I got pregnant in 2005. I got ditched by his father (best thing he could've done for his son). But, I was unprepared to have a baby. I was broke. So? I did what responsible people do...I got a 2nd job to save up money. Being pregnant & working 2 jobs? Sucked. But, I can honestly say that Starbucks was the least horrible food-related job I've ever had.

Anyway, because of all this, I had zero time to take care of myself. I got home from Starbucks late every night & I had a corporate job to go to in the morning. I didn't sleep enough, I didn't exercise, and I didn't have time to cook. This equals picking up food in the "food court" near the Starbucks. Which in turn equaled too much weight gain.

I started out at 5'8" & 145 lbs (I'm built curvy, so I looked *good* at this weight). When I delivered? Still 5'8", but 220 lbs. I had a naggy OBGYN who continually chastised me for gaining so much weight. Which just made me feel worse.

(ADD moment - why do doctors always do this? Like I don't know I'm overweight? It's like telling smokers that smoking is bad for them. Um, duh. I don't need a mommy/daddy figure nagging me to lose weight. Shut up. Moving on...)

That was the biggest I had ever been. I was not happy about it, but I was distracted with other things...like parenthood. I lost about 30lbs while I was breastfeeding, but when he weaned himself at 9 months and we started the "cross-country move" process, about 10-15 of those pounds came back. I now sit at 200 even. And I am freaking the hell out.

But why? I know women who solidly outweigh me that think, no, they know they are fucking hot. So. I need an attitude adjustment. And some lifestyle change.

I have tried several times to lose more of the baby weight. The last time I tried? I managed about 2 months of solid exercise & eating better. No weight lost. Zero. Then came the morning I woke up & my knee wouldn't straighten. That lasted 2 weeks & required an orthopedist to fix.

(ADD moment #2/PSA moment #1 - when the doctor asks the nurse to come hold your hand while he injects the numbing agent into your joint? This means the experience will be highly unpleasant. Adding fluid to joints feels yucky.)

After that, I was really depressed. Partly because I'd lost my routine (which is critical for me to do anything) but mostly because I'd put SO much effort into losing weight and saw nothing for it. No weight loss. No improved wardrobe fit. Nada. And as an added bonus, I got a rather unpleasant couple of weeks of no walking plus the fear of doing the whole knee experience again.

Now, I miss my knees working without hurting. I miss the weeks or even months between the spasm attacks my back wages on me. I'm tired of seeing flabby thighs and the belly that was never there before and the back fat. God I hate back fat.

I am making some lifestyle changes. I'm starting with an attitude adjustment. No more looking at myself & telling myself I hate me. No more hating my body. Changing my body requires that I take care of it, not hate it.

I'm also going to make some different choices, with eating & with exercise. I would love to join the Running Between Tweets group, but I've never run before & when I tried to start? I woke up with a knee that wouldn't straighten for two weeks.

So, I'm going to start slow. Just going to add a little activity & some more careful food choices.

But? I'm terrified that I'm going to end up where I have so many times before - injured & still 200lbs.

WTH did you mean by that?!?

2010-07-10T23:35:00.000-04:00

My skin is entirely too thin. I know this. My Hub will tell you this. Other people who know me will look nonchalant as they try to nod inconspicuously so they don't hurt my feelings with their vigorous agreement. I take things personally that were not meant for me. It drives my husband nuts. It drives me nuts.

My whole morning got off to a down start because someone said something that could technically be applied to me...but in all probability had nothing to do with me whatsoever. I don't think I register high enough on this person's radar to even be in mind when the comment was made. But? It still bummed me out. What the comment was about? Was something I enjoy. Something that is good for me and makes me happy.

So why do I care what other people think? Honestly? I don't know. On the whole, I like myself and am proud of the things I enjoy. Why would I let someone else bring me down? Why do I let Hub's simple questions/comments turn into a personal attack?

Hub & I had an entire "agitated discussion" because I asked him to text me after he got Boo dropped off at preschool one morning. We were only a couple days into the whole preschool thing, everyone was still adjusting, & I wanted to make sure that the daddy drop-off procedure went ok.

I may be a little overprotective. Possibly.

Hub commented that he would try to remember, but if he forgot until he was driving? Just to let me know? He's not going to text me while driving.

Um, Duh.

Why would he say that? Was he implying that I expected him to do that? Does he think that I expect him to text me immediately upon remembering under any circumstances? Why would he think I had the expectation that he should do something blatantly unsafe? I was rather offended that he thought this statement even needed to be made.

It's possible I read too much into things at times. Maybe.

I think it comes down to me being insecure. I think because I was raised by a person who did use "simple" questions as a personal attack and who thought nothing of routinely killing my darlings because she thought they were stupid. Or perhaps because she thought I was stupid.

How long does it take to let go of a conditioned mindset? Yeah, I had 19 years of conditioning, but clearly? My mother was not, and likely is not, a happy person. I would not consider her life a "success." So why do I give a damn what she thought?

Because she is my mother.

At some point? I want to let it go. I want to go about my day and not have my feelings hurt by offhand comments that have nothing to do with me. Even if they could be applied to me? Who cares? Am I happy? Am I doing what's right? Can I look my family in the eyes & be proud of who I am & how I treat them? Am I content that they know I love them? Am I content knowing they love me?

Yes?

Then fuck what anyone else thinks.

What I Love About Me

2010-07-09T15:56:00.000-04:00

I have been given a task. I have been trying to figure myself out, what makes me tick. In doing so, it has come to my attention that I focus primarily on negative aspects of myself and of my performance in many parts of my life. I think much of this stems from the years of condescension from my mother...but I’m a grown-up now & need to move past all of this ancient history and negativity so I can get on with being happy with myself.

My task is to write about what I love about myself – with no qualifications (but, except, I think, etc.). Just the good stuff. The idea here is to think about what I like, what I’m good at and other general areas in which I don’t suck.

So, here goes...

I love that I am an intelligent woman who can take care of herself when the need arises. When shit has hit the fan, I know that I can figure my way out of the mess. I can do this on my own. Help has always been greatly appreciated, but when it doesn’t come or isn’t available? I can figure it out myself.

I love that I can make fun of myself & my shortcomings. This lightens the blow of self-criticism. I am able to take something ridiculous, embarrassing, or just plain stupid that I have done (or not done, as the case may be) and share my idiocy with others in a way that makes them - and me - laugh.

I love that I am confident in my love and vision for my kids. My husband and I have very specific principles in which we believe and wish to impart to our children. Sometimes we (often I) have to be the “bad guys” in order to teach them these principles. I am proud that even though I may feel sad about not being able to give them what they want, I still stand up to them and hold firm to our principles.

I love that I am able to apply principles that I teach my children to myself. I hate hypocrisy. I love that I will hold myself to the same standards I hold my children.

I love that I am determined. When I was left pregnant and alone for example? I handled my shit. I got a second job & began preparing for my child.

I love that I don’t just roll over & expect someone else to fix my problems.

I love that I am self-sufficient. I understand that if I were on my own? My lifestyle wouldn’t be the same, but I would survive on my own. I would be able to provide for my son and myself on my own if I had to.

I love that I am introspective. I believe that knowing oneself is critical to truly loving oneself. I also believe my introspection has helped me improve myself, making me a better person, mother, and mate.

I love that I put on weight proportionally. Those 50 pounds of baby weight that seem to have no incentive to move along? Is pretty evenly distributed. Most people would never guess there are 50 extra pounds.

I love that I’m getting the hang of cooking – for real. I’ve cooked things like chicken, pork chops, enchiladas, & steak/onion/mushroom omelets. When school is done & I have real time to dedicate to cooking? It will be on.

I love that I can “get” things in which I negligible experience – from Hub’s Role Playing Games to a job I’ve never done before. I pick up on things quickly...which is good, being that I seem to frequently get jobs in which I have zero clue what I'm doing.

I love that I can read people well. I am very empathic.

I love that I ultimately make the practical decision.

I love that my purpose in life is to help people. I love that I care enough about humanity that I want to help make it better. (I will love this more when I have figured out *how* to make it better...)

I love that I have a vivid imagination.

I love that I have come to appreciate being unique.

I love that I have been able to come up with 600ish words on what I love about myself.

This task was actually pretty tough for me...especially to do this without qualifying anything...I’m usually pretty good at ABC except that XYZ, but I’m still really terrible at 123.

Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to make your own list of what you love about yourself. We all know where we fall short. I know in excruciatingly minute detail where and how I fall short. But how much do you think about what you love?

I wish I would have....

2010-07-08T14:12:00.000-04:00

2.) I wish I would have...describe a time when you didn't take action, but later wished you would have.

When I was 23, I worked for the post office doing data entry. I listened to books on tape all day & typed address parts. For like $15/hour. Should've been a cushy job, right? Well, people "go postal" for a reason. The management? Treats employees terribly. The bureaucracy was ridiculous and stupid. I hated that job.

Every year around August or so they would start hiring new employees to deal with the onslaught of mail that Christmas always brought. One year, they managed to hire a bunch of good-looking people. My best friend & I would scope out the new hires & amuse ourselves with the people watching. Data entry is boring, what can I say.

This was 2001, and I was about to be divorced. I had spent too long feeling like "one of the guys" instead of a wife. So, I took particular delight in the people watching that year. And there was one guy who struck me as being particularly attractive. He had dark wavy hair & stunning blue eyes. The eyes are what got me, so much so that I sent my friend out into the break room one day to see for herself. She agreed.

Every day he came in, I would watch him. He didn't seem to talk to anyone much and always left early, if the option was available. I would sit near him, but not quite next to him, because after all those years of feeling like an unattractive "one of the guys" woman, I had zero self-confidence. So, I would watch, all Lame-o stalker like. I figured out his name & discovered that his sister worked there too. Technically, she could've been his wife, but they looked too much alike, so I went with sister (which was the case).

One day as I was waiting in the hall to clock in from lunch, I realized that I was standing behind him in the mass of people waiting to clock in. He was waiting to start his shift. I had a very clear thought at that moment. Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid you almost can't tell it's a dream? That is how clear & vivid this thought was. I've had very few thoughts like this one. The thought was "if you're going to talk to him, you'd better do it now. You don't have much time." As if someone had whispered that in my ear.

I said nothing. I was too scared of being rejected.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed he wasn't at work anymore. I considered asking his sister about him, but decided against it. I'd never talked to him & never talked to her, so how dumb would I look asking her about her brother? Stalk much?

Then one day, not long after I'd noticed he was gone, there was a note on the board saying that he was dead. He had killed himself the night before.

I wish I had told him I thought he had beautiful eyes.

I'm learning...Kinda

2010-07-07T13:00:00.000-04:00

One of the things that I'm (slowly) learning as a parent is that not all kids are created equal. Because we have recently gotten custody of my 5 year old stepdaughter, we are learning some things about having multiple children.

Now, I am an only child. The rumors you have heard about us? We are all hopelessly spoiled, attention is lavished upon us, and life is generally golden in all ways? Ok, I just threw up a little. Someone forgot to send my mother that memo. However, since I was the only kid in the house, I did not learn any of those neat multi-kid dynamics that are apparently normal sibling behaviors (Seriously, must arguing be constant???).

Also, we are adding a 5-year-old to the mix. Not the same as starting off with one, getting preggo, & adding a new baby. You get a little warm-up time for that. The sibling dynamic develops over time as the baby gets older.

The thing that really burns me though, is that the kids have the nerve to be different from one another. What works with my stepdaughter? Totally useless with my son. I am constantly fumbling the discipline ball. Constantly. A firm voice works with my stepdaughter. She fears getting in trouble, complete with trembling lip. Evil Stepmother, right here.

My son? Not so much. If I full on yell? That might slow him down, but then what do I do when he gets too used to me yelling? My babysitter had 2 volumes, on the phone bitching about her mother and/or sister and yelling. He just learned to block it out. For him? I have to take something away. I also have to explain the whole logic behind it. In detail.

They have completely different personalities and backgrounds. And having two? Is way different than just one. Especially when you have other people complicating things. Grandparents with no rules or boundaries. Mothers who emotionally torment out of selfishness - I mean, really, who tells a 5-year-old girl that her siblings are living with the devil when they are living with their father? What is this going to accomplish?? How do you explain to a 5-year-old that her mommy lies to hurt and manipulate people? That apparently, her daughter's emotional well-being rates below mommy's selfish need to emotionally torment the people who have pissed her off? These are things you just can't tell a kid about her mother - the mother that she loves with that wholehearted 5-year-old love regardless.

But I digress....

Sometimes, I feel like I've got this mommy gig down. And other times? I feel like I've just been smacked with the idiot stick. Kids should come with instructions, with chapters like "Odd Questions I Might Ask," "Challenging Bodily Functions," "Approximate Number of Times I Will Break Your Heart," "Illnesses & How Much They Will Stress You Out," and "How to Discipline Me." Seriously, is parenting really one of those things that we should be fumbling about all clueless and unprepared? Who's idea was that, anyway?

Terrific Tuesday - Take 3

2010-07-06T22:07:00.000-04:00

Here we are again! Another Terrific Tuesday! The time when I review some of the terrific things that have happened lately! With the use of many exclamation points!!! Because this is something to be excited about!! Yeah!

This week, I am Terrifically Tickled that:
1. I have not yet thrown a kicking, screaming tantrum that I can't get my stupid blog button working.

2. I have discovered a delightfully tasty adult beverage (grasshopper) that is refreshingly minty, a really cool green, and makes both the Hub and I sweat like whores in church. Seriously. Like really cheap, dirty whores.

3. My day of crampy reckoning did not ruin my holiday weekend, but instead waited for me to return to work.

4. Despite what my son told me, I don't think he actually pooped in the grass during his preschool field trip to the pool. I don't think.

5. That I discovered at least one of the original Star Wars movies was made before my birth.

6. I discovered I had forgotten my cell phone bill before they shut it off.

7. I have forgotten only 2 loads of laundry in the washer for multiple days.

8. We did get to enjoy one day of well-behaved stepdaughter before she left for the court mandated week of no rules/boundaries/discipline "utopia" with her grandparents.

9. The cat did not become ill from gnawing on the steak leftovers he pulled from the trash.

10. That Arizona is still 2 degrees hotter than Maryland.

My glass is half-full! And, I'm only sweating like a high-class hooker here, so I'd better finish off the rest of that glass.

Why do I blog?

2010-07-02T21:44:00.000-04:00

I got to thinking the the other day...why do I blog? I'm the introspective sort & tend to wonder why I do things. Or, I suppose, I could just be extremely narcissistic and like thinking about myself. Hmm. I'll have to think about that.

I blog for a plethora of reasons. Originally, I started this blog because writing is very therapeutic for me. I find that writing helps me sort my thoughts and emotions so I better understand what I feel and why I feel it.

Also, I wanted an outlet that was somewhat anonymous. While my husband knows about this blog (because I don't believe in keeping secrets from him), many of my frustrations and confused feelings come from family members. I don't want to create family drama while working out my feelings...or maybe venting a little frustration.

Initially, I didn't care if anyone read my blog or not, but I as I got a few readers, and better yet, a few comments, I realized that I enjoyed the interaction and feedback. I have come to enjoy the blog world, not only because of the emotional clarity writing offers me, but because I'm finding other people who know where I'm coming from, who go through some similar things, and who can also offer me new insight and perspective on things that I am going through.

I love my bloggiverse. While it creates more work for me than I really need, I love doing it. Even with one more thing to do, I feel more whole because of it.

However, I have discovered that I have become a bit of a comment whore...but that's not a bad thing, right? I mean, there are a plethora of other deep and meaningful reasons why I do this, so I little bit of comment sluttery is not bad...right?

Also? Don't hate me for starting a sentence with "however." I know it is grammatically incorrect, as are my many prepositionally ended sentences. I'm just not that anal tonight.

You'd be surprised to learn that I...

2010-07-01T15:49:00.000-04:00

4.) People would be surprised to learn that…

I had a very educational experience when I was about 19 or 20. I learned something about myself, as I have learned many things about myself, by doing something really stupid.

When I was first dating the man that would become both a good friend as well as my ex-husband (my life is weird. Trust me. Makes for good stories, tho), he lived in an apartment in a seedy part of town. Because I was 20(ish) and worked until 11:00 at night, I would often be over at his place until 2 or 3 in the morning.

On one of those occasions, we had a spat over something. He was a bit of an insensitive boob & I was a young, emotional female. At the time, he was a smoker and I would have a cigarette if I were drinking or really angry. I was really angry.

So, I stood out in the parking lot, alone, at like 2 am smoking a cigarette while standing next to my car. I had put my purse, etc in the car & was standing next to the driver's seat with the door open...to minimize the smell of yuck getting into my car.

While smoking (slowly - I was an amateur), I noticed a guy walking around the parking lot. Being the paranoid that I am, I pulled my switchblade out of my purse, held it in my right hand, and crossed my right arm across me so my right hand and switchblade were hidden underneath my left arm.

As I was nearing the end of my cigarette, the aforementioned shifty guy wandered up to me & started talking (mumbling, really) to me. I am inherently anti-social so I was rather curt with him. He took out a cigarette & asked for a light. My lighter was in my purse & I didn't want to turn my back on him, so I handed him my cigarette to light his. This seemed to throw him off...which bugged me, so I took another drag or 2, put out the cigarette, and got in my car.

For some reason, as I sat down, I turned my head for a split second to look toward the passenger seat. When I turned back around to pull my door shut, the guy was standing there with a small revolver pointed at my head. I squeaked a little (pathetically) because the gun freaked me out. He told me to "Shhhh!" I responded by pulling out my right hand, popping the switchblade at his throat, and telling him "you get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck away!"

He looked at my knife and ran. I then proceeded to have a mild panic attack, drove to the bottom of the stairs of my then boyfriend's apartment, ran up barefoot (I'd had high-heeled boots on, which I flung off before driving the 200 yards in panic), & pounded on his door. He did not appreciate this, but relented when I told him what had happened...then went down to find the guy. He didn't find him.

I learned something interesting about myself in that moment. I learned that I'm a Goddamn idiot for standing out there by myself at 2 am. I learned that when the shit hits the fan? By instinct, I will fight. The guy wasn't prepared to shoot me (or I would be dead). I was prepared to do whatever I had to to keep him away from me. He made the smart decision. That moment simultaneously scared the absolute shit out of me, but taught me that I can handle myself when I need to. I didn't freeze. I fought. I don't know what he wanted, but it was something for which he thought he needed a gun.

A Letter to Myself

2010-06-30T17:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Mrs B. (formerly Miss W.),

When I talk to myself, it's usually in real-time. So this opportunity to talk to myself in retrospect is an unusual one. I've thought long and hard about what to say to myself. I'm torn about what to say. I believe that a person has to go through what they go through to get where they need to go & be who they are. I wouldn't be who I am now without going through what I did to get here. Despite some of the tough stuff we've gone through, I'm happy where we ended up & I don't want to change that; however, I'll give us some things to think about.

Don't be afraid to say no. Don't be afraid to say you don't like something, that something isn't right, or something makes you angry. It might make someone mad for a time, but you've dealt with that before. Mad doesn't last forever, & you might save yourself some bad experiences that will haunt you the rest of your life.

Don't be afraid to be different. You wouldn't enjoy being a popular girl anyway, so enjoy who you are instead of being ashamed of it. You can't change it anyway, so embrace it. To hell with what other people think. You'll see in time that being unique is more fun than conforming anyway. Besides, you should enjoy things like dyeing your hair blue while you can. Eventually you'll have to "conform," at least outwardly, in order to get a good paying job, so have fun with it now, when it doesn't matter!

Don't worry so much about boys. Worrying about it makes you less attractive anyway. Enjoy yourself and the boys worth having will find their way to you.

Sex is overrated until you're at least into your 20s. No one knows what they're doing when they're 17 anyway, so don't stress about it. Also, there are many guys out there who will say anything to get you to give it up. Anything. Many of them are full of shit. Keep this in mind. Really.

Marriage? It doesn't change your relationship. If you have problems before you get married, nothing changes when you get married but your name & that breaking up becomes a legal hassle instead of just an emotional/logistical hassle. Think long & hard on this one. Be sure you're ready.

Oh, and about college? Any degree is better than no degree. There will come a point when you will need to have a degree. A bachelors in remedial underwater basket weaving is better than no degree at all. Are you getting this?? $11 an hour seems good when you have no bills, but when you have real bills? It's crap. You will not be happy doing data entry for the government forever. It would be easier to finish college before you get married & have kids.

And by the way? Since you have no real bills & have all that "extra" money? SAVE IT. DEBT SUCKS. Just something to think about...

That boy with the beautiful eyes? There will come a day when you will have a feeling that time is running out. Say something to him while you have the chance. I don't think it will change the outcome, but if you don't say something, you'll regret it. You'll know the moment. I know you will, because I remember that moment. I knew that moment at the time it happened. And I do regret it.

You'll make some questionable decisions (I had no idea we could drink that much tequila in one sitting...), but the result will be the conception of your son. Even though you've always hated kids, you will adore your son. He will change your life profoundly for the good. But, when his father leaves you? Be grateful. Be grateful and let him go. He is not the man you thought he was and both of you are better off without him. You will realize a lot of things after he's gone. Try not to feel too bad about yourself. Some of those decisions were "stupid." But without them, you wouldn't have your son. & he is worth it. I promise.

Above all, don't be ashamed of yourself. You've worked hard and are a good person. Don't let anyone shortchange you. You will find love. It will be a lot of hard work, as real love always is, but you will find it. Learn to love yourself first. Don't be afraid of yourself. Whenever shit hits the fan, you always figure it out. You are a strong woman.

Oh, and also? Join a class or something. We need exercise & it's easier to start habits before you have so many responsibilities. Dance or yoga or something. Just do something. We're feeling old & tired on this end...

Another Terrific Tuesday

2010-06-29T22:07:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to stick to the theme I created for myself last week with the "Terrific Tuesday" post. I have not posted in several days & I'm starting to feel blogger guilt. My apologies to my 4 readers for not keeping you better entertained.

So, without further adieu, here is my Terrific Tuesday list for this week...

Today, I am terrifically tickled that:
1. I have been too busy to give in to my hormonal desire to eat everything.

2. I have only been slightly psycho due to the aforementioned hormones.

3. I have only started off 1 day this week by picking a fight with my husband (see above, re: hormones).

4. the bee my stepdaughter sat on tonight was prevented by her dress from actually leaving the stinger in her butt for us to retrieve.

5. so far, the dog has only crapped once in the house today.

6. the dog may or may not have the same reaction to ingesting massive amounts of fiber that humans do (I guess we'll see about that one tomorrow...).

7. my babysitter did agree to watch my stepdaughter on Friday so I can take her to back to the doctor's office to return the toy she stole.

8. the useless doctor's visit this morning made me miss the blissful traffic experience resulting from the overturned garbage truck on 95.

9. I was not the one being searched by 4 highway patrol officers on the side of the highway tonight.

10. I was only trapped in 2 of the 3 bathrooms with no toilet paper in the last week. Bathroom #3 went to my stepdaughter.

So, there it is...glass is half-full for one day...and, if we want to consider it half-full of wine, I'm going to go ahead & just take care of that...

I want you back!

2010-06-24T13:14:00.000-04:00

4.) Write a letter to whatever is stopping you from losing the extra weight you’d like to lose.

Dear Spare Time,

I have to tell you that I really miss you. It seems like we only see each other when I'm hanging out with Exhaustion. I mean, we used to be so close. We'd watch movies together, write poetry together, go to concerts... Remember, we'd exercise together! And especially those dance classes we used to take together.

I take my fair share of the blame for our current situation. I know that once Boo was born, I just didn't have time for you the way I used to. Really, it wasn't personal. I just needed time with my son.

I know that I've been spending a lot of time with School, and I know what you might be thinking, but really, the time School and I spend together, is nothing like the time you & I spent together.

I know that you've seen Hub and Princess around, too. But they're cool, and I think you'd enjoy hanging out with all of us. It does seem as if you don't like Boo & Princess, but they're my kids, so I do wish you'd try. Even if it's just for old time's sake.

Look, having Boo has left me with like 40 extra pounds that were never around when you & I hung out. I miss our time together & I miss how fit I used to feel when you were around.

Please, I miss you, Spare Time. Just try to get used to Boo & Princess. Maybe we could take walks together again. Or maybe take that dance class we used to like so much. I know I've neglected you the past few years, and really, I feel terrible about that. But it would mean so much to me if you'd come back.

With love,
Mrs. B.

A Terrific Tuesday!

2010-06-22T16:01:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to structure my blog a bit. I've discovered that if I have an idea or theme to work around, I am not only more likely to blog, but it is more thought-provoking & therapeutic for me. Which is the whole point of doing this thing. Not for all of 10 you raging fans. ;o)

Today's topic, which may or may not stick for Tuesday depending on how I like it (i.e. depending on how long it takes me to run out of ideas for it). But today will be a simple listing of all the terrific things I am terrifically tickled about today.

I am terrifically tickled that:
1. when my Hub could not sleep last night due to his vicious sunburn, he did finally leave our bedroom at 3:00 am to allow me 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

2. I survived the mild heart attack I had upon his return 20 minutes later to retrieve the dog from our bedroom.

3. when the paper butt protector stuck to my leg in the bathroom this afternoon, it did not drip toilet water and pee down my leg.

4. my stepdaughter, after having a whiny fit this morning, slept through the hour of heinous traffic I had to battle to drop her off at the babysitter's.

5. I then got to leave my babysitter's & come to work as she (my stepdaughter) started whining again.

6. my babysitter was not wearing a low-cut dress sans bra again forcing me to witness her saggy cleavage today.

7. the body odor smell in my general area is not me.

8. I have felt like an insensitive ass on only 1 other person's blog today.

9. Despite the high heat and humidity, I have enough clean pants to last the rest of the week so I do not have to shave my legs.

10. since my Hub does not feel well, he will not notice the prickly legs for a couple days.

See, I can be a glass half-full kinda girl!

10 commandments of childhood

2010-06-21T22:18:00.000-04:00

Part of my reading today included a fun post on Scary Mommy's page about the 10 Commandments of Motherhood. This got me thinking about the 10 Commandments of Childhood. Sort of a guide for babies.

1. Mommies like to take care of us any time. Try crying at 3 am and then at 4:15 am, they will come at any hour! I think they like unpredictable variety.

2. Mommy clothes are specifically designed to absorb any bodily fluid you can manage. This works especially well for spit up - & boys, try for the surprise pee stream if you really want to see what the cloth can handle! Best attempted first thing in the morning when the clothes are fresh & mommy's reflexes are slow.

3. Mommies like to try making new foods. They will get bored if you like the same food for too long. If you have been faithfully eating hot dogs, completely refuse them from this moment forward. It will give mommy a chance to try something new.

4. Pooping is fun to do in new and unusual situations. Try it when you're out with mommy while she's grocery shopping or out at a park. Anyplace were there aren't the usual changing table amenities. You'll be amazed at how your mommy can contort herself to get your diaper changed without letting you touch anything.

5. Naked time is awesome time! Be sure to show everyone you meet how well you've mastered naked time. It will really make an impression on new people. They will be really amazed at how quickly and efficiently you can get your own diaper or pants off.

6. Mommies like to feel needed. Be sure to cry hysterically and cling ferociously to them whenever they drop you off anywhere. You don't want them to think you won't miss them, despite the fact that you're about to have a BLAST the whole time they're gone.

7. Your very own body provides amazing stuff to play with! Watch how things change colors when you slobber on them. And your diaper or pullup is loaded with stuff that you can paint your bed & walls with. It's so much fun! Don't worry, it's washable.

8. Don't worry, the house is totally safe! Feel free to climb up on whatever you want. Pull on things, push stuff, climb stuff. Sometimes they make neat sounds like Crash! and Crack! and Bam!. And sometimes, mommy will get really excited about what you're doing & come running over really fast!

9. If you can pick it up, you can put it in your mouth. Pick up whatever might be laying around and chew on it. There's all kinds of fun stuff, crunchy stuff, squishy stuff, stuff with legs. Explore! It'll probably help your teeth to stop hurting.

10. Daddy won't do it right. Whatever you need, mommy will do it better, so be sure to scream until she comes. If daddy tries to get you dressed, make sure he can't catch any limbs. If he tries to change your diaper, get some poo on him, then scream. Wait for mommy.

Ode to my Hub

2010-06-20T22:14:00.000-04:00

Since today is Father's Day, I want to blog about my husband & his role as the father figure in our household.

If you are familiar with my previous posts, you'll know that my husband and I do not share any biological children at this time. I'm still not sure if we'll try to add another one to our household. We go back & forth about whether or not we want another child...now that we know what's involved in being a parent.

My husband and I have been through a lot together. We met in Arizona (where I am from) while he was going to school finishing his 2nd college degree. I was quite pregnant with my son - about 7 months. I had been recently ditched by my son's father & was *so* not looking for another guy in my life. I was frantically trying to save up money to get prepared for my son's impending arrival. I was scrambling to deal with my situation and was not looking to complicate things further with a relationship.

He saw what I was doing to try to prepare myself to be a mother & took me aside one day to tell me how amazing he thought it was that I was working so hard, all on my own, to be a mother. At that moment, I realized how alone I felt in the whole process, but was really touched that *someone* was impressed by my effort. My family was on the other side of the country, & my 1 close girlfriend had a lot of personal stuff going on & was not able to be there for me the way she would've liked to have been.

After a few conversations, he told me a little about his story. His ex had cheated on him several times (that he knew of). He had been working 2 jobs while going to school full time because she didn't want to work because she was pregnant. I had been working 2 jobs for the majority of my pregnancy, so I had very little sympathy for her. There was no reason she couldn't work, she just didn't want to. She complained that he was never there. One day he came home early without calling first & caught her with his friend. This was the last straw & he sent her back home to her mother and then endured months of emotional warfare. She continued to tell him what a horrible man and father he was for not abandoning school & coming back east to "be a father." He chose to stay and finish his degree. He was more than half way there & if he left, his classes would not transfer (specialty technical school) and he would still be liable for the loans. He struggled with the decision, but felt it would be best for his daughter to finish his education so he could provide a better life for her than being a server for the rest of his life.

Fast forward a year. I agreed to have lunch with him so he could give me some books on parenting. I had made it explicitly clear before I agreed and during our lunch that I was NOT available for dating & was NOT looking for a relationship. We spent the entire day talking. I had to work my 2nd job that night & he came up to visit me on my break. After I was done, we sat in his car and talked for another 3 or 4 hours. After another week or 2 of pretty much constant emailing and conversation, we were dating. So much for my explicit edict that I was not available. :|

He was there for the birth of my son, which was very meaningful for both of us. I expected to be alone and he had been deprived of being there when his daughter was born (his ex was trying to hide from him - he only found out that his daughter had been born because her grandmother called him). When my son was 6 months old, we decided to move in together. When my son was about a year (& some change) old and after several lengthy discussions, we agreed to let my son call him "daddy." He has been the only dad my son has ever known.

We have been through many ups and downs, big fights, a cross-country move, custody battles, and growing as parents and mates. It took over 4 years before I would agree to marry him, but I finally did. We have both worked very hard & grown so much together. I can't even describe how amazing it is to have a partner like him to help me face the challenges, not only of parenthood, but of life as well. I could not ask for a better man to be a daddy to my son.

I love my husband (even during those times when I want to choke him) and am proud to be his wife.

Back in the Budget

2010-06-19T23:29:00.000-04:00

Ok, so my son has started preschool this past week. After a little too much complaining from the evil babysitter (who is sorta family. Yippee.), we decided it would be best for my son to be in a less ~~bitchy~~ negative environment. My stepdaughter still has to go for 2 or 3 days a week until she starts kindergarten, which seems unfair but part of the reason we decided to put my son in preschool is because of the ridiculous disparity in treatment between the two kids. If she chooses to treat my stepdaughter as if her poo bears the delightful fragrance of roses., that is fine. But she will not do so while concurrently treating my son as if he is a piece of the offensively scented excrement. The dichotomous bias is not healthy for either to be exposed to.

All of these big words & then I end a sentence in a preposition. I'm blatantly ignoring the sentences beginning with conjunctions. The spelling/grammar snob in me is developing a twitch. Sigh

So, since my stepdaughter will be gone a lot over the summer (due to the custody arrangement), plus she is treated far better, plus she is starting school in 2 months, she periodically remains with the evil babysitter.

Nonetheless, preschool is expensive. Sending my son to preschool has been wonderful for him, but a little painful for us. We're hoping that the painful budget crunch will only be temporary, but we have to plan for the worst so we don't get ourselves in trouble.

That being said, there are a few things that I am fantasizing about adding or returning to the budget if it does expand.

Bikini waxing. This was originally an experiment for my honeymoon. I'd heard good things & figured if I could "man" out the pain, it would be a nice touch for the drunken antics that would be our honeymoon. I have now been to the other side & shaving just doesn't work for me anymore. Razor burn. Itching. Cactus cooch. These are all bad things. My husband didn't fight me on my request to add this to the budget. Apparently, it made an impression on our honeymoon. I'm not sure if I'm happy about this or not, since the budget currently precludes the waxing.

A Swedish massage. I got one as my wedding treat to myself. It was thirty minutes of relaxing heaven. I did this on my lunch break & my coworkers mocked my relaxation upon my return. It was inexpensive, but is not a necessity now, dammit.

A haircut at a real salon. I will not brave the untried cheapies again. I have had my hair butchered one too many times...& I am very low-maintenance when it comes to hair. I just don't want it to suck & piss me off. That is all.

Meat. My husband and I are very into meat. Meat is expensive. I have a small stockpile in the freezer, but it is depleting quickly. It is grilling season & I can actually grill a steak without turning it into shoe leather. Don't ask about that time I tried to make steak in the oven. We do not speak of this.

Organic milk. Yes, I would like to try to eliminate all those nasty chemicals, hormones, and drugs from my kids' diets. But really, I like the organic because it tastes better. At $6 a gallon though, not always in the budget. Same goes for those $5 organic eggs. I want to eat real food, really I do, but real food is expensive, dammit. I exist on Taco Bell food product.

Furniture. We bought our 1st house in August (in which a druggie apparently shot himself - God love neighbors for sharing that unsolicited bit of history) and we have maybe 2 pieces of real furniture. They do not match, so it doesn't look like it was real furniture on purpose, but they do count as furniture items. Regardless, I have piles of towels, bedding, etc. that desperately need an armoire or cedar chest. I have full-on furniture lust. I'd like to feel (and look) like a home-owning grown up as opposed to an apartment-dwelling kid. We will not bring our craptacular mattress that hates my hips and back into the conversation.

A bathroom faucet fixture. Our upstairs bathroom has a crappy pull-on faucet that is far too sticky for our kids to use. They can usually pull it on, but have a very tough time pushing it off. My husband took a cold shower the other week because my stepdaughter had left the faucet on...at least long enough to drain the hot water heater. Did I mention we have well water? We need a better faucet.

So, for the betterment of my son, we've put some things on the back burner. Hopefully, things will turn around a bit soon. I'm tired of being prickly.

The Popular Girls

2010-06-17T16:08:00.000-04:00

I spent most of my life as a young girl (up through early 20s, actually) profoundly wishing to be a popular girl. I'm not really sure why, either. Perhaps it was because the popular girls were always pretty, or because the boys liked them, or maybe because people paid attention to them & that made them important. The popular girls always had the best clothes, the tallest bangs (this was the 80s), and seemed so with it & together.

I was the completely invisible shy girl who couldn't spend the night on Saturday because I had to go to church all day Sunday. I had homemade clothes and couldn't figure out how to roll my jeans tightly or get my bangs to stand up like that.

When I got to high school, I was still pretty shy, but not as bad as when I was little. I was a good looking girl (I realize that now, anyway), but I had "friends" (read: girls that I hung out with) that were generally accepted as HOT. Even now, in hindsight, I don't really understand why they were HOT & I could not be differentiated from the background. Confidence perhaps. Really, most of them were, well, bitches. They were not nice girls. Very mean and judgmental, even within our clique. A lot of two-faced back-stabbing. The joy I had felt at being accepted was quickly diminished by how catty & nasty these girls really were.

Because I was the "nice" one, guys would always befriend me because they wanted to get with my "friends." When I brought the guy around (never mind that I usually had a mad crush on said guy), they looked down their noses at him & treated me like a bad dog that had brought in something nasty. But, the guys were often persistent (these were teenage guys looking to get laid...they were desperately, sometimes pathetically persistent), & occasionally one of the princesses would cave & he would be accepted.

When I called them (rather meekly) on their behavior, I was cast out. In the senior yearbook, some of them bought "ad" space (where parents post letters, friends post pictures, etc.) & included group pictures from our high school years...with me cut out. A couple of them have since refused my "friend" requests on Facebook. I'm amused at what some of them have become, after looking down their nose at me. I think it's funny that I was always chastised as being "inappropriate" but the girl who couldn't say "fuck" without giggling halfway through (seriously) was knocked up before she was out of high school. There's a lot of irony for me looking back over everything.

I find irony rather amusing.

Over the years, I still occasionally have that pang of wanting to be accepted by the "cool" people. As it has always been, most people like me, but I have very few friends. I get invited to things, but I'm just not into the social, party lifestyle. I don't have anything in common with most of the "popular" people I know and I'm not really into hanging out with people who don't share my values. It's too tiring, honestly.

I think what I have always envied is the perceived confidence the popular girls had. The fact that they never seemed phased by situations that made me embarrassed and uncomfortable. I wanted that confidence. I hate being embarrassed and I hate feeling stupid. Somehow, I got it in my head that these girls didn't feel that way. I've since learned better. That at some point, everyone feels like a dumbass. Everyone cries. Everyone has been humiliated. I just haven't been there to see it.

I like who I am, for the most part. I like that I have 2 or 3 friends that would move heaven and earth for me if I needed it...and I would do the same for them. I like it that way. And after being cast out? I know I don't need them. When life has taken a shit on me, I dig my ass out of the mess by myself. Maybe that's why so many of them have since said "Wow, you're such a strong woman!"

Poo links

2010-06-15T23:48:00.000-04:00

My son, who is 4, has a huge fascination with Poo. Everything to him is somehow related to Poo. He has had major control issues with his Poo (11 days of stockpiling on one occasion...dealing with that one was fun...). Perhaps his Poo fascination is simply because he's a boy. Or perhaps it's something else.

When he was about 10 or 11 months old, we lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in Phoenix. My milk supply was not keeping up with his demand & we had begun supplementing my waning supply with formula. He took to the formula well & pretty much refused to nurse a few weeks after we introduced it.

About this same time, he was getting to be pretty mobile & curious. He would now pull himself up to look at things & get into stuff so I had recently gone through and baby "proofed" the living room, which was where his crib was. His crib had an attached changing table/set of drawers/shelves attached to one side & he was quite interested in the contents of the shelves that are on the backside of the drawers.

One afternoon, I set him down & went into the kitchen to make him a bottle of formula. This was a simple task that should only take a minute or two. Our kitchen overlooked the living room, so he was fully within view. As I was mixing the formula & looked up to see him sitting next to the shelves on his crib playing with some little dark things. My thought is "Crap! I must have missed those when I cleaned off the shelves!"

I asked him "what have you got there?" As soon as I said something, the dog looked terrified and bolted from the room.

My next thought is "WTF is wrong with the dog...?" Then the light bulb slowly flickers on and I realize what my son is merrily playing with.

"Shit!" And I rush over to remove the offending pellets from his grasp.

And what do 10-month-olds do with interesting things they find & pick up? Oh, yes. As I reach my darling little boy, he looks up and grins a big brown grin. He has a gullet full of chihuahua poo.

Yes.

What do you do when your kid has a mouth full of dog shit? Will this make him sick? How do I get it out? He's 10 months old, he doesn't know how Listerine works just yet.

So, here I am freaking out about the poo in his gullet and how to remove the poo from said gullet. I hold him over the sink & try to scoop the poo out with my finger & rinse his mouth out as best as I can. I then call my dad in a panic to ask if I need to take him to the hospital or what.

Admirably, my dad managed to keep his laughter to a minimum (at least until I was off the phone...or else he was very adept with his mute button) and assured me that my boy would likely be just fine, but to keep an eye on him, just in case.

It was all very traumatizing. For me. My son thought the whole thing was really amusing & didn't understand why mommy was getting all stressed out.

Now, I'm just bummed that I didn't get a picture. It would've made the story much more colorful when I tell his future girlfriends. Ah, well.

This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! weekly word meme at Mommy of a Monster Check it out!

To baby or not to baby...

2010-06-12T22:08:00.000-04:00

OMG - it has been over a week since I have posted. Perhaps that is why, despite the good night's sleep, I have still been a little grumpy. Lack of something this week, anyway. hehe

...moving on...

My hub and I have been together nearly 5 years now. He has a daughter (who is 5 1/2 - his ex cheated, again, while she was pregnant & he kicked her out) and I have a son (4 1/2 - his father bailed on us pretty much as soon as I told him I was pregnant). We now have custody of his daughter (her mom is ~~out of her damn tree~~ ~~psychotically self absorbed~~ mentally ill)so we effectively have 2, nearly school-aged children.

Now, we are finally married after 4 1/2 years (not in a hurry - getting divorced is a pain. in. the. ass. so we wanted to be sure we were really sure that we were surely sure). After being with someone for that long & not have any kids biologically between you, people start asking when you're going to have another one.

At work, at least 4 people (out of 40 - that's 10% people) are currently pregnant. Since I've been there - almost 3 years - at least 6 babies have already been born. Suffice it to say, I no longer drink the water there.

Add to that my newfound Twitter & Bloggy ~~addictions~~ interests that have linked me up to many new mommies, and my little nostalgic uterus is going berzerk.

Now, here's the thing, I sleep through the night. As soon as my son can sleep thru the night without peeing, we're a pullup-free zone. No exorbitantly expensive infant day care. We've got one starting school and another starting preschool - we're nearly done paying for child care...sorta. And the vision of having 3 to manage is intimidating at best. I am an only child, so this whole sibling thing with the 2 of them is alien to me. I'm not sure what I'd do with 3.

On the other hand, I'm 32. My biological clock is tick tick TICKing pretty loudly. Plus, I love my husband very much & there is a part of me that wants to have a child with him to tie our family together. Then, everyone would have a common link. Plus, we would each have biological children with a mate that sticks around for the actual rearing process.

Honestly, I think if money were not an object, I would be on board to have another. There would be some logistical problems of where we would put the 3rd child, being that each existing child has a bedroom of their own & it would be tough to have one share a room with a child 5 or 6 years their junior. Additionally, my boring mom-boat sedan will only hold 2 car seats. A third would mean a (shudder) minivan that we don't really have the money for...although, I suppose my outspoken disdain for SUVs & Minivans would karmically require me to be in need of one at some point. Like I said before, I really need to start being vocally judgmental of happy, healthy, rich people with brilliant, well-behaved children....

I dunno, I can't answer all of the "how would we do it" questions so that's why I haven't broached the subject. Plus, what if I regret it after we're already committed? That's a whole can of worms I don't want to open. Soon, I'll be past the window in which I would be OK with having another child. Personally, I don't want to be 40 & having a baby. 35 is about my outside limit.

It's a huge commitment that I can't quite be sure I want to make, but I'm also not sure I want to walk away from that.

Perhaps I'm just nostalgic & glossing over all that crappy stuff that comes along with new babies & raising kids....I suppose if anyone really remembered what it was like (let's not even discuss labor & delivery), probably no one would have more than 1...

All the Me I can Handle

2010-06-04T23:09:00.000-04:00

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror & wonder how you got where you are? Are you like me in the sense that when you do look in the mirror you see many versions of you looking back? I don't mean this in the multiple personality disorder I-hear-voices sense. More like I see the different aspects of my personality that has evolved over the years - how I have been segmented & segregated to accommodate all these nifty roles I get to play.

I think my husband sees the most authentic me. I can swear in front of him. I take a certain degree of pleasure in being able to drop a few F bombs in casual conversation after penning them up all day. I can still be the foul-mouthed, pierced, tattooed metal bitch that I am on the inside in front of him. Add a few drinks to that equation and...well...nevermind.

My kids get the PG version of me. I will never pretend to be something I'm not for them (ok, other than the hastily swabbed & sloppily sterilized vocabulary). They see me as I am, with all my struggles and flaws, because I want them to understand that I am human and that it does take work to be who you want to be and where you want to be. Besides, I want for them to love me for the real me & not some character version of a "perfect" mom.

Most everyone else, they don't see me much. I might let slip that story about when I dyed my hair blue...or the debacle of when I dyed it black...& I get big, wide eyes looking back at me. I chuckle at someone's 4:20 joke & again, get the big, wide eyes-o-disbelief. In a way, it's kind of fun playing the role of tasteful, conservative grown up (my job sort of demands this...I work in a conservative field) & knowing what I know about the real me. But, sometimes, I miss being the real me. I miss being able to dress & dye the way I want to. I have to make the choice between keeping that me on the inside and making money...or letting me out & vastly limiting my options.

But thankfully, I can still see me. Sometimes I still sneak out to the outside...but you have to look closely, or you might miss it...

Confessions of a Kid Hater

2010-06-03T18:14:00.000-04:00

I can honestly say that I never pictured myself as a parent. I mean, not for real. There was always the traditional expectation that I would grow up, get married, have kids, & (naturally) stay at home with them like moms are supposed to do with their kids. Right? (sanctimonious tirade) I always swore up & down that I just wouldn't have kids if I couldn't stay home with them. I mean, what kind of mother would dump off their kids in daycare anyway? (/sanctimonious tirade)

I discovered as I grew into my teen years & early 20s. I didn't really like kids. They're noisy, poorly behaved, & just generally obnoxious. And that kid in the restaurant who's running around & screaming? Why is no one smacking that kid?

Fast forward to 2005. I'm now 27, a few months out of a relationship with a crazy psycho stalker & have now learned a lot about restraining orders. About 3 weeks after a little too much tequila during Cinco de Mayo I discovered that I was expecting. I knew this before the pregnancy test did. The father was pushing me in a direction I wasn't comfortable with, & when I made it clear that I wasn't going down that road, he promptly left the state.

I spent 9 months worrying if I would even be a good parent. I had done the practical things I needed to do to prepare, even going so far as to get a 2nd job so I could afford the baby stuff I needed. However, I never did feel that amazing sense of bonding during pregnancy that I thought was just magically supposed to happen. After my son was born in 2006, I had an amazing sense of "OMG, what the hell do I do with him?"

I have since learned a few things.

First, not all obnoxious kid behavior is a result of stupid, apathetic, or otherwise bad parents. Kids, no matter how wonderful they are normally, at times are just straight up obnoxious little critters.

Second, If you smack a kid, you pretty much have just taught the kid to smack you back when you do something they don't like. My babysitter discovered this after she decided to give my son a "tap tap" for every little behavior she didn't like (as explained to me, this was supposed to be a gentle tap on the hand for extreme misbehavior). She calls me upset that my son had tried to hit her when he was mad at her. She said she gave him a tap tap for it & he did it again. She tells me "he just doesn't learn!" I managed to control my laughter...but wasn't quite able to control the "No, actually, I think he did learn" that came out of my mouth. She didn't get it. Personally, I think it serves her right for smacking his hand over inconsequential things (I didn't know she was doing this until he started hitting her back & she got a little less careful about hiding how often she tap tapped him...he is now starting preschool in a week)

Third, I have learned that whenever I really get rolling on a sanctimonious tirade, I'm so karmically asking to be beset with just those circumstances. I am slowly learning how to keep my damn mouth shut...or at least start talking mad crap about rich, happy, healthy people with extremely intelligent & well-behaved children.

Fourth, most moms who put their kids in daycare don't want to. If they want to actually feed said kid (and maybe even themselves), working is often necessary.

It didn't take long for me to develop a love for my son that I have never experienced before. And frankly, it continues to scare the crap out of me. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I have become a lot more sympathetic to kids who are just genuinely tired (I mean, really, why is your 2 year old at Walmart at 10 pm?) and fussy. Kids don't behave the way I think they should...& for the most part, I'm ok with that...except for the running around in the restaurant part. Your ass is going to sit & wait in the car (with me, dammit) while the civilized people finish their dinner!

...besides, that "civilized" facade is getting difficult to maintain....

Consistency...anyone?

2010-05-30T14:34:00.000-04:00

Before my son was born, I read a lot about being a parent. I knew I had no clue what to expect, so the book that offered to tell me What to Expect was appealing. I also read a number of baby websites in hopes that I would not be a completely clueless parent. Well, that helped about as much as you might expect.

One of the things that most sources stressed is to be consistent with your children. Consistency helps them learn what to do and what not to do. It is an effective tool in the discipline tool box. I have discovered this to be very true in my brief 4 1/2 year tenure as a parent. Consistency helps breed obedience...at least sort of.

I think I'm starting to understand why. Now for a radical left turn...

I am also completing my degree in psychology (as I have previously mentioned). Part of the requirement for this degree is writing a number of research papers. I'm not a half bad writer, so I'm fine with this (how some of the people made it to this point in college with their piss poor writing ability is beyond me...there are people who cannot even write a clear sentence in my class. WTF.) We are supposed to use a certain format (APA for those who might be curious) when we write our papers; however, it seems that the teachers have not gotten the memo that it is a standardized format...which means that it should be the same format from one class to the next. Consistent, right?

Every teacher I've had for the last 3 or 4 classes in a row (there have been more, but not in a row) has a different idea of what this format should be. The last one contradicted herself from one paper to the next (I think she just didn't like me). Now, how am I supposed to write a "correct" paper if the standard keeps changing? The school provides a template, but the teachers don't seem to follow it. Again, WTF. Please, teachers, don't make a rule for me to follow & then change it or disregard it just to make me wrong. If it's a rule, then it's a rule & you should be following just like I do, dammit.

Nonetheless, this experience has taught me 2 things (related to consistency). 1. I understand why it's needed & why my kids behave better if I use it. And 2. Inconsistency pisses me off.

I'm so sick of being in school.

But, I guess I can't say it hasn't been educational, right?

When do I worry?

2010-05-29T20:20:00.000-04:00

Does anyone else ever stress about the kind of person your kid(s) will grow into? My kids sometimes do things that worry me, and I wonder if they are doing normal kid stuff or if these traits are something that will eventually be problematic.

My son's father (dirtbag alcoholic who abandoned us pretty much immediately upon learning I was pregnant) has a number of annoying traits about him, a couple of which I see in my son. One is the need to tease, harass, & otherwise make fun of other people well beyond the point that is funny or even nice. Granted, my son is a 4-year-old boy, so I expect some of that is normal. But at what point should I become concerned?

Conveniently (or perhaps inconveniently) enough, I'm a psych major, just about to (finally) graduate (thank GOD). Based on a lot of the research I've been doing over the last couple of years, plus some good ol' observation of my kids, I've come to the conclusion that (in my opinion) nature wins the nature vs. nurture battle (to heck with Watson & his dozen healthy infants...). I firmly believe that there is a lot that is hardwired into the brain, more so than many people realize (not that I'm an expert, I just don't think many non-psych folk ponder it much...).

I think environment plays a big part in how traits manifest themselves, but the traits are already there. My son exhibits mannerisms, gestures, expressions, etc that come from his father. Being that he does not know or spend any time with his father (again, thank GOD), he cannot possibly have learned any of these from his father.

So, that being said, there are traits in there that are just there. Nothing I can do about wiring. Likewise, there's wiring in there from me, my parents, their parents, etc. So who knows how he's actually put together. All I can do is provide what I hope is a positive environment & hope for the best, I suppose. Nonetheless, my hope is to rear a child who grows into a quality man...& not the mean, dirtbag alcoholic* that (1/2) created him.

I'm probably just worried about nothing, but I don't know what the hell I'm doing with this whole parent thing & I get a little freaked out sometimes...

*We'll save the "why on earth were you seeing a mean, dirtbag alcoholic" issue for another time. Suffice it to say, sometimes you realize a lot of things in hindsight...and sometimes you just do dumb shit. Let's leave it at that for now. :)

Look Mommy!

2010-05-26T14:23:00.000-04:00

So, I took the kids grocery shopping on Monday. This was not one of my better ideas. I only went to procure some of the pork chops & boneless chicken breasts that were allegedly on sale. I say allegedly, because despite arriving at the store less than 24 hours after the ad ran, there was no sign of pork chops or boneless chicken breasts. Well, there was that 1 bloated pack of chicken, but it wasn't the sale kind. That one was full price.

Kids were good for about the first 10 minutes...after that, well, let's just say they didn't get that McDonald's they were trying to pitch me on the way to the store. "I'll think about it" rates up there with "because I said so" in my parenting lingo. Two things I hated hearing as a child....and I am disgusted hearing them come out of my mouth...but, dammit if they aren't helpful with nagging kids that don't accept the unabridged answer the first 3 times you give it to them.

Although the grocery store trip was mostly a bust, I did get one good chuckle out of the debacle. As we are tooling around the grocery store, my son discovers one of his very most favoritest things & feels the need to inform me of his discovery.

"Look mommy! Balls! I like balls! Blue balls are my favorite! I like blue balls!"

>.<

I'm saving this story for later in his life. This one will compliment the Dog Poo Incident nicely....

The Look

2010-05-23T18:37:00.001-04:00

There are a few things that I remember striking fear into my heart as a child. One of them was "wait until your father gets home..." I use a variation of this, but it doesn't seem to have the same effect on my kids as it did on me. Perhaps this is because when my mother said that it meant "you are so getting your ass spanked when your dad gets home..." We don't spank our kids (for less than running into the road or other such dangerous offenses), so I think that might contribute to the lack of quivering fear observed when I drop the "daddy" bomb.

Another was the full name. If I heard my first and middle name, I knew there was trouble. The full legal name? I.am.so.screwed. The full legal name often lead into "wait until your father gets home..." which never ended well. This is one that we have not yet cultivated with our kids. Perhaps we should whip it out & see what happens. Always good to have an extra deterrent in the arsenal.

Then there was The Look. The Look is a wordless, soundless force to be reckoned with. The Look is developed over years of child rearing, being continually refined with every ridiculous transgression the children commit. The Look is the mute warning that legal names are coming soon, then we will be waiting for father to arrive. I'm pleased to say that I'm cultivating my Look well. It's not quite striking fear into the hearts of my children just yet, but it at least slows them down. My husband is even developing his own Look now that he is forced to work from home & do daddy day care. Of course, it's not as good as mine (at least that is what I tell myself. I'm the mommy, it's my job to wield The Look).

Hopefully I can refine the effectiveness of these skills. The electric cattle prod is frowned upon in most states, after all...

Joy of a Working Mommy

2010-05-22T22:00:00.000-04:00

So, I'm totally supposed to be doing homework right now, but discipline be damned...

I'm mother to two kids - my 4-year-old son & my 5-year-old stepdaughter. We just got custody of my stepdaughter & it has been an adjustment. It's expensive to suddenly have a kid. At least when you get pregnant, there's a little prep-time (not that one can ever be adequately prepped for such a thing, but let's pretend).

Have I mentioned my babysitter? She is "family" so there are some serious pros & cons with that. There's a cost savings & a little higher level of accountability, but let's just say that there are strings attached. There is no dropping off children & going to work. There is the 20 minute diatribe on the transgressions of her mother, sister, father, husband, etc. that I seem to be unable to escape. I don't want to be a total bitch about it, she does have my kids, after all. But it seems anything short of just walking out the door mid-sentence will be completely ineffective.

She refuses to watch both children more than 1 day a week. It's just too much for her (yet my husband can work & watch both of them...granted, he's a little crabby, but it can be done). We otherwise have to alternate 1 kid with her & 1 with my husband & then both with my husband on Friday. We had to give her an extra day off to buy the 1 day of both kids so my husband can actually make a weekly appearance in the office (I can't work from home).

There is also a disparity in how she treats the kids. One can do no wrong (how did I never notice the rose-scented poo??) & the other is an unmanageable jerk who refuses to listen. Ever. This is according to her 20 minute after work diatribe detailing how put-upon she has been dealing with the terrible behavior.

Now, I have never experienced the unmanageable jerk-ness she describes. My husband has not experienced this either. Frankly, this behavior is an anomaly anywhere but with the babysitter. Perhaps it is not the child. No one likes to be talked to like they are a stupid piece of crap, have orders barked at them, and screamed at for every (normal, age-appropriate) transgression. Well maybe her husband does...the sex can't be that good...but I digress.

So, yeah, we're putting the "problem" child into preschool. To hell with that pesky savings plan. Really tho, I can't subject a child to that. No amount of saving money is worth that. What kind of parent would I be for letting that continue?

And for the record, I don't care that she hates her mother. She's just like her mother. And I'm about to choke the crap out of her for treating one of my kids the way she does.

There. I feel better now.

I really hope the kids do something funny and/or adorable soon. I've got too much stressy stuff to blog about. Perhaps I should have a conversation with them about that...

edumacashun

2010-05-20T16:23:00.000-04:00

After we moved to Maryland nearly 3 years ago, I got talked into returning to college by a very convincing enrollment counselor. After finishing my AA, I got talked into going for my bachelors by a less convincing continuing education advisor (he just freaked me out about my student loans & I rushed to keep going).

Now, I'm less than 5 months away from being done with my bachelors, up to my eyeballs in student loans, & somehow, I still don't know WTH to do with myself. Most of what I want to do takes a masters...but the kind of masters that requires internships & residencies. The ideal masters program strongly recommends that students not work more than 10 hours per week in addition to their coursework. If I could afford to only work 10 hours a week, I wouldn't be going for my masters, would I? I'd say that would be a pretty sweet deal. 10 hours a week. Pffft.

Am I the only one that finds this stupid? Perhaps.

At first, the research into a masters program was exhilarating. Now I'm just tired & my brain hurts. I haven't answered any questions, but have seriously freaked myself out about the feasibility of going for my masters. I made a choice to pursue more education to create more opportunities for myself...but just not quite enough education, apparently. Now I'm scared that I'm little better off than I was before, but much further in debt.

Ok, so a degree helps to get a job, but if it's not a fulfilling job, what's the point? I can get an unfulfilling job without the $35k in debt. I need more than just a paycheck, I need to feel as if I'm fulfilling my purpose in life. I'm not helping anyone with what I'm doing. It bores me to tears. But now I feel stuck. I can't get the education I need to do what I really want. I can't afford to pay back the loans on the education I just got. I've spent nearly 3 years getting here & feel like I'm no better off than I was to start with. I've missed out on time with my family, sleep, keeping my house in some semblance of order, & so many things I can't even list...& for what? To get a degree that's not enough to get me a job that will afford me the income to pay off the loans I racked up getting the damn degree in the first place.

Who is stupid here? >.<

I'm frustrated, angry, and want to cry. I'm trying futilely to hang on to my pride that I'm already a college graduate. That I'll have an undergraduate degree in a few months. I have more education than I ever thought I would. I thought at some point in this educational process I'd get some idea of what to do with it afterward...how to fulfill my purpose...& I'm still in the same place I was when I started. Hell, I'm in the same place I was when I was 18 & starting community college wondering what the hell I'm going to do with myself. I've been searching for 14 years for the answer & it's just not coming to me. I've read, I've researched, I've conversed, I've learned...still nothing. I suppose one could argue I have 14 years of experience in knowing what I don't want to do.

Dammit.

Now what? I need to pay bills & I don't want to miss any more of the formative years of my children. Read: the years they still like me & want to be seen with me. Perhaps I should wait to "find my purpose" until they're attitudey teenagers that would rather streak through school than be seen with me. After all, by then, they will know everything & will no longer be in need of my archaic guidance. Perhaps that would be an appropriate time for boring old mom to dust off the walker, put the knitting down, & get her learn on.

My brain hurts.

I think I'll move to Australia

2010-05-19T16:12:00.000-04:00

Ever have one of those days where you just wake up pissed off. No good reason, just pissed off. That was my morning. I wasn't even mad when tiny dog #2 woke me up at 5 am nosing me for affection (ok, I actually woke up after she landed on my head as a result of my husband tossing her gently to the side after she first tried nosing him...). But, for some reason, when it was actually time to get up, I was just mad...moreso than the usual "dammit it's already morning" kind of mad.

Then I was irritated by something my husband did yesterday. Wasn't irritated by it yesterday, but today it became irritating. Then the dog begins yap yap yapping in her funny yet annoying smoker's bark. No one else is up yet, you loveable overgrown rat. Shut it. Upon letting the dog in, the cat went out & immediately took up residence under the porch. Fabulous. 20 minutes later, cat emerges having snacked on some mystery weeds & is now covered in cobwebs. Awesome.

This much silly little irritation should not be allowed before 7:30 in the morning. I think I'll move to Australia....

Anyone Else Bored?

2010-05-18T15:30:00.001-04:00

Trying to decide what to think about today.

My husband is in mediation as I type to get custody of his daughter for the next year while her mother "gets her life together." We go back & forth about whether or not the "getting her life together" bit will actually happen (she is bipolar & prone to go off her meds, plus there's that pesky history of compulsive lying, cheating, manipulating, & sucking off the system among other things).

Adding a kid to the mix (especially a 5-year-old) is not particularly easy, but at least with the change in custody agreement, we'll know we're keeping her for a while, which helps with the ol' life planning bit...sometimes I think we're the only ones in our vicinity who does such things. Think before acting? Take care of what *needs* to be done? Evaluate problems logically instead of emotionally vindictively? Why would anyone want to do that? How boring.

I'm also bored with my job. Like I mentioned previously, I'm pretty decent at what I do. I really like my coworkers. I like what the company stands for, but it's not my passion. When I'm bored, I don't focus well. I will never love this enough to really know it & excel at it. I know I want to do something else, I just don't know what. I've been actively trying to figure that out (ok, *really* actively trying) for the past couple of weeks. I'm burned out on school & don't want to do anymore right now, but in order to "help people" & still "feed my family" I'll need a masters. Dammit, I don't want to do more school right now. How about sleeping, or cooking, or cleaning? Maybe even spend some time with my family??? I don't have enough energy to properly focus on anything & that just makes me grumpy...& no one likes that. I may have mentioned that before.

It's funny, but when I decided a couple of weeks ago that I am *definitely* not pursuing my life dream (I've tried to talk myself into doing this as a career because I don't like change), I've had a much harder time taking my work seriously. I'm going to have to do something about that. I'd prefer to choose the time & situation in which I change jobs/career paths. It may be a long while before I'm ready, so I'd prefer not to get my ass fired because I'm bored. Probably not the most practical path.

I also have some issue with my sciatic nerve. As I am prone to do, I Googled what was going on with my back & leg & have now diagnosed myself with Piriformis syndrome. Basically, a hip muscle is spasming & pissing off my sciatic nerve in the process. I know how this happened, but I'm trying to keep my blog PG-13, so we'll not discuss that. Nonetheless, I'd love to prescribe myself a nice potent muscle relaxer, too...

I've been having fun reading other blogs, too. There are some very amusing people out there. Perks up my day a bit.

Sill waiting on that instruction manual

2010-05-17T12:42:00.000-04:00

Ok, this is going to be rudimentary at best until I get this figured out...but here it goes...some background on WTH am I doing?

I have been spending most of my adult life (& truthfully, many of my formative years) trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with myself. I am now in my mid-30s, a wife & mother, & I still have no idea. I'm discovering that the further I get in life, the less defined things become.

As a child, there are specific rules. This is what is ok, that is not. This is what you do, this is what you don't do. Things are pretty well mapped out for you through school, church, activities, etc. Oddly though, as the level of responsibility increases - fending for one's self - eating, roof over head, choosing relationships, rearing children - the specificity of direction seems to dramatically decrease. I realized this most pointedly when my son was born. I had no idea what to do with him, having no experience in any form with a baby. Nurses said I had to feed him, change him, etc, but no one told me *how* to do any of those things, or even offered any help. I'm no dummy & I know I can figure it out, but anyone who has ever tried to "wing it" with changing a diaper on a newborn or breastfeeding will know it's not as straightforward as it might sound...especially when you're exhausted, emotionally wound-up, & perhaps a little afraid.

After some reflection (I do this a lot, but results vary), I realized that most of my life feels this way. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not fulfilled in my career. I never meant to have a "career." I expected to stay at home - do the wife/mother thing. For a number of reasons, that didn't happen. But now that "career" is in the "plan" it would be nice if it were somewhat on purpose, perhaps even a little satisfying. I'm good at most things I do (if I continue to really do badly at something, I'll quit doing it) & I learn quickly. So, I have fallen into several jobs that I do well, but don't enjoy. I've never been one of those people who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. I've never had an answer to that question...& as I got older, became horribly jealous of those who did...and a little annoyed at myself for not being able to figure it out.

So, now that I have children, I honestly don't have the energy to muddle through a job that is mentally, physically, & emotionally draining. That just makes me grumpy & no one in my house benefits when I'm grumpy. Nor do they like it much. Besides, I want to set a different example for my kids.

We are going through a lot of change right now - kids starting school, etc, and I feel a very strong need to figure out WTH I'm supposed to be doing with myself. I believe everyone has a purpose. I know mine is to help people. Beyond that, I'm stumped...for a number of reasons...

WTH am I doing?

Ms. WTH is having A

The Universe and My Body Are in Cahoots

The pain of forgiveness

WTH happened to Ms. WTH??

I will not sink

Dating a pregnant chick

Tell me what you love about your daughters!

I'm still here...more or less

A V-day quickie. Woo!

I was wrong

A tale of 2 chihuahuas...and a cat.

Dichotomous Heart

The Monster Inside Me

So is there a baby or not???

A trip or 5 to the DMV

Forbidden Desire

Feeling Cantankerous

An Open Letter to the Evil Head Cold From Hell

Stowing my emotional baggage

Development of Important Instincts

So My MIL Drugged My Husband and Other Christmas Happenings

An Unwelcome Visitor...and a (swear-laden) Rant

Antlered Up

Random Bits & Boobs...er, Bobs

So, tell me about your pregnancies...

*This* Could Get Me a Baby!

Me vs. The Universe

Gratitude & Crap - Epilogue

Gratitude & Crap, Day 2

Gratitude & Crap

Flipping Stuff Off

Hormones? I hate you.

Confessions of a boring average chick

I'm won't eat my young...

Coming out of my cave

WTH did I do to my hair...?

A difficult situation

Parenting, For Realz

Perhaps I'm a masochist. Or just stupid.

A Requiem for My Dream

Just you wait...

Top 10 Things I love about my job

Tales of an Asshat

Cawfee Tawk

This morning sucked.

Friday Flipoffs

Princess Chaos

A Nefarious (or stupid) Cat

Staff Meeting Sideshow

Where have all my posts gone?

Friday Flipoffs

I am Not Mozart

My Birth Story

The little stuff

Friday Flipoffs, Vol. II

I am woman...Raaarrrrr!

Friday Flipoffs

Metabolism? I hate you.

Love, Hate, Hope, and Fear.

Soul Bits

When Logic & Feelings Collide

Is this your ear?

What Business is it of Mine?

Yep, It's Monday

I've had enough now

WTH did you mean by that?!?

What I Love About Me

I wish I would have....

I'm learning...Kinda

Terrific Tuesday - Take 3

Why do I blog?

You'd be surprised to learn that I...

A Letter to Myself

Another Terrific Tuesday

I want you back!

A Terrific Tuesday!

10 commandments of childhood

Ode to my Hub

Back in the Budget

This Could Get Me a Baby!