Your Post for the Day

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I broke the Jeep

I was attempting to back into the side portion of the driveway yesterday so I could go to the vets office. I heard a grinding sound and thought i had HIT the end of the boat trailer. I got out of the Jeep and the rear bumper of the jeep was hooked OVER the end of the trailer and the bumper was hanging off.

I attempted to pull forward to unhook myself and couldn't. I drove back and forth several times turning the wheel to the left to get it unhooked and it finally broke free. I got out and somehow reattached the bumper back onto the Jeep, although it isn't perfect. There is also a deep 1/2 inch wide gouge running at least 18 inches down the side of the bumper.

I turned around to look at the boat and I had somehow, with the frigging BUMPER of the Jeep, managed to turn the trailer/boat to a 45 degree angle in the driveway. I also had backed the boat into a heavy plastic planter that sits at the top of the driveway. The motor now wiggles a bit, where it had never before. If that part of the boat is damaged the entire boat is hosed, because we can't afford to replace it.

Rich isn't angry, he is worried about the motor though. He was upset that I had panicked and created all of that damage, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't KNOW that the trailer has a built in jack and that you can lower the front end.

I was so upset I almost barfed.

In order to move the trailer/boat back into position we had to do it manually, i.e. by using our backs and our legs. Rich used a very long post as a fulcrum under the end of the trailer to hoist it and move it sideways, and I had to wedge a shovel under the front wheel of the trailer to keep it from sliding back in the gravel. I threw my back out. Rich's back also naturally hurts. Once we got the trailer more or less in position he then attached the trailer hitch of the jeep to it and proceeded to return the boat to its original position in the driveway.

I am so not looking forward to ever backing out of the driveway again this week. Rich said he is going to return the boat to its place right beside the house, and I hope that happens soon.

Christmas Time is Here

-Vince Guaraldi

Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air
Carols everywhere
Olden times and ancient rhymes
Of love and dreams to share

Sleigh bells in the air
Beauty everywhere
Yuletide by the fireside
And joyful memories there

Christmas time is here
We'll be drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year...

Delay Brew

So the power went out the other night. It went out for about an hour solid and then stuttered off and on for about another hour and a half. It sucked, especially with a baby in the house who is NOT used to her entire world being plunged into darkness.

The thing about the stutters? They were JUST long enough to allow me to feel confident enough to re-set clocks, reboot the cable box etc.

I rebooted the cable box 7 times.

So I finally got the clocks set and they stayed. That was awesome, because we're too lazy to leave the kitchen to see what time it is on said cable box in the living room.

Last night I set up the coffee for delay brew. I love delay brew, because it keeps me from having to pour water from a large thing into a small thing upon first waking up in the morning. I've missed the small thing many times. I got up this morning and the pot was full. I rejoiced! YAY for coffee! Then I noticed the light wasn't on on the coffee maker. WTF? I touched the pot and it was cold as ice. OH NOOOOOOOO.

I pushed the button on the front of the machine that says "set delay." Yeah. The timer was still set on default at midnight.

I dumped it out and made more, seeing dollar signs swirling down the drain.

So now the timer is set for the usual 6:30am. And I'm looking into finding a coffee maker with a battery backup...

Nada Mucho

I'm sorry I've deserted you all. There really hasn't been much going on here except the same old, same old.

I have decided to abort my plan to becaome an alcoholic drug addict stripper, though, because aside from the last full moon my kid has been behaving fairly well.
The last full moon was hell, though. Please cross your fingers for us once (or twice!) a month so that I can keep my sanity for 3 days.

This is going to be an interactive blog. I need suggestions for what to buy DH for Christmas. Since I think our main gift is going to be a new gas grill (the grill part has fallen off our current one), would you get extra sets of long underwear, some new tools, a gift card to Home Depot, or a bunch of little ridiculous things like razor blades and socks... (we're not doing stockings this year).

Thanks in advance for participating! I'm sitting here clueless.

Why Keep Your Head?

So you don't look like an ass, that's why.

This morning I got up at 6:44am in the dark to make coffee. I went into the kitchen and discovered I was short a dog. There should be 2 dogs in this house, but the only dog sleeping on the kitchen floor was Emma, who looked rather pleased to be by herself.

Ginny was nowhere.

I ran back to check the bedroom hallway and she wasn't there. I checked the living room, under and behind furniture, and no dog there either. Went back into the kitchen and looked AGAIN under the kitchen table. Nope. By this time my heart was pounding and I was convinced that Rich had too much beer last night and accidentally let Ginny out of the house, and she ran off. I was THISCLOSE to running into the bedroom and yanking the covers off of Rich and calling him a bastard when I noticed that the door to the office was adjar a smidge.

I pushed the door open and said "Psst." into the dark. A giant knucklehead popped up, looking sheepish. I told her to get her ass out of there and she ran past me into the kitchen, over to where Emma was lying.

Emma isn't pleased anymore.

I'm done

Just so you all know. I plan to become an alcoholic drug addict who needs to strip for her drug money.

Too bad I don't have a babysitter.

Not that anyone would want to watch this kid anyway. They'd ask for twice what I was going to pay them and then bolt out the door like The Flash.

Anyway, I just thought you should all know my new plans. Thanks for reading.

Sigh.

Happy Halloween!

Your unbelievably long poem for the day:

(You can skip to the end if you want to read the actual post for the day...)

Halloween (in part)

by Robert Burns

Upon that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean the route is ta'en,
Beneath the moon's pale beams;
There, up the cove, to stray and rove,
Among the rocks and streams
To sport that night.

Among the bonny winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin' clear,
Where Bruce ance ruled the martial ranks,
And shook his Carrick spear,
Some merry, friendly, country-folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, and pou their stocks,
And haud their Halloween
Fu' blithe that night.

The lasses feat, and cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they're fine;
Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, and warm, and kin';
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, and some wi' gabs,
Gar lasses' hearts gang startin'
Whiles fast at night.

So Let's Talk

about yesterday when I took the trash bag out.

I had Livvie in her high chair eating cheerios. I opened the kitchen door to the deck, and my plan was to set the trash can out there until she was done, and then i'd remove the bag and take it to the dumpster.

So I walk the can out, about 3 feet from where I had stood in the house, and CLICK.

Yeah. The locked door had slammed shut behind me. WITH my child in her highchair.

Panic. OMG. What the fuck is going to happen if I can't get in the house and my kid has ro spend the rest of her day in the high chair? What if she gets pissed enough to cause herself to tip over and cracks the floor with her head? What if I NEVER GET IN????

So I dragged a stool over to the window, which is right behind said high chair. I managed to push the window open but there was nothing with which to prop it. So I climbed onto the stool and managed to get one leg in. The window shut on my leg. I pushed it up again and managed to get my chest and neck in. The window shut fairly quickly on my neck. So NOW I'm having fantasies that I will end up decapitated and the police will find my body on the outside of the house and my head rolling around livvie's high chair.

I finally manage to get the damn window up again and get most of my second leg through. The window SLAMS shut on my sneaker. I cannot get that foot out of the window, and I can't even turn around to try.

My kid? STill eating cheerios in her high chair.

So I finally manage to twist my body quite painfully around and use one hand to get the window back open. I extract my foot without clipping Livvie in the back of the head, and I turn around.

Both of our dogs are hiding in the living room. They had jumped the baby gate to get away to safety.

Update on the Hostage

I spent most of the day chucking used, rolled up diapers onto him ( a couple of times I actually beaned him) before I just called it a day and took the bag out of the can and threw it in the dumpster.

He did NOT die.

Apparently they can live without oxygen for quite some time.

I'll bet they're the sole population of Jupiter.

First Thing in The Morning Part 2

Ok, so I get up at 630am in the dark. Every morning I flip on the kitchen light expecting to see that Emma shit in the kitchen. She usually doesn't, only really when we have storms overnight, but that doesn't stop me from obsessing about it.

So this morning I flip on the light and look down (thankfully). There is a giant cockroach on its back wiggling around.

Two things:

We have roaches in NC that fly. Yes we do. They are about 2 inches long and fly around outside and hang out on trees doing God knows what. This was one of them.

AND

I love winter because it kills most of the bugs. I DESPISE the fact that it drives some of the bugs indoors to make my life miserable. I hate bugs. I HATE BUGS.

So I do NOT scream. Rich is very proud of me. I asked him. So after not screaming I looked around for a suitable container for this nasty guest. NOTHING. I open the trash can and spy two things. A piece of junk mail, and a Mission Tortilla zipper bag. I bent over and attempted to slide the roach onto the mail while still on his back. It took 4 tries, and when I finally did it the motherfucker FLIPPED OVER and started walking on the mail. I DID NOT SCREAM.

I shoved the junk mail and roach into the zipper bag as fast as I could and sealed the bag. He was pretty pissed; I could tell. So the whole thing went into the garbage can because one thing I will NOT do is stand outside, open that bag, and attempt to shake him out of there onto the ground. Fuck that.

I currently have a hostage in my trash can, possibly asphixiating from lack of air, possibly not. I don't care. IF he does die I'll pull his worthless corpse out of the can, still in the bag, and nail that bag to the front door as a warning to any other nasty fucks who want to come inside.

And if PETA wants to ride me over this one they can kiss my skinny white ass.

First Thing in The Morning

You know how you have those moments where a ton of different thoughts whizz through your head at the same time?

This morning I went out on the deck to smoke. When I pulled the cigarette out of the pack another one decided to hitch a ride with it and tumbled out onto the deck. My thoughts were as follows:

"Shit! Those are expensive!"

"Fuck! What if it rolls between the slats?"

"Goddamn it! Where the fuck am I going to find a piece of string and a piece of chewing gum at this time of day?"

"And...OH! There it is."

Speaking of cigarettes, I have to say that when you're used to smoking 100s and your husband brings home Shorts because they were on sale it's like smoking Fisher Price My First Cigarettes.

And no, as you can tell, I have not quit.

Magical or Just Odd?

Yesterday I was in the house with Livvie and heard a loud THUD outside. I thought Rich had dropped something. I went out to see what was up and he told me a large deer had just run slam bang into the sliding door of a mini-van and he had even heard the driver scream when it happened. I was heartbroken and freaking, because it happened in the only place where Emma will pee these days. AND it was time to take the dogs out.

So I leashed Emma thinking Oh NO, and as we approached the area the deer stood up in the ditch and started limping toward us. It was insane. He had to have hit that mini-van doing 40 miles per hour, and the mini-van had to be doing 50. He stared at us and just kept walking in our direction so I turned Emma away so she wouldn't attempt to go after him and took her elsewhere to go, which she did thank goodness.

I took her back in and went outside with the phone to call for animal control, and the damn deer was GONE. He was having trouble walking, almost dragging one leg, but that fast he was gone. Please say a prayer or send good thoughts for our tenacious deer. I hope the leg or internal injuries don't kill him.

Bucked the Trend

I have no idea what happened, but the child was basically a delight to be around yesterday. She took 2 good naps, played, sang, danced, and hugged on her momma like crazy.

We're not out of the woods yet, because today is the day after the Full Moon and it's still considered mainly full, so I'll keep an eye on her today.

If this was because of your good wishes, then I thank you.

Moon Update

She was a nightmare yesterday. We had screaming. We had crying. In fact, at one point she stood there, leaned toward my face, and opened her mouth and screamed so loudly that I thought for sure Sam Kinison was back from the grave.

I sure hope today is better. HA!

Da Moon

The moon is about to be full and I'm dreading this. I have been marking Livvie's behavior on the calendar every full moon for the last several months. Let me tell you, the pattern that's emerged is NOT good. She is an absolute NIGHTMARE the day before, the day of, and the day after. The absolute worst is the day of itself. She will not sleep. She will scream all day. She will throw her food or smack the spoon away. And did I mention she will scream all day?

I honest to God wish there were some form of baby Valium that you could give to kids for situations such as this. It would be like dosing a dog with Xanax before a thunderstorm rolls through so you don't end up with torn furniture and a peed on carpet. Unfortunately I think this type of thing would be considered child abuse, and would probably end every one involved in prison.

Too bad. Please cross your fingers that this is the week where she bucks the trend, because I will be a nervous wreck by Saturday if not.

Bzzzzttttt

Last night I came back into the living room after having been in the kitchen for 2 minutes to find my beer glass in my daughter's hands. My now EMPTY beer glass. I removed said glass from her possession and scanned the area for spilled beer. I could find only one damp stuffed animal in the toy box. Not too bad, right?

No, it gets worse.

I attempted to reply to an email the BFF sent me. This is what I received for my typing attempts---

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Ok, WTF?

I then noticed that Caps Lock was also damp. And sticky. How about that, so was the Shift key. I lifted the keyboard and saw beer pooling under the space bar, the A key, and many other buttons on the left side of the keyboard. I attempted to dry it out, and even left it turned upside down all night.

I got up this morning and recived an IM from a friend of mine. I was then REQUIRED to institute an Audio Chat with her because I could not type at her myself. I eventually tried just for shits and giggles and this is what came about:

9999999999999999999999

So at 9:35 afore mentioned daughter and myself head to the (ugh) mall to purchase a new keyboard at the Apple store. I got it home and at first despised the new low profile style. Now I love it.

So thanks for spilling my beer into the old, nasty, gunk filled keyboard Livvie. You actually did me a favor.

So Lonely

So Livvie has been sleeping through the night IN HER CRIB since the 16th. She had become a nightmare to cosleep with, waking up completely 6-7 times a night, getting mad that she couldn't get up, etc. She also had reached a point where she wouldn't let me rock her to sleep anymore, and I could only lie down next to her to get her to sleep. We ended up Ferberizing her. It broke my heart, but it only took 3 days, AND from the first night she slept through. I'm talking 11-12 hours at a stretch now. I am now back in our bed. She no longer cries at all when you put her down for the night. BUT...

I am a wreck. I miss her sooooo much. I get that she's sleeping well now and it's apparently healthier for her compared to what had been going on, but this just feels so unnatural. I lie in bed at night and wonder if she's lonely in her room. I miss holding her, even though it meant being woken up all night.

How the hell do you HANDLE this kind of thing? It's just one more step to independence on her behalf, and she's already ignoring me in favor of walking about 85% of every day anyway. At least I used to have her at night.

Depression Hurts, But I Don't Have To

I've been feeling rather low lately, and the recent behavior of my child isn't helping much. The change of seasons plus generally being stuck in the house have made for a morass of bad feelings. On the plus side, Livvie started sleeping through the night in her crib almost 2 weeks ago now. In fact, last night she slept 12 hours straight through.

What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that I don't have too much to talk about right now. When things start looking up again I'll definitely post more.

And one more thing:

The Phillies won the pennant!!!!!

Day Two

This morning I woke up and put the patch on my right hip where it seems to be staying. It's not peeling, and because it's not moving around it's not itching nearly as badly as it was yesterday. The migratory path of the patch yesterday left me with red welts wherever it wandered, so I'm frankly delighted about this today.

I want a cigarette. BADLY. I grabbed Livvie this morning and threw her into the Jeep again and took her to the playground this time. She ate no sand on this trip, which is not usual, but she did get sand everywhere you can imagine, including her ears. I ate DumDums at the playground, and we left as The Stepford Moms arrived with their monsters in tow, so I would consider it a successful trip.

Speaking of these moms, how the fuck do they manage to dress in actual OUTFITS every day? I'm always out there (unshowered) in jeans and a T shirt and these chicks are wearing cotton capri pants and open toed shoes. AND THEIR TOENAILS ARE PAINTED. How the fuck are they managing pedicures with the whole Mom Thing?

Ok, so you might actually notice a bit of hostility. So the fuck what? I'm quitting smoking for crying out loud.

Day One

I woke up this morning and had BOTH cups of coffee without a cigarette. Shortly after Rich left for work I broke down and had a half a cigarette. Then I threw Livvie in the Jeep and we drove to Target where I purchased The Patch and a giant bag of DumDum lollypops. It is SO much easier to try to quit smoking during Halloween candy season.

When we got back out to the parking lot I opened a patch and put it on my arm. It promptly fell off. I lifted my shirt and put it on my stomach, above my waistband, instead. I hadn't even gotten a mile away from the store when the damn thing started to itch and burn like fire ants. I made it home without tearing myself apart.

Came inside and opened the DumDums, and they're somewhat gross. Instead of normal DumDums they have a chewy center which in some of them has the consistency of gum, and in others Tootsie Rolls. Not happy with DumDum purchase. Patch promptly fell off again. Not happy with patch.

Moved patch a couple of inches and waited. Opened and closed a baby barrette repeatedly to give my hands something to do. Ate FOUR DumDums. Paced the house. Walked in and out of the house. Barraged Rich with email to give myself something to do.

Patch peeled up a little but has not fallen off again.

Ate a 5th DumDum.

And it's only 10:47.

EDIT: Patch just fell off again.

Dear Baby- (part 2)

Tomorrow is your one year birthday and I can't believe it. SO much has changed and I've learned so many things. Mostly about myself.

A) Babies like having things their own way. Burger King was BUILT for babies. If things don't go their way, the entire county will hear them.

B) Too bad.

C) Babies don't necessarily LIKE being held all of the time. In fact, some babies would rather be held only when it's in their agenda. See A.

D) Too bad.

E) I don't like babies. Really. Now that you're even closer to toddlerhood I am SO happy I can't even express it. I was just never one of those people who wanted a "baby."

F) Too bad.

G) I think you're probably the best child I could have gotten. Your issues are actually MY issues, and I actually think you're turning me into a better person. I know I'm learning more patience than I ever have before.

So Happy Birthday kiddo.

I love you.

Co-Sleeping

When I was a little girl I primarily lived at my grandparent's house and had to sleep with my grandmom. I apparently used to roll over so much I would push her out of bed and she'd have to get up and switch sides many times overnight. I'm sure she didn't get much sleep, because I'm going through the same thing now.

I've slept with Livvie since she was born. When she was wee it was a lot easier. We had these things they call sleep positioners which are like little bumpers that you place on either side of the baby to prevent rolling. They also kept her in one spot. As she got larger the bumpers didn't work anymore, and that coincided with her overnight sleep issues developing, so we moved to the futon in the living room. For awhile it worked great. We even got a few nights where she slept for 7 hours straight. Then something happened. I don't know what. All I know is that recently the only way she'll sleep is nestled in one of my arms. This leads to...

My grandmom. Every night now Livvie fusses and kicks me all night trying to get herself some more space. I end up having to stand up over and over to switch her from side to side. I've experimented by standing up and leaving her there by herself to see if she'll sleep better, but eventually she realizes I'm not there and she wakes up. My grandmom is having her revenge. I'm positive of it.

Now one would think that all of this would sour me on co-sleeping, but it's not the case. There's something amazingly beautiful about sleeping with your child and having them reach out to touch you in the night that just can't be beat. Well, maybe not. A full night's sleep could make a good run for it.

Five more days

Five more days until we quit smoking.

I'm somewhat excited, but also somewhat sad. I love smoking. It's a nice little friend who is always there right when you need them. Bad day? Smoke. Something awful happens? Smoke. Not hungry? Smoke instead.

Smoking is lovely.

It's also disgusting, dirty, vile, and nauseating. IT KILLS PEOPLE.

I can't wait to smell and taste food again. I can't wait to get rid of my morning Gandalf voice and stop coughing all night long. I can't wait to NOT have to shell out $3.69 a pack for something that is as retarded as burning little pieces of paper and some weeds.

So wish us luck. We're gonna need it.

Baby Sea Turtle

Being Broke Sucks

And KNOWING, just KNOWING that something is gonna happen while you're in dire financial straits sucks too.

Yesterday a pipe burst under the house, spraying water up into the underside of the house. The plumber came today, and upwards of $200 later our pipe is fixed.

However, I had to use a charge card we had completely paid off. This sucks worst of all.

How the hell are you supposed to stay ahead? WE don't have enough cash to buy sufficient groceries, let alone have any in case of emergency.

Thank the gods we aren't planning a birthday party for Livvie for next week. I don't know where we'd come up with the funds.

Blessings

On October 31st my BFF and I will be doing Livvie's blessing ceremony. This is sometimes called a "Wiccaning" if one is a Wiccan. I'm more of a Pagan/Kitchen Witch so while we'll be doing the blessing there will be some Wiccan aspects we'll leave out.

I am excited about this, because she's now old enough where she can disrupt everything and lend some much needed humor to the proceedings.

Here's the other part I'm excited about:

"There are many paths, and each must find his/her own. Therefore I do not seek to bind (baby) to any one path while he/she is still too young to choose. I ask the Lord and Lady, who know all paths, and to whom all paths lead, to bless, protect, and prepare him/her through the years of childhood so that when at last he/she is truly grown, he/she shall know without doubt or fear which path is his/hers."

Righto. The blessing we are asking for is being done FOR her, not TO her. I will say those words above and mean every last one of them. She will have choice. She will have options. If she decides down the road to become a Christian I'll gladly send her off to do that.

So on Halloween my daughter (dressed as a baby sea turtle) and I will be standing outside with her Godmother and asking for goodness and light. Not a bad start to the New Year.

Lithium

I love Lithium.

That's all.

:)

Cats

Can ruin a house faster than any dog. Pee cats (cats who pee outside the box) can do thousands of dollars worth of damage. I love my cats, but yesterday after cleaning out the room that we're going to use for Livvie, I could cheerfully have killed all of them, or even sold them for medical research.

All it takes is for one cat to get the stupid notion in his head to pee outside the box. This is why, for your own sanity, you should never place a litter box on carpet. After the first cat pees it's fair game for the rest of them. And here's the kicker, cat pee can be smelled but not usually seen, and those enzyme cleaners rarely work.

Yesterday I also discovered that anything box like had been fair game for pee as well. The cats went into the closet (!) and peed on boxes that were stored in there and destroyed 2 full boxes of books, a box of clothing, and two quilts that were folded up and stored in there.

We ripped up the carpet and found multiple areas where the pee had gone through the padding and saturated the hardwoods underneath.

Now we have to paint the floor with a sealant to lock in the bacteria and odor, paint the floor white instead of having hardwoods in Livvie's room, and repaint all of the walls (which we were going to do anyway).

And after all of this I will never ever have carpet again. Ever.

Walking

Cheerful

Good things that happened this week-

We got a new vehicle. Rich found a 2005 Ford Escape that we purchased for a somewhat decent car payment each month with no money down. This is helpful because now I can drive our Jeep instead of the Nissan Death Trap.

Rich lost his debit card and put a hold on it, but it was found at the car dealership and they held it for us. I picked it up yesterday.

Livvie has taken decent naps every day but Tuesday, the day of the full moon when she behaved so awfully I thought I might have to sell her for parts.

Livvie also walked on her own again several times last night. This is after going several weeks now without walking because she apparently decided crawling was much faster.

I received lovely gifts via mail from some wonderful people who know me very well and chose incredibly perfect items for The Bean.

So, in all actuality it's been a pretty good week for us. Things aren't that bad outside of my brain chemistry, and I just wanted to let everyone know that.

Short update

Went to the headologist today, and we've added lithium to my cocktail after all.

Apparently what I've been experiencing is called "breakthrough mania." Lithium is the best anti-manic out there, so I'm on a very low dose now, as well as on my other drugs, to see if it helps. I can tell you that I was making my way through the stages today, and thinking things have gotta change. They just have to.

Let's ALL cross our fingers that this helps.

My brain

My brain is not happy with my current dosage of Abilify, the drug I take to keep from becoming a raving lunatic.

This is the med where I'm at my max dosage.

Owen Wilson allegedly tried to kill himself this week, and my friends and myself strongly suspect bipolar disorder. I would prefer that he become the poster child for the disease rather than Britney Spears, of whom I also suspect bipolar.

I'm going to explain what goes on in my brain at these times so that I might provide some understanding.

There's a stretching feeling. It feels like your brain is a rubber band that has reached its limit. It also feels like your brain is suddenly on the outside of your skull with your skull inside it. I believe that anyone who claims the brain has no nerve endings is a liar, because every bipolar person can feel their brain. When rubber band brain relaxes, it sends you into a deep well of despair that can very easily lead to suicide if you aren't medicated. Then rubber band brain stretches again, and one of several things happens.

It stretches just far enough to allow you to feel joy and happiness over everything. The world is your oyster. You can do anything, and often try to do EVERYTHING. Even things that might not sound like a good idea to other people. Spending money you don't have, boinking random strangers, etc.

It stretches to the skull itself. At this point you start doing everything at triple the speed of usual. You write more, paint more, compose more, talk faster, clean faster, drink more, smoke more, and possibly even run around in circles to expend some of the energy. This is the point that almost every bipolar person LOVES. The possibilities that erupt out of your own skull are invigorating, and you don't want it to end. However, if you're not under treatment/under the wrong type of treatment it leads to...

Stretching past the skull. The point where it feels like your skull is inside your brain banging around. This is when the irritability and rage begins. Hair trigger tempers. Sarcasm. Rage that every living creature runs from because they can sense the danger to come. This is when people kick their dogs, beat their children, and often take high powered weapons into heavily populated areas and start firing. This is NOT a good place to be obviously.

And here's the kicker. For people like myself, ALL OF THESE STAGES CAN HAPPEN IN ONE DAY.

And right now they are. Which means my meds are no longer cutting it. And in order to keep myself and my family safe, I need to find another option.

This, frankly, sucks ass.

Well great

There's a lot of drama going down at a Mommy Board I belong to. I don't understand why, other than when that much estrogen gets slinging around it's usually inevitable.

This is why I hate working with women as a general rule. Not always, but with most of the jobs I've had where the staff was predominantly female the shit hit the fan on a regular basis. I'm a person who keeps to herself and doesn't enjoy gossiping at work, so usually my only indication that anything was up would be when I was called into the "office" and asked about what was going on. I usually had to reply that I was unaware of anything, but once the floodgate opened suddenly ALL I was aware of was the crap going on.

And often that gossip involved me. Or the backstabbing. Or the general pissiness.

I remember at my very last job being called into the office all of the time and informed that I was not being friendly enough to my co-workers and that people were complaining. I was there to work, not to make friends, and the idea that someone would complain about me for not being cuddly enough was just amazing to me.

Now, granted, I wasn't on my meds at the time, but I can GUAR-AN-TEE you that if I were to be working there now I would have the same mindset. There to work, not to cuddle.

And to be blindsided by drama when you have no idea what's going on? It's just dreadful.

So I think that I might have to start really living my life instead of hanging out on the internet a lot. I love my internet friends very much, especially the ones that are "off board" if you will. However, I think I really need a break. Which is a shame, because I really thought that the purpose of these forums was community and support.

I need to edit this to include that there is one board I belong to that is completely drama-free. It's a board for care givers of diabetic cats. It's an amazing group of caring women and I would be lost without them, even though my diabetic is no longer on this earth. They still welcome me. They're wonderful. And again, lost without them.

OCD and Clumsy

There are 2 parts of my personality which provide endless amusement to those who know me.

The first is an OCD quality in which before having a child I couldn't handle food on myself. I also couldn't stand things scattered around on the floor. My best friend used to throw paper on the floor when I was mid-rant because she knew it would shut me up long enough to pick up the paper and throw it in the trash. At this point, I would forget what I was ranting about in the first place. Having a child has removed some of these quirks, but I discovered one more this morning. I had to take the pile of bills to the mailbox. Before walking them out there I stacked them in order from largest to smallest. Now, I used to do that when folding laundry without even looking at it, but it really hadn't crossed my mind in awhile. Until I noticed myself doing it today.

My second quality is complete and utter clumsiness. I have ZERO grace. I can walk, usually, and I can almost always manage to sit down without falling down, but other than that, you'd better watch out. I'm like Godzilla swishing his tail through Tokyo. I have fallen off sofas, fallen out of my car into a mud puddle while attempting to extract my X-Box from said car, and walked smack into door jambs. Last night I ended up tripping over a broken glass that I KNEW was outside. I had placed it there. I had been waiting to throw it out into the trash bag when the bag was closer to full so that it wouldn't slice through the bottom of the bag. I was stupid. I ended up trying to sever 3 toes from my foot, and bled everywhere. So I staggered up the steps to the kitchen door and pushed the door open and hollered to Darling Husband "I need a paper towel RIGHT NOW." His response?

"Why?"

My response?

"Just get me the fucking towel!!!!"

He brought me 5.

Today I have a sore foot and a perfectly stacked pile of bills. Good day or bad day? You tell me.

My truck

That's Haldir. yes, I named my truck after a dead Elf.

Haldir died yesterday. Haldir has been the best and most favorite vehicle of my adult life. He's fun to drive, and I can actually use the bed to haul things. That's been great fun. I once hauled 3 large tanks of rats from one end of town to the other when I was moving in here with Rich.

Yesterday while I was driving Livvie around on errands I started to lose control of the wheel. By that I mean that the entire truck attempted to get into the right lane repeatedly, when the safest thing to do was to stay in the left. I attempted to communicate this to Haldir by yanking back on the wheel and throwing all my weight into staying to the left.

When we reached the grocery store I smelled burning. I popped the hood and couldn't locate the source of the burning. While I was there I also checked the power steering and coolant levels and both are fine.

So there it is. My truck is no longer safe to drive, and I have no other vehicle.

Guess we'll stay inside and watch TV every day.

Back to the doc

Today I have to go back and pick up some more drugs so I can up my dosages even more. Yeah, she finally called me last night to find out why I was wigging. I let her know that I'm currently swinging as fast as Britney and that it doesn't seem like a great place to be.

The cool thing is that until we know these meds will work long term she'll keep giving me samples so that I don't have to pay for something that doesn't work.

The not so cool thing is that I really don't see this particular combo of drugs working. I really don't. Which leads to:

Lithium

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

From Wikipedia:

Lithium salts such as lithium carbonate, lithium citrate, and lithium orotate are mood stabilizers. They are used in the treatment of bipolar disorder, since unlike most other mood altering drugs, they counteract both mania and depression. Lithium can also be used to augment other antidepressant drugs. It is also sometimes prescribed as a preventive treatment for migraine disease and cluster headaches.
The active principle in these salts is the lithium ion Li+, which interacts with the normal function of sodium ions to produce numerous changes in the neurotransmitter activity of the brain. Therapeutically useful amounts of lithium are only slightly lower than toxic amounts, so the blood levels of lithium must be carefully monitored during treatment.
Common side effects include muscle tremors, twitching, ataxia, nephrogenic diabetes insipidus (polyuria and polydipsia) and seizures. Most of the side-effects are a result caused by the increased elimination of potassium.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And yes, this is the same chemical that is used in batteries and also nuclear weapons.

So please keep your fingers crossed that this dosage on my current meds works. I'm now at the max prescribed dosage of both.

Shoulda knocked wood

Yep.

Today sucks. I have a call in to the doc to talk about possibly changing my meds.

On the plus side my kid took her naps WHEN she was supposed to. She's sleeping now, in fact, or I wouldn't be typing this as she could have given Ripley a run for her money this morning.

I'll post more after I talk to the doc. Right now I'm just too pissed.

ETA-- Still pissed. No call back.

And away we go...

I saw the doc on Thursday and we bumped up the dosage on both of my ridiculously spendy drugs. It worked practically instantly. I am in the low level of mania now where everything seems just peachy and nothing is really bothering me. I actually like my kid for a change instead of feeling like I was given the biggest demon seed ever.

This is the dangerous part of the disease. When you feel like this it's very easy to decide not to take your meds because you feel so good. Also, once the meds REALLY kick in you won't feel nearly this amazing. You'll feel normal.

And who wants to be normal, right?

It's a hard thing to keep on keeping on even though you know the dire consequences if you don't.

But I'll be good and keep taking my meds and wait for these super duper happy dappy feelings to go away. It'll be a shame when it happens, but worse is what I was. And I was reaching the point of intolerable.

Thanks for your support, everyone. It's received with much love.

Well feh.

My kid slept well most of the night last night.

I, however, woke up with her at 2 something and then couldn't get back to sleep until sometime after 4am.

Sigh.

The Chicky Nacho

Starts with chips. Lovely homemade chips with just the right amount of salt on them. Then they put shredded chicken and a VERY small amount of tomatoes on. The chicken is marinated in God's own sauce. They're topped with a white creamy cheese sauce and then jalapenos if you ask. I always ask.

To eat them you need 8 hands because they always fall all over the place when you try to get one to your mouth. I have very rarely ended up with chicky nacho on myself though, so I consider myself an expert.

I used to be able to eat an entire order of them by myself. Not so much anymore now that I have a kid. Today I had to spend most of my lunch time cutting up a chicken nugget and fries for my kid, who LOVED her lunch. Who the hell knew that a Mexican place would serve chicken nuggets?

I hate myself

I hate being Bipolar. I hate not knowing what's going on in my brain. I hate that meds seem to work for a short time only and not knowing if I need to bump up the dosage or switch meds altogether. I hate that when I get this way the slightest thing like my dog not peeing or my kid taking longer than 15 min to fall asleep will put me in an honest to God, seeing red level of rage.

I hate needing meds at all, and I especially hate needing meds that have no generic equivalent and cost about a gazillion dollars. I hate not having the gazillion dollars to pay out.

I hate that I have to go to the doctor today and I absolutely am furious that the only appointment I could get is a 15 min one. FIFTEEN MINUTES to deal with all of this shit. What the fuck ever.

I hate being a member of this "special little club" although we certainly do have some prestigious members.

Baudelaire

Beethoven

Churchill

Kurt Cobain

Richard Dreyfuss

Patty Duke

Emerson

Carrie Fisher

The Fitzgeralds

Hendrix

The list can go on, but I honestly don't feel like going all the way to Z.

And I am HATING the fact that my child will probably end up this way too. But hell, maybe she'll end up an Emerson rather than a Julie.

WooHOOO

I had actual adult company this morning. My friend was down from Manhattan for teachers' meetings at Sweet Little College and she stopped by. This is awesome, because I haven't seen her since Rich and I got married. The other awesome part was that I had genuine adult conversation when the kid wasn't butting in (And she butted in a lot).

So I realize that I do need to spend more time with other adults. Rich is an adult, but he lives here and so doesn't count in this case. I do realize now though that spending 90% of your time either with an infant or desperately seeking someone on the internet to talk to doesn't make for a healthy frame of mind. Neither does sitting and watching the Wiggles for 6 hours a day, interrupted only by naps. And those naps could run anywhere from 30 min-2 hours depending on how agreeable the kid is being. Which means I occasionally only get a half hour break from The Wiggles. Which is unacceptable by anyone's standards.

So I'm going to attempt to get out of the house more and associate with other people. Even if I have to take Livvie with me, at least I'll be interacting with others. Right?

I'll start with my shrink appointment tomorrow.

Maybe I'll even swing by Borders sometime this week and visit Ted. Livvie is wigged by his beard though, so I'll have to ask him to put a bag over his head like the unknown comic.

Yeah, that'll work.

Well

My kid walked today.

She's been taking a few steps here and there for the past week or so, and that's been freaky enough. This morning, however, while I was on the phone she pushed herself up off the floor and took 14 steps to walk from one side of the living room to the other.

The last 3 steps were more like running, because she was getting ready to topple over, but hey. It was walking.

My life is about to become a LOT more interesting.

Night of the Lepus

With thanks to Joss Whedon-

Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes
They got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses
And what's with all the carrots?
What do they need such good eyesight for anyway?
Bunnies, bunnies
It must be bunnies



I figured out what the bunnies were doing in my yard. They were plotting the best way to consume EVERY ONE of our ornamental grass plants.

You know, we have an entire yard full of grass. WHY these little buttmunches need to eat our $1.75 per plant ornamentals is beyond me. However, apparently their plans consist of moving counter clockwise around the circle of the garden. They could be trying to raise a demon for all I know.

I'll totally be not surprised if I walk out there and find an upside down pentacle in the center, traced around the lilac tree.

Add the bunnies to the list of fauna that I need to shoot with the Taser. It'll be for the greater good. Who wants a giant Hell-Bunny running amok?

Men (Part 2)

For heaven's sake.

Yesterday I heard banging outside while Livvie was napping. The dogs thought someone was at the door and started their quiet "wuff" barking. Thank goodness they didn't wake her up. I went outside and Rich was out there. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was kicking plywood because there was a snake in the shed. He then went on to tell me that this snake was at least 5 ft long and was "not a blacksnake" so was probably poisonous. Possibly could even be a copperhead or a cotton mouth. I told him I was going to go look. I was informed I was not.

"That snake is 5 ft long, which means it can strike 5 ft. You're not going down there."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Rich. He's not gonna bite me."

Back and forth for about 5 minutes. I was informed that if I was bitten I could lose part of my leg.

So we stood on the deck and peered into the shed while drinking beer. Eventually I saw our little friend come slithering out of the room in the shed that was under construction. He had been nowhere near the plywood that Rich had been kicking.

"There he is, honey. Oh he's beautiful!"

"Where? I don't have my glasses on."

I retrieved Rich's glasses and he put them on.

"Honey, that snake is nowhere near 5 ft long. He's 3 at the most."

"Well it's still a really big snake."

I went online and googled our snake. He's a harmless milksnake.

Rich didn't believe me.

We continued drinking beer and watched him slither into a corner.

I then informed Rich that since I was the one wearing jeans I was going to go down and take a look at him.

"There is no way I'm letting you go down there first."

"Honey, let me???!!! I'm not afraid of him"

"I'm not either, I just don't have time to go to the hospital and possibly lose a day at work."

Nice to see you care.

So I got my shoes on and ran down to the shed to find Rich already down there poking around at things. Our snake was gone. I'm a bit sad. I would have loved to see him up close. Like in the process of picking him up and throwing him at my husband.

Men

After a conversation with BFF Xris via email last night while we watched Shark Week together, it has come to my attention that there aren't enough men in the world.

Oh, there are plenty of boys, and there's a ton of girls running around masquerading as men, but there aren't enough True Men. You know, the kind that can cut lumber without worrying about the saw, replace the spark plugs in a car without wondering where they go, and dig a hole fully expecting to get dirty. As far as that goes, there aren't enough men who know how to properly use a shovel in the first place.

I happened to marry one. Yep. I did. He can do anything that he decides to do, and his competence is a total turn on. The other day he framed and built a wall, cut a hole in the shed and turned it into a window complete with frame, and also actually put studs in the afore mentioned wall because the lumber he bought was a small bit warped. The man knows where and how to place studs. He also managed to find a nest of cockroaches in the shed, and even though he was completely skeeved by it he managed to kill them and remove the nest.

He wasn't self conscious about the fact that he was shirtless, he was covered in sweat and sawdust, and he was totally sexy.

Where are the rest of the men like that?

This conversation with Xris came up because we were watching Mike Rowe of the Dirty Jobs show on the Discovery Channel. Mike is a pip. He's hot, he's hilarious, and he shills for Ford which automatically kicks him up a notch. He can also do anything on the Dirty Jobs show that is required of him, and as the title of the show clearly states, he's not afraid to get dirty doing it. Last night he was testing shark bite suits and chopping chum. Stinky, old, decaying fish. Without gloves.

So Mike and my husband rock. If there are anymore of you out there, pipe in. And if any gals reading this know of some, pipe in too. I have an overwhelming need to know that these men exist. Because otherwise my daughter will end up with a pansy when she settles down.

To the cashier at Babies R Us

You know what? I've been there. I worked in retail for 17 years, and I get that the job sucks. I also understand that first thing in the morning sucks. Know what else? I don't care.

I'm sorry I interrupted your conversation with the other cashiers this morning so that I could check out. I'm sorry you felt as if I was beneath your hospitality. I'm sorry you felt as if you had to be surly to a woman who had been dealing with a whining, misbehaving infant for the past 30 min while she searched high and low in the store for what she needed.

I think it's time you found another job. Really. One of the most important aspects of being a retail worker is your ability to put on a happy face and act better than Meryl Streep. Making your customers feel as if they'd just trodden in dog shit is not in your best interests. Because I got your name. Yep. Read your name tag. And the store's phone number is on the receipt...

Tipsy Insects

It's time for more Adventures in My Back Yard.

Yesterday I went on the deck to smoke and was witness to a race war in my driveway. There was a catbird on the gravel surrounded by three Brown Thrashers. Thrashers are larger, brown versions of catbirds. Same family. Regardless, the catbird was surrounded and displaying much like a teeny ostrich. He splayed his wings out, puffed his tail, and rocked back and forth to make himself equally as large as said ostrich. The thrashers were unimpressed, and continued advancing on him. I was a split second from screaming, "Are you a bird or what??" when the catbird apparently remembered this was so and took off straight up into the air to escape. The thrashers then went about their business, which was rolling in the sand in my garden.

The next thing also happened on a cigarette trip. I was on the deck and a swallowtail butterfly landed on my recycling bin. It then hopped down and perched on a beer can and began drinking the beer from the rim of the can (no, we don't rinse first, yes we suck). He hopped from can to can draining each rim, and then he promptly flew smack into the side of the deck.

The third thing actually happened overnight. I have caladium planted in the garden. Gorgeous, full, red caladium that were a stunning set piece in the garden. Caladium that currently have no leaves because some JACKASS DEER decided to use my garden as a buffet last night. He or she also tried gnawing on my lilac tree, but it apparently didn't taste as good because there's not much missing. Either that or the JACKASS DEER filled up on the caladium first and then used the lilac as dessert. Either way, this was the first time in my life I've considered sitting on the deck with a rifle to shoot Bambi between the eyes. I think I'll turn the sprinkler on overnights from now on and douse the JACKASS DEER when he or she tries to snack.

A new home?

Rich has found a home on four acres in the lake area for $128k. Yes. $128k. It IS a 12 year old doublewide, but we aren't proud. Given that a lot of doublewides put our current home to shame with all of their amenities, I think if this one proves to be a gem we can happily stick "Trailer Trash" hats on our heads and call it a day.

The reason the price is so low? Duke Power has a tower on the land that the home sits on. It's putting people off. I don't think we care. It depends. We'll do a bit more research first, but we're going to drive out today just to see if this is actually a pipe dream or a dream realized.

FOUR ACRES. No traffic. Fenced in half acre of yard for the dogs to run around. HUGE outbuilding. Carport. FOUR ACRES. You can't BUY four acres of land for $128k these days. But we might be about to.

Please please please let this all work out. Let us get a loan. Let us sell this house quickly. Please let this be The Thing to do.

UPDATE---

Yeah, so this is SO not The Thing to do. We drove through EBF Wake County, which is not terrible, but then we turned on a gravel lane that was exactly wide enough for ONE vehicle at a time. Also not terrible, although my truck would never make it with the suspension problems I have. We drove and drove, sometimes close enough to people's home that we could see inside their windows. We got to the very end of the lane and there stood The Tower. Close enough to the front door of the house to be hit with a rock. It was FUGLY, and I'm assuming that having electrical pulses being sent out that close to one's home isn't a great idea. Also, the neighbors were about 100 ft from the front door of the house. Um, FOUR ACRES and you put the house right there? That was a wee bit retarded. So after being accosted by an insane country dog who tried to eat the tires on our Jeep we beat a retreat. Both of us are disappointed, but we'll keep looking.

Koko

When I was 19 years old I got myself a kitten. She was 7 weeks old, and I got her at a yard sale. She was free to good home. I drove home with her crying in the back seat, and the very first night she punched me in the eye while I was sleeping.

She used to fit into roller skates, that's how tiny she was. My roommate and I would put her in a skate and cruise her around the hardwood floors.

When she was 9 mos old I got Clancy, another babycat, and Koko was VERY unhappy. Koko was a tortoiseshell you see, and they do NOT like other animals. I was unaware of that before I got Clancy. Now I know.

Eventually Koko and Clancy reached an accord, and lived for 15+ years together. Clancy used to torment Koko by staring at her and not touching her. You could almost hear 2 kids in the back of a car. "Mom! He's looking at me!" "So? I'm not touching you!"

Koko like canned food and water. She loved yarn. She loved curling up next to the space heaters and when I was lucky enough to have a fireplace she would camp out right in front of it.

Today I helped Koko cross from this world. She was 17 and ill, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. The vet, Dr Mullins, deserves a special mention, because she did a wonderful job with the actual procedure. But my babycat is gone, the last bit of my 20s is gone, and I'll never see that pissed off catface again.

She will be most assuredly missed, every day, for the rest of my days.

Yeah, that was stupid...

Disregard the previous post.

I was an utter moron for even typing it in the first place.

As of this moment the kid has been whining and crying in her swing for 31 minutes. Yep. THIRTY ONE minutes.

She woke up early this morning so I tried to put her down early.

I won't make that mistake again.

The Beast Who Does Not Sleep

Is sleeping. Every day. In her swing she takes a 1030 and 230 nap. EVERY DAY.

Now if I could just get her to sleep at night...

Update on The Book

Thanks to some decent napping on the part of my child, it took me THREE days to read The Book.

And it was FABULOUS.

Go buy it. If you've read the first 6, you won't be disappointed.

Convenience or Compassion?

I was supposed to have my 17 year old cat Koko put down this morning. She has hyper-thyroid disease, is wasting away, and has been crying in pain for weeks. I attempted to treat her thyroid with pills, but they made her sick and pilling her was a nightmare. I had decided that at the age of 17 it might be better to just let her go with her dignity intact.

Only, her dignity is gone anyway. She doesn't use the litterbox other than to hide in it because the other cats sense her weakness and torture her mercilessly. She won't allow me to show her any affection, preferring to hide away in the "cat bedroom" unless it's time to eat. She's absolutely miserable. So what's my problem?

Rich had to work today and tomorrow and I couldn't figure out how on earth I was going to be able to take a baby with me to have this done. This will be a very private moment between Koko and me, and I can't imagine a screaming child in the room for it. I had to call and reschedule for Thursday when Rich will be home.

The other trouble I'm having is that Koko is crying so loudly overnight that last night she woke Livvie twice. This is where the Convenience part comes in. I'm having trouble reconciling my annoyance with that with the fact that she is truly suffering. Am I doing this for her or for me?

It pisses me off that she didn't get the chance to just lie down and go to sleep one day and not wake up. It pisses me off to be the one to make this decision for her. Is she ready? Maybe not. Am I ready? Not especially. Can I bear to watch her suffer any longer? Hell no. Do I want her to wait for a crisis situation like Clancy, my Cat of a Lifetime had to? Screw that.

All I'm really saying here is that this sucks. The big one. And I'll always second-guess myself.

An Exercise in Futility?

Today I am getting my hands on The Book. I'm sure you know which book I mean, and if you don't you're living under a rock. Suffice it to say that with each of the previous 6 books it has taken me less than a day to read them. For this one, I'll be lucky if it takes me a month.

Which leads to the halfassed point of this blog. If ANYONE has the nerve to tell me what happens in said book, I will cudgel them to death. And I am NOT joking.

The Wiggles

Yes, I'm finally going to write about the creepy, Star Trekkie outfitted Australians who entertain our children. Oh, I know not ALL of our children, but I'd say that given how much money these guys have made (about a bajillion dollars) and how many DVDs they have out, a large portion of the tot population is zoning out on them.

We have their Wiggles Show episodes DVRd. This is because I'm too cheap to buy the DVDs. Also, they seem to have a lot more music on them, whereas the DVDs have a great deal of little talking bits, interviews with people and field trips and such. My only exception might be the Wiggles Safari, because they have a large bit with Steve Irwin, and I miss him desperately.

Livvie adores the songs. Us? Not so much. Some of them aren't too bad, and the music is usually very catchy. But the LYRICS. My God. A song called Calling All Cows contains the lyric, "We've got some news in from the city. They need some milk 'cause it's white and pretty." HUH? However, unlike some children's performers these guys actually do play their own instruments. We're even on a first name basis now. I know Greg (yellow) is in charge, Jeff (purple) sleeps, Anthony (blue) eats, and Murray (red) doesn't do a whole lot of anything except look somewhat skinny and a bit freaked all of the time. Oh, he's also their guitar man. Whatever dude. You're a bit odd.



They also have animated bits where everyone is bug eyed and full of leering teeth. If you never knew teeth could leer, I'm telling you right now that they can.

We watch upwards of 6 half-hour episodes a day, sometimes more than once. Given how annoying these are, it tells you quite a bit about what it does for my child. Even when she's not paying attention to the TV their music in the background seems to keep her calm and playing happily. And for this, as much as it pains me, I will always be grateful to the Wiggles.

And scarily enough, if they ever make it to our little corner of the world I'll take Livvie to the concert. Everyone always looks like they're having a blast.

Oh dear

I am not a shopper. I hate shopping. If I could get every single thing, including groceries, online or on ebay I would.

Today I had the urge to shop.

I had to run Livvie to Kohl's because she was outgrowing all of her PJs and had only 2 pair that fit her. It is a foul thing to take your child out of the bathtub and dress her in yesterday's PJs. So this morning I threw her 2 pair in the wash and ran her to the store. They were having a huge sale on Carter's, which is the only brand that won't shrink in the dryer for some reason, so I bought her 6 pair and then 2 pair of stretch pants. My kid is going to be all purple, all the time at this point, which is good because I can't stand pink.

On my way out of the store I happened to glance over at ladies' clothing. Brown. As far as the eye could see there were fields of different shades of brown. Brown is my black. It always has been. In fact, my closet used to greatly resemble six of the clothing racks I saw today. I had Rich's debit card. I paused. I struggled mightily with myself, staring at the peasant tops and cotton pants, looking at sun dresses and long flowy garments.

And then I remembered two things:

We're broke this week

and

I don't frigging work anymore. Where the fuck would I wear these outfits? I currently live in 3 pair of camo shorts and multiple super hero tshirts.

But for a blissful moment I imagined dressing like a girl, wearing makeup, sporting strappy sandals (or "sandles" as I saw at the grocery store yesterday), and having actual jewelry on. You know, more than my rings which no matter how hard she tries the kid can't manage to get off of me.

WTF??

Yes, another post about sleeping, or lack thereof.

Livvie just will NOT sleep. She's currently in her swing, crying, whining, and generally making it known to Wake County that mommy sucks for expecting her to nap.

I also expect her to let me get some sleep at night, but that's another story.

How do you get to be a person who refuses to sleep? Imagine sleep, if you will. Imagine getting drowsy, sinking into your blankets, letting your eyes close, and then finally going to sleep. Awesome, isn't it? Now why would anyone NOT want to feel that way? Why would a kid prefer to cry and carry on and give herself a headache rather than get some rest?

Every nap is a battle. She refuses to let me rock her during the day anymore. Driving her around town sometimes works, sometimes doesn't. The only thing that is surefire most days is the swing. The swing can hold up to 30 pounds of child, so I don't know what we'll do when she grows out of it. For now though, it's saving my sanity.

So lets hear it for the Graco Lovin' Hug swing. I might end up having the damn thing bronzed.

AFTERNOON EDIT: Now she's on hour 2 of a swing nap that involved no fussing whatsoever. I'll be damned if I can figure this kid out.

Brief

If you could have any job on the planet, what would it be?

And if you had that job, do you think you'd be happy?

I thought being a stay at home mom would be an amazing and fulfilling job. And it is. But the hours suck, and so do some of the benefits.

That's all for today. Feel free to tell me whatever you wanted to be when you grew up, especially if you actually became it.

Land of the Free

Home of the moronically stupid.

I like fireworks. I like going to large firework displays where trained professionals are setting them off for the enjoyment of huge groups of celebratory people.

What I don't like is when chuckleheads drive down to South Carolina and buy bagsful of them and set them off in their backyards. These things are illegal for a reason, fucknuts. And I'm not talking about the ground types that fountain and whatnot. I'm talking about the huge, cannon types that fire into the air and zoom god knows where to possibly set fire to someone's roof.

And yes, I'm talking about the ones that make my dogs go nuts and hide under furniture, make them scratch at the door to escape, and potentially wake up my sleeping infant.

Apparently the yuckyucks in the subdivision across the street weren't that wealthy, because they only managed to shoot off three cannons last night. Those puppies run about $25 each. Some people in the subdivision down the road though, they must have won the lottery. Theirs went on for 45 minutes.

Forty FIVE minutes of my soothing my dogs, who were listening to every other dog in a 5 mile radius going ballistic. FORTY FIVE minutes of my panicking that the kid that I JUST managed to get to sleep would be woken by my wigging dogs. And FORTY FIVE minutes of my hoping that wherever those showers landed, it wouldn't be our house.

Happy Fifth of July. I sure as shit hope it's all over.

I'm tired

Tired of everything being the same all of the time. Tired of never getting to do anything I "used" to do, like reading a book.

Today I am tired of being a mom.

You know, this little nugget of an essay is awesome: http://jennyquarx.livejournal.com/#asset-jennyquarx-16989

And it's all true. There's nothing like being a mom. It's the greatest joy and responsibility a person can be given. But some days it's downright exhausting. And when those days run into each other, end on end, week after week, well...

Yesterday the kid gave me a break. It's like they know when they're about to cross a line and they back off a bit. I couldn't have asked for a better child the first part of yesterday. By the second half though, we were back to the realm of nightmares. Screaming, not sleeping, inconsolable. The child that's referred to as "high need."

Well you know what? I'm high need too. I have many, many needs that aren't being met. Sleep, cleanliness, food, exercise...

I'd give anything to be able to brush my teeth without her attempting to follow me into the bathroom. Hell, I'd give anything to be able to PEE without her following me into the bathroom. Even when Rich is home she's following me around everywhere; screaming when I'm out of sight. As I type this she's standing with one hand on my knee as if she's claiming a seat.

The only way I keep myself going is to tell myself that when all is said and done, as the years pass, I'm very likely to have a wonderful, sensitive child. But right now, I'm damned tired.

Animal Farm

There's something inherently creepy about large numbers of animals gathered together. And I'm not talking about herd animals, because that's expected. I'm talking about animals that you normally see solitary, suddenly grouped together looking like they're having a conference.

At the beginning of spring Xris and I happened to look out her living room window to see literally HUNDREDS of robins gathered in her yard poking around in the dirt for bugs. I looked it up online and apparently we were privy to a very rare sighting, a leg of the robin migratory path. While it was cool, it also had a Hitchcock element to it that we could have lived without.

Before we sold the pool we had a frog problem. There were about 6 small frogs gathered on the sides of the pool, staring at us, and while that might not sound like a problem, the fact that one or all of them had laid hundreds of eggs in the pool water was in fact a large problem. The fact that my big, strong husband wouldn't catch the frogs bare handed and let me do it instead was a smaller problem, because it was at least humorous.

And this morning I got up and went outside to smoke, turned the corner of the house and found 3 rabbits in the back area where the pool was, all staring at each other, and while rabbits might not typically be thought creepy, several communing together was kind of disturbing. They eventually hopped off in different directions, and I assume it was to gather their respective pieces of the Acme Dog Destroyer. Or maybe one was calling in the order.

So I'm pretty certain we had all better look out. Even animals that normally don't "play well with others" can band together to complete a common goal, and before you tell me that rabbits are in fact social animals, let me ask you a question....

When was the last time YOU actually saw more than one wild rabbit in your yard, standing less than 3 feet apart, facing each other?

Nagging?

I'm trying to figure out why every man I have ever known has told me that they can't remember to do something unless they're reminded to do so, and yet women are categorically referred to as "naggers."

I don't know how many of you out there have had this experience, but Rich and I have had to work out a system where I need to remind him weekly that I need time to clean the litter boxes or he simply doesn't remember to offer me that time.

I also have to remind him to watch the baby to give me time to take a shower, make dinner, take out the trash, etc.

Now, I understand that it wouldn't occur to him normally to say, "Hey honey, why don't you go take a shower and I'll watch the baby," although he has done that a few times after I've reminded him throughout the day that I need a shower. And while he has only rarely snapped at me that "he knows" when I tell him something needs doing, he has never called me a nag. So I appreciate that in him.

What I don't understand is that I have polled some guys and most of them have replied that they in fact won't simply remember something unless reminded. So why are we called nags at all?

I have a feeling the answer lies with the fact that men (and all people) can have a tendency to project their feelings onto others. I might be wrong, and if so, feel free to remind me of that or I'll never remember.

Husbands

Yeah, husbands.

Last night I asked Rich if I could take a short nap. He said sure, and I went in to lie down. It took awhile to get to sleep, and I didn't sleep more than an hour. While I was in the bedroom Rich:

Vacuumed.
Cleaned the stove while holding the baby in one arm
Took the dogs out
Played with Livvie
Fed Livvie mashed bananas
Gave Livvie a bottle
Rocked Livvie to sleep
Put Livvie to bed

Now. That was alllllll awesome. I appreciated it so much.

What I want to know is why he can't do more than one of these things in a day usually. I did thank him rather than ask him that question, but honestly....

We sold the pool!

And I've got $100 in my pocket.

The child in me wants to spend it on Angel, Seasons 2-4.

The adult in me is taking it to Home Depot to buy plants and shrubs.

Being an adult can suck, but I guess plants and shrubs are sort of unnecessary...

Near Death Experiences

So Rich nearly died on Monday. He was pulling up to our driveway and about to make a left and a woman behind him doing at least 70, talking on her phone, never saw him until she was about to slam into him. He saw her coming and gunned all 8 cylinders, zooming forward, and she tried to pass him on the left where there was an oncoming car. She zipped back behind Rich somehow, gave him the finger, and he ended up pulling over to her in a subdivision to go up one side of her and down the other.

So now we're looking for a new house. Xris and I were hit making the left into the driveway several months ago, and two incidents in less than a year is a little more than Rich and I can handle.

And now every time I go to make a turn into the driveway I panic a bit if there's a car behind me. Awesome.

Dogs

My dogs are going to be sold for parts if they keep this up. Last night after we got the baby to sleep a thunderstorm rolled through. I used to love storms. I'd watch out the window or stand on the porch and just enjoy the show. Last night Emma, who has I-S-S-U-E-S woke the baby up by doing her Emma song, which might be impossible to translate into print, but let me try.

"Errw errw ERRRW. Errw Errw ERRRW."

I think that's as close as I'm going to get.

Anyway, the storm was coming so Emma needed to wig out, woke up the baby, and it took over an hour to get her back to sleep. Thunder still going on. Emma STILL wigging. So once the baby was asleep again, instead of watching the storm and enjoying it I had to police my dog. (Mind you, I'm lying on the sofa by this point...)

"Errw wrrw Errw." GLARE. Dog retreats.

"Errw..." Fist raised in the air. Dog retreats.

"err?" Stand up and make self imposing while leaning forward. Dog retreats.

Now I know, I KNOW so don't frigging tell me, that this is counterproductive to her storm phobia being addressed well, but if given a psychotic dog who hides under furniture during storms or a dog (also psychotic) who wakes up my baby when I haven't slept since 3am the previous night, well...

And I need to also say that I adore this dog. She's a goof, but she's MY goof, and even with her issues such as storms and going on pee strikes when the grass is too wet/long/green I love her to death. And given what Jmac is going through with her BooBoo Dante right now I need to thank everything and the maker that Emma is healthy and well.

Small Sacrifices

This morning I was driving Livvie around and we crossed over a small creek. I looked over at it and all I could think about was, "I wonder where that goes?" Then I realized that if it had been a few years ago I would have followed it. Even if it took hours. Now I can't. Even if I strapped her on me, there's no way I could do something like that alone. It made me a little sad. I realized that someday as a family we can all go hiking and camping and go for nonsensical walks, but in this day and age I can't take the chance of wandering off with my child into the woods. So sometimes I miss the days when I was unaccountable to anyone other than cats, and when if I wanted to I could risk myself for the sake of adventure. But not enough to go back.

Click click click

I have to go to the gynecologist this morning. Yep, I was SUPPOSED to go 6 weeks after Her Majesty was born, but I couldn't figure out childcare OR who I could leave her with whose soul she wouldn't attempt to consume. So I go today, and not a moment too soon. I need birthcontrol. Yep. I NEED it. I know there are scads of people who want or have more than one child, and they have my undying amazement and respect. But I'm pretty sure, as in you could pump me full of sodium pentathol and I would STILL say, that Livvie is going to be an only child.

So I showered this morning while Livvie slept, because we all know that you can't go to the doctor all skank. I mean, ew. And yes, Livvie was sleeping, because after not sleeping most of last night she decided a fine time to get all grumpy over being woken up was 7am. So there she lies, sound asleep, while I silently muse poking her repeatedly so she knows how it feels. I actually lie in the dark and contemplate how I will behave when she's a teenager. I know there will be some nights where I'll just throw open her bedroom door, snap on the lights, holler, "Just kidding!" and then leave her to try to get back to sleep. Repeatedly.

She has to go with me this morning, and that should be interesting. Rich will be here prepping the SS Minnow (ok, the McYacht, but she's a beast of a boat) for our first voyage as a family this morning, and I know the doc will love to see her, so that won't be a problem. I am, however, attempting to figure out the logistics of having a mobile infant in a room full of medical equipment. Wish me luck.

Dear Disney Channel

Do me a favor, ok? When you play back to back episodes of Little Einsteins, try to avoid playing the same music in each episode. Yesterday you did back to back episodes with the William Tell Overture as the featured music. While I get that you considered this a "theme," I need to let you know that I did NOT intend to have that piece of music stuck in my head, and now I have in my head, "get the pigs get the pigs get the pig pig pigs" etc and I am not a happy camper.

Now I command you to RAISE YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS AND SHAKE YOUR WHOLE BODY!!!!



That is all.

Poison Ivy

Not the song by The Coasters, and not the super cool chick in the Batman comics.

I spent my entire overnight last night scratching my hands. I couldn't stop. I had no idea what was going on. Then the brilliant rays of the morning sun fell across my fingers and I saw blisters. Many, many blisters, all over both hands, but especially on the sides of my fingers and palms. It looked like poison ivy, but where the hell would I have gotten it? My plants are potted on the back and front decks. I don't go into the weeds at all. But wait! The dogs do. So I was playing the old game of Blame the Dog when Rich pointed out that I had been mulching said potted plants yesterday and it might be an allergic reaction to something in the mulch. Duh. I came inside and googled "Mulch Skin Reaction," and you know what? APPARENTLY POISON IVY FINDS ITS WAY INTO MULCH. Alllllll over Google are people who have gotten poison ivy from pine mulch. So this is my public service announcement for the week. If you're gonna mulch, wear gloves.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poison_ivy

Tiptoe through Your Own Damned Tulips

I think this sucks. My kid is napping, finally, and I have to be quieter than a mouse. I say quieter because dammit, I've had mice as pets and they are most certainly NOT quiet. Especially if you don't use olive oil on their frigging wheel.

Every night she falls asleep between 7:30 and 9. This has put a serious crimp in TV watching. Rich goes into the bedroom and watches with sound. I watch via lip-reading and DVR what's important. Turns out not much is. I've discovered that I'm primarily DVRing and saving The Wiggles and Higglytown Heroes on Disney so that at any time of day I can play Playhouse Disney for my kid and calm her down. My stuff? Never gets watched, ends up being erased, and I don't care. This is good, because all of my shows have either had or are having season finales and I won't have to give a shit all summer. It'll be interesting to see if I go back to anything save Bones, Idol, and House.

Back to being quiet. I can't even flush the damn toilet without it waking her up. I have to time potty trips for when she's awake or there will be no flushing, which given my OCD tendencies drives me bugshit. Coughing? Forget it. I have to run outside and cough and make sure the door doesn't close loudly.

Know what I really don't get about all of this? She can fall asleep in the white hot light of a super Walmart and sleep the entire time with a shopping cart with a rattley, shaky wheel, and she can't sleep at home.

Ralph's World

Another short on the Disney Channel is Ralph's World. Ralph used to be in a band called The Bad Examples in Chi-Town, and I have never heard of them. I do know that Livvie loves Ralph, so I do too. Our current favorite song is "At the Bottom of the Sea." However, I downloaded good ol' Ralph today and found THIS gem:

The Coffee Song

(Ralph Covert - Waterdog Music / © 2002 ASCAP)

M-O-M-M-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E
D-A-D-D-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E

I love my kid... I love my kid
Gosh, I really love my kid
But I need what I need, and I need a lot of what I need
C-O-F-F-E-E

M-O-M-M-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E
D-A-D-D-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E

I want a latte, a cappuccino
And tonight I think I’ll have a little vino

M-O-M-M-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E
D-A-D-D-Y needs C-O-F-F-E-E

I think I love this man. He GETS it.

I'm going to scream

And believe you me, I know how.

I'm on a cocktail of Lamictal (a mood stabilizer/anti-convulsant) and Abilify (an atypical anti-psychotic) to treat my Bipolar disorder. I'm currently getting samples because my faboo doc believes that one should never pay for meds until positive they will help. Good for her. Let's give a shout out to good old Melvania.

So today I priced my meds on the internet. I have no frigging clue what we're going to do. My Lamictal is about $100 a month. Okay, not gawdawful. Bad, but not twitch inducing bad. The Abilify is $500+ per month. Insurance will not cover either of these meds. So let's talk about the insurance companies and the pharmaceutical companies.

First, the pharm companies. I understand how much R&D goes into each drug. I also know that it's subsidized with our tax money. So we're paying twice.

Insurance. SOMEFUCKINGBODY needs to explain to me why an insurance company would rather deny preventive care when they could end up with a certified crazy person such as myself hospitalized long-term and having to pay for the costs associated with that. I shit you not, I could hurt someone. Truthfully. The disease I have is hallmarked by self-destruction and violent behavior. I've never had a full psychotic break, but that's been through the grace of everything holy. I have NOT been a compliant patient prior to the birth of my child, and many people and relationships have paid for this. Speaking of, let's also give a shout out to Xris and my husband, who have REALLY been patient with me.

I'm absolutely furious.

Something Bugs Me

These are the lyrics for Charlie on the MTA, a song by the Kingston Trio, which musically is a very cool song. However, my whole life something has bugged me about this song.

Spoken:
These are the times that try men's souls. In the course of our nation's history, the people of Boston have rallied bravely whenever the rights of men have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Metropolitan Transit Authority, better known as the M.T.A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a subway fare increase. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!

SONG BEGINS

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charlie
on a tragic and fateful day.
He put ten cents in his pocket, kissed his wife and family,
went to ride on the M.T.A.

Chorus:
Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and
his fate is still unknown.
(What a pity! Poor ole Charlie. Shame and scandal.
He may ride forever. Just like Paul Revere.)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston.
He's the man who never returned.

Charlie handed in his dime at the Kendall Square Station
and he changed for Jamaica Plain.
When he got there the conductor told him, "One more nickel."
Charlie couldn't get off of that train.
(Chorus)
Now, all night long Charlie rides through the station,
crying, "What will become of me?!!
How can I afford to see my sister in Chelsea
or my cousin in Roxbury?"
(Chorus)
Charlie's wife goes down to the Sculley Square Station
every day at quarter past two,
And through the open window she hands Charlie a sandwich
as the train comes rumblin' through.
(Chorus)
Now, you citizens of Boston, don't you think it's a scandal
how the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase! Vote for George O'Brien!
Get poor Charlie off the M. T. A.
(Chorus)
He's the man who never returned.
He's the man who never returned.
Ain't you Charlie?

OK. WHY THE HELL DOESN'T HIS WIFE HAND HIM A NICKEL WITH HIS EFFING SANDWICH??????

That is all.

Wonder Tube is Dead

Long Live Wonder Tube.


Yesterday afternoon a wicked storm came through and a bolt of lightning hit the transformer in our driveway. When it did, a surge of power electrified the house and then everything went black. We were without power until 11:45pm when the wonderful men from Progress Energy finished fixing the transformer. They are my new heroes, as 8 hours of no power with a young baby is just about more than any sane person can take.

When the power came back I attempted to turn on the TV. Nope. Nada. Zilch. Zip. The Big Donut Hole.

I tried every outlet on the surge suppressor. I tried the wall itself. Nope.

Everything else plugged in right there is fine.

Rich is hoping it's a fuse inside the TV. So am I. It sounds stupid, but that TV was one of very few things that came with me when I got divorced. I received almost nothing. I've had it for 7 years, and loved her. She was beautiful. Football was ENORMOUS on that screen. Rich loved her too.

So RIP to my boon companion of my 30s. We enjoyed many a L&O together.

UPDATE:

Battle scarred, yes. But still alive. The surge blew her fuse, which we replaced. There are some dead pixels in her corners, but she's still watchable. If the pixels spread, well..... But for now, it's all good.

Tiny waistlines

Ok, so I'm watching the Disney channel, again, with the sound off and I have ZERO clue what show this is but the chicks in this animated debacle have the fabled "wasp waists." What up wit dat? OH OH! No wait, the nerdy chick group has straight as a plank figures. Apparently they are in high school or somesuch, and what I'm discerning is that the cool chicks have Barbie bods and the losers have Skipper bods. Remember Skipper? She was way too tall for a 10 year old.

Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to review the shorts they play on the Disney channel. No one asked me to, I don't make money off it, but I need to get my biased opinions out somehow so here goes:

Emily Yeung--
Emily is a spot that lasts maybe 3 full minutes. Tomorrow I'll time it. In her spots, Emily, who appears to be 8 or 9, learns lots of things by going on mini field trips. Today she went to a pioneer village and learned how to make bread. Emily is VERY precocious, and asked a lot of adult questions that I'm certain were NOT on flash cards behind the camera. She made whole wheat bread, and pioneer chick made white. They baked together in perfect harmony. Emily also got to meet an elderly Clydesdale who I'm certain was NOT being put to use pulling plows being that he was only one of two horses in the "pioneer village."

I actually really dig these shorts because Emily gives me hope that my super nerdy to be kid won't necessarily get the tar beaten out of her, and in fact might end up being seen every morning on some channel like Discovery Kids.

Redneck Pool Filling

Sleep

Ok, all of you are probably aware that we (meaning me and the child, not DH) are not sleeping. This has gone WAY beyond the time when one expects to not be sleeping with a "newborn." I mean honestly, the kid is practically playing field hockey already.

So she's been waking up every 1/2 hour recently. By recently I mean the prior four nights to last night. Last night I gave up. I rocked her to sleep and was holding her. I needed to scratch my itchy tick bites. I made to scratch. SHRIEK. Ok, fine. I'll sit here in misery, hoping this colossal itch doesn't indicate that the baby tick injected puppy serum into my abdomen and giant wolf hound babies are getting ready to erupt.

She finally got to sleep and I moved her into her travel crib. I went to bed 15 minutes later on the sofa. 2 hours later the fiend awakened. I got her, rocked her back to sleep, put her back in her travel crib. Went back to bed on the sofa after eating a yogurt because that rocking back to sleep? Took ONE FUCKING HOUR.

3 hours later she woke again. Got her out, rocked her back to sleep. Put her back in her travel crib. Went back to sleep on the sofa.

2 hours later, again. By this time it was after 6am and I figured WTF and got up and made coffee. I walked over, handed her the bottle in her crib, and by God went and made coffee and took the dogs out. I walked back into the house to find her lying on her side, drinking formula, watching the Disney channel. And lest anyone imagine otherwise, no, I turned the TV on for her before I walked away. She's only managed to chew on the remote and switch the language to French so far.

I'm back!!!!

So for over a week Safari wouldn't recognize the web address for me to update my blog here. Whatever. It's working now, and so far this is my only bad experience as a Mac owner. I'll take it.

I got bitten by a tick this past week; we bought an inflatable pool that's supposed to be 15x3 ft, but currently due to a sloping yard is only maybe 13x2 ft. Being rednecks in training, in order to keep the pool upright we wedged the lawn mower handle under one side to keep the water in.

OH!!!!! We have DVR now. This is VERY exciting. I actually got to see most of LOST yesterday evening. Until the Diva started shrieking. We'll finish the episode tonight.

What else?

Let's see, I went shopping last weekend with Xris and her cousin Taylor. For makeup. I have no money. I was manic. So I spent Xris's money for her. Let me tell you, for a manic depressive, spending someone else's money is just as good, and in a way I'll get to enjoy the fruit of the shopping spree because I'll get to watch Xris enjoying it. That's a perk. I had a BLAST chucking stuff at her to buy, but alas I couldn't talk her into the $90 Steve Madden Richh pumps just yet. I did spend time froogling them yesterday and found them on sale from $75-$80 in various online locations, and I think she needs them. Yesterday even. I mean, LOOK at them! How hot are those???? EVERY woman needs a hot pair of peeptoe pumps.

A rebuttal (and this is for YOU Xris...)

My best friend recently complained that I used her to test my mother for shortness in my kitchen last week. Granted, I did. I know how tall Xris is, and I couldn't very well stand back to back with my mom and SEE how much bone loss she's experienced. Also, it's easier for me to judge how much larger something is than something else rather than the opposite. Shut up. I know what you're thinking...

In her complaint Xris listed all of the great things about being wee.

She's right. So now I'm going to list the suckass things about being tall.

---As a child my mom almost always cut my head off in photos. There are loads of cute pictures of an adolescent torso in my photo albums.

---Jean shopping sucks. Do you remember the kid's size "slim fit?" They don't make those for adults. And even if they did, they'd be too fucking short.

---Speaking of, in school, due to the rapidity of growth, every shithead short kid asked me when the flood was coming. Har de fucking har.

---Speaking of, at Jr High dances, no one would dance with me because I towered over their Munchkin heads. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was a spaz.

---It SUCKS to always have to get shit down for people. Somedays at the shelter I was tempted to just pick up this itty bitty co-worker I had and just throw her at the upper cabinets to get her own damn sticky notes. No Mondy, not you.

---Speaking of, when you walk past cabinets in the cat room and suddenly a cat that was hiding on TOP of the cabinets reaches down and grabs your head with his claws, that sucks too.

---Tree branches.

There's more, but the kid just woke up.

Time to turn in my ovaries

Especially since I'm done with them.

I was leaving Food Lion today, pushing the kid in the shopping cart, and watched a pickup truck pull in. It was a painting truck, and the bed was full of gear. It was also the most awesome 4-Door Frontier. Ever. I drive a pipsqueak 2-Door Frontier. I approached the driver and said, "What year is that?" He said, "2003." I told him I liked the body style and he agreed that the old style was better than the new. I asked him what his mileage is without payload, and he told me it had been so long he had no clue.

So. I'm turning in my ovaries. Whoever calls dibs can have them.

Time for a drink

You know the world is hopelessly fucked when you witness two crows beating the shit out of a turkey vulture.

I shit you not. I thought the cardinals and sparrows were bad. I chalked it up to males and springtime. This was out of control. I stepped outside in time to see two crows in pursuit of a turkey vulture, pecking at him mid-flight. I assume the issue was whose carrion was whose. I honestly didn't care. What I did care about was that one of them managed to chase the vulture into a tree and start whaling on him. Now, you need to understand that a crow is roughly 8 times smaller than a vulture at full wingspan, and their beaks are probably 15 times smaller. I'm out there screeching, "You pussy! Turn around and snap his head off!" The vulture was standing in a tree like a girl lifting her skirts, shrieking, while this crow whomped his ass. Finally, the vulture attempted escape, and tried a low flight across Six Forks Road. In rush hour. A woman talking on her cell phone looked up at JUST the moment the vulture crossed in front of her windshield and nearly plotzed. I could see her face. She didn't hit him, but she did manage to aid his escape by providing a barrier between the pursuing crow and the vulture.

I finished my cigarette and went inside.

Bubba-

Nothing funny here

Just some observations.

I'm dreading my child becoming mobile. And sure, part of it is because I'll be moving non-stop to keep up with her, but most of it is because she won't be attached to me anymore. My role as momma-monkey with a baby clinging on will end. She's already preferring to feed herself with her bottle, and she already hates being cradled "like a baby," so this will be one more way for her to pull away from me. The moment she takes her first step, which all signs indicate will be fairly soon, will be harder on me than her first day at school I think. She sits in her highchair or stands in her walker eating Cheerios, bottle in front of her, and pretty much ignores me unless she wants to be somewhere else. As soon as she can get there on her own, well, I think I'll go have a drink and flip through the electronic photo album of her wee-ness and sob like a soap star.

That's my girl...

Yesterday Livvie attempted to dive headfirst off of the bed onto the floor. Only my Gatito like reflexes saved her ass. Then, when we were out at lunch, she grabbed a napkin and managed to chew off and swallow a small corner before I could get it away from her. THEN, last night, she was sitting in her swing, swinging her bottle around like a drunken pirate, and she bonked herself in the eyebrow with it, leaving a small bruise. Hysterics ensued. I informed her the mark would fade, but clumsiness lasts a lifetime.

*cough*spraypaintballoon*cough*

This doesn't include the myriad number of times yesterday that she just bonked her head on whatever wasn't moving.

Yep, that's my girl.