Can I Get A New Brain? This One's Broken.

When I was younger I had a great memory. Random, stupid, useless facts would trot into my head and take up permanent residence (March 3rd is Morocco's independence day). Phone numbers? I could memorize them with a few repeats in my head.

I got older, and things started getting fuzzier. For one thing, I didn't care as much, because I could always look it up in the internet. Mmmm, internet. And then the alcohol probably blacked out entire regions.

But what I don't get is this 'Mommy Brain'. I have certainly become more absent minded through motherhood. And the scariest part of that? I am even more apt to say 'Whoops! Silly me, I forgot!' than ever. This afternoon I stopped by a neighbors house to say hi. I've met her daughter once, but that slipped my mind, along with her daughter's name and her son's name. Thankfully, I remembered HER name, but seriously, shouldn't simple things like names be stored somewhere?

Luke loves the cat!

The cat, however....

Exhaustion

I talked to my cousin last night, who has a three and a half month old baby girl. Said baby girl is not sleeping "through the night" yet, though she is sleeping five hours at a stretch. My cousin asked me what I did to get Luke to sleep through the night (which he first did at six weeks) and I had no answers for her. And Luke further cemented the fact that I had no idea how to make babies sleep by waking up at 3 AM last night. So um, yeah, no good advice from this source.

When Luke started fussing in the night, I lay there listening and silently begging him to go back to sleep. I tried to pull my body out of bed when he had been fussing for about 5 minutes and was escalating into crying. And I just couldn't do it. Esposo, gorgeous wonderful man that he is, got up to care for the night owl.

He left me to dream for a couple more hours, and what dreams they were! I was acting in a skit with John Belushi, and we had a son. The son came home and announced he was gay, but his father (John Belushi) wasn't disappointed in him until he saw that the son was wearing a Green Bay Packers jacket, and then he ranted and raved and such. High comedy in my dreams. High. Comedy. (<- sarcasm)

And this morning? 1(X-1)9.2 Yeah, baby, yeah.

Saving Money

My mother in law got me a subscription to Real Simple magazine for Christmas, and I do enjoy this magazine. I had had a subscription at one point a few years ago and let it lapse, because that's what I do. There is some direct opposition though, of the mission and the magazine - Simplify Your Life! By buying this magazine? Isn't it... simpler not to buy?...

This month's issue loudly lauded on it's cover saving $3 to $3000! How to stop the money draining from your wallet!

Hm. Everytime I read these things I am utterly disappointed.

Pay your bills online and save on stamps!
Put in a programmable thermostat!
Don't pay annual fees on credit cards!
Make your coffee at home!
Bring your lunch to work!
Meet the girls out for a walk instead of dinner!
Don't drink alcohol!

Wait, I may be confusing the sage how to lose weight advice with the how to save money advice. I think they're of the same vein, though - don't spend money on stuff vs. don't put stuff in your mouth that has calories. If someone could let me in on a secret yoghurt that tastes JUST LIKE chocolate peanut butter ice cream, and actually GENERATES income? I'm all over that.

And if someone could invent a treadmill that would recharge batteries while you walked/ran? That would be awesome. Because what great incentive it would be to SAVE money because you are working out.

Maybe you need to be extra special cheap like me to be motivated by that...

Where To Start?

First of all, though our weekend was low on the social scale, we did get the base of our shower in, and I've been mudding and sanding and painting in hopes of up being able to put up the cabinets this week. I will gleefully hop up and down now!!

I am only up 0.2 pounds from the weekend, which is great because I'm usually up 1.5 or 2 after a weekend. I also got my period, so the raging PMS from last week is gone. Thank God!

Tempestt Bledsoe on Celebrity Fit Club 3? Oh, what a lazy bizatch. Her attitude just pisses me off and if she were on my team, I'd want to bitch slap her. I don't think she understands the whole 'team' concept. Meanwhile, Kelly, the hot chick from Weird Science? I think she's great and I want to hang out with her. She can be my diet buddy!

And this morning I found that my chin hair had gotten to a good half inch in length. Yes, I have one chin hair. It is dark. I imagine it's the precursor for when I'm 75 and they all come out. And then I will ask my grandchild to trim them for me, as I did for my grandmother. It's the circle of life, man.

And check out Thedowisup.blogspot.com for what our Sunday consisted of!

Change

This morning was not a particularly GOOD morning, and I'm just starting to get over that. First, I woke with the hope of seeing 1(X-1)9.8 and that didn't happen, so I was bummed. But then, since I had made myself the deal that at 1X0, I could try on clothes in my closet, I went to try on a pair of pants. Only to find that the lining emerged from the bottom of my pants by a good two inches. Esposo had shrunk them.

Follow this up with putting away a couple things in the kitchen before eating my cereal. I knocked a container off the fridge, which hit my bowl, which fell to the floor and broke. Fortunately I hadn't put milk in my cereal yet.

Esposo wandered down and we got into a snit about the laundry and pants, because I was stilled ticked off, and I left without my purse, which has my makeup in it that I put on en route to work.

Fortunately I packed a lunch, but I have no change for a soda, save a quarter. I keep looking around my pockets and desk for a few more bits of change, before thinking "I should check my purse!...... d'oh!"

And where is all the change that used to be lingering in my coat pockets and desk drawer? In Luke's piggy bank, because he can put the coins in there HIMSELF and it's just too cute. Every day I come home with change and hold it out to him as I shake the piggy bank. He obediently trots over to fill up his college fund savings... I'm hoping by now we've paid him back for the time I broke into his piggy bank to pay the babysitter.

My Scale is a Stingy Bitch

There are times during a long term diet - and by that I mean more than ten pounds - when you get the big mental boost. By that I mean when the tens (or, if you're at that point, the hundreds) number drops. It puts a spring in your step and renews your determination because that's a whole new set of tens!

I started losing weight at 1X7.8 according to my home scale (no, I'm not telling you the X). I've been in the 1X0ties for a long time now, probably since last July or so. I'm so very very tired of the 1X0ties. So tired, in fact, that I was dreaming of seeing 1(X-1)9.8 on the scale this morning. So hopeful...

Instead I saw 1X0.0.

Stupid bitch of a scale couldn't give me the 0.2 pounds? And yes, it's the SCALE'S fault, not the laws of mass, my body's energy use, and the amount of food I'm eating (which, actually, I can't reduce further without being in a worse mood than I already am).

Man, I was so hoping for 1(X-1)9.8.

The good news is that I weigh a pound less than when I weighed in at work on Wednesday. And that I've lost 7.8 pounds (per my scale) and 9 pounds (per the work scale).

Still want X-1.

The Dream is Alive

Last night was an idyllic motherhood night, what you dream of when you think of being a Mommy. I came home to pick up Luke and his things and turned right around to head to a Mommy group at an indoor playground. Luke loved playing in the new space with the bigger kids, trotting around as if he owned the place, only to come running back to me with a full body slam. And then he was off again!

We came home somewhat early and ate dinner, followed by after dinner play. Play in which Luke laughed so hard he fell over numerous times, as we looked at each other nose to nose and he decorated my head with an inflatable ring, and then placed it around his own neck. He stood up and slyly took some sideways glances at me as he walked away, begging for a chase.

We snuggled together as he drank his night time bottle, and a little while after that. I walked my fingers up his tummy and tickled behind his ears until just the feeling of my fingers on his belly made him scrunch his neck and giggle.

When it came time for bedtime, we said goodnight to Daddy and as we headed into his bedroom, he reached for his crib, snuggling down immediately in his covers. I could stay a moment and rub his back and say goodnight, and as I left he began talking to himself.

And at 5:30 he's not yet awake.

Mexican Immigration and Emigration

Pardon me while I get all politcal here, sort of. And let me first say that I'm all about Immigration Rah Rah Rah! so you aren't getting the wrong idea.

But I understand that illegal immigration, and people living in our country taking advantage of our public benefits without paying taxes, it screws with the system. And then sending the money they earn HERE somewhere ELSE, well, again, that screws with the system.

So when the US took some anti-immigrant steps to stop migrants from coming into the country illegally, I understood. I understand the migrants being all WTF?!?! about it, too.

And from a monetary perspective, I understand Mexico's stance on 'Hey, let our people work in your country and send money into our country' because that works great for them.

But from the stance that your people are putting themselves are great risk to ESCAPE their home country, shouldn't you (Mexico) be more focused on FIXING THE PROBLEMS IN YOUR COUNTRY SO PEOPLE'S LIVES ARE BETTER THERE???

I'm just saying.

Monumentous Day

Hey kids, do you know what day it is?

No.

No.

NO! GOOD GRIEF, YOU'RE STUPID! How could you even think that?

It's 99 days until Esposo is done with school. NINETY NINE. As in, two digits. Three and a half months.

Also, I'm wearing new-old pants that fit as a result of this year's weight loss. They're five years old and horribly out of style, but then, if you know me, you know I don't give a rat's ass about style. I care about not having my ass hanging out in the wind. Check! Ass is covered!

AND, and yes, there's ANOTHER AND, Luke went to bed so easy last night I almost cried. Joyous, happy tears. We kissed Daddy good night at 7:45 and when I went to put him into bed, he actually pushed away from me to get INTO bed, where he promptly curled up with his blankets and I covered him up to no crying. So apparently, it only takes about five months for your child to learn to put himself to sleep. Even better news? He hadn't woken up by the time I left at 6:15.

Family Style

There are many difficulties in day to day life that someone could have thought about and planned a little better. Like this whole food thing.

I can't imagine what it was like to prepare food for a family in the 1700's or earlier. You know the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. Supposedly they meant that they would just keep schlepping new food on the old food in the family pot. I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Eating three times a day (or grazing throughout the day)? Keeping food fresh and sanitary? What a pain.

And then, if you're single and trying to actually cook a nice meal for yourself? The amount of effort that goes into it is not equal the reward! Which is why I spent a lot of time eating Lean Cuisine and Healthy Choice meals and being terrified of the vegetable options.

But now we are THREE! You might say that we're not really three, because Luke is eleven months! He can't possibly count as a whole person! And that's where you would be wrong.

Last night Esposo made a pork roast on the grill. Both of us despised pork as children, but have come to find out that we only despised the way our mothers made pork. Which was often in the chop form. We don't buy the chops. Esposo has taken his Weber Big Book of Grilling and found rubs and marinades that make meat from the grill ohsogood. Last night's menu was "Diappearing Pork Roast" and it did!

I actually went back for another slice of pork, which I hardly ever do with meats, so that Luke and I could split it. Because Luke had already eaten a whole slice of pork. And some cheesy rice. And topped it off with animal crackers.

It's going to be fun (some days), this family meal preparation.

Oh wait

Not only does my boss not motivate me, she actually DEmotivates me.

Shit.

He's Beat the System

I weighed in for the contest this morning, and I was 2.8 pounds and 0.4% body fat down. Okay. I asked how I was doing relative to the other contestants, and The Organizer said that another contestant, we'll call him Michael, because that's his name, was in the lead this week.

Hmm, I thought, hmm.

Michael won the first week with some astounding 4% weight/body fat percent average combo loss. So that week, Michael won $10.

Last week, Michael GAINED weight and was UP 2.6% weight/body fat percent average combo loss. So Michael had to pay $5.

And this week Michael is in the lead (official results have not yet been released) and if he wins, he gets another $10.

Finished working out the math yet? Michael's up $15! If he keeps it up, he could be up $35 by the end of the competition. (assuming he doesn't gain the last week and saves himself from paying that $5)

It's 5:06 AM

I'm weighing in for the Biggest Loser challenge today, and sadly have only lost 2.4 pounds since last weeks weigh in. Since I had lost 2.6 by Friday of last week, 2.4 kind of sucks. See, as the doctor guy told Biz on Celebrity Fit Club, when you cheat, you don't just screw up THAT day, it takes a few days for your body to recover. He's wise, that doctor guy. And I ate a lot last weekend.

Luke went to bed at 7:30 last night, so the shift of bedtime is working. Of course, he cried out at 4:30, loudly. I got up because I didn't think that was going to be the end of it, and after my shower, guess what? No crying. And yes, I SHOWER BEFORE GETTING HIM UP. What an awful mother I am! But then he never has to smell sleep funky mommy, and that's a kindness.

Something is still wrong with me. My adenoids (I spent some time on WebMD looking that up, I'm just like a doctor! I'll diagnose you, too!) are swollen in the roof of my mouth. Swallowing hurts quite a bit. And my left eye is getting crusty at night. Will this never be over?

Rookie Mistake

I had two errands I wanted to run last night. Two. One, to go get a new phone because I had no visible screen on mine and it was getting annoying to only be able to call my husband and my mother because I don't have anyone else's phone number memorized. Two, to go pick up The Podiatrist's shower gift because no one had bought off her registry yet, and it's depressing to look at an unbought registry. Which you tend to do obsessively because WHEEE! And I will take the opportunity now to mock her for her six registries. SIX. Crazy woman. Of course, two of them have pretty much only their china on there, so it might be regional things. But still. SIX.

So, I picked up Luke from daycare and we headed home to eat. He had a bottle at 4, and we got home about 4:45. I popped him in his chair and started him with pear slices while I tried to microwave some ancient Healthy Choice meals. Apparently these things don't keep that long. The dog and cats got the meat from two meal and the rest went in the trash.

By this time, Luke had moved onto goldfish crackers, and I had moved onto making potstickers and rice. Luke demanded my potstickers (whatever I'm eating must be better) and ate all the meat from one of those. Then I gave him a slice of roast beef. Then he had some animal crackers. Did I mention he had an 8 ounce bottle an hour earlier?!?!

After dinner, about 15 minutes of running around the house in joyous abandon ensued. It was great, he was full, and ecstatic. And then I decided to run my errands. At 5:40.

The coat wasn't good, and the initial getting into the car seat resulted in a slightly annoyed Luke. We arrived at the Cingular store, and due to my mooching off my mother by being on her family talk plan, we had to wait until I could get ahold of her to get the new phone. Which meant we waited around the store for 25 minutes. Luke was not thrilled with this, but there was some fun to be had in my purse and with the wall signs. By the time I got the phone he was cranky, and getting him in his car seat was a bit of a struggle.

And here's where I got stupid, and made my rookie mistake.

See, I was OUT. I hate going out on weeknights to run errands. And I had an agenda. I wanted to finish my two errands.

Veteran mommies are thinking "YOUR agenda is crap, woman! The signs are there! He's been going to bed at 6:30 lately, and it's 6:10 now. Give up! Go home!"

And I ignored this. I went to Bed Bath and Beyond. I knew want I wanted, it was one thing. ONE thing. I wasn't going to linger.

Stupid stupid stupid.

When I arrived at BB&B, Luke was sound asleep. And snoring. I took him out of the car seat and he groaned and blinked. I got the car seat shopping cart and threw my purse in the basket and tried to put him in the seat. Oh, the screaming. Oh, the back arching.

So I carried him to the back of the store, where the registry desk is (I should have printed it out! Oh, the folly!). The registry desk is conveniently located in the middle of the fine china displays.

And I'm pushing a cart with one hand and holding a screaming, writhing baby with the other. Through fine china displays.

I shout out The Podiatrist's name, and the horrified young girls at the desk print out the registry. I tell them exactly what I am looking for on the registry, and what it's price is. Rattled, it takes them a few minutes to find it, and they quickly direct me out of the fine china.

Away I go. I pick it up, and in order to put it in the cart, have to put Luke down. He drops to his knees and clings to my pants leg, flinging his head back as he screams. Resituated, I pick him up and head out towards the register.

Apparently now all store associates have been alerted (perhaps simply by the screaming) to the presence of this idiot young mother and her highly enraged child. An associate appears from the aisles to offer to push my cart to the register so I can better focus on carrying Squirms-n-Screams-A-Lot.

At the register, they take the registry from me and quickly ring me up. Another associate arrives to carry my one (1) item out to the car, which is parked less than twenty feet from the front door. After initially starting to say, No, that's okay, I gratefully accept the help.

And then I try to put Luke IN his car seat again. I seriously thought I wasn't going to be able to do it. He stood, he turned around, and of course, he screamed bloody murder. I sang. I sat. I soothed. He tried to crawl over the back of the car seat (rearfacing, remember) into the front seat. I couldn't even bend him into a sitting position. Finally, I gave him a sippy of water, and he sucked it down, happy with his self soother (he doesn't use pacifiers).

The transfer to bed was simple, he woke up while I carried him upstairs, but when I laid him down on the floor to change him to his night diaper, he rolled over on his stomach and promptly fell asleep.

Did you know you can put a diaper on a baby laying face down? You can.

And then I scooped him into bed. And collapsed myself. It was 7:20.

Annoying

Don't call my cats 'she'. They are boys.

Wary means On guard; watchful and Weary means Physically or mentally fatigued. Use them correctly.

U is not an appropriate abbreviation for you. Nor is 2 appropriate for to. Reading emails like that is piss-ass annoying.

Moxy-cat

Moxy came to me one day as I volunteered at a PetSmart in-store shelter, cleaning up after the cats, holding and playing with them, letting potential adopters meet the animals. A woman and man brought him in, said he was a she (and there was no evidence to the contrary) and that his name was Destiny.

I asked if they could bring him in another time, because I wasn't supposed to accept animals (not 'qualified' or trained in that respect). They said no, they were leaving without her(him).

So I popped her(him) in a cage and waited until my allotted time was up. I bought some litter and cat food and brought her(him) home. At home s(he) slept on my face and attacked my toes. Even PsychoRoommate liked her(him).

S(he) went to the vet and I was asked "Why do you think this cat's a girl?" and a neuter was scheduled. He had upper respiratory illness and had to be fed pills. He leapt two feet in the air when you jumped with him, and adored playing with the cat hand puppet. He raced around my mom's house, as he had been moved since he had tried PsychoRoommate's patience, in thumping insane joy.

When we moved to my townhome it was just me and Moxy for a month or so. I taught him tricks - he sat, he waved. He slept on my pillow by my head.

I got him a friend, Simba, and he was overjoyed to meet this new cat, who hid, hissed, and swatted at him. Soon they played and ripped each other's hair out all over the house.

Then I got a husband, who he learned provided good sleeping grounds. Soon after that, a dog, who he learned to tolerate. And finally, a year later, along came the baby who hugs him with abandon, leaving Moxy meowing and nervous, and yet he won't run away. Esposo has grown weary of his constant neediness and tosses him out on his keister often. The dog has taken over the bedroom at night, so Moxy doesn't sleep with us, waiting for the times when we sleep on the recliner or couch to snuggle in for warmth.

He's a great cat, very accepting of the changes his life has brought, and sometimes I wish it could just be the two of us for a day again.

eBay, and my love thereof

I have purchased a number of things on eBay. I think I purchased my wedding tiara on eBay (yes, I wore a tiara, suck it. What other day do you get to wear a tiara?). I don't remember much else specifically, because eBay buying doesn't thrill me nearly as much as eBay SELLING.

People will buy anything. I made over $100 from my Strawberry Shortcake collection, and this week, and my mother was providing the latest pile of crap to be moved from her house to mine, the Purple Pieman showed up. Score! But pisser, too, because I already sold his bird. The bird-Pieman combination I'm sure would have brought more.

In a strange move, my mother expects me to be sentimental for the plastic toys of my very young childhood. Strawberry was my preschool-first grade obsession, soon replaced by Cabbage Patch Kids. You know what? I'm over it. I chose my defining childhood toy (Rose Nellie) and could get rid of everything else.

And you know what makes me laugh? Those idiots that collected the Cabbage Patch Kid dolls and have them in shiny mint condition. Because there's a million of those out there. Apparently no one learned because they did the same damn thing with Beanie Babies. And the Hot Wheels? My brother-in-law collects those. But at least that's somewhat cute because he can do that with his young sons. But to expect any of these things to be investments, you're out of you're head.

I'm striking while the iron is hot and selling the crap out of my house. I need to contribute to the crazy person's need to have the entire Strawberry Shortcake doll collection. Give me ten dollars. As the annoying Wendy's commercials state, that's ten Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers. Or two hours of babysitting.

Frankie Say Relax

Oh, a Friday night in after a long week, the baby to bed early and without complaint at all. Sounds like the perfect time for a nice hot bath, right?

That's what I thought.

I had my facial cleansing cloths and mud mask, I had my foot file and sugar scrub. I had foam bath, a book and a candle. I cranked the hot water on over and let the tub fill up up up until the very tips of my toes were submerged all the way. I let the water soothe my body...

Until Esposo unceremoniously flung open the door and proclaimed We have a leak!

It seems that there is a problem with the "emergency" drain on our tub. And there was a flood in our front hall.

I bathe Luke in this tub all the time, but of course, we never fill it that high. And of course, our home warranty expired last July.

The people who lived here before us SUCKED!

It's Thrilling, Really

In several stunning moves, and with diligent brick-wall-head-bashing on my part, which you were witness to over the past weeks, the pile of projects on my desk has been reduced to six. Siiiiiix.

Two of those are extremely near completion.

Four projects on my desk is extremely manageable and not nearly as annoying as ten or whatever I had on my desk before the holidays. And several of the non-near-completion projects have advanced well towards completion. Also a very nice feeling.

I was feeling high from the scent of success in the air, and used MS Project to map out our work plan for the year. I love the MS Project. Planning when things should happen and how to get things done is a drug for me. Unfortunately, I hate the middle part, you know, the DOING. Can I just swoop in at the end and close everything out?

So, I've been almost enjoying work this week, and that made me think (which should make you sad). My determination is that I am, essentially, a work manic depressive. I get very excited, one might say overly excited, about closing out projects and moving forward. It makes me giddy. I also get giddy about starting some new projects (others make me sad and I hide under my desk when they try to hand me those).

We're in a manic phase right now. I'm sure when I hit a brick wall and my boss is doing nothing to motivate me or even notices me, I'll be back to sobbing loudly at my desk, in the bathroom, in meetings, etc. And hitting a few people. I'd just like to clothesline them, is that okay?

You need this for your baby!

Okay, you don't NEED to have this, but it's one of those things that I thank God for when I use it. Baby Einstein videos. We only own three - Baby Beethoven, Baby Mozart, and Baby Wordsworth. I don't think we'll be getting more than that, because we don't watch them every day.

This morning, Luke woke up at 5, which dammit, we put you to bed at 7:30, a full two hours later than you had gone to bed earlier this week and you woke up AT THE SAME TIME??? However, he woke up in a bad bad mood. Bad mood. An I-Don't-Want-The-Bottle mood, a Hold-Me-While-I-Scream mood. When I put him down to change his wet night diaper, he screamed and reached his little arms toward me. I could only get the old diaper off before he was up and crawling in my arms.

So now I was holding a smoking gun against my shirt, and he was having none of this laying down to be dressed. On went the Baby Beethoven.

Within a minute, he had calmed down enough so that I could diaper him, and then we sat on the couch, Luke happily snuggled into my lap. Every minute or so, he pronounced Da! at something on the video, and when older little girls played on the toy piano or drums, Luke smiled.

A huge change in a few minutes.

I know there are people who are desperately against any TV for their babies. I assume they have a much greater tolerance for a child who won't be put down, but still pushes against your chest with hands and feet while you're holding him. I hate trying to do that.

Pregnant vs New Baby

I was reading another blog, and I just had a flashback!

When I was pregnant and waddling around everywhere with a big ol' baby belly and big ol' everything else, because 50 pounds can not only in one's belly go, people were so polite. Here I was carrying new life inside me, of COURSE they'll stop for me in the crosswalk, and hold the door open, even carry my bags for me. Ah, the blessings of being a pregnant woman (there are curses, too!)

After I had Luke and when he was small, I would lug him out in his convertible car seat and suddenly? The door holding and stopping and bag carrying was withdrawn. Okay, occasionally some people did those things, but the overall concern for my wellbeing dwindled significantly. The baby was living independently, and apparently, now I had to, too.

And honestly, I would have WAY preferred someone holding the door or carrying my bags when I was lugging a 10 pound infant + carrier in and out of my car and stores. It was WAY more awkward with the carrier.

In breaking news, I have finally learned how to spell significantly without thinking about it. And independent. This blog has really been useful in honing my spelling skills.

It's Bathtime!!

For the early months of Luke's life, I was of the once a week bathtime option. Slippery little floppy baby? Not my favorite thing in the world. Luke didn't overly mind being dunked in water, but he wasn't necessarily thrilled about it.

When he hit about six months, baths became more fun because he was sitting up and splashing in the water. I still wasn't a very frequent bath-giver. I washed his face, I cleaned his bum, most of the time that was plenty. About eight or nine months, when pulling himself up was a great novelty, baths became a struggle to KEEP HIM SEATED so I wouldn't have to deal with a baby concussion.

But now Luke is not only fully mobile, he's very into feeding himself. And feeding himself what we're eating, which is often stuff with sauce. Last night he had meatballs (he's completely carnivore, still won't eat NOODLES) and he's getting over a cold so he had a saucy, snotty face. Mere tissues do not work on hardened baby snot, and when that stuff hits the outside air, an immediate crust forms. It would be easier to go for the full bath than to just clean his face.

Luke loves his baths, so it's fun to head into the bathroom with him as the tub is filling. He reaches in from the outside to grab his toys and sticks his hands under the running water from the faucet. After a minute or two, when there's two or three inches of water in the tub, he decides he's ready to go, and starts trying to throw his leg over the side of the tub. Which doesn't work too well since his legs are about 14 inches long. So he opts to climb up me and try to vault himself over the side that way. Fully clothed.

At this point there's enough water in the tub that I think he won't freeze, and I start undressing him, which is a horror of all horrors! I mean, just put me IN THE TUB ALREADY!!!

He got a lot of new bath toys for Christmas, and happily bites and pats and tosses things here and there while I wash him up. After about ten minutes, though, he's done, and he stands up, grabs my neck, and tries to vault himself out of the tub wet and nekkid.

Esposo rarely gives the kid a bath, and I'm not quite sure what that's about.

We're up to about three baths a week, I would say, and I can't see the point in getting much higher than that if the child isn't a mess. Especially in the winter...

Weight Watching

Does the new format scare you? It kind of scares me, but as I am nearing hit three thousand, I thought it was time to do something momentous. See? Momentous.

With my whole 0.2 pound weight loss, I thought I was only 0.4 pounds from being the least I had weighed since B.P. (Before Pregnancy). I logged onto one of my websites at which I have record keeping of previous diets and saw one dated August '05. In which I weighed ONE pound less than I currently do, and dammit, now that's the number I have to wait to celebrate.

If you've never had to watch your weight, I know you don't understand this well. I also hate you a little bit, because I've always been "on the heavy side". I wasn't made fun of for being fat, at least, I don't think I was, though the seventh grade girls in my year of hell did ask me "Are you a model?", which was either mocking my looks or my clothes... or both. I'm not really sure, I never fully got how they intended to mock me, but payback was swift because the truly evil ones faded into the background even in high school, having achieved their glory days at the ripe age of 13.

I remember my first successful diet my freshman year of high school, when I did sit ups in my room to the tune of 100 or so per night. I may have also done jumping jacks, but what I clearly remember is the sit ups. I don't remember what I did for dieting either, but I managed to lose about 15 pounds, and when my English teacher noticed, I was truly excited.

Many diet programs tell you that you're supposed to focus on your dress size (which, for me, is smaller than my pants size, so I choose to monitor the pants), and think about feeeeling better. Which is all well and good and does provide some motivation on a basic, I should drink more water, level. But it doesn't inspire me to eat less or even exercise more.

Me? I'm a calorie counter. If I had the money to spend and there was a device that could tell me EXACTLY how many calories I burned in each 24 hour period (is there?), I would take that. And log that. And chart it three different ways.

I weigh myself daily, and virtually everytime I tell someone this, they tell me that your weight fluctuates and you're not supposed to weigh yourself everyday. But I so desperately need the number. I need the number to cheer or berate myself.

And so, knowing that I am 1 number from the smallest I have been in years is pretty exciting. And 2.4 pounds after that is the weight at which I committed to myself to allow myself to try on pants and shirts in hopes of something old fitting again.

Sorry for the weight loss entry, I'm sure it's like salt in a wound for many of you. But eff you, it's my blog.

Loser

I lost 0.2 pounds and 0.8% body fat on the work Biggest Loser challenge. I highly doubt that this will result in the winning of the weekly $10 pot. Dang it. At least it did contribute to the total goal. I'm still bitter about it.

Update:
I came in 6th (out of 14) this week and am ranked 4th overall. And the three month end pot is $170 now (up from $130 initially). It's starting to get more motivating.

Lots of Flailing

This week was supposed to be a hectic and momentous week at work as we started the first of our five major projects for this year. There was running around and calling people and getting things signed off, and yes, lots of flailing.

On my part, there was worry about Luke's temperature and would I have to go home, and thus finish my part earlier than I had hoped. There was the need to MAKE THE DECSIONS.

Except that now, the thing got pushed back a few weeks by possibly one of the stupidest mistakes. Not on anyone in my department, thankfully. But you can compare it to hosting an ice cream party for 10 five year olds, and you get the invitations out, and the sprinkles, the bowls, the spoons, the whipped cream, the chocolate, but when it comes down to it, you have no ice cream.

Hmph.

And today, I weigh in on our Biggest Loser challenge and my scale at home says I've lost NOTHING. And really, overall I've done very well dieting. It's rude to hit a plateau after a week. I deserve half a pound, man.

Out of Sync

In an ideal world, when I came home from work, the house would be relatively clean, and there would be some kind of dinner awaiting me. Luke would be happy to see me, Esposo would be happy to see me, and we'd all sit on the floor and play and talk for awhile, until dinner was ready, which we'd all sit down to eat together.

This is not what happens, of course.

People are constantly saying that marriage is hard. In most religions, they have you taking some kind of compatibility test to see if you mesh on finances, child rearing, and spouse expectations. And really, you have to know on the big topics because you're going to spend a lot of time being annoyed that while your Esposo did a wonderful job of putting the final wall up in the bathroom, he also left a maze of boxes in the bedroom and you're the one who gets up in the dark.

When I get home after Esposo has been at home with Luke all day, he nearly races to his office to get on the computer and watch TV (because he never does just one). I understand the need for alone time, I truly do, because between the baby, the dog, one very needy cat, and one somewhat needy cat, I have had plenty of times where I am simply shoveling in a bowl of cereal while telling the child (who already ate) that this is mommy's food, elbowing the cat who is trying to find his way under my arm, and keeping the dog a leg's length away.

It doesn't mean it doesn't bother me that we don't have the opportunity to sit and watch TV together after our idyllic family dinner every night. That's how I want it to be. I'd also like it if there were fewer renegade floating hair animals in my front hall, a kitchen counter cleared of 'stuff', and a bedroom with all the clothes in drawers and on hangers, not in laundry baskets or draped on chairs.

We're working on it, I think we get a little bit more together each month, and I certainly think we're coming out of one of the 'rough patches' of our lives together once Esposo finishes school.

In just 108 days.

I'm still scared

Part of the reason I'm on the weight loss and fitness quest is because I am thinking about child number 2. The weight loss thing didn't go so well this weekend since I went out drinking Saturday night. It wasn't the drinking that killed me, it was the hangover eating. Deep dish pizza? My hangover LOVES deep dish pizza! But, my weight did not go UP over the weekend, just stayed at that same number. Small favors.

Especially as Luke turns more and more into a toddler, I'm thinking about child number 2. And I think about being pregnant and feeling the baby move, and trying to think of names...

And then I think of giving birth, and you know, it still scares me. C-sections? The idea of being awake while ... well, I can't talk or think about it too much or I start getting a bit panicky. I think I mentioned this to my doctor last time, but I don't think they understand. I am out and out terrified of surgery.

But then, natural birth? Still scary, and I would never do natural-natural! Epidural needle in the back? Still scary, even though I didn't feel it last time. My recovery was quick and pretty painless before and I'm still scared.

The end result pretty well rocks the house, though.

I'm Redundant, I Get It!

Sorry to be so single topicked. While I am not in the pit of despair over my job (the evil weight loss, though, which while I am doing FABULOUSLY on my diet AND I walked for a brisk half hour yesterday and the number is staying the same, that's depressing) I am still not thrilled.

This morning I talked to my boss for the first time this week, actually for the first time since the 5th. Way to motivate! Anyway, I gave her the update on my projects, which need to be completed prior to my primary coworker, N., starting another project.

N. and I talk EVERY day. I am very aware of where she is on projects and what I need to do to enable her to complete her next project.

My boss informed me that she signed off on N.'s last project yesterday. I was in shock, because N. had told me that it wouldn't be complete this week (my projects have to be complete at the same time as hers to let the next project start).

I went to N. and said, Wow, you finished that and got it all signed off? And she hadn't. My boss just doesn't know what she signed and what the procedure is here, as in what needs to get signed off. MY BOSS.

Islam

Fundamentally, I have some issues with Islam. You know, the whole thing about stoning women and the burqa, it really creeps me out. I generally don't get really into religion from a personal choices perspective, it's all pretty much mental to me. I don't like the idea of pushing my ideas and thoughts on the universe on anyone else. Or anyone pushing them on me. I'll do my thing, you do yours.

But now, this hajj thing? 345 people dying in a stampede (and this is the third or fourth time people have died en masse during this hajj in recent years)? Oh. My. God. All Muslims of financial capability REQUIRED to do this pilgrimage in their lifetime? And they have to go throw stones at the devil (these three stone towers) on each of three days?

Would someone wake up the religious leaders and say Um, this doesn't seem to be working out so well, maybe we should work this out a little different.

Why the hell do people think that whatever God or creator or higher being there may or may not be thinks it's a good idea to go throw stones at some other stones? Or not eat meat on Fridays? Or give up control of your family to your husband?

It just doesn't make sense, people. If (God or creator or higher being) is that kind of sicko, we're all screwed anyway, because you put your right shoe on first on Tuesdays.

Paperwork and Passwords

I hate having pieces of paper in my house. They clutter things up, collect in stacks, and invariably I can't find the correct piece of paper when I want it. In a related line, I also hate all the memberships that stores and groups are constantly trying to give me. Grocery store cards, discount cards, membership cards. My keyring has two keys on it and 47 little plastic cards.

Everywhere you go, they want you to join join join, so they can start sending you paper and emails and collecting data about where you live, what you buy, who's in your family, and extract all kinds of data to best market their products. Which, really, I'm fine with, just don't give me any more stupid pieces of paper or little plastic cards. I'll forget I have it when the time comes, or even better, will know I have it, but be hunting through my purse for five minutes ticking off everyone behind me and still won't be able to come up with the stupid little card.

Can we just implant a chip in my finger and be all Orwellian 1984 already? Stop the pretense with these damn cards. I'll give Big Brother the information.

And then, of course, there's the internet. And the signing up and choosing a password. I just want to read the Trib online, do you really need a drop of my blood for registration? And the signing up and password choosing wouldn't be so bad if they could just get some standard length and format for their passwords. 6 or 8 characters? Numbers or no? Does case matter?

I have my standard three or four passwords to choose from, but I can't remember from site to site, and I've now locked myself out of one site because I tried too many times.

Good thing it's not anything important. Just my pay statements. Which I don't get in paper form in an effort to reduce paper because if I get something like a pay statement on paper, I am compelled to save it. But if I never get it in paper, it doesn't matter. Highly logical.

I don't even know who my payroll administrator is.

And Crushed

I'm sorry to be so relentless with this 'good day bad day' topic, but yesterday quickly spiraled out of control. I was again facing the same very stupid problems at work. And I mean stupid. And the thought of dealing with this stupid problems, which I have been dealing with for over four months now, woke me in the night and frustrated me to the point of insomnia.

The problem is that I can't simply solve the problem, and fix it. I have to meet with people and discuss things, and that never seems to lead anywhere in this place. I don't seem to be able to adequately express the point of You need to make a decision, though I state those exact words. Somehow, they expect me to make decisions based on the data I've gathered. Decisions that will affect how they run, and when I suggest them, they are aghast that I might slow down production. But yet they don't supply solutions or decisions they are comfortable with. For me, it means my projects can not be completed. I'm not sure it means anything to them.

It is all one of the circles of hell, I'm sure of it.

The last time I saw my boss, by the way, was last Thursday morning. Though she did leave me a message yesterday afternoon, so we have that going for us.

I know other people who work in this field, and they enjoy it. I must look a mix of horrified and revulsed when they say such things, because I find this area of work to be such a perpetual pain in the ass, spending hours whittling away miniscule decisions. Even the 'big' decisions are stupid in the context of the world.

So this is the day I face, under pressure to complete and yet with no supporting structure of the basics.

It's a Muuuch Better Day

Today is already shaping up much much better than yesterday. There isn't much of a difference if I look at how my days started, and what has happened, but for some reason? Today is vastly better.

My friend, after much searching and applying and calling and begging and disappointment and stress, has found a new job!!! She starts in less than two weeks.

A friend of a friend, after much trying and paying and procedures and hoping and disappointment, has miraculously gotten pregnant!! She's just two weeks along.

Sister-In-Law has her interview today, and Esposo has the Job Fair on Friday, and we need this kind of magic 2006 good things happening vibe to continue.

Biggest Loser Weigh In

Well, this morning I had my Biggest Loser weigh in at work. According to my scale at home, I lost 4.6 pounds over the last six days. According to the scale being used for the contest - SIX POUNDS over the last six days.

Now, don't worry, I haven't done anything drastic, I've been drinking my water and eating good, healthy food. I think it's post-holiday body equilibrating. You know, you eat so much over the holidays, your body starts storing things, and by going on this diet I'm just flushing out all those incompletely stored fats.

But that number is certainly making me happier than the one I saw last week! And the guy after me? He GAINED weight, so he had to pay the $5. In the first week!'

The bad news on all this is that I am not winning, as another guy lost more body fat % than I did (according to my home scale I lost 0.4% and the scale at work said 0.2%... since I didn't work out AT ALL, this makes sense).

Now that I am 95% healthy - no stuffy nose, just a slight cough - I begin working out today. I'm going to see if I can train to run an 8K on April 2nd. That's five miles for you non-metric people (like me). I have never run five miles in a row in my life. Three miles, yes. Five? Are you crazy?

Are you all bored to tears? I'm sorry, really. I think I got it out of my system.

Cutest Baby Ever

You Are All Very Disappointing

Have I mentioned I'm cranky? When I'm cranky, I like to read things by other people who are not cranky and may even be amusing. I like to read random emails that have absolutely no point because it keeps my mind off how cranky I am, and makes the day go by faster.


You are all disappointing me, because I have NOTHING TO READ.

Mine's Better

This was the headline that was printed:

Latest batch of 'Survivor' castaways unveiled

And this was what I read:

Latest bitch of 'Survivor' castaways unveiled

I Forget

I was going to get all and go into why exactly I'm all frustrated with work, but the upshot is, I'm having a sucky day and I'm in a bad mood. It didn't help that Luke woke up and cried for about five minutes are 2:30 AM. He put himself back to sleep, but left me unable to sleep. He did the same thing at about 4 or so, and then at 5, before finally getting up at 5:30. I feel awful that I can't go in and comfort him without it turning into an hour long process, maybe he has bad dreams, but I also feel awful less three hours of sleep.

Bad mood.

It didn't help that Esposo shrunk my new sweater in the wash. He didn't mean to, and he's sorry, but still, bad mood.

Trying to shake it but not sure how to.

Resume Skills

Able to reject the polite norms of society and out-wait individuals studious attempts to ignore while following, hovering, and generally being a pest (quietly) until said individual gives in and converses about the desired topic.

My New Favorite Show

I have a new favorite show. While I am trying desperately to avoid this becoming a weight loss blog (I had 1453 calories yesterday!), and therefore leaving that minutiae in emails to friends (haha!), I am actively involved in this whole weight loss thing. I'm amazed at how well I've started off, and am looking for things to keep me motivated.

And Celebrity Fit Club 3 just started on VH1, and I caught the first two episodes yesterday. Jeff Conaway, and if you know who that is, I will mail you a nickel, is the undisputed "star" of the show so far. Jeff was Kinicki in Grease, and the smooth operator on Taxi (why are you in a movie, but on a TV show?). I don't know what he's been doing since the seventies, but in his outburst yesterday he said he did four movies last year!

The show is set up with a panel of three judges - a doctor, a psychiatrist, and a drill sergeant. When the celebrities get up on the big scale to get weighed, the panel actually seems to be rooting for them. Maybe they say things like 'it's bad for your health, you could die' and other such things, but it's not mean. They're happy when the celebrities meet their goals.

But Jeff, he has some issues. Anger issues, drug issues. He threw his shoes at the panel, and claimed that in his day he could beat up the drill sergeant. (I wish I had a direct quote here... I may have to take notes). The day the celebrities had their activity, he showed up severely under the influence of something. It was fabulous. And, he lost no weight at all but claimed it wasn't his fault! He had no control over what he ate!

The celebrities are split into two teams, one headed by Chastity Bono, the other by Jeff. Chastity's team named themselves Ebony Flame, as two members are black and two are gay. See how they included everyone? Jeff's team? Greased Lightning. It's Jeff, Bizarre, Tempestt Bledsoe, and the hot 'babe' from Weird Science. What do the other three have to do with Greased Lightning? Jeff's a lot like the small town guy who was the high school quarterback but just can't seem to let it go.

I am well!!

After four days of antibiotics, I finally consider myself well. I still have a slight cough, but there is such a tremendous difference, I feel like a new woman. Which is good, because there is a hell of a lot I need to do at work and I could NOT have done it in the state I was in last week!

We continued working on our bathroom this weekend, and ordered the shower basin for the room. With the cabinets, toilet, tile, window, drywall and lighting, we think the total bathroom remodel is going to come in at $3500 - $4000. We have to tally it all up at the end. I didn't keep all the receipts, though, so the best we're going to be able to do is estimate. For the next *major* project, which will either be the basement or regrading and landscaping, I'll be sure to do that.

I am obsessed with shows such as Property Ladder and Flip This House, and would love to be able to do that someday - not on a mass scale, just once or twice a year for a few years. I consider all our current home improvement to be research for that venture!

And speaking of television shows, I think I know why I lose interest in shows so often. This 'winter break' from new programming is KILLING me! I forgot what I was even watching. Desperate Housewives might have had a new episode last night, but I forgot all about it until too late because I was snuggled in bed reading.

And by the way? The diet is going FABULOUS and I have new motivation for weight loss (besides the wedding) - there's a family trip to a waterpark in February. My sisters-in-law are skinny skinny minis (even the pregnant one will be much much less than me).

Memories... All Alone in the Basement

One of the side effects to my mother FINALLY moving out of the four bedroom house she's currently sharing with two cats is that she is bringing boxes to store at my house until she moves. And some of those boxes are going to end up staying.

When I moved into my townhouse, I took the vast majority of things from her house that were mine. But there were still a few boxes hiding here and there. Like all my cabbage patch kids, which she washed up and put in a nice plastic tote for me to store until Luke is a little older.

And then there were the two boxes of mine conveniently labeled 'Memories'. I'm not sure what struck me, but I decided to start going through some of these memories yesterday and clearing them out. First, there were the letters. Three shoeboxes full of letters from friends who wrote to me after I moved from New Jersey to Illinois in seventh grade. Every single one of them. I chose to throw out the letters from people I've lost touch with, but I kept those of Mandy and Beffy (ah, childhood nicknames). Hear that? I have ALL your letters. Maybe someday I'll sit down and read them again.

Next, there were the random writings. I have always liked to write (thus, the blog) but was overly dramatic as a child/adolescent. At least in my head. I found a two sheet summary expressing my aching, longing love for what I considered to be, at the time, my 'first love'. And my response now?

WHO? Though I had written his first name, I could not picture who I was talking about. Let me clarify - I didn't date until college, so this wasn't someone I actually went out with or anything. Just someone I was friends with and developed a crush on. And have now completely forgotten.

I got shot!

I went to the doctor yesterday. Of course, I don't have a regular doctor, so I just looked one up in my network and found one who was 1) close to work and 2) had an opening today.

I ended up going to a very small, thin, older man, who was EXTREMELY THOROUGH on getting my medical history. Was I on any medication? No. When did I last get my period? Christmas Day. Could I possibly be pregnant? As I said, period on Christmas Day, it's January 5th, I shouldn't have even ovulated yet. And then he launches into this long explanation on why he's asking this (uh, I get it, but the ODDS ARE REALLY DAMN GOOD I'M NOT PREGNANT) and wants to know if I'm on the pill. Um, remember the no medication thing? Have I EVER been on the pill? Ever? Seriously? Good grief.

He finally gets around to examining my mucus filled head (I felt bad for the guy when he had to look up my nose. Ewwww.) and feels around for enlarged lymph nodes. I've got a couple. Then he goes to listen to my heartbeat and notices that hey, my skins all red. Do I have a rash? No, my skin's just sensitive. I'm blond and fair skinned. That's dermal blah biddy blah blah. (I couldn't hear) Whatever, buddy.

After all this examination, hey, I have acute sinusitis. I coulda phoned that in. And then he starts his summary of the examination, into his little recorder. Every little damn detail.

But, he gave me a shot that cleared out my sinuses so they're not extremely painful AND I slept through the night, and also some kick ass drugs. Antibiotics and such.

Bathroom Remodel

Once upon a time, long long ago, we decided it would be a good idea to remodel our master bathroom. It was fugly. And old, and the flooring was soft from a slow leak around the toilet.

So we ripped it all out. The cabinets. The most horrific light fixtures ever. The shower. The toilet. Even the window.

Esposo ripped up the subfloor and cut into the old toilet drain, which was still connected to the shower in the bathroom next door and water seeped into the ceiling and collapsed it all over our living room floor. Esposo replaced the sub floor and a certain cat found his way in between the subfloor and the downstairs ceiling and could not find his way out.

It has been a long ass project. We have put up some drywall and concrete-wall. And then we went to Home Depot and found that we were supposed to put the shower basin in BEFORE the drywall went up around that area. Dammit.

We ordered cabinets, though.

Weigh In

I weighed in at home on Tuesday for this whole Biggest Loser competition we have going on at work. Since I made it through about three hours at work on Tuesday, I did not weigh in at work, and then I wasn't here at all yesterday, so no weigh in then either. I finally weighed in 'officially' today, when my scale at home tells me I'm up 0.4 pounds from Tuesday.

That 0.4 pounds is BS, I think my system is thrown off from the lack of hydration. I've had to force some food in my mouth at mealtimes just because I knew I *should* be hungry and I had to eat something. So I know I haven't overeaten, I just haven't, well, you know, had anything leave the mass balance equation that is weight loss.

In sad news, the scale that they are using at work reads five pounds heavier than mine at home. Admittedly, I weighed here with clothes on and after downing a lot of water. Shh. Don't tell.

And now we call a doctor...

Because when you wake up four hours after your last dose of Nyquil and need to take another? It is not good.

I also coughed Esposo out of bed at 3:30 AM. I'm sorry :( That was after the second dose of Nyquil wore off.

Effing doctors don't start their days until 9:30 AM. What the crap?

Update:
Doctor appointment at 2:30 this afternoon. Head might explode before then.

Thumps = Good Mothering

Luke is currently quieting himself down after I put him to bed. He's switched himself to one nap and longer night sleeping, which is a lovely thing, but he has also learned to grab the banister as we head up the stairs and the doorway to his room, so hateful he is of the 'sleeping' thing.

I don't know if I was like this when I was a baby, but I don't remember fighting sleep as a child. In fact, I loved bedtime because I would tell myself stories before I drifted off to sleep, kind of like lucid dreaming only decidedly not dreaming. And Esposo? The MIL thought he was dead when he slept through the night at TWO WEEKS. Two weeks, people. So the thing is, we are sleepers. The son is not into the sleeping.

Unfair.

I dragged my complaining almost-eleven-month-old up to bed, exhausted as he is because he took only a forty five minute nap today, and changed him before he was summarily chucked into his crib. I change him on the floor because he is the squirmiest, squiggliest child on the face of the Earth. I've seen other children changed, children who don't immediately object to laying on their backs for 2 minutes, and it amazes me. Like it's a magic trick. Anywho, I pick him up and lean him back to commence the diaper changing process. He knows what's going to happen and immediately arches his back in protest, as I'm bringing him towards the floor.

And there is a loud thump as his head hits the (carpetted) floor. This has to happen at least once per day. The kid's got a hard head.

I pull his sweatpants down quickly, so they're still on his legs at the ankles, but inside out and hanging over his feet, and am able to remove the damp diaper before he squirms upright. Nekkid. With sweatpants over his feet.

And he commences walking. Walking better than he does clothed without sweatpants binding his feet together. What a goofy boy. Post-diapering, I attempt to read him a story and cuddle a bit before bed. But now he's remembered that this bedroom place has that key word he hates, 'bed', and he crawls anxiously to the door to try and attempt his escape.

I pick him up and try to soothe him good night and he pushes away with hands and feet, trying to get down. I try to place him gently in his crib, and again the arching and the head thumping, followed immeadiately by the standing up and the crying to be picked up. I whisper to him 'Good Night' and 'Mommy loves you', and walk out the door to the sound of his whining cry. Halfway through this post he stopped making any noises.

And that is bedtime around here.

I am Sick

In fact, I have been sick now for two weeks. I sniffle. I cough. I can't hear a thing because my head is so congested. My nose is getting that 'been blown too many times' raw feeling. I chased my husband out of bed last night because of the incessant coughing. I don't know what drugs I've taken and I keep mixing them because it's not enough. Benedryl allergy for the stuffiness. Robitussin for the cough. Nyquil for the sleeping and the headache. Dayquil for the staying awake with less symptoms. Tylenol for the headache. Who knows anymore? I stumble into the bathroom and grab a drug.

I left work after a few hours yesterday, so sick and unpleasant I was, even on drugs. I headed to Walgreens for the DayQuil, or generic version thereof. After wandering around the store for fifteen minutes because 1) I am sick and 2) Therefore extremely stupid (I recommend trying to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge today. I might buy it. Wooden nickels? I'll take 'em) I finally located the cold section. Due to rampant drug production, I had to find the card for my generic Dayquil and bring it to the pharmacy for a bottle. Mmmm, methamphetamines.

I'm going to go drug myself further.

Daddies

Every girl wants the perfect Daddy-Daughter relationship.

Mother-Daughter relationships are more complex, more volatile, and more true than that of Daddies and Daughters. Daddies and Daughters reside in a fantasy land, where everything is butterfly kisses and tea parties and bear hugs. Mothers teach you how to be a woman, how to be strong, how to relate to those around you. Daddies let you be a little girl, a little spoiled, a little princess.

And the pinnacle of that relationship, whether it's true or a fairy tale, where even if your Daddy is less than you want him to be, is walking down the aisle with him.