Tabula Rasa

this isn't what I thought 35 would look like.

2009-06-12T14:35:00.005-04:00

I have vowed to start taking things people say at face value. The internal hamster running on the wheel of "what did so and so really mean" is exhausting. I am after all now 1/2 way to 70 (happy birthday to me) and trying not to listen to the bullshit that piles up in my head.

It really only gives me a headache.

**

We have been looking to adopt a dog, but it has to be the perfect dog. I'm kind of disillusioned by the whole process. Petfinder finds plenty of pets and if I lived in Arkansas or Tennessee that would be just grand, but I don't. I live in New England where none of the pups listed reside and the pounds are filled with bully breeds and not so much with the fluffy cute little pups one would seek to expose her 18 month old to. Spouse and I are going to meet one mix this Saturday and maybe go to the pound. A place thus far I have avoided because I just think it's too much for my heart to take.

My short list of dog requirements.
Must be a mixed breed.
Must not have squashed in face to encourage snoring.
Must be under 1 year of age and not the size of a house or a shoe box, respectfully.

I didn't think that was so much to ask. The hunt goes on and on.

**

I went to my first dance recital last weekend. The 3 1/2 minutes of my BF's little darlings twirling and tapping was a dream!! I love these girls as if they were my own and I bubbled over with pride to see them perform.

The other 3 hours and 12 minutes made my eyes BLEED. At the end of the debacle every other adult had the same glazed over dazed expression on their faces that my companions did. Human rights violating torture, thy name is dance recital. I will do everything in my power to steer my girl away from them.

**

I'm the accumulation of 6 generations of Gemini woman. All of us, one after the other on my mothers side. Crazy Twins. Except for my girl. My girl is a Sagittarius. I broke the cycle. She has a chance to be normal.

**

I am going to admit something huge.

I can't stop watching the Real Housewives of NJ. Gack, I know!
Totally not my type of reality TV. Think Top Chef and Project Runway. Swoon.

But Real Housewives? Again, I say Gack!
That was until a friend of mine from Rhode Island asked me "Is that what people from NJ are really like". So I had to watch a couple of minutes to see right? Well a couple of minutes turned into the whole episode which turned into me setting my DVR and gleefully awaiting new episodes.

Because you know what...no those are not what people from NJ are like because them bitches (love the phrase btw) are from New York. They just live in NJ. Except for one of them. One of them, I will not validate my obsession by naming her, is from NJ....and her accent? OMG, I can not get enough of it. Its like this fucked up cure to any home sickness I might have. Her voice and emphatic hand waving is like a warm cozy blanket that makes me feel like I'm home nestled among the strip malls and McMansions.

Because that's what Jersey girls really do sound like.

It's like butta.

eighteen.

2009-06-04T22:10:00.004-04:00

After only a year and a half, I feel like she has always been with me.

Funny how such a short time can feel like forever.

news.

2009-06-01T09:51:00.001-04:00

Hickory-Dickory-Dock.

I-Have-Writers-Block.

But-Never-You-Mind.

Busy-Getting-A-Canine.

Hickory-Dickory-Dock.

Or something like that....

before and after.

2009-05-18T10:29:00.009-04:00

Our long awaited furniture has finally arrived! In preparation we feng shui'd the house and made the best use of the pieces we had. Because really, this house was just not working for us.

**All before pictures taken by Spouse while I was in NJ and he had the inspiration and drive to just move everything without ~~talking to me first~~ me and the baby under foot.

Before: Eat in kitchen.

After: It's a playroom!

Before: Playroom/Office (desk already removed).

After: Dining room! Spouse and I have no idea why it took us 2 years to use the dining room as a dining room.

Before: Living room.

After: Furniture that is not being held together with duct tape and no cats allowed!

So far...

Please note I have no idea, how or why, I bought red couches when I was specifically looking for blue couches. This caused 6 weeks of total consumer remorse and panic until they finally arrived.

And I love them! This is one of those cases where my sub conscious takes over and makes the exact right choice for me because the path my conscious is heading down is just so wrong.

Other things on this list include; going away to college, seriously dating Spouse, and having a baby.

Three cheers for sub conscious!

the fine print.

2009-05-12T15:27:00.001-04:00

Competent? That's a stretch.

purge.

2009-05-04T13:29:00.005-04:00

So has anyone else had a day where they are looking for a specific shirt to wear and can't find it? So they tear through their closets and drawers with no luck. So that leads them to the spare room where ALL the cloths from like, the last 10 years are stored in clear plastic bins, to look. And after about the 8th bin you realize that, hey, like none of your old clothes actually, erm, fit you. So you start making piles of "will fit in soon after new dedication to eating right and exercising", "totally out of style anyways" and "not a chance in hell ". Then you come across the shirt you were wearing the night your Spouse first hit on you and you could just cry because you couldn't even hope to get it over your head now and dang you used to look so HOT what were you complaining about all those years ago?? The toddler whose birth process single handedly (yeah I don't care if its a word or not take that Scrabble) destroyed any hope you ever had of fitting into those (you know the ones) jeans again is having a field day with all these piles so you start to tear up a bit at the muffin top that you hate even though its not so much a muffin top as a layer cake but you have to laugh at the same time because the kid is so freaking cute and was worth it after all. But my God the CLOTHES that DON'T FIT that you need to part with but want to keep as a reminder not to eat that Geneva cookie which will only increase your layers. Then the whole thing ends brutally with you just shoving it all into black trash bags and throwing them into the garage because you need to get on the phone with Weight Watchers and you are running out of time in the day? Oh and you never find the freaking shirt that started it in the first place and where the freak is it anyways because you know that would fit.

No?

Yeah..me neither.

its not me its you.

2009-04-24T09:43:00.001-04:00

I went to the movies the other night with a couple of my girlfriends.

The theater we went to was one from my younger years; top of the line circa 1992.

The last time I was there was the winter of 2005 when I watched a Gummi bear travel across Middle Earth.

When I took my seat I was shocked at how, erm, small it seemed. I wondered...had they made the seats smaller or had my ass just become that much bigger....

At the end of the show the lights came on and I absorbed my dated surroundings. Examining the seats, I rationalized and justified.

It was the seats fault. It had to be.

Cause' you know...it couldn't possibly be my ass.

phenomenal cosmic power.

2009-04-17T16:26:00.007-04:00

I don't think I've ever truly expressed how awful life was with my desktop. I don't think I ever really knew; you know? Because if you don't know how the other half lives then you don't really know what you're missing.

With my desktop, everyday I felt like this...

But now? Now I am joyous beyond words! There is a song in my heart and ~~aching in my wrists~~ music from my fingers as they go tap tap tap on my brand new baby.

I have power. Power that allows me to load never before seen web pages, open email attachments like a normal person and ~~play an unhealthy amount of World of Warcraft~~ finally upload pictures of my kid again.

All at the same time! Can I get a squeee-da-lee-do?

Because every day this little, yet deceivingly heavy, piece of technology makes me feel like this...

Zippity freakin do da!

....oh and check the pants out...with the Alice in Wonderland shirt? Too freakin much!

wordless wednesday

2009-04-15T08:23:00.004-04:00

how it begins.

2009-04-05T07:23:00.002-04:00

I originally wrote this post last July on a pity party day. I never published it because at the time, it was for me. Today, I feel the need to make it yours.

I don't remember the name of my 3rd grade teacher. Or the kids in my class. I don't really remember my classrooms or my bus stop.

But what I do remember was my best friend in the world, Heather, who lived two doors down. She was blond and beautiful and every one loved her. She had a queen size bed and a chocolate poodle named Coco. She had a piano and her mother let her eat spray cheese.

My mother scoffed at such requests. I thought I was neglected. No poodle! No over sized bed! NO CHEESE??

Heather and I used to collect gypsy moth caterpillars and make "homes" for them in her sandbox. We would crawl into the thicket in the woods and watch the sun filter through the leaves. We would put her Holly Hobbie dolls into her play baby carriage and walk them around on her drive way.

Heather was always the mommy and I was always the baby sitter. She said it had to be that way beacause she was older.

I have no memories of Heather ever being at my house.

One of my only young childhood school memories is from Kindergarten. I remember hiding underneath a table with my fingers plugging my ears. I remember belting out "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" to drown out the teasing chants of my fellow classmates. I remember Heather leading the pack. I have foggy recollections of sitting alone at recess while the other kids, following Heather, played "keep away" from me.

I never told my mother and I always went to Heather's house after school to play.

I clearly remember being in her basement with her puppy. I picked him up and spun really fast in a circle. When I put the dog down it wavered while walking. I felt awful. I still do. My adult self knows why I did it, but still I can not reconcile myself with it, to me it was cruel even then. I feel it speaks of my character but at the time I felt trapped inside myself with my feelings and I had no one to talk to.

I didn't know I was supposed to talk to someone. I thought I was supposed to just feel that way. That was how things were.

Heather moved that year. I only saw her once after. I went to her new house to play. I remember her new room and her things. I remember sitting in the back of her fathers car with her singing Johnny 'B' Goode. She made fun of me because I didn't know all of the words and told me I couldn't sing with her anymore.

My mother always said "I was delightful until I entered school". She thought it was the structure, she thought it was the curriculum. She said maybe I was bored, maybe I needed something more tailor made to the way my mind worked.

I was sent to private school in the 4th grade. My problems with other kids, teachers and discipline continued until I was in high school.

Had I been raised in today's society I believe I would have been 'labeled' and most likely medicated.

I've never really talked about this to anyone. I certainly have never breathed a word to anyone about the puppy. It shames me.

I am terrified for my daughter. I am so afraid of what her future may hold for her. The cruelty of children. The harsh and cold things that mold us into who we are just as much as the beautiful things. I see her compliance, her patience and how she yields to other babies and I'm afraid for her; she is so timid.

This story is only the beginning. For all of the wonder my childhood held there were dark secrets that I never speak of. Memories deep inside. I know the ugliness that can exist for a little girl and I have a fierce need to protect mine.

I just don't know how.

stimulus.

2009-04-03T09:25:00.007-04:00

Spouse and I are doing our part to stimulate the economy.

We are buying new couches. (Totally hated the denim ones. Its amazing how things look more comfortable on the internet then in real life). As a direct result of the new couch purchase (still to be made) we are rearranging our entire house. I assure you before/after pictures will follow.

I bought new bras! Of the non-nursing variety!! I can not express how thrilling it is to lean over to pick up ~~a squirming tantrum throwing toddler~~ something and not have my bra pop open....and oh the comfort of having my boobs reside somewhere above my elbows!

And the best part of stimulating the economy?

This:

This baby replaces my 2001 desktop with 0% capacity. So bad that I can't even update the virus protection, I have to wait 20 minutes for a website to load and if I win a game of Scrabble the whole system crashes.

And I win a lot.

8 more days until delivery.....

flawless.

2009-03-27T15:37:00.010-04:00

The day after my mother passed away my father wanted to bring all of her jewelry to the safe deposit box.

I was assigned the task of sifting through the tower of jewelry boxes to separate the costume from the sentimental from the genuine articles.

When I was done I was a sobbing mess curled in the middle of my parents king sized bed.

I lay clutching a red leather box in one hand....and in the other my mother's engagement ring.

From the time I was very small I was always fascinated by it. She didn't wear it often but when she did oh how I was drawn to it! "Sparkle plenty" she would say, waving her fingers so the diamond would catch the light. She wore it when they went out, or for a special occasion with a matched diamond wedding band. It was dazzling.

A far cry from the plain gold braided band that adorned her finger on most days.

When my sobs began to subside I held it up to the winter sun streaming through the window. It's prisms danced across the bed spread as I turned it this way and that. I examined it from all sides and tried to memorize it's every facet while picturing it on her hand.

It left an imprint in my palm from how tightly I squeezed it. Blood from a stone; tears from a diamond; I felt like I was letting the last little bit of her go when I returned it to it's box. I brought the humble pile of jewelry to my father and fell so deep into depression that there was no light. There were no prisms for longer then I can even remember.

Eventually, I healed. Slowly. I forgot the rings size, it's sparkle, it's details. I reached a point where if asked I could only assure its existence but nothing else.

That was until I found myself sitting on a piece of driftwood on the northern California coast. I felt Then Future Spouse shift beside me and I looked over to see him perched on one knee.

He held a red leather box in his outstretched hand; nestled in it was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. My mothers ring. My ring.

He said wonderful things. I said yes and cried. It was more then I ever thought that moment could have been.

Unlike my mother I wear it everyday. Even filthy from soap scum and lotion it still flashes in the sun. Clean; it could blind you. It still dazzles me.

Riley loves to finger it, she says "prewwy" and tries to pull it from my hand. I tell her how much her grandmother would have loved her, that the "pretty" is a piece of her. I tell her to have patience. Someday...a day further away from today then either of us could ever imagine it will be hers.

Because that is how I want it passed on. From mother to daughter. Sparkle plenty.

ugh.

2009-03-20T15:08:00.011-04:00

I'm waiting for my in laws to descend upon me this weekend.

Lord give me strength....

...and a laptop so I could disappear into a bathroom or something to blog about them when it all becomes too much.

In the meantime. I give you this.

How toddlers help clean.

You see the ugly couch? What you don't see is the black industrial photography studio (thank you RIT) tape holding it all together. And the ugly rug? Well that I will spare you the close up of. Just ewwwww.

So here is where you come in. Help me spend my tax return.

This....

and this (with ottoman) ala 'Cindy Crawfords Collection' at Raymour and Flanigan...

Or should I stick with a sectional? If you were coming over for a gathering** lets say...where would you want to sit? Would you find a 3 seat sofa (remember someone must park it on the crack because there are only 2 pillows) and chair/ottoman enough seating?

Would you want to put your footsies on this?

There is a little blue in there right?

Just pretend you see it, its on sale and its Pottery Barn.

**Where a gathering indicates 6-8 people for informal food and company.

***Edited to add that I don't like the throw pillows so much. Cause in now way do those things go with that rug.

the cheese wears me.

2009-03-16T19:26:00.004-04:00

I'm under the suspicion that I'm depressed.

After another failed attempt at socialization today for me and Riley at the park, I went to Target and bought 7 different types of cheese.

If thats not depression I don't know what is.

sing it loud so I can hear you.

2009-03-15T19:13:00.004-04:00

Our wedding song was Better Together by Jack Johnson.

The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls ties my Blanket Girls...my best friends and me together.

I was listening to Bob Marley's Acoustical Medley the moment when my mother slipped away.

These are the songs I hear in my head everyday of my life. They are the songs I always come back to; the ones I am always humming.

When I am not humming "Give me back that fillet of fish, give me that fish..." Seriously, someone help me!

My point.

From the moment I knew Riley was growing inside me I began to sing to her. Everyday of my pregnancy and every day of the last 15 months. They are varied fun tunes, theme songs or the aforementioned commercial.

Give me back that smelly dipe, give me that dipe....

The first night in the hospital I held her sleeping body close to me. I found the words to a song I have always known, and knew in that moment that it would always be hers. That night, and every night after I have sung her The Beatles, I Will.

I nursed her and rocked her. I would sing it and then hum it before finally settling her peacefully in her crib.

While I am no longer nursing her I am still singing to her...its our bedtime ritual.

But I wonder for how long. She grows restless for more books or for her bed. It is crystal clear to me in these moments how quickly she is growing and changing. How fast she makes up her own mind.

Sometimes I worry that this song will fall away one day to be one I only sing to myself.

But them I remember the times she has heard it on the radio and has raced towards me. "Mamamamamamama..." Shes climbed into my lap and snuggled for a minute before racing back away.

I know little moments like that will be a fleeting gift as she grows. But she will always be mine, I will always remember and I promise I will always sing for her and to her.

I will.

because babies...

2009-03-13T09:58:00.004-04:00

...babies turn into toddlers.

And toddlers are busy. And very, very strange.

How many Elmos do you see?

it could be worse.

2009-02-25T16:51:00.002-05:00

That's my general attitude about my health.

People ask me how I am...my answer; It could be worse.

It's the first thing I said when I was diagnosed 3 years ago. I don't have cancer right? It could be worse.

I couldn't feel my right leg, I couldn't turn my head and walk at the same time without falling over.

It could be worse.

Then I got better, so much better...and then pregnant, and then 100% better. And when people asked me how I was I said "I've been worse".

So now that disease begins to creep back into my body, now that it starts to win the occasional battle I remind myself. It could be worse, it has been worse and if it's up to me it's not going to get any worse then it is right now.

I have gone to bed everyday for the last few weeks saying the same thing. 3 years ago you could stick a needle in my right ankle and I wouldn't have felt it. Today, that is not the case and I think I would kick you if you tried.

So I lay my head on my pillow and repeat it again and again and I concentrate on my left eye. In the morning maybe my vision wont be as blurry. A week from now maybe I won't be getting headaches anymore from straining to see. 3 years from now I will look back at this time in my disease and remember.

It's been worse.

for the benefit of your search engine.

2009-02-20T09:49:00.006-05:00

I started back on my MS medication, Rebif about a month ago.

Originally I avoided returning to my thrice weekly injections because I thought it would mean I had to stop breast feeding (and I was like totally La Leche crazy about breast feeding). For a year I risked my own health to continue nursing.

When my doctors told me I no longer had a choice I was devastated. Nursing was so second nature, so much a part of my relationship with my child that I couldn't, wouldn't walk away. I became my own advocate. I started researching and talking and investigating.

At the end of a month I was privy to information that is not so easy to come by. And for the benefit of any other woman with MS who needs the answers to the same questions I had, I say wrap your Google keywords around this.

Multiple Sclerosis, Breast Feeding, Nursing, Rebif, Interferon.

Here is what I found out.

Nursing and taking Rebif is possible. I was given information from my local lactation consultant who used a book written by a Dr. Hale. I brought this research to my doctors and the baby's doctor. They are fully supportive of the information I found.

The drug company has a blanket statement of "don't do it" because they a) have done insufficient research and b) refuse legal responsibilities. I get that. But it's not the whole story.

Dr. Hale has done studies on breast feeding mothers and this drug. He has tested the milk.

Rebif is an Interferon. A protein naturally produced in the human body.

On a molecular level it is too large to pass into breast milk in measurable amounts.

Even if it did, the reason why it's an injectable is because the GI track of the human body destroys it.

Call me crazy but that was good enough for me and I am still nursing. Granted Riley is 15 months old and can go days without wanting it, but if she asks it's there.

I only wish I had taken hold of the situation sooner. Because while medication is no cure for MS, it can certainly slow its progression....and that's what it has been doing for the last year. Progressing.

Nursing or not nursing is a personal choice. Dealing with this disease and negotiating the options is personal. No one is going to do it for you, no one is going to make your choices.

I agonized over this decision. Even with the knowledge I have today I would still have waited 6 months before returning to the medication, but I would have been informed. Personally, I like to know all sides of a story.

then don't say anything at all.

2009-02-16T19:15:00.004-05:00

So I haven't exactly been the best blogger of late. I checked the stamp on my last post. December 4th, gawd. Talk about being a slacker. I've been reading but I can't tell you the last time I commented.

Well ok, I can. It was like 5 minutes ago on The New Girls new news.

The thing is though I try to subscribe to the "If you can't say anything nice" theory. And lately I just haven't been up to nice.

Whats dragged me from my hole? This...

Where is Clink? Where is Clink?
Hope you're ok! Hope you're ok!
We miss your witty self We miss your witty self
Come back please Come back please
Sung to the tune of "where is thumbkin"

That was a comment from Swiggy. Too much right. So I figured I owed maybe a teeny little update to my reader(s).

Well...I'm not up for it. It's just too much right now. In the thick of it you see.

So. Something I have spent a good amount of time thinking about these last few months.

Fucking Sesame Street.

Right...so, when Riley turned one I realized that crap! I had never let this kid watch TV ~~with the exception of Football like 24-7 for 16 weeks~~ ; so maybe I owed her a little puppet time. I flipped on the big Sesame for the first time since I watched it as a kid.

Seriously.

This is what I have learned and I am none too happy.

Snuffalufagus is no longer invisible. WTF?

Elmo is the MC leaving poor Big Bird to sit on a door step and shake a cup for spare change just so he and Snuffy can get by one more day.

Oh and on that Elmo thing...totally baby crack. Riley is obsessed, this is her guy. So much so that when an older episode comes on when Big Bird was still top puppet, she points and whines at the TV until I make Elmo magically appear with the power of my modern day DVR.

Oscar the Grouch has a girlfriend. ummm....

Maria and Gordon NEVER age....which makes me wonder...are they perhaps puppets? Because they look just as fresh as they did in "Follow That Bird" which is the last time I remember seeing them.

The little letter and number of the day skits are EXACTLY the same as 20 years ago.

Bert and Ernie totally don't get any play and I wonder if it's because of all the rumors.

Elmo has a chick in his life called "Abby" and she is a fairy and can fly and talk to her Mommy through her wand. They are reaching here right? Or is it just me?

Regardless, Riley loves this stuff so I suffer through. I buy the merchandise and make her Elmo dance for her at bed time because it makes her laugh and laugh.

And that's what its all about right? Making them happy? Even if it means we have to buy into imaginary friends no longer being imaginary and furry little monsters who refer to themselves in the third person all the time! So maddening.

But in all fairness to said furry red monster. When Elmo goes to "ask a baby" in his little bit it makes me smile. And for a moment I see what Riley sees. The cutest friendliest furriest cat there ever was.

Because that's what she calls him. Loudly...and a lot....CAAAATTTTTTTT!!!!!!

Now...Promise. A real update and real comments and real involvement back in my blogger life...sooner then later.

twelve. II

2008-12-04T11:50:00.003-05:00

I remember the doctor telling us that "we have a girl". I know the exact moment I heard you cry. Your first smile, your first laughter and your first word. I remember the day you first crawled away from me and when you first stood. I'm sure your many firsts to come will dim some of these memories for me. You will grow and time will move faster every year.

But for all the days and years to come the one thing I will never ever forget is the first time you looked in my eyes.

My sweet girl, happy first birthday.

twelve.

2008-12-03T10:06:00.004-05:00

I wasn't going to write about today because I didn't want to burst into tears. Especially right now. Make-up and hair just so. I'm going to a fancy mall this afternoon and I want to look like a person, not an exhausted mommy.

But from the moment I woke up this morning I just couldn't get it out of my head. 12 years. My mother has been gone for 12 years.

For some reason I just cant wrap my head around that. It feels like I lost her yesterday.

It will always feel like yesterday.

But 12 years? It's not as profound as 10, not as emotional as 3.

No where near as devastating as 30 will be. When I will officially be the oldest she ever was.

12 seems to suggest a kind of acceptance of the years passing. A finality that only time can provide. It reminds me that no matter how much I would like to do otherwise, I measure my life in terms of years without her.

I still dream of her. Its not like it used to be though, the moment of pure elation upon seeing her; "OH! You're not dead!". Still smelling her in those foggy seconds between sleep and awake. The crushing blow of realization upon waking.

Now I feel almost a sense of trepidation upon meeting her. She's not supposed to be there, in the kitchen by the sink. This is my fathers house now. I feel as if I'm meeting an old friend and I don't know where to begin. My mind always snapping back to my father; wondering where he is.

Long before her death my mother told me that if ever one of them were to die, I should pray it was her. That for security, for safety, my brother and I needed my father.

I'm not sure if she really believed that to be true or the trauma of loosing her own father at 15 was so deeply set that she could not imagine that option for her children.

When my father was diagnosed with cancer, erm 12 years ago, I could see it in her eyes. If it was up to her, she would be the one to leave us.

Even then I saw her in my minds eye. Making a deal with God. Her bargain still rings in my head. Little more then a month from his diagnosis; she was gone.

I remember being little and finding my mother crying in her room over her father. It was ingrained in me so young to fear the loss of a parent. I don't wish that for my daughter, but how am I to avoid it? When with each passing year I take her hand to help light the candle in my mothers memory...and the next day light her birthday candle in celebration.

For now I know this, I miss my mother every day of my life.

But never more then today when I lost her.

And never more then tomorrow when I became her.

my dog ate my blogosphere.

2008-11-21T10:01:00.002-05:00

Not that I even have a dog but if I did I bet you it would have....

I've been a total flake the last few months I admit, and I'm starting to feel really guilty about it. When I think about it I have all of these perfectly sound explanations for my absence...but when you pile them all together they just sound like excuses.

I am famous for excuses.

So here they are, my lame attempts to rationalize my guilt over my blog abandonment issues.

-I have been really really sick. Truly. For over a month I was on my back. A cold, MS, recovery, some weird hacking disease transmitted to me by an evil mouth breather at a play group.

-Due to said illnesses I have been napping when the baby naps and therefore loosing all of my off-duty parent web surfing time.

-I've struck a deal with Spouse that when he comes home the computer gets turned off.

-My absence from the computer is in direct proportion to the mobility of my baby.

-My absence from the computer is in direct proportion to the neediness of my baby who, whenever I plop down at the desk, immediately stops what she is doing to whine and cry at my feet until I return to my spot on the floor where she promptly leaves me to go chase cats.

-98% of my computer time is spent on Facebook playing Scrabble. I have a serious addiction issue but I'm also frighteningly good at it.

-My computer is a relic. I have 0% left on my hard drive (seriously) and loading any website, much less my blog reader, takes for-evah. This gives my baby ample time to shoot on over here and commence whining...and bouncing up and down while pulling on my pant leg...it's so freaking cute!

-Even when said blog reader does load it has a gazillion error messages and won't let me read/link to the hundreds of back logged posts I am yet to read. Therefore I eventually give up and walk away.

-Something did seriously eat my blogosphere...well blog reader really. Among all of those error messages I have the mystery of the disappearing~reappearing posts. I was so relieved to see no one else was really writing either. It made me feel like I wasn't the only one. This was until one day I checked and people had like 30 some odd posts out of no where. Just a little glitch and I swear me and my ancient computer are trying to catch up.

-I am totally depressed and don't want to talk about it.

-Ok, I'll talk about it, a little. This is the time of year my Mom died. We are quickly approaching the day, December 3rd, and each day it gets just a little harder to function. On that same note however I have the pending first birthday of my baby, December 4th, and I'm really struggling with the duality of the whole situation. What a great opportunity to write and share my feelings with others who know exactly what I'm going through you say? How healthy it would be for me to get this crap off the hamster wheel in my head? Yeah well, since when do we do what we know is healthy for us?

Since when do I do what is healthy for me?

Well I guess that last one really is the heart of it.

Thank you for those of you who stick with me even though I am totally giving nothing back right now in our relationship.

You and Spouse are in the same boat.

bubble.

2008-11-07T08:18:00.004-05:00

Dear Fellow Mommy,

You selfish twit.

Did you think it was a good idea to venture out to a play group activity sick?

What stroke of genius did it take for you to not only park you snuffly ass next to me and my baby but for you to turn your head in our direction and cough.

Twice.

I understand I can't live in a bubble (although I certainly do try my hardest) but I would expect a certain amount of common sense and courtesy when nursing whatever illness you have.

Why haven't you seen me in three weeks? That's easy, because we have been sick. Unlike you I choose to stay within the confines of my home when down with disease.

I have been living the last month or so of my life mentally curled under my blankets in the fetal position; things are not all rosy and half full for me right now. I made a considerable effort this week to attend the play group activity for the good of my cagey daughter; we both needed to get out.

And the thanks I get? A cough. A sore throat. Geee thanks.

Now even if my immune system was not seriously compromised on a level you could not understand, I would be miffed.

Because you are sick and have no business around other moms and their babys. Got that? Food store I get, we all have to live....superfluous 1/2 hour activity that your aggressive and mean baby doesn't even seem to enjoy? Not so much.

So in short. To you and to your fellow germ ridden bone heads.

Stay the hell home.

Thanks!

well crap.

2008-10-31T21:10:00.005-04:00

My heart is breaking.

My MS flared out of nowhere, I don't know what triggered it but it seems to be firing on all cylinders. I submitted to my doctor and had new MRI's run. They came back 'active'. Dangerous.

Tomorrow will be day 4 of The Juice. It could stretch to day 5. I'm a pin cushion. Today was my 8th stick with a needle/IV. If it weren't for the bruises I would have lost count.

I have to go back on my regular medication. Rebif. An injectable drug I can not breastfeed while taking.

I have to stop breastfeeding the baby. For good. Now.

And for that, not my illness, or the sticks, or the hours in an infusion room away from my family; my heart is breaking.

I have to stop. For real this time.

I have to keep saying it because I can not even begin to process this without hysterics.

I know I'm lucky, I know so many woman who don't get 2 hours; 2 weeks; 2 months nursing.

I've had almost 11 months.

And for every break of my heart I have a baby pulling at my shirt in tears; banging her head against me. She is getting desperate. I feel as if a fissure has opened up between us, I don't know what to do.

I try to look at the bright side. I can buy real bras again and be comfortable...

Maybe I'll get some new non-mommy undies to go with them?

Now I don't have to stress about being bit?

Not much of a bright side.

For the record; 2 years ago tonight, Halloween night, was my last shot of Rebif. I remembered the elation I felt when I took it. Freedom, for at least a little while. From the constant needles and medications. We were going to try and have a baby. That last shot meant the first step for a whole new life.

In the back of my mind the reality of having to go back to it was always there. I just didn't realize when it came down to it, how much it was going to sting...or how much nursing would change me.

Tonight those 2 years of freedom and our 11 nursing months just doesn't feel like enough for me.

It certainly isn't enough for her.

ten.

2008-10-09T10:35:00.004-04:00

My bumble, my bubble, my boo.

I felt you move inside me at just 14 weeks and you have never stopped. You are perpetually in motion.

Even when you sleep.

not so wordless but at least it's wednesday.

2008-10-08T17:03:00.001-04:00

No journalist left behind act.

2008-10-07T15:27:00.004-04:00

Exactly how wrong is it that the article claiming my area schools have failed the states standardized tests (again) was littered with grammatical errors?

Seriously.

I went to WebMD so many times that I got a hemorrhoid.

2008-10-06T18:48:00.000-04:00

So I'm just wondering...

Why exactly is it that stores hide things like Preparation H and Tucks?

Is it some kind of sick joke? Are the managers up there looking through their big brother cameras laughing at my plight?

I looked under Itching/Burning Creams.

I looked by Medicated Ointments/Wipes.

Nothing. I paced the aisles at the over sized retailer becoming increasingly aggravated. My problem becoming increasingly aggravated. Having never had this issue before I was at a total loss.

I saw no signs for Embarrassing Ass Problem.

No Secret Sore Relief.

Suffice it to say the Get Your Anorectic Treatment Here signs were lacking.

Are they trying to make it so I have to ask someone? So I have to go up to the baby faced teenager stocking shelves and listening to their Ipod; the one who is yet to experience anything publicly mortifying with their body; and inquire.

"Where is the ass cream??"

Finally I spotted a grouchy looking older woman. She was walking as if slightly uncomfortable and B-lining for the Antacid sign. I followed her.

I saw her stoop down and pluck a box off the shelf. Bingo.

I never thought to look in antacid...I mean, isn't that, while still connected, a totally different part of the body?

When she walked awkwardly from the aisle I swooped in. There they were, boxes of my needed relief, on the bottom shelf.

WTF?

Adding to all of the walking and looking and stressing about asking I now have to squat to select my savior?

Oh cruel irony your name is retail.

oops with an ending.

2008-09-29T09:06:00.006-04:00

Allow me to fall all over myself with apologies for my poorly timed mini-vaca from ~~everything but Facebook Scrabble~~ all things internet.

I finally do have an update and an ending to what turned out to be a very long and very stressful summer.

See, Spouse was in danger of loosing his job. Well, maybe not in danger...lets say in imminent removal from. We had just 90 days for him to find a new one and let me just say those 90 days were hell.

There was pretty much a 98% chance we were going to have to move; whether it was to a new job in NH or back to NJ to live with my Dad. I even considered going back to work if Spouse was unemployed.

The horror.

We were making contingency plans.

We've been snipping at each other for months. There was no peace in this house, there was no money. Things were looking pretty scary.

And than a remarkable thing happened. This countries major financial institutions started to crumble.

Have I mentioned Spouse works in the crumbling financial industry? Well he does.

So finding a newer shinier job got that much harder. His old one started looking pretty good to him.

Have I mentioned Spouse is a pretty fast talker? Well he is.

And he gets to keep his job; with a few changes and a longer commute to a different campus.

Whatever.

We keep our house, we keep our new(ish) town.

We are actually happy again, a giant looming cloud was lifted. Can't you hear the angels singing?

So how did I celebrate? I instantly grabbed the baby and took off for Vermont to BF and family for a week. Leaving Spouse here alone. Aren't I nice?

Well it was the best thing; after this summer we needed a break.

Life is Good....at least that's what the tire cover on my Jeep says.

Now after I attend to my baby's cold/teething nightmare/growth spurt I will be blogging again.
I swear.

Oh and Amber...no more cliff hangers...Promise.

show me your poop face.

2008-09-16T13:27:00.005-04:00

Yeah I know, it's wrong. But how can you resist a poop face like that?

Where have I been? Good question.

Involved, stressed and unsure. I've never been one to tell half a story so maybe tomorrow I'll know the ending; then I'll spill the beans.

No I'm not pregnant.

I know, I hate cliff hangers too.

updates.

2008-09-09T07:53:00.007-04:00

After 11 days of ~~hell~~ waiting; I showered and flossed. Heaven.

I'm feeling much much better. The swelling continues to decrease...I look less and less like Franken-Mommy every day and more like me; which is such a good.

Eating has improved to foods I don't actually have to chew but can just swallow. Being that my jeans fit so well I am not concerned about this.

**************************************

It seems that there is actually a perfectly good reason to lick a baby.

As long as it's your baby....

...and she is arm deep in a bowl of mashed pears that got away from you.

**************************************

I had an awful dream last night.

Phoebe from Friends (not Lisa Kudrow...Phoebe) had Riley overnight while I was in the hospital for Lumpy.

My baby was not only not a baby when she was returned to me but she was Haley Joel Osment.

...And that is me off the pain killers.

nine.

2008-09-06T22:32:00.010-04:00

I missed eight.

We have been so busy. You go everywhere with me and there is always a smile on your face. This last month it has been doctors and hospitals. It has been other states, family parties and chaos.

I have fought through it all but you have born it with interest and unwavering patience.

My sweet girl, with every day I can see your personality more and more.

You are independent. You have my stubborn streak.

There are so many firsts. When you clapped. When you tried to crawl (backwards). When you mimic.

When I wasn't there to kiss you goodnight.

Above all things, your smile still lights up a room.

And those eyes. Oh those eyes, they are holding fast as blue but I know they will change. No matter the color (I personally am holding out for your father's hazel) they will always be intense and look right at my heart.

the perfect diet.

2008-09-02T07:53:00.006-04:00

I think I've finally figured out. After years of struggling with my body....the perfect diet.

I call it the Anti-Salivate diet and it's sorta based on Pavlov's Dog theory.

Think about food- make food- attempt to eat food.

Blinding searing pain. Radiating from my inner ear and pulsing through my whole head...certainly more effective than a bell.

If the food actually enters my mouth watch out, that is where the real punishment begins.

There's not a number on the pain scale for what I feel; and that's with copious amounts of ~~percoset~~ acetaminophen coursing in my veins.

My liver is loving it I'm sure.

Drugs I have to take (obviously) on an empty stomach. So if the cutting head pain wasn't enough to deter nutrition in any form entering my system the belly pains are a great follow up.

Psychologically it's really doing a number on me. Water seems to be the only thing I can have; but not too much. If I indulge a dull ache begins.

So the upside of having one of your main salivary glands partially removed is weight loss.

Take that Hollywood.

Because there has to be an upside; I'm really a glass is half full sort of girl.

all of those years of art school and I finally have something in common with Van Gogh.

2008-08-31T07:39:00.003-04:00

This morning while talking to Spouse....

"It's been almost a week and I don't feel at this point that it's the stitches primarily holding my ear on..."

Really...I said that. In my kitchen. No one should ever have occasion to say that.

I think I have turned a corner this morning. Not because I can mock my predicament. Ok a little because I can mock my predicament. But because I woke up this morning and felt like me again.

Not the drugged up, sliced open version of me that was totally incapable of caring for either herself, her husband or her baby.

I completely underestimated the surgery and the recovery. For some reason I never really thought about it; I was too busy focusing on my smile.

I just figured a little slice here and there, Lumpy would pop out and that would be that.

Not so much.

They took my ear off.

Yeah you read that right.

They cut it and flipped it back and lord only knows what else.

I was F'ed up! Ask BF, she was here (out of the never ending goodness of her heart) and she took wonderful care of me. But she can support me here without me having to post really gross pictures (which I am happy to do if you guys want to see them). I was F'ed up.

I still cant feel my ear, but after cleaning out all the crusted yuck from it this morning I can hear again. So there's that.

The stitches come out Thursday and then I can actually shower.

I haven't washed my hair in a week.

So lets recap....Crust, stitches, sliced ear and neck, goo, yuck, no shower.

Go one...line up and who gets to be friends with me!

lump no more.

2008-08-27T09:28:00.003-04:00

I can't really see straight to type right now.

Pain killers.

I have no hope that what I would write would be remotely coherent.

So I will just say this.

Seeing all of your loving comments this morning made me smile really BIG.

Because I can. Everything is ok.

Now...I am going to go make with the passing out in my bed.

there's no way out now.

2008-08-24T21:20:00.004-04:00

My bag is packed (mostly), all the phone calls have been made. My Auntie is here to take care of Riley.

On the surface it looks like I'm ready.

Beneath the surface?

I am not OK.

I talk to Spouse about it and he tries to calm me. The baby will be OK, she will not starve, she may be mad...but she will be OK. People are here to care for her; he will be here with her at night. She will be OK.

But what he doesn't get is that it's not the baby I'm worried about. It's me.

I am not OK.

Yes, I am frightened about the results of the surgery; the side effects to both my face and the chance of aggravating my MS. But what bothers me most?

Being away from my baby. My sweet little girl. For the first time in our life together we will be separate.

Sure, I have had the occasional night out and pedicure appointment. But 48 hours apart? I can't imagine how much I will miss her. My breath catches in my throat when I think about it.

My surgery is at 11 AM today.

So here is to everything going swimmingly.

I am talking Micheal Phelps insanely successful- swimmingly.

the real olympics.

2008-08-17T09:58:00.003-04:00

Anyone can watch swimming, basketball and gymnastics.

It takes a true sports fan to watch the ~~lame~~ real Olympics.

Badminton
Trampoline Gymnastics
Water Polo
Synchronized ~~Mens~~ Diving
~~Ping Pong~~ Table Tennis
Indoor Cycling

A real sports fan...

Or maybe just a really bored one.

At least I have a DVR. Watching the Olympics at x2 speed...

...hysterical.

Lumpy's day out.

2008-08-15T19:40:00.004-04:00

I was in Boston today for my second consolation with the surgeon who is taking Lumpy out a week from Monday.

I have touched on Lumpy before on this blog but never really explained him.

He (because everything in my life has to have a name and personality; the car, the camera, the tumors...) is a benign Parotid Gland Tumor located at the end of my left jaw line below my ear lobe. He is about the size of a shooter marble or a slightly undersized golf ball (if there even is such a thing).

While the news of him being benign caused me great relief I am still focused on the surgery itself.

I am freaking!

First, I will be away from my daughter for at least 48 hours if not more, I am praying it will be less.

Second, I am going under. All the way out. While this has the bonus of not having to "hold really still" it also comes with violent vomiting upon waking up.

What fun.

Oh and third, the surgery carries a ~~small and the surgeon says he doesn't anticipate a problem but he won't really know until he gets in there~~ risk of paralysis on the left side of my face.

You see the facial nerve runs right through/on/beneath Lumpy.

So when the surgeon starts talking about minimal scarring and pain I could really give two craps.

I will take a scar. I will take pain.

I will even take the promised numbness of my left ear.

I just want to be able to smile normally when it is all over. I want to be able to close my eye just like I closed it the day before. I want to puff out my cheek and suck it back in again.

Normal.

With in reason of course.

I am after all. Me.

you can't always go home again; and maybe that's a good thing.

2008-08-12T14:56:00.009-04:00

I have finally returned from my last trip to New Jersey for this summer.

Can I get a Hip-Hip-Hoooo-Ray?

Riley and I have spent the last 10 days packed into my childhood home with my brother and his family who were in from California.

I can't tell you how good it is to be home.

And since I can't tell you that, I am going to tell you a little bit about being away.

Namely, about my parents house. Nay, father's house. My mother has been gone over 12 years and while the rooms are still as she left them; her smell and her presence are long gone.

Something creepy happens when a person lives in a house 35 plus years as my father has. You begin not to see things anymore. Items outside of your everyday needs and activities just sit there, unnoticed.

Unnoticed that is until your daughter comes back for a visit with camera and boredom in hand. Each night I tried to see the things that havn't moved (for the most part) in many years so I could share them with you. Because I know you care about this right? Well at least my girlfriends care; this is their ~~drunken teen aged years~~ childhood too.

Exhibit A: The Shelf in the Kitchen.

Lets get passed the wallpaper first ok. Circa 1970's at it's best baby. You would never know that years later my mother would actually become a kick ass interior designer.

Please take notice of the Charms container. When my sister in-law was pregnant she craved Charms sour balls like crazy. She was in New Jersey only once during her pregnancy. However here the balls sit. 5 years later. In the exact same spot they were left.

In addition. We have the NY Giants Santa Claus ornament that broke 3 years ago. Sitting right where it was originally put when it broke. It's severed football hand is in a small dish above the sink.

Oh and no mocking of the duck and chicken. I love those guys and they do actually serve a purpose.

Exhibit B: The Weird Hanging Paper Puppets in the 1/2 Bathroom.

Again...wallpaper, oui!

Not much to say about these guys except they have hung there almost 30 years now.

...and when I was ~~there last week~~ a kid, I made their hands do this:

Funny right?

Exhibit C: The Creepy Clown Bank.

I am terrified of clowns and this freaking thing has been taunting me for as long as I can remember. I hide it and as soon as I begin to feel comfortable again it reappears. I would drive it out to the pine barrens and leave it there but I really think it would try and kill me in the process.

Exhibit D: The Cathy Book.

This is the only reading material in our 1/2 bathroom and has been for over 20 years. It was a gift to me from one of my crazy aunts....do the math, I was 13...what were they trying to tell me??

Today it stands as a shining example how things never move in the house....well that and I honestly think everyone is frightened of the bacteria on the book to even dare disturbing it.

Please don't think less of me...especially since I have more pictures to show you at another time and you will have no where to go with your contempt.

That and my father has a cleaning lady (also around for over 20 years) who dusts ~~everything but the book because we couldn't pay her enough for that~~ these objects while she smokes cigarettes in the house.

Whole other story that.

Now...to finish unpacking. Later this week I will share the trip highlights!!

snippets.

2008-08-06T11:36:00.004-04:00

While at the family party last weekend.

Crazy Uncle (admiring Riley): "She truly has your mother's eyes."

Me: "uhh thanks Crazy Uncle but she really does look exactly like my father in every way."

Crazy Uncle: "No, I meant, her gaze. She has your mother's gaze."

Me (examining baby and her unwavering intent gaze): "Yeah...yeah she does doesn't she?"

*****************************

While giving Riley a bath yesterday.

Nephew (all of 5): "Ummm when will she get her penis?"

Me (desperately trying to keep straight face): "She doesn't have a penis buddy, she has a vagina."

Nephew: "Well what's a vagina?"

Me: "Errrm, maybe you should go ask your mommy."

meet the family.

2008-08-02T19:12:00.003-04:00

When my baby gets overwhelmed she shuts down. She doesn't cry, or squirm. She turns her head away and buries it in my shoulder. She scratches the back of my arm with one hand and digs into my chest with the other.

To anyone who doesn't know her it looks like a loving snuggle. It's not.

It is her saying, "Mommy, I am afraid. I can not even begin to process what is going on here."

So when ~~I know better than you family members~~ people tell me not to worry "She'll cry" if she is upset. "I'll take her, she looks so calm." I want to clock them one.

Because they are scaring her. They are in her face and she does not have the fight part of 'fight or flight'.

This is a baby that will sit in her poo, hungry, tired with her leg pinched in her car seat and not complain.

Much.

It takes a lot. When I say a lot I mean A LOT to really get to her.

So what these ~~overbearing Aunts~~ people are missing as they cackle in her face and pat her head and grab her hands and generally pester her to meet their own needs...

...is my baby. My sweet, funny, friendly, screechy little girl. Who has SO much personality.

If you just leave her the heck alone.

if these were the categories on Jeopardy I would be SO rich right now or my bottomless pit of useless non mainstream information.

2008-08-01T19:08:00.002-04:00

First let me say.

Wow. Really, thank you guys (ahem, ladies) for not letting me feel like the total freak I was thinking I should feel like. Instead, I sort of feel normal. And not nearly as overwhelmed. And although I haven't exactly taken the trip to the pharmacy yet (really, I am getting there) I feel stronger just knowing I have the option; and support.

So thanks.

Now...the post in order.

My diabolical plan on how I would win Jeopardy.

Categories:

Joss Whedon; when it comes to Buffy trivia especially...my stake runneth over. Really, go on. Test me. I am begging for it see? Obsession is a tame word when it comes to me and all things Joss.

The Bridges and Tunnels of NYC and the surrounding boroughs; I am my father's daughter. While this comes with the down side of feet that are much too small for my body and a gigantic head it also gifts me the ability to zip around NY without need of a map or GPS. Want a back way into Yankee Stadium? I'm your girl. Stuck in traffic on the Van Wyck and need a detour, give me a ring.

NFL Referee signals; Yeah, I know them all. It was something I started memorizing to impress adults when I was little....and now I make my baby do them. She usually runs out of patience somewhere around "ineligible man down field".

Countries of the world; Not only do I know most of them (I say most because the former Soviet Union F's with me), but I can sing them to the Mexican Hat Dance.

Photography; This one is sort of a gimme since it's what I went to school for. To be fair however the wealth of my knowledge is pretty much limited to Photo II as those are the classes I TA'd for years.

Things Spouse said last week/last month/years ago that he has no shot at remembering but I can recall with deadly accuracy; A fight we have constantly is "he said/he did not say". I insist something happened a certain way, he insists it didn't happen at all and refuses to believe that I'm right because "he doesn't remember it". Well you know what? Not only do I remember it, I remember what we were both wearing and half the time the OPI color on my toes. I'll have "how I'm right for $1000 Alex".

Ok maybe that last one isn't the best example...but I'm bored and in New Jersey on a Friday night...

...watching Jeopardy.

mama's little helper.

2008-07-29T15:21:00.004-04:00

I sat on the doctors table.

Sobbing.

I had arrived on time for my appointment but without the paperwork I needed for my "pre-op" visit.

You see, Lumpy's day out in quickly approaching and they need to make sure I am alive and well before his removal.

"I..p-p-put the p-p-paperw-ork in my b-agggg yes-t-t-terdayyyy" I blubbered.

I continued in an incoherent hysteria....

....I feel as if I am loosing my mind. I am miserable, I cry all the time, I am insecure and paranoid. I feel hopeless and sad. (I stopped blogging) I forget everything...I actually left the garage door to my bay open the other night. All night. And the pass door to the house. OPEN. With Spouse's big-wig financial institution laptop in his Jeep...Someone could have taken it! Someone could have taken the BABY....

I continued between racking sobs....

It was like I woke up one morning and someone flipped a switch. I went from perfectly normal (for me) to a total basket case. What was wrong with me?

My doctor listened to my rant. She assured me that while the brainlessness of a Mommy is normal and gets exponentially worse with each child...she feared there was more going on. And then she said it.

"Post...Par..." I cut her off.

NO, that's not me. Maybe other people, but not me. I was happy, look at my girl! She is remarkable isn't she?

(Riley squeals at this as if to say, dang straight mommy! You tell her!)

"I can't have po-pa-pp...you know...that. Because it's been almost 8 months and well frankly that is just not ME."

She patiently listened to my denials. She waited for me to calm down.

She told me there was most likely a chemical imbalance in my brain. It was probably caused by 'The Juice' and in combination with my baby hormones threw everything out of whack. She said it wasn't my fault. She offered me medication.

I stood at this. NO. No meds! I have been depressed before. I battled my way through the death of a parent without the help of ~~legal~~ drugs. I know myself so well, I am an adult in control of my own mind (sob) and I will not give in to medication.

I left with the name of a therapist in my area. I have had plenty of therapy in my life, it has served a great purpose. It has aided me in over coming the outside influences which I could not control and my reactions to them.

Logical right?

When I got home I discussed it with ~~anyone who would listen to me~~ Spouse. He agreed with my doctor. It made a lot of sense. 'The Juice' flipped a switch and maybe a little pill could switch it off.

Maybe. I was skeptical.

I traveled to New Jersey to spend a week with my father and BF. I thought it over.

Today I saw my doctor again and today I left with a prescription for 'The Prozac'.

I can't stand the idea that I would need something like this. But one night I went to bed happy, and the next morning I woke up miserable. Nothing remarkable happened, no tragic events, no traumatic experiences.

I just woke up a different person than I was the night before.

I'm frightened. I can't stand the idea of a ~~non-recreational~~ drug influencing me. Making me feel or better; allowing me to feel somehow other than I am.

Does that make sense? I get woozy on Tylenol, what the heck is this stuff going to do to me?

why I tune in.

2008-07-18T11:06:00.008-04:00

The Free-Credit-Report.com guy has some competition...

This guy from The Greatest American Dog...

And this guy from The Last Comic Standing...

Just two more reasons why I think reality TV is such a good idea.

by osmosis.

2008-07-15T07:50:00.008-04:00

My heart hurts.

As my baby plays quietly by herself on the floor (as I think she does too often) my fingers clack clackity away on pointless internet crap.

Have you played Sramble or Scrabulous on Facebook? My lord it's an obsession.

My car died again last night. I know AGAIN.

This time it was the battery, and this time it happened in my very own garage...this time Spouse could fix it. BUT; I didn't realize how scarred I was from my previous experiences with my ~~piece of crap~~ Jeep. The fear and stress descended upon me in an instant. I shook with anxiety.

not again not again not again.

10 Days in New Jersey, breaking down in ~~a ghetto~~ Springfield Massachusetts. The hits with this car just keep coming. Each time its happened I cry "new car"....and then we ~~pay a small fortune~~ get it fixed and Spouse cries "no money".

Which is very true. We have no money.

And we live kind of in the middle of no where.

And we don't really know anybody.

And the only times I feel like I leave the house are because I make an excuse to and it's always to go somewhere that people traditionally spend money.

Which we don't have.

In a car that is an afternoon with AAA waiting to happen.

Do you see where I'm going with this? My heart hurts. I'm lonely. I'm broke. I can't go too far.

shhhhh I think I may even be a teeny-eeny-bit....depressed.

There I said it.

I have looked for stuff to do....it's all far away. Kindermusik, Gymboree, Meet-ups, Mommy and Me. Far far away.

Money. Gas prices. Car time bomb.

Yes I know I make a lot of excuses, I'm famous for them (chime in here BF).

BUT; this time I am really trying.

And it's not working.

And that doesn't help.

I also happen to come along with the small handicap of imploding instantaneously in temperatures above 70 degrees.

My worst nightmare is that the car will leave me stranded on the side of the road on a hot day with my baby. I fear it.

Not in the way I fear clowns, but more in the inevitable end sort of way.

As if I'm waiting for it.

And that is no way to live.

I'm not happy and I think I said as much to Spouse last night. Although he may not have picked up on the words exactly, you know, with all of the crying and the blubbering and the finger pointing.

And here's the rub. I don't exactly feel as if I'm entitled to be unhappy. I have a wonderful husband, an amazing baby and a beautiful home. Where do I get off?

I know it's a dangerous trap to compare yourself to others, and I'm not doing that. I'm comparing myself to myself. I know when I have felt like this in the past and frankly things were awful.

To make myself feel better I would dream of this life I have now. But then I would attack myself and scold saying I would never get it. I didn't deserve it.

Well you know what, I know I deserve it and I worked really freaking hard to get it.

But it's not enough; I feel like a spoiled brat because I want the other stuff too. I want the friends who are there all of the time, physically as well as emotionally. I want things to do. I want some action.

Friendly, free, air-conditioned, action.

I just don't know where to look for it, and I don't know if my car can get me there.

my new neighborhood grocery store?

2008-07-13T15:35:00.007-04:00

Dear Trader Joe's,

I am writing you to beg a new Trader Joe's location in Nowhereville, Connecticut.

Where you say?

Nowhereville (Yes I know it is a silly name). It's in the northeast corner of the state and very convenient to both the Massachusetts and Rhode Island lines. If you open here you will get three states in one! What a deal!

Seriously, Nowhereville has recently opened a large shopping center including a Lowes, Stop and Shop and soon to open Target and Bed Bath and Beyond. Since Nowhereville is now the only convenient shopping for quite a distance, this has generated a large amount of new traffic to the area.

Although you currently have stores in Worcester MA, and a new store in Warwick RI they are not easily accessed from the Quiet Corner of Connecticut. The traffic which formally would travel to these areas (like me) for shopping is redirecting to the closer center in Nowhereville.

I believe (because I am in no way biased or enchanted by your dark chocolate covered almonds) that this area is prime for a Trader Joe's.

As it is, organic produce in the area is spotty and the farmers market lacking.

For me, rising gas prices and a new baby prevent me from traveling as I used to, to secure the ~~vegetarian pot stickers, chocolate cat cookies and aforementioned almonds,~~ delicious and healthful food that your store provides.

What is a girl to do?

(insert begging and pleading for my very own Trader Joe's Nowhereville Neighborhood Grocery Store here.)

Sincerely,
Your biggest fan

**name of town changed from actual letter, cause oh yeah...I sent this.

Seven.

2008-07-08T17:00:00.001-04:00

So it seems you are more like me then I feared.

While you come with a sunny disposition that not even the cloudiest day can sully...you also come with the unexplainable, inexplicable. BAD MOOD.

You get bored. So easily. A toy which held total fascination 15 minutes ago is thrown wildly from your body never to be seen again. Should I even dare to try giving it back you yell at me.

You yell at your mother, you mean it and you are only seven months old.

You and I could sleep forever. Curled into each other in a soft bed. Sleep has never been a problem. In that I am blessed.

You are social, we love to go on adventures together and neither of us ever.shuts.up.

When you are quiet, when you snuggle and when you are patient; you are your father. In those tiny moments when how something works not how it looks draws your attention; when you smile at me because you love me more then anything in this world.

Then you are 100% your father.

And I am more in love then I ever thought I could be.

Oh and look at that chubb...don't you just want to eat her up? Those thighs!

Rule #37

2008-07-06T15:49:00.004-04:00

Yesterday Spouse and I went to a BBQ at our neighbor's up the hill.

We had a really nice time ~~enjoying other people entertaining our baby~~ relaxing and chatting the day away.

When Riley's bedtime rolled around Spouse was fairly well lit and wanted to stay. There were horseshoes! and boccie ball! and beer!

While he did offer to take bed time in hand I accepted my fate as Mommy and brought the girl home for bath! books! and bed!

Today we ventured out for breakfast and when we returned home I announced ~~thoughtless of my slightly hung over hubby~~ my need for a nap.

Spouse agreed to take over parenting duties so I could nap. See I keep saying nap.

To me, napping indicates 20-60 minutes of shut eye.

What did I do? I went back to bed.

Four hours later Spouse woke me from my ~~dead sleep~~ slumber with a very hungry baby.

I was racked with guilt when I saw the clock. What kind of weekend was this for my hard working Spouse? Sure he got to take advantage of the best parts of yesterday...the drinking, the smoking, the not going home for nap and/or bed time while there was partying to be had.

But I just couldn't get passed the fact that he had to deal with a cranky over tired baby on his Sunday.

Then it occurred to me.

Maybe Daddies stay at the party and get to have a blast blowing off the stress from days spent away from home and working all week.

Maybe Mommies get to crash mid-day without being disturbed so they can catch up from the night wakings and the hours of sleep lost all week.

We both get our jobs done and have our rewards.

Although, only one of us seems to be able to remember to change her diaper and feed her lunch.

I guess we cant have it all.

it's wrong.

2008-07-03T17:54:00.002-04:00

I saw a woman jogging up hill today with her leashed dog.

It was a Pekingese.

SO freaking wrong.

this quiet life.

2008-06-26T13:32:00.004-04:00

For as long as I can remember I have kept journals. They are a mish-mash of random quotes, drawings, song lyrics, set lists, poems and of course; my thoughts. I have always marked each entry, no matter how minimal, with date and time.

To me, the time and place something was said is as important as the fact that it was said at all.

The journals are scattered through out my life. With my cookbooks, in my night stand, with my art supplies. I seem to subconsciously stash them places to surprise and delight my future self.

At least that is what I tell myself so I don't feel as scattered and disorganized as I know I am.

I came across a few of them this afternoon and started reading.

At first I was struck by how incredibly hormonal and over dramatic my teen aged self was. I found myself thinking..."sister, get over it already...there is much worse to come..."

Then I was amused at my early twenties self and the over whelming amount of drug induced entries. Almost everyone of them a ramble of whatever concert I had been to that day, or what show I was going to that night....This was 1996, the summer I was 22. Just before I lost my mother.

Things change after that. I write less and less and almost everything is drawings. I have to admit some of them are pretty good and I can see why I wanted to go to art school.

The pages are littered with quotes from my friends, professors and TV. Nothing too telling of myself.

The journals fall off in 2003. I had graduated from college and moved home. In fact the very last entry was June 7th, 11:23 am.
My birthday.
...and the night I first noticed Spouse as more than a friend.

I have never written in a journal again.

I stopped drawing. I stopped recording my inane thoughts and dreams.

I am wondering if that is because they were finally met?

Or if it is because I finally have another person outside my head to talk to?

Or if by blogging and emailing I am able to fill that need; complete with time stamp....

I looked back at the journals and missed myself. I missed the constant stream of energy that was me. To go, to create, to meet, to grow. To constantly be moving. A flutter. A sparkle. To move so quickly that none of it meant anything.

To move quickly, because if I stopped. I would crumple and fall apart.

Spouse ran after me. He matched my pace and took my hand. He gradually brought me down. He distracted, he settled, he soothed.

He caught me when my body finally gave out from all of the years of running.

Now in this quiet life I find I am waking up again. The need to go and create fueled by the life I wish to lead for my daughter.

So I can not just show her who I was.

But who I am.

one week

2008-06-24T10:39:00.008-04:00

The top 5 reasons why Daddy ~~and Auntie Uma~~ can not be trusted.

1)Gerber Peas are much yummier than mine.

2) I should look on the bright side right? At least she is checking her mirrors.

3) COFFEE!

4) I am at a loss for words...

5) You guys know we are Jewish right?

Seriously....I could not have survived without my wonderful Spouse and my wonderful friend. I am feeling much much much much much better. Like an actual person.

I even contemplated cleaning the house today.

I know, I know, don't rush into things you say. It has only been a few days.

Thank you to everyone for your wonderful thoughts of love and support. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. It meant the world.

dirty nickels.

2008-06-19T15:34:00.005-04:00

Well I should have had no worries on the baby weening front. She has been refusing the bottle more and more. Especially from me.

Instead she tears at my shirt and bangs her head against my chest in frustration. She wants to nurse.

I need her to nurse.

Today was my last day of treatment. While there is conflicting evidence as to what the drugs would do to her...most doctors say nothing...lactation consultant says...nothing...I just can not reconcile myself with it.

Because if The Juice makes me feel like this....

What is it going to do to my baby?

all juiced up with nowhere to go.

2008-06-18T04:07:00.003-04:00

I settled back into the hospital grade Lazy Boy and took in my surroundings. I looked out the window to the same river stone covered rooftop that I saw from the birthing center only 6 months ago. I was just on the other side of the building now; this time at least I could see blue sky and patches of the green tree line. All too familiar with the process of infusion this was my first time at my country hospitals Day IV unit.

It made the same effort towards comfort as the treatment center at The University of Pennsylvania where I brought my father for his Chemo 12 years ago. The only major difference was the cozy size of the room in which I now sat. Only four chairs instead of the countless rows of cubbies, tubes and stands at the large hospital...the drone of the hundred or so infusion boxes pumping away.

Now it was just me, just my tubes and droning and pumping.

The paralysing fear of a few weeks ago finally settled into bitter acceptance. While I have been plagued by problems in my right foot for years, the numbness on the bottom of my toes and in the arch of my foot was definitively new.

That is one of the things about MS. It keeps you guessing. New symptom or not new? Sick or not sick? When do you call for help?

For me the final straw was last Thursday when I realized that each time the tingles in my leg and foot subsided I had just lost a little bit more sensation. For me, I call when the fear of damage out weighs the fear of treatment.

Spouse and I were in a heated discussion about the complications of treatment. We were making the short list of the people who could maybe, possibly lend us a hand with the baby so I could get help. The phone rang and it was one of my best friends, my blanket girl (that is what I call my ladies, blanket girls) Uma. She was calling to say hello; rare that we get that chance in our busy lives.

My question was immediate, a teacher she was just starting her summer vacation.

Could she come?

The answer, as it always is with old trusted friends. Of course.

I was rattled with guilt when I hung up the phone. Her husbands birthday, gas prices, her second job...the things which people sacrifice for dear friends. For friends who are family.

I was distracted over the weekend with yet another trip to New Jersey. When we returned home my pending infusion of 'The Juice' (Solumedrol steroids) was all I could focus on. I whined until I made myself sick. I promised Spouse as we lay in bed Sunday night that in the morning I would 'Mom Up', I would suck it up and get it done.

The infusion was much smoother then I anticipated. The advantage of moving to a small town. I read my book uninterrupted and reacquainted myself with the cool sensation of the IV drip and the taste of dirty nickels flooding my senses.

That is a fun side effect of The Juice, your mouth and nose filled with spare change. Your skin crawling from the foreign substance flowing into your veins. The oncoming hot flashes and ravenous bouts of hunger.

The being wide awake at 4AM to blog about being wide awake at 4AM.

My guilt and fears are subsiding. Uma and Riley adore each other. Riley is taking to the bottle and the formula (just as long as it is 98.6 degrees...that one took a little while to figure out).

I have lingering bits of fear over loosing my milk, over my sweet little girl weaning herself this week. But I know now that there is nothing I can do. I have no choice, she needs me healthy more then she needs to breast feed. My heart broke a little when I nursed her for the last time before leaving for the hospital. She curled against my skin and I stroked her hair. She let out a deep satisfied sigh and she stroked me back.

I am exhausted. Terrible that my doctors tell me to rest all the while giving me a drug that makes it impossible. I am exhausted, but I am amped.

I will eat, I will pump and then I will go curl myself around a sleeping Spouse and wait for morning.

Another day of being away from my baby and in a plastic covered Lazy Boy. Another day of dirty nickels and a patch of green tree line.

I look forward to another day closer to life returning to normal and pretending that this week never happened.

go veg

2008-06-12T09:04:00.004-04:00

You would think any child of mine would love her veggies.

Well I would think that...

...but...you see...look here...

Not so much loving her peas.

The thing is, her father makes the identical expression...

So maybe it's my cooking?

Six

2008-06-09T14:05:00.010-04:00

When I was 10 weeks pregnant with you I bought your first stuffed animal. A large floppy dog that your father and I knew you would love; be you boy or girl.

We named him Mister Paws and he sat in your nursery waiting so many long months for you. I would go in there late in the afternoon and sit with him in the rocking chair. I sang and read you books as you moved inside me.

I looked at my future with you then...that each month on the day you were born I would capture a moment with you both.
I never could have imagined the joy I would find with each session. I never could have wished for more willing subjects.

The demands of daily life with you allow me to only look at the present. The days and months have flown by in a whirlwind that despite every warning I was given; I could never have been prepared for.

I am so grateful that we have our set date. We have your white onezie, your room, your smile and Mister Paws...counting to six has never been so much fun.

Tap Tap Tap....is this thing on?

2008-06-07T14:12:00.004-04:00

I can't believe it. BF TOTALLY outted me. The nerve.

That's right. It's my birthday.

The 4th anniversary of my 30th birthday to be exact. YEAH ME!

And I have been meaning to write about it. I have been meaning to write about a lot of things.

My Mother's birthday 3 weeks ago. My Grandmother's birthday....mine. We are all Geminis you know. Every woman straight back for 6 generations. ~~CRAZY~~ Geminis.

Spouse and I had our second anniversary last week. Twice in fact...dos deuces...we were married twice in 2 days. ~~our families are that nutz~~ We love each other that much.

The baby turned 6 months old and I haven't even posted her new portrait. Clearly something is wrong...how could I miss a chance like that?

I had a whole post about how I think someone is breaking into my house; eating all of my Oreo's and shrinking all of my pants.

I was going to actually share my mentally and physically damaged self every single day. I would write...then rewrite...then delete...then write again...then go play with the baby or take a nap and forget all about it.

I need to read. 378 unread blogs on my last count and that was yesterday. Forgive me, it will take a while to catch up.

But right now I am going to go out with Spouse and our girl...and drive around...and play with my new super-duper GPS present. This thing does everything but change the oil on the car.

I was firmly against a GPS (I have an astounding sense of direction) until my Jeep broke down (again) in a ghetto and I was lost and frightened and crying hysterically on the phone to Spouse.

Crying hysterically on the phone to Spouse often results on high tech gadgetry.

hmmm...I wonder how I could swing that Ipod.

Sorry about that....

2008-05-30T21:57:00.004-04:00

Miami, Rochester NY, Denver (I totally cheated on that one), Cleveland and San Francisco.

I know I made it hard. Sorry.

But you see...I had to win the argument with Spouse right?

*********************************************************

As to what took so long to get back to it....I am working through some stuff.

When I work through stuff I tend to curl up in a mental fetal position. That's just me.

Right now I am not funny, or moving, or emotional.

I am just terrified. I felt so good for so long.

But now I am looking at the inevitable.

And I am frozen in place.

Game Day

2008-05-17T10:08:00.013-04:00

Yesterday while Spouse and I drove to Boston for a consultation with a bad arse Lumpy surgeon we had a ~~heated discussion~~ conversation about cites and skylines and my ~~naive views of the world~~ unwavering loyalty to New York City and how, in my opinion, it is the only city that is actually...well....a CITY.

The others of course just being a hodge-podge of many neighborhoods and some really tall buildings.

I made mention that NYC is probably one of the only truly recognizable sky lines. He of course ~~thinks I'm an idiot~~ disagrees.

So we decided to leave it up to you ~~few readers~~ internets. Give me your best guesses.

D)

E)

**As my little disclaimer...I have either lived or visited all of these places A LOT...therefore I feel that I am in a position to make ~~ridiculous generalizations~~ comparisons.

I could be sleeping...

2008-05-15T11:29:00.006-04:00

...but I'm not.

I am here, blogging to pay homage to Amber.

To tell her ~~thanks for the advice~~ that I am now officially hers in a best friend capacity.

(see what I did right there? She told me how and ~~I am going to do it so much you will stop reading~~ my blog will never be the same!)

Truly, Rafting the Universe is a gem. As my JMIL would say...

Oui!!! Such a gem dahlin you would neva believe!

Really.

Amber, just let me know if you need any besty friend type stuff done! Shopping, cooking advice, an ear to lean on! I am here! Just ask my actual real life BF. She knows, I am tons useful...well except that whole cooking thing. But I am a kick arse shopper!

Oh and also...I totally conceded to The New Girl and the CRAZAY MOFO NEIGHBOR cage match. Because, well, because I was so out matched it was absurd to continue! Also, I was laughing so hard yesterday at this that I was unable to type for the majority of the day.

She wins these:

Well...not this actual box. Because you know, I ate all of these.

But I would get another one. And send it to her. Or to Amber. Because after all, I'm her new best friend.

Snap! I've been sucker punched! Part II

2008-05-13T16:32:00.002-04:00

umm Hi. I'm here.

Look down...

Yeah that's me on the floor writhing from pain.

I just got my virtual butt handed to me by The New Girl in the CRAZAY MOFO NEIGHBOR Cage Match.

Two hits. She hit me; I hit the floor.

See for yourself...me...her....and it's not just the almighty power of strike out font that sets us apart.

(really anyone out there who knows how to strike the font in blogger I will be your best friend for the info!)

While my neighbor was crazy...hers was CRAZAY-CRAZAY.

State hospital CRAZAY.

But much in the American Idol way (...you know how they let the looser sing their final song for the fans who voted for them) I will provide you, my loyal readers... (Hi! all 4 of you!) the second part of my story.

The dogs. Those EFFING DOGS!

Sassy, Coco and Rascal.

Rascal was a son of a bitch - A fury of aggression, barking and dog fights.

While Sassy and Coco had low guttural barks, Rascal's was a head ache inducing nightmare. They barked constantly.

Due to the fact that they would you know, attack any friendly neighborhood drug trafficker- they were outside all the time. They lived on a 8X4 foot portion of blocked in driveway that was directly outside our living room window, below our master bedroom and next to our porch....they were never let out...they were never walked...they were never allowed in the yard.

While their barking was our soundtrack; their smell saturated our lives in every aspect. The poop was left to pile up for months on end. They lived in their own filth, and we had the pleasure of being right there with them. We could never actually open our windows because their smell would fill our home like it was a freaking Yankee Candle.

Rascal was eventually put down for attacking someone. The only shocking thing about this was that it took so long for it to happen.

The Yard. How to begin to describe the yard?

The back:
A dilapidated roofless shed bursting with countless rotting items, a family of feral cats and one serious bee infestation.
A large plastic rubber maid shed directly in the middle of their yard. This only had half a roof because Elaine never finished building it.
A large blown over party tent with a picnic table trapped beneath it and broken and piled up lawn furniture.
Lawn mowers, leaf blowers, wheel barrows, hedge clippers, shovels, ladders, screens and broken pots were everywhere in various stages of disrepair.
A bakers rack, a shredded patriotic bunting.
A pile of old doormats and buckets.
A broken mop with no sponge leaned against the chicken wire fence that separated our property. Broken windows, bookcases and gates.
Tires.
Old clothing blown off the line.
A child's faded sand table.
Cracked birdbaths and water fountains.

I could go on.

The front:
Cinder blocks filled with fake flowers. This was my personal favorite.
A broken garden bench.
Bird houses. Stacks and stacks of newspapers decomposing on the driveway.
Old chairs. Both folding and of the stuffed armchair variety.
Bricks. Just a large pile of bricks in the middle of the lawn.
Years worth of holiday lights that were added to every season and never taken down. Santa's Sleigh with again, fake flowers in it.

The day I came home and saw Elaine stringing Halloween pumpkin lights on the broken and falling over white aluminum Christmas tree in their front yard I stormed up to Spouse and announced we were moving.

We were gone in 6 months. Our reaction to living next to them for so long was to buy a house in the middle of the woods-in the middle of no where.

Now for the most part I do have to admit that Nick was a pretty swell guy and Elaine had her moments. Her hacking smokers cough mixed with the barking day and night really humanized the whole thing. Plus she was awfully generous with the odds and ends that she would steal from any one of the 40 jobs she had while we were living there. Almost every time she saw me on the porch she would grab a random item from her car and hand it to me saying she "bought it" for me. Windchimes, Yo-Yos...a stapler.
Sticky sticky fingers.

Mary and her boys are another story.

But do I tell that story? Do I go on when I am so clearly out matched?

putting my mom back in mother's day

2008-05-11T15:49:00.010-04:00

My mother used to tell me I was a brilliant baby (what happened you ask? Years following the Grateful Dead...nuff said).

She told me I spoke in sentences before words. I knew how things worked. I knew where things belonged.

My brother's play mobile garage was my favorite toy. In the car I would take off my shoes and throw them at him.

She gave me stale bagels to teethe on.

She would make my clothes.

She was an artist.

She drew cartoons on my lunch bags and every year for my school fair would run the "tattoo" booth. She would paint the most fantastic creatures on my schoolmates faces and arms. For a day I was the most popular kid in my class.

When my parakeet died she painted his likeness on a wooden box. We buried him in the garden.

My mother could sing. She sang out loud while she cooked, while she cleaned. While we drove.

She smiled while she sung and I can remember the movement of her lips, the perfection of her teeth. My mother had great teeth.

She was a wonderful cook and an even better baker. She made teddy bear cakes; train cakes. She made my Aunts wedding cake.

She would tell me that she loved me like rainbows and missed me like spring.

My mother was an amazing friend to both hers and mine.

She had a Bronx accent, which I only recognized after she was gone.

Her laughter rang.

I know exactly what it felt like to curl up against her and have her scratch my back.

I remember her scent.

The Lily of the Valley was her favorite flower and I plant them for her. I also still grow the very same Irises from her garden; they are 25 years old.

She told me that love was supposed to make you happy, not make you sob and fight.

My mother was vibrant, she was kind and she took pleasure from life...she made everything beautiful.

That's me on the counter.

This sits on my night stand.

*****************************************

Who is to understand

The winning or the loosing

God needed angels

And that for me explains the choosing

~My Bubbie

five

2008-05-09T08:03:00.008-04:00

I am not laid back. ummm not even close.
You are so remarkably laid back that sometimes I question if you could possibly be mine.

Have baby will travel. This is our motto. You are happy to go anywhere and do just about anything. You shine when you meet new faces and always, always...take it all in.

But don't listen to me. I am your Mother. It is my job to consider you perfect beyond all explanation. Listen to our family, our friends, or the random people out in the world. You ride on me or in your stroller with an awesome sense of wonder. Forever smiling, forever eager to see what is around the next corner.

I fill with pride to know that, by some miracle I don't yet understand, you are mine.

You look just like my father.

I have to assure the other Moms at play group that you do in fact cry; you have your moments.

Just so they won't resent us.

But you know it, I know it...your Daddy knows it.

I'm lying to them.

My little love. You are such a good baby.

Oh...one more thing.

You actually make me laugh out loud. Which is amazing, since you know...you're a baby.

I dream of Hollywood...

2008-05-07T10:35:00.022-04:00

...not of being a celebrity or anything...I actually dream of Hollywood.

~Trying not to wake up Angelica Houston as I search for my shoes.

In dreams, I am often searching for my shoes.

My Birkenstocks from 1990.

~Jean Phillipe from Hell's Kitchen dying.

~Donald Trump pissed off that Stevie Wonder gave me a Grammy and not him.

~Dee Synder behind the deli counter telling me that they had no Monteray Pepper Jack.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

I don't really watch that much TV so what is my brain trying to tell me?

***********************************

I have had some bizarre celebrity crushes. Beyond your expected Brad Pitt and Josh Holloway.

...which for the record...yum

I'm not that crazy...

Harry Anderson.

I couldn't get enough of him when I was young...I would tape Nightcourt religously and I named a cat after him.

David Spade.

Yeah I don't get it either.

And the newest one?

This guy...

Spouse actually stops the DVR when fast forwarding so I can watch the commercials over and over again.

*Sigh* Unrequited love....

bring it on NG; Part I

2008-05-04T17:13:00.009-04:00

Oh it's on.

So ON.

The New Girl has thrown down the gauntlet. The CRAZAY MOFO NEIGHBOR CAGE MATCH!

The players....

Prior to moving to this Quiet Corner of Connecticut, Spouse and I resided in Hamilton NJ. Please understand that the name "Hamilton" is simply a nice way to say "Trenton". For anyone who is not familiar with the Garden State let me just say...Trenton, while being the capital, is at best a reemerging city.

(If I actually had the power of strike out font I would have so used it right there, right before reemerging would have been "depressed, questionable and sketchy".)

We lived next to those people.

There was Nick and Elaine; Elaine's son, his girlfriend and their daughter; The handicapped Uncle (who after 3 years of living there I never saw, and I had been in the house.); Elaine's friend Mary; Mary's two sons and one of the sons girlfriends; 12 rabbits, 4 guinea pigs and who knows how many gerbils all living in cages in the kitchen; 3 dogs; 2 parrots; and one cat.

Thirty one souls living in a 1500 square foot house. A house which wreaked of urine, feces and mold.

They had a one car driveway, in which either Elaine's truck or Nick's large passenger van were always parked. In the street were the following:

Nick's first van sat disintegrating in front of their house. It was so bad that standing next to it you could actually see through the body and across the street.

The pink Ford Taurus which was in front of their other neighbors house. In 3 years this car never moved.

The white car in front of our neighbor's house on the right. This appeared from no where one day and in a year only moved when it actually went up on cinder blocks over night.

The blue car. It's really only descriptive point was that it had 1/2 a steering wheel. When I asked Mary's son #2, who I believed to be the owner, why he did it; he simply told me he thought it would look "bitchin".

Mary's van which was not registered or legally licensed but heck, it ran!

I don't know which of the girlfriend's Volkswagen which ALWAYS parked in front of our house. It. Drove.Me.Mad.

Elaine's brother's car. This car played a cameo roll. Appearing for weeks at a time but never moving.

Elaine's old green pickup truck was replaced by a Volvo station wagon which was then replaced by a Saturn which she bought without Nick's permission (or you know, credit) and he made her return the next day, which was replaced by a new pick-up truck, which was totalled and then replaced by her current truck. ...this all happened in the matter of a week.

Our neighbors across the street old pickup truck which was bought with the express purpose of preventing any of Nick and Elaine's family of cars from parking in front of their house.

While Spouse and I were lucky enough to have a driveway ~only one of us could park in it at a time. That left the other (me) fighting for room with the above list of cars and the inevitable onslaught of visitors (again if I had the strike out font that would have read "scummy drug dealers and buyers") that came to and from Nick and Elaine's house at all hours of the night and day.

Next: the dogs, the yard and everything in between.

who knew saving the environment would be so sticky

2008-04-29T16:30:00.006-04:00

First let me say that I hold AT&T personally responsible for the last 36 hours of internetless hell I have been living in. They have directly caused me to finish a book, clean my kitchen, finish every stitch of laundry in the house, go to bed at a decent hour and watch TV. DSL my arse.

That said.

Let me tell you a little something about cloth diapering. Oh sure it is all honorable to go about disposing of my child's waste in an environmentally friendly way. Poop does not bother me, no way no how. I laugh in the face of laundry...(at least while my internet is down)...I have front a loading washer and dryer afterall.

Note: If you have the means...go buy them right now. I'll wait.

I have been using cloth on and off for about a month but today was my first full cloth day.

...and let me tell you...I under estimated the amount of stuff baby poop can actually get on.

Severely under estimated.

One baby
Three pairs of pants
Two onezies (that last one was missed by the smallest margin)
Two pairs of socks
One Robeez (if there is only one of them is it a Robee?)
The changing pad
The changing pad cover
The other changing pad cover
All three of the emergency changing pad cover protectors
The changing table
The wipe box
The basket the wipe box is in
The anti-bacterial hand gel
A Pampers Swaddler-the non-waste of which was ironically behind this whole lets go cloth thing
Yep, you guessed it...the wall
Oh yeah...lets not forget. ME

I am in no way giving up. If anything this has strengthened my resolve to do the right thing by the earth and my baby's bottom...besides there are 3 disposable diapers left in the house so it's not like I have left myself a choice here.

Now...if you'll excuse me. I have about 2 hours worth of laundry and cleaning to do....and when I am done with that 355 feeds (again a big shout out to AT&T) to sort through.

...going to be a long night.

hmmm 36 hours and that the best I could do huh...

stork bites

2008-04-28T08:04:00.001-04:00

the thumb is always greener

2008-04-27T16:08:00.006-04:00

This afternoon, regarding the grass seed Spouse had just spread on the property....

Spouse (pointing towards area containing new garden bed): I put some seed over there too.

Me: ehhh...I was going to put more plants there but...wait...is that grass seed in the bed.

Spouse (looking): So...(long pause)...Its not like its going to do anything.

Me: uhhh yeah it is...its going to turn into grass.

Jackass.

and again

2008-04-23T21:12:00.003-04:00

I miss my Mother.

I know what you are thinking...."And??" Who doesn't miss their deceased parent?

It has been 11 years and it isn't getting any easier. Not that I ever really expected it to.

I am thinking of her more often now. It may have something to do with reading this, or this, or this. Oh and this one reduced me to tears.

No really, on my own terms I find a reason to think of her 15 times a day. I see what she is missing and it makes me angry. I feel that if I wish for it hard enough, if I will it to happen she will appear. I will be able to hold up my daughter and say. LOOK! Look at her. Isn't she perfect? Isn't she beautiful? Don't you want to see this?

Then other days I thank her. Look at this child you have given me. She was meant to be, I know it.

I understand what love is now. I think that is it.

I know what love is, and so now I really know what I am missing. For the first time I am realizing not how much I loved her, but how much she loved me.

It some how makes her loss fresh. And in that brand newness of sorrow~ I am lost...and I have to mourn her all over again.

there's something about Ernie

2008-04-17T13:06:00.001-04:00

Seriously...is it just me or is there something clearly wrong here?

Observe.
Exhibit A:

The high end Pampers Swaddler (in my humble opinion, the KING of disposable diapers):

A healthy happy and clearly interactive Ernie.

Exhibit B:

The Pampers Baby Dry with stttreeetcchhhhy tabs. Although still effective, this is a lower quality diaper. A zoned out Ernie gazes at us. He has had one too many hits with the snake if you get my meaning.

This is the gateway diaper.

Exhibit C:

The non stttreeetcchhhhy tabbed Pampers Baby Dry. This is the Job-Lot diaper. Ernie is kicking back enjoying a cold one. Do you see the manic look in his eye?

I understand that a higher priced diaper can mean a higher quality diaper.

But a higher quality puppet?

Oh....and who the heck is this guy?

Lessons

2008-04-15T14:56:00.007-04:00

I learned three very important things yesterday.

The first; That Lumpy is benign.

The second; The place I mentally send myself to stay calm during painful medical procedures has changed. It is no longer the rolling hills of my childhood in Vermont.

I now find myself in a soft rocking chair in the solace of Riley's room. Just the two of us, quietly nursing.

That is where I am at peace and where I draw the strength I need to fight the battles my body insists on putting me through.

Finally; There is actually a much better route to Trader Joe's then going through downtown Worcester. (For the record it's pronounced Wusta).

...well thank goodness for that.

Four

2008-04-08T18:50:00.005-04:00

You are 4 months old.

You laugh and laugh and laugh.

You're entire body lights up when you see us.

You love to stand "like a person" and screech with excitement at your new skill.

You smile with flailing arms and kicking legs.

You have opinions and do not hesitate to let us know what you think, good and bad.

You love "your kitty"; Blossom the oldest of the cats who never seems to leave your side.

You are patient and so very friendly.

You are a joyful and happy baby...
...and we are blessed.

tastes like chicken

2008-04-05T20:33:00.002-04:00

Chicken.

For me, chicken is one of the funniest words in the English language. It is. Second only to Monkey.

Funny word, funny bird but the idea of eating one is absurd.

heh

When I was 5 I asked my mother what chicken was.

She told me. (such a bad move that)

I threw a holy terror hissy fit, how could she have done that to me? How could she have fed me a formally living creature?? I felt betrayed. I soundly refused to ever eat meat again.

I stuck to it and was a veggie most of my young life. My diet was a battle between me and my Mother and there were times when she would win and I would relent.

But for the most part that was that.

I would no longer eat meat, any meat related product, or any morsal that may have come in contact with meat, a meat related product or a utensil that was used in the preperation of meat or a meat related product.

There was that pork dumpling in disguise in 2003, but thankfully I recognized it for what it was and spat it out.

Violently.

On Future Spouse's coffee table.

While he was eating.

...and he still married me.

My point...while enjoying Thai food last week there was an incident.

I was munching away when something very peculiar found in its way into my mouth.

This was my inner monologue:

Munch munch munch...
hmmm what is this?
munch munch munch...
This tastes really familiar...munch
I have not had this vegetable in a really long time (I actually did say that to myself...what is this vegetable?)
...what is this...
munch munch *swallow*....realization

Oh.My.RuntothebathroomandtrynottothrowupthatwasSOgrossbutkindofgoodinawaybutGROSSamaznghowitwasthetextureandnotthetastethatgaveitawayandIthinkIamgoingtobesickNOifIpukethisupIwillnevereatThaiagainandIloveThaifightitfightit!

...and that is how the clock on when I last ate meat was reset to zero.

It's Not Easy Being Green.

2008-03-28T08:12:00.001-04:00

I have returned from the Green Mountain State and from a very colorful and enjoyable Easter with BF and family.

The highlights....

*********************************************

Spouse whining to me on the phone Easter morning when I told him he had to go hunt out his Easter basket.

"...but I'm Jewwwiiiisshh...."

Ha! Every year he says this and every year I hide his basket full of goodies that are so well, good, that he will be forced to retrieve them.

*********************************************

While nursing the baby I over hear this exchange in BF's kitchen...

The Terrorist: "What Daddy doing up there?"

BF: "He is changing out the light bulbs"

The Terrorist: "But why?"

BF: "He is changing them to energy efficient bulbs"

The Terrorist: "But WHY?"

BF: "So we can be green"

The Terrorist: (wailing) "BUT I DON"T WANNA BE GWEEEENNNNN!"

******************************************

And finally for your viewing pleasure:

Drama Queen playing with Baby Riley (as she will forever be known, named so by The Terrorist and even I am calling her that now).

Yes it is your run of the mill cute video of my baby and my favorite kid...but just hang on until the end folks, turn up your sound and listen. Despite her claims otherwise that is indeed BF singing in the back ground...

...I can just imagine the booty shaking that was going on. Do you think I should cut her a break? It was her Birthday weekend after all.

The Evolution of Laughter

2008-03-21T15:02:00.003-04:00

Yeah...that's our big ass TV. Spouse bought that before we were married. I had no say. Oh and the picture on the TV. Well that is Brother and Spouse after the Superbowl. Usually I wouldn't have a picture on the TV itself, but this was a triumphant moment you see; so it holds a place of honor.

Babe and I are off to Vermont to spend Easter with BF and family. Nothing like egg hunting in the snow I always say.

Happy Easter!!!

Literary Speaking

2008-03-19T18:43:00.002-04:00

My dark literary tastes have left me lost in my life as a new parent. My urge to immerse myself in a world of dreadful things is over. At least for now.

I asked for 'Happy Reading' suggestions. No more Holocaust and horror for me...I wanted sunshine, roses and puppy dog tales.

Megan suggested Marley and Me, which is one of my favorites. So much so that I own it in hard cover...A true test of a beloved book! Did you know they were making it into a movie?? With Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson. I am not sure why I know that but I do.

Cheryl made mention of a book called Troll which immediately peeked my interest. She is yet (hem) to get back to me (hem hem) with the authors name.

(hem)

Like what...she has 4 kids and is home schooling or something like that. The nerve right?

Mayzie said Goodnight Moon, which along with The Runaway Bunny and The Foot Book is a daily read. I must say. Love it!

BF suggested Days and Nights at Pemberly, which for those who are wondering what that is...it is like Jane Austen porn. Nice huh. It's so worth it but start with Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife.

Oh boy does he take her.

Heather suggested Debbie Macomber and Amber has a list (could I have expected any less from a dutiful employee of my favorite store?) Jan Karon, Lorna Landvik, Fannie Flagg, and Wicked. The last of which is the only one I have read.

It looks like it is going to be a very busy summer and the ladies at the library will know me and the babe quite well.

For starters I took Andi's advice. A book I have been wanting to read (and with the movie being made I had to get moving!) The Time Travelers Wife.

I am half way through it and and loving it.

If only I could read while playing Peek-A-Boo.

Really...a game I obviously took for granted all these years...because to a 3 1/2 month old it is the greatest game EVER and that is what I do all day long.

Thank you for your wonderful ideas!

Shanghai Red

2008-03-13T10:28:00.002-04:00

On the final day of my recent imprisonment in NJ I had a visit from my mothers cousin.

My 'Aunt Mole'.

A little background. Aunt Mole can be over the top inappropriate; pretty much all of the time.

During my mothers memorial service she dramatically clutched me to her chest. "Ooohhhh, you poor thing" she bellowed, "You are ALL ALONE NOW!!!" (insert bawling on my shoulder here). I remember looking around the room at the gazillion people who were staring at me with great sympathy for this display.

Alone indeed.

While planning my bridal shower BF rang Aunt Mole to inform her that all of the bride's (me) Aunties were participating in planning the shower; you know, since I was ALL ALONE!. BF was met with silence. And then this....
"Maybe you should call the brides father and see if he will pay for it."

Click

She hung up on BF (can you imagine?) who hadn't offered anything more then for Aunt Mole to be involved in the planning not the paying.

So, when said Aunt invited herself over to see my off spring I accepted with little choice and great trepidation. What kind of story would this visit yield?

I could never have imagined.

Aunt Mole came in with excitement to see my girl. She came with all but frankincense and myrrh; but I truly believe those things were only absent due to her being Jewish.

Her greedy paws shot outward for my baby.

"Wash your hands please" I asked.

"Humpft...I always wash my hands!" huffed Aunt Mole as she stomped towards the sink with disappointment.

I bit my tongue.

She returned and I promptly handed over the baby.

Now a little background (I know she is all of 3 months how much could there be?) on Miss Riley.

She is a super cool baby. She is chill, she is friendly, not much ruffles her feathers. She likes the action, she likes most people and she is very much the little social butterfly.

She did her duty for Aunt Mole. She sat quietly in her lap and tolerated the petting and pawing. She squawked when Aunt Mole went to cradle her. I chimed in, "She really likes to sit up." Aunt Mole huffed and sat Riley back up right.

At this point my daughter turns her head and looks at me for help.

And that is when it happened.

Aunt Mole kissed my girl. Right in the middle of her forehead. With dark. red. lipstick.

I bit my tongue, oh how I bit it! Years of loosing clothing and makeup jobs to this generation of woman flashed before my eyes. The woman in my family who have to slather dark. red. lipstick. on prior to any interaction with any other human being on the planet. Years of these woman kissing me, hugging me, bawling on me. With dark. red. lipstick.

I should have known, I should have foreseen it!

This is what happened next, so fast that I couldn't react.

Aunt Mole notices what she has done. She then smears the lipstick into a dark red stain across my child's head. She huffs.

She takes the burp cloth and rubs it over the babies forehead. Rubs rubs rubs.
She rubs harder.

She licks the cloth and rubs again.

At this point I see myself mentally sprinting across the room screaming "NOOOOOO!!!" but in reality I am still yet to move. I am in shock. I am aware that my mouth is hanging open and that my hand is up in the "Stop" position and that this woman is about to maul my child but still, I am frozen.

She rubs and rubs.

She huffs.

Aunt Mole licks her thumb and rubs again. Again, and again and again.

The now lighter red stain is creeping into Riley's hairline. The baby is looking at me for help. Her brow is furrowed and her boo-boo lip is starting to appear. The whine is grumbling low in her throat. She is going to cry.

Cry my child CRY!

No one, not even me who knows what Aunt Mole is capable of could have fathomed what would happen next.

Aunt Mole looked at the baby. The baby looked back with tears and mistrust in her eyes.

Aunt Mole leaned forward.

And licked her.

She licked her.

She licked my baby.

The woman I made wash her hands before touching her. Licked her.

On the head.

Twice.

At this point I bolted forward. I whisked my now screaming child from her arms mumbling something about how "I could just get a wet wipe you know" and I raced away.

Riley looked up into my eyes. Through her tear and lipstick stained face she wailed accusingly.

I hear Aunt Mole mumble from behind me (because she followed me) something about how a wet wipe "might work", because you know, tongues are so much more affective.

After gently trying to remove the stain I silently resolved that I would need an actual a bath, actual soap and possibly an exfoliating substance to remove it.

The was baby still crying; I excused myself to nurse and calm her. Aunt Mole toddled after me and plopped down on the bed beside me.

I bit my tongue (which was almost bleeding at this point I assure you). I was over whelmed. Someone had just licked my child.

I hadn't even licked her. Forget that this scenario begs why you would lick a baby in the first place but who licks another persons baby???

Apparently, Aunt Mole.

The visit ended without further event (mainly because I soundly refused despite the under the breath huffing, to give the baby back to her).

Aunt Mole went to leave a short time later. Standing at the door she leaned in and gave me a hug good bye. No Kiss. Excellent.

She complimented me again on the wonders of my daughter. I thanked her sincerely.

Then, almost before I knew it, she kissed her.

Right on the cheek.

Oh Gawd!

Bath time could not come fast enough.

!!! This post rated R

2008-03-10T14:16:00.005-04:00

Absolutely Bananas asked that we give some warning about a post that may be inappropriate for young children. So here it is...

THIS IS INAPPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 18!! They shouldn't even be in the house ok?

Now I think its hilarious but my sense of humor is vulgar at best. Sarah Silverman made this for her boyfriend (who knew?) Jimmy Kimmel!
Enjoy...

3 Months

2008-03-09T13:48:00.005-04:00

It is hard to imagine my daughter is 3 months old.

It is harder to imagine what life was like without her. To me, she has always been here.

She thumps her mattress in the morning when she wakes up.

Thump Thump Thump.

Louder and louder until I come for her...and when she sees me she smiles.

Big and bright.

As if to say..."Mommy, isn't it a wonderful day?"

And I say to her... "Good morning my thumper." I scoop her up, kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear..."Who loves you more then Mommy?"

The answer everyday is the same...

Nobody.

Chewed By Rodents!

2008-03-07T14:29:00.004-05:00

That was the official diagnosis.

Rodents. Chewed.

5 days and what they found was a wire...Chewed. By. Rodents.

Now I have two theories on this one. You tell me which is more likely....

The squirrels which are currently inhabiting my father's attic targeted me as the individual that called animal control on their fuzzy little behinnys. Having realized that it was in fact me, took action against me by deducing which car was mine and crawled up into my engine block to chew the wire which just so happens to control the main computer. Having done this they then returned to their comfy warm attic condos to await my destruction. They took great joy in watching me struggle with my car and laughed merrily as I was stranded. They took further aggressions out on me by constantly chewing and digging only over the baby's room; causing chaos while nursing and during nap time.

(please imagine all of this to the theme song from Mission Impossible)

Or....

This notoriously criminal dealership found a way to legally charge me for the computer that was covered under warranty.

Geee.....let me think....

After a large and loud argument with the service manager followed by forced payment (we may have to remortgage the house for this one); I am home.

HOME!

Thank you all for your support, suggestions and kind words during my forced imprisonment.

What made it worth it?

My Dad bonded with the baby....awesome.

Said baby, upon seeing her father for the first time yesterday morning. SQUEALED.

With her whole body.

From the top of her head to the tips of her toes...she trembled and SQQQUUUEEEEEEAAALLLLEEDD!!

Now...if you'll excuse me. I have a scathing letter to write to Chrysler.

outside the obvious

2008-03-04T19:15:00.002-05:00

Ummmm yeah...Still here. The update...the dealer can not fix my Jeep either.

WTF?

So as I slowly loose my mind here is my list for why I think it is best I get back to CT ASAP!

Stairs. In CT I have stairs and I miss them.

The last part of the BBS production of Pride and Prejudice is recorded on my home DVR.

Foot rubs. Need I say more?

Temprapedic mattress baby.

Sunny sunshiny house. My house is like vitamin D central all year long. It is the brightest happiest place I have ever lived.

My front loader washer and dryer.

In combo with #6, I would like to wear something besides the 3 days worth of clothing I brought with me.

Silent doors. All the doors at my Dads house squeak and it makes me crazy.

Speaking of squeaks. There are squirrels living in my Dads attic and they are building squirrel condos up there like freaking Doozers.

Riley is 3 months old today. (gasp!). I have neither the camera or the stuffed puppy I photograph her with every month - with me.

If I stay in NJ another minute I think I may strangle my JMIL.

Ummm the baby is actually out growing her clothes I brought with me.

I was firm on this one....I in no way shape or form ever wanted to live in NJ ever ever again. Now however, every day seems more and more like I am actually living here and it is making me very uncomfortable.

When a squirrel was caught today I found myself wanting to pet it. I miss my cats!

My fridge at home has a water/ice dispenser. Who knew that would turn into an indispensable item when you are forcibly removed from it for 10 days.

On the subject of water...I drink a TON of it...From LARGE Cups. I can not tolerate the 8oz drinking glasses in this house. They are for insane and clearly dehydrated people.

I am not ready for spring. It is coming here and I am afraid by the time I get home it will have arrived there.

If I don't get home soon I fear Spouse will have driven himself insane by watching too many hours of the NFL Network.

I am becoming a shop-a-holic for my baby. I have bought her 3 Easter dresses and we are Jewish.

I seriously, honestly and truly miss home.

All joking aside. This is the worst part of all of it. Spouse. Alone. Up there.

Sure he goes to work and he comes home as usual. But there is no one there to welcome him. He has not had a hug in 10 days! This is the longest we have been apart since we began to date. It is hurting both of us. But it gets worse. He is missing his baby. The baby I took with me when I left is not the same girl I am bringing home.

She squeals.

She grabs her toys.

She passes them from one hand to another and brings them to her mouth.

She laughs. Today for the first time. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

And he missed it.

I just want to go home now.

Please?

open to suggestions

2008-03-02T21:52:00.004-05:00

I just finished a really good book.

It engrossed me...however it has also left me a bit disturbed and shaken.

The book was largely centered on abuse, some of that towards children. As a new Mommy I now realize I just don't have the heart for that sort of story telling anymore. I feel raw and exposed.

I want to go hug my baby.

Fairly inconvenient since she is, you know, sleeping.

So here is where you come in. Recommend!

Something fluffy. Like Bison Frise fluffy.

Perhaps with a fairy tale ending? Where all the children are neatly tucked in their beds at night by their loving parents. They are told how special they are, how prized and how beautiful. All these lovely well adjusted youngsters grow as individuals while being nourished inside and out by their family, friends and communities.

They know they are safe. They know they are protected and valued.

Maybe there is a literary musical number?

Giving new meaning to a 'book' number...Ha!

Anyone know a book like that?

Anything close?

there'll be days like this

2008-03-01T17:30:00.005-05:00

Hi. I am in NJ.

It seems I will be here indefinitely. My Jeep is currently in the shop with its guts and vital organs tossed about the garage.

It all started innocently enough. Tagging along after BF to NJ and spending a few days with my father. Excellent.

But then these little life things can turn in a second. Click. Crank. Sputter. Just like that.

I try to stay positive and I try to stay stress free.

Calling on hypnobirthing skills....reeelllaaaaxxxx.

Bullshit. I am negatively effected (affected?) by my lack of Jeep and sleep. I was considerably stressed out when the most honest mechanic in the world, Sammy the Pure and True...tells me.....

(cue soundtrack of some horrible B movie slasher flick)

Not only can he not fix it....but....BUT....it has to go to the ....dealer.

The Dealer.

Oh. Gawd. Not them. Pleeeaaase not them.

My home town Jeep dealer is notorious and they are the biggest crooks in the state. So here I am with CT plates and baby in tow. Doesn't that just scream fresh meat to them?

Lamb to the slaughter, wounded gazelle trapped by the jackals.

The second I walked in there I heard the maniacal laughter as the cartoon dollar signs rolled in their eye sockets. The drool dripped from the corner of the service managers mouth as I did my best not to tremble.

$1000 for some stupid little electronic part (like you know, the main computer) and it wont be here until at least Monday.

(cue tears)

When I was done hyperventilating I stumbled back to the phone to call Spouse. I explained what the jackal said. Spouse did major research and discovered (gasp!) this stupid part (uhhh computer) is actually covered under warranty.

I told the jackal this and he growled fiercely at me, he put on a great show of strength until finally he turned to find another, weaker victim.

So now, aside from diagnostic charges that could put my baby through college...I am stuck.

In NJ.

Not a bad place when it is somewhere you choose to be, but when forced it is maddening.

Its just me, baby, my Dad and the squirrels who are constructing squirrel condos in the attic.

Squirrels who are causing so much damage and making so much noise that I can hear them right now through the baby monitor. I am just waiting for one to come through the ceiling.

I knew I should have brought my pellet gun with me.

Lots of Locks

2008-02-25T20:16:00.003-05:00

Remember how I said I was going to cut off my hair?
Well I meant it.

In the 80's it sorta looked like this...

( In this shot my hair is singing: I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you, I knew you were right...believing for so long...)

Great shot of the gray streaks.

No turning back now...

The carnage...I mean donation...

Ahhhh...now that is SO much better!

For more information, or if you would like to donate please go to the Locks of Loves website!

squash crackin

2008-02-20T22:51:00.000-05:00

The recipe said I needed to peel the skin off this....
...but it is not so much skin as rind. Can you peel rind?

Yes...recipe...not instructions on a box for how long to microwave it.

Here is proof of an actual attempt at cooking something in the Casa de Clink.

(looking for stove top manual to figure out how to turn the thing on)

So how do you suggest I do this?

(contemplating enlisting local squirrel)

It broke my carrot peeler and I almost cut my finger off using a knife.

For someone who doesn't cook I have a killer knife set.

You know, out of the box sharp because they never get used. Well that is not completely true. I use one in particular all the time to cut vegetables of the simple to peel variety.

Is there some kind of peeler of phallic vegetables on the market that I am unaware of?

(I know what you are thinking...get your mind out of the gutter)

Whats that you say?

Baby on the counter? I don't see a baby on the counter.

(whistles innocently)

If there is a baby and a bouncy seat on the counter and no one is there to reprimand you is it still wrong?

Later that night....

Me: Is it ok if I have this here last brownie?

Spouse: Sure

Me: Are you sure sure, it's sorta huge and you know, my ass certainly doesn't need more brownies...

Spouse: I don't care about your ass, I care about your happiness...

awwwwwwwww

sugar snap peas too...

2008-02-15T17:16:00.007-05:00

I have always been one for getting on a band wagon once it is old and dusty. So in light of that I am posting my Under-Rated Pleasures.

I got this nifty idea (a really long time ago) for a post from here and here.

(drumroll...)

The Beatles: In My Life.

Any Beatles fan would argue with you that their favorite song is the all time best Beatles song ever. The fact is they are probably right. The Beatles are just that good. For me however, In My Life touches my soul in a way that very few pieces of art can. A master piece; it grounds me.

But of all these friends and lovers

There is no one compares with you

And these memories lose their meaning

When I think of love as something new

Though I know I'll never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them

In my life

I love you more

I want to cry right now.

Canceling Christmas.

This is not a Bah-Humbug kind of thing. I love Christmas. It's my very favorite holiday; running just ahead of my birthday, which yes, I consider a holiday. The birthday would win of course but alas! Not everyone has the day off work and no one has trees decorated in my honor.

So we canceled Christmas...For the third year running mind you and it turned out to be not so bad.

Three years ago, no cookies or cookie parties.
Last year, no home decoration, cookies or cookie parties.
This year, no presents, empty consumerism, decoration, cookies or cookie parties.

Do you see where I am going with this? What was I left with?? Family. That's right, Christmas this year was just about my family. Me, Spouse, the little monkey and my Father. Throw in a splash of my Mothers best friend Nancy and I was beyond content. This is what is should be about!! In fact I think I may cancel all future holidays!

Oh and it doesn't hurt that for the first time in 15 years I was not traveling to NY to be with my Irish cousins...all gazillion of us. This year due to my Dads health (whole other post) and the monkey we took the year off. It truly is my favorite thing to do in the world but this year I needed the break! Sheesh I just had the kid you know?

Wrapping Presents.

Yeah this one goes against the general grain of the last one but I don't mean just Christmas presents. Any kind of present. I love to wrap. I love wrapping paper and ribbon....I have boxes of ribbon. Wired ribbon especially makes me swoon. We are talking fetish here. One of my all time favorite things to do is to wrap a gift for someone; to make it beautiful. Just thinking about it makes me want to go wrap something. I get more pleasure in the persons reaction to the way the gift looks then their reaction to the gift. For the holidays especially each and every gifts appearance is unique; they take on a life of their own.

I get this talent from my mother....She made everything beautiful.

Being alone.

When I run errands....by myself.... I really take my time! There is no one living inside me, no one in the car seat, no one on the boob...it is just me. It is lovely. I just love a leisurely drive...I love my Jeep...and I love being in it...alone.

Hovering.

Now ladies we all know this one. The art of the public restroom hover. Road trips during pregnancy meant lots and lots of pit stops with lots and lots of unclean seats and a belly too big for me to hover. My nether-regions cowered in fear. It was awful. Wet Ones anyone??

Now when I am in public and I hear natures call...no worries...hover baby. Hover all the way!!!!!!

It is glorious.

You know, its all relative.

Pizza.

Good Pizza. The pizza I was raised on. NYC/NJ pizza. The crust to sauce to cheese ratio is always evolving. It depends where you go. It depends which guy makes it that day. The one thing you can be sure of is no matter what, even bad pizza in NJ is good. So good. The best New England pizza can not even hold a candle to the worst NYC/NJ pizza. I have had it all over the country and there is never a comparison.

Strangely the same thing goes for Bagels.

To all the people who live some place that's else...you don't know what you're missing. Get your butts moving, come to NYC/NJ (they really are one state you know) and get yourself a slice. That's right a slice...triangular. Imagine my horror when I opened my first New England pizza box and found a round pie cut into squares.

WTF?

Now you! I'm waiting.

What's it worth to ya?

2008-02-14T09:15:00.006-05:00

Please remind me the next time I bet Spouse on something...not to do it.

Well at least, not to wager who has to clean the upstairs toilets....

...and not to put my money on this guy.

You got it right; Spouse and I bet household chores on American Idol.

Last night I was on the loosing end. (heh, get it?)

But this morning I was a winner! Because I woke up to this....

(shameless excuse to show off little monkey)

What do you bet on?

What's it worth to ya?

Her Crowning Glory.

2008-02-12T10:13:00.000-05:00

I haven't cut my hair in about 12 years.

(not on purpose anyways)

My hair is my only real vanity. Well and my nails, but for the purpose of this post it is all about my hair.

As my Bubs (Jewish Grandmother) always said..."A woman's hair is her crowning glory".

(Imagine her saying this with great flair and drama...all Bubbies talk with great flair and drama)

Bubs:

Clearly a bumper is not a woman's crowning glory.

(more on her later)

Traumatized at the tender age of 9; a blind Irish nun thought I was a boy- I decided I would never ever cut my hair again.

And I stuck to it.

What I grew was a poofy 1980's blown out disaster.

If 'Air Supply' was a hair style it was mine.

You know the Pekingese? Sorta like that without the low to the ground waddle.

I thought I was all that.

Then, when I was about 16 I realized that my hair was actually curly.

We're talking spirals.

Doh!

I flooffed, I flounced, I fluffed.
I hung my head upside down to shake and shimmy every curl into perfect placement.

Great care and execution was taken in hair presentation.

But now?

Who has time to flooff, flounce, shake, shimmy or you know...wash hair this long?

My once cascading waterfall of auburn curls has been reduced to a near dreadlocked state....and it's gray.

Gray!
(%^*#!&$ Irish blood)

So I am cutting it off! Off I say! Off with the hair!

Locks of Love OFF!

But I am freakin' man.

Freakin'-out.

Because, the only times I have attempted so much as a trim I have been butchered by sadistic bottom dwellers.

So I asked my OB, who has very much the same hair type as I do -where she went.

I mean I trusted her with the life of my child so my hair is the next natural progression right?

Right?

...and next Saturday...

(the 23rd, not the 16th; as I believe the 16th to be this Saturday therefore making the 23rd the next one...get it? Spouse doesn't, this is an argument we have daily.)

...next Saturday I am going in.

Cut. Color. Style.

And again I say I am FREAKIN'...

Because what I want is this:

But what I fear I am going to end up with is this:

Blind Irish nun indeed.

This Morning...

2008-02-11T19:49:00.000-05:00

The baby is...

2008-02-09T11:35:00.000-05:00

I spend an awful amount of time examining and making fun of the stress factors of new motherhood.

So for a twist of events...lets examine and make fun of some pretty good things.

I am back in my VS undies folks. That's right! And no matter how broke we are (ahem, Superbowl) I am buying mama some brand new spankies!

I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Granted, everything is in a different place but who cares? WAHOO!

Crazy statistic..I packed on 40 lbs while the bun was in the oven...ummm but that was ALL gained in the last 12 weeks...(this is what happens when you are sick for 28 weeks and then wake up hungry one day...very very very hungry).

However, it has taken just under 10 weeks to ship it off. All this while doing nothing but breast feeding. Imagine what will happen when I actually do crazy stuff like eat right and exercise.

The baby is a road warrior. A warrior I say! While putting her in the car seat induces absolute defiance on every level, the actual road tripping is a breeze.

Up and down the east coast this kid puts on a show for all she meets. Yesterday in fact she had a very in depth conversation with the crinkly cricket hanging in the back seat. I can not imagine what they were discussing but the cricket for one was taking it very seriously.

Ready for this one? I can sleep on my belly!

On.My.Belly.

This means so much to me that I even punctuated the entire sentence (which I never do)...I will even do it again with greater enthusiasm so you really get it.

On!My!Belly!

Spouse and I actually had a moment last night where we didn't hate each other. Our neighbors were here for dinner (check us out being all adult like) the baby was sleeping and we were talking to other people but no matter!

There was no crankiness or aggravated tones to our voices. We were both (dare I say it?) happy at the same time, in the same room. For the same reason.

...and finally...Spouse is upstairs right now giving his daughter a bottle and putting her down for a nap...and I'm doing this!

Rock on!

(Oh and for those of you interested in that dandy graphic up top you can get it here. Just be sure to get your wallet out first so you don't have to get up when you are all like "ooohhhh" and "aaaahhhhh" and "I have to have that!")

Tis' the season

2008-02-07T21:41:00.000-05:00

Wiwey is 2 months old!

Now that I have your attention...

I live in the northeast and we sure love our seasons!!

Football Season.

Baseball Season.

American Idol Season.

Yeah...I'm that girl.

Let the games begin.

Oh and on the subject of pointless but ruthlessly entertaining reality TV.

I think it is going to be Christian, Jillian and Romi in the final 3 for Project Runway.

Christian wins...he is such the princess and I love him!

Fair Market Value

2008-02-06T08:39:00.000-05:00

The thing about my baby is she deprecates in value every day.

Sorta like a new car.

She even has that new baby smell....you know, spit up and soiled diapers.

Yesterday morning she giggled for the first time. Giggled! I don't think she meant to do it, and I may have scared her a bit with my "Holy crap!" reaction....

So last night she decided to do it again. You know, at 2 AM.

She tried and tried. Ummm...until about 5 AM.

Problem is, I refuse to acknowledge any creature in the middle of the night, I don't care how cute it is.

Spouse refused to acknowledge her too. Her smiling, cooing, kicking, arm flailing self went completely ignored.

For 3 hours.

In the middle of the night.

Instead Spouse and I starred at each other while she flailed between us.

We didn't say a word. We just looked accusingly at each other.... "It is your fault she is this cute" looks on our faces.

This morning both Spouse and I are dying....dying we are so tired.

Which for me, is a very dangerous prospect indeed.

The baby?

Resale value of just a little bit less then yesterday.

We did however realize in our non-sleeping states we may have made a mistake on her name.

You know how toddlers pronounce 'R' and 'L' as 'W'?

That would make her "Wiwey"

"Hewwo, I'm, Wiwey (Suwname)!"

...and a very happy XLII to you!

2008-02-03T23:51:00.000-05:00

Oh.
My.
Giants!

For those of you who may not understand and/or care about professional sports here is something you will get into.

My baby fell asleep at 4pm.

She woke up for a very late dinner at 11pm.

She is back asleep.

She actually let me watch the Superbowl...uninterrupted.

She must love me lots!

If the Giants hadn't just won the Superbowl then that would make me feel like I won the Superbowl.

Ya know?

Maybe not....

Can I say Superbowl anymore?

Superbowl-Superbowl-Superbowl

hehe.

Can't Sleep...Clowns Will Eat Me....

2008-02-01T22:09:00.000-05:00

ehhh...So the Peanut M&M Candies I bought today say "Tear 'n Share Size" on the package...

I ate the whole bag.

Who are they to tell me if I should share my candies?

Do you think some people feel inadequate with their lives based on what commercial packaging tells them?

Subliminal inadequacies?

______________________________________

I can't watch those "How Its Made" food shows.

If I watch mass production of a food I can never eat it again.

Like when I saw how they made Gummi Bears. Trust me you do not want to know.

Not that I even like Gummi Bears.

Once, when I went to see the second Lord of the Rings there was one stuck to the movie screen.

A red one. I watched him travel across middle earth. Pretty dramatic stuff.

______________________________________

Talking food bothers me.

Not Veggie Tale talking food...advertising talking food.

The M&M guys, The California Raisins, The California Cows, The Shredded Mini-Wheat guy who wants to stalk your children to school.

Wanda Sykes as an apple for Crapplebees...

...and why is the Peanut M&M guy kinda stupid? The regular one seems ok, although admittedly he has a bit of attitude. He doesn't seem fond of the Peanut...I am not even sure why they hang out together.

There was one M&M commercial from last year where a guy pours a bag of the candy down his throat.

The animated M&Ms actually looked scared.

What kind of advertising is that?

What little things bother you??

The JMIL Factor

2008-01-30T11:44:00.000-05:00

I, like many women, have a hard time communicating with my mother in law.

My Jewish mother in law.

She is a sweet darling woman. There is not a bad or evil bone in her body. She just happens to not listen to a word I say.

Spouse says it is because she talks and listens to me like I am one of her daughters.

This drives me crazy.

I say what I mean. I do not make a lot of fuss or use fancy words...I tell it like it is.

She interprets what I say in ways I could never have imagined.

Example...

Me: The sky is blue JMIL, it should be a nice day for a walk!

JMIL: OUI!!!!! Mervin had a kidney stone removed, how nice of you to offer to bring him a kugel.

Me: Ummm JMIL, I am very sorry for Mervin but I have no interest in bringing him a kugel.

JMIL: You want a kugel? I will make two then. Do you want some mundel bread to go with it? Bring some to your father, he loves my mundel bread. How is he feeling?

Me: Ummm JMIL No thank you, I do not wish to take any kugel or mundel bread. My father is the same thank you.

JMIL: teh teh teh, such a shame about your father. (shaking head and putting hand to forehead) You know what you should do? I will tell you what you should do...here is what I think you should do...You should get someone in! That is what you should do! Get someone. Do you think they would like some mundel bread too?

Me: No thank you JMIL, no mundel bread. We do not need to get someone in, my father manages.

JMIL: Mervin has some one in! Perhaps you can ask for a recommendation when you bring him the kugel....

Really this is how it goes. So when I say to JMIL..."JMIL, I will be in NJ this weekend and I would like to spend the morning and afternoon with you and JFIL so you can see the baby. I will be there around 9 and I will have to leave around 4. We can have lunch but not dinner, as I have plans."

This is what I get in return...."How wonderful!!! We can go shopping, have Spouse put the carriage in your car and JFIL can come too and help watch the baby. We can go to the mall, or the outlets. What would you like for dinner? I will go to Wegmans. Should I pick something special up or should we just make our own lunch and DINNER? I can make a kugel!"

What a weekend it will be!

Do you want to know how much? I will tell you how much...this is how much....

Now if Spouse reads this I am a dead woman....

Bad. Bad. Wife.

2008-01-29T19:05:00.000-05:00

Today is Spouses birthday.

So far I have....

Elbowed him 6 times over night, 4 on purpose (snoring)
Barely opened my eyes enough this morning to kiss him and mutter a Happy B-day
Bought him an Carvel ice cream cake (football shaped...go me)
Did not buy him a present (Erm...doesn't the Superbowl count?)
Yelled at him that he could not have said cake yet (like he was 5) when I heard the freezer door open
Pressured him to put the baby to bed for me....(imagine Spousal pouty look here..."But it's my birthday...")
Made it very clear to him what a pain in the ass it was to go get that cake today
I did get him cards. One from me, one from the baby and one from the cats...go me
Soundly ignoring him so I can write this blog under the guise of "No longer wanting to watch football coverage"
Will continue to soundly ignore him so I can wrap presents for other peoples birthdays that I did bother to buy for
Ordered take out (again) for birthday calzone. I didn't even bother to pick it up (so it would be hot) I had the creepy delivery guy come to the house

I don't even need to ask. I know it's wrong.

So very wrong.

Vegetarians Delight!

2008-01-27T20:36:00.000-05:00

This is the greatest posting chain EVER.

Ok..for me, I am easily excitable....and I am beside myself to have something to post about that I don't have to actually think up on my own.

I SO enjoy reading The New Girl's blog, and I have spent some time recently trying to convince her to be new BFs. Something which I am SURE will tick off my real life BF, but you see I am not turning on her...just trying to establish a virtual friendship when actual friendships in this one friend town are slim.

(and may I remind BF, ahem, girls night out, with ahem....your new beautiful and perfect friend A. who I am yet to meet...I can be forgiven one little harmless internet friendship right?)

(right?)

The real reason for my post....Blogger chain!

Behold the mighty veggie recipe....keeping in mind that I don't actually cook so much as heat things up or in this case, mix things. Also to be fair I got this jewel from BF's Auntie.

'Southern Caviar' AKA 'Cowboy Caviar'

Get a REALLY big bowl and mix together....

1 can each (drained and rinsed) of the following:

Black Eyed Peas
Black Beans
Chick Peas
Corn

then:

2 medium tomatoes; chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed (I use about 5 but I LOVE me some garlic)
1 medium bell pepper, red, orange, yellow...which ever you fancy
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 up parsley or cilantro chopped
8oz Italian salad dressing (bought or home made)

Chill at least 2 hours (ok) or overnight (better) to blend flavors. Serve with chips as dip or as bean salad on the side. Or just leave the container open on the counter when you are heating up, I mean cooking actual dinner so you can pick at it for an hour.

Please be sure to make yummy noises where appropriate!

Now I have had an emotional night...something I might post about tomorrow... right now I need to go make brownies and eat the whole pan.