An Evening of No Parenting

It's been quite awhile since we've been sans baby. There was one evening this past winter when Stephen and Asher were snowed-in down at his parents' house, but other than that, I haven't spent a night without my child since last summer. I was agonizing over this all day long - actually I began fretting last night - because I remembered how heartbroken I felt the last time when he spent the night away from us. When I got home from work tonight, though, I was a little surprised: it didn't feel too bad not having to turn my mommy switch on.

Don't get me wrong - I miss the little booger like crazy, and when I was informed that he cried for twenty minutes before finally falling asleep, I was this close to jumping in the car and driving forty minutes to...I don't know, wake him up just to tell him Mommy was there and everything was going to be okay? I didn't, though; as hard as it was, I let the umbilical cord remain detached.

But it's definitely different now than it was last summer. He was so much smaller then, and more helpless. Letting someone else care for him overnight felt like letting someone else take your prized childhood teddy bear or blankie away for a night. AND THE WORRY! But now? I don't know; could it be everyone was right? That there WILL come a day when I'll be thankful and even begging of grandparents/relatives/friends/someone, anyone to take my child off my hands for a night or two? That used to seem like a ridiculous thought to me, but now...I can appreciate a little time off, I think.

So what did us two crazy kids do with our responsibility-free evening? The question really should be what DIDN'T we do! First, we went to fabulous Costco to look at patio furniture. Gosh, that was exciting! Then, we had a FANCY dinner at Boston Market - with COUPONS! We ate for half price, baby! We got really wild and crazy after that and went to the mall. Things got a little sticky there when I saw a baby with Easter Bunny ears on - he'd just visited the Easter Bunny and it reminded me that we need to take Asher out to see the Easter Bunny and then I started thinking about Asher and that I was - *GASP* - semi-enjoying my time out without him and then I felt like a bad mom and wanted to go home and cry into the mountain of dirty laundry on the floor of my closet because that's where bad moms like me belong - on top of a pile of dirty laundry. But, Stephen suggested a less crazy way for me to direct my emotions by leading me to all the kiddie stores. We found a bucket hat for Asher for this summer at Children's Place, a really-dorky-for-an-adult-but-super-cute-for-a-two-year-old Christmas sweater at BabyGap, and a bunch of stuff on sale for next winter DIRT FREAKIN' CHEAP at this new store, Crazy 8. This place is awesome! They are owned by Gymboree, but the stuff is a bit more hip (less cutesy) and WAY less expensive. We wrapped up our evening out with a short trip to Target, where I bought CURTAIN RODS. Wow, I know!

Now that we've been pampered by an evening off, I'm looking very forward to Asher Bug's return tomorrow. I'm sure after two days of toddler wrangling, Marmie and Grandfather will be looking very forward to Asher Bug's return home, too.

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It's Best Not to Think about the Other Side of the Line

I've received numerous calls from several different people in the past in which they flat-out told me they were sitting on the can while talking to me. Personally, I can't do this. For me, I typically behave no differently when on the phone than I would if the person were actually in the room with me. There have been a couple of instances with my mom or BFF in which I've gone tinkle while on the phone, but these were emergency weeder situations only; besides, I've gone pee with them in the room, anyway, so it really wasn't breaking my rules. Pooping while on the phone, though...I'm a prude, I know, but I'm just incapable of doing this. And, unlike Asher, if the phone rings while I'm in a state of undress, I'll normally have to throw a robe on before I answer it. Call me paranoid, but if they can hear me, I feel like they can see me.

So if people poop while talking on the phone, it makes me wonder what other things people do on the phone. I know a lot of you out there EAT while on the phone - let me tell you, it's annoying! My dear husband used to fall asleep while talking to me on the phone back in our dating years...also annoying; he's lucky I married him after that. I'm guilty of nursing while on the phone. Again, though, I did that in front of people, too, so no rule breaking there. What else goes on on the other side of the line? Baths? Waxing? Taxidermy? It makes me wonder about all that goes on the other side of the line in chat rooms and even on e-mail, too. Like right now, while I'm typing this - for all you know, I could be biting the callouses off the bottom of my dirty feet.

You know, we received a couple of phone calls last week from PRISON. And, yes, that's exactly what our caller id read - it certainly didn't sugar coat the information. Do you think I picked up the phone? Too bad whoever it was didn't leave a message. I'm just hoping it was a wrong number.

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Hanging in There

I'm hoping that the stress will be decreasing - or, at least, plateauing - here over the next month or two. We no longer have to worry about whether or not we're going to lose our house - because we just did! Yep, the sale was today, and after a quick call to the sheriff's office, Stephen was able to find out that our bank bought our house. Which, I suppose, is a good thing, simply considering the fact that we're used to dealing with those people. And, I hear they got an awesome deal - how about they got it for $60,000 less than the amount they sold it to us four years ago! Bastards! Stephen made a phone call to our mortgage company yesterday and was told that, if they do indeed purchase the house, we should have at least 45-60 more days here. This is great compared to the panic we had for two days when one of the two attorneys we've been in touch with informed us we might have to vacate almost immediately once sold. Keep in mind that the other attorney said we could have 4-6 months. That's a pretty big difference in advice, don't you think? I guess that's the thing that's been making me the most panicked - the fact that no one seems to know what in the hell is going on. One minute we have months, the next minute we have days.

I know some people think that I shouldn't talk about this stuff - maybe because they think it's too personal, or that, perhaps, we should be embarrassed about it. And, to be honest, I am a little embarrassed about it. It's a slap in the face of our pride, and it's given us a good taste of failure. It hurts that we've tried to go the "normal," responsible route in our lives - you know, dating for years, completing school, getting married, getting a house after a few years, starting a family a few years after that - only to have it not turn out quite as perfect as we'd hoped. But, you know, things happen. You quit one okay job to take another one that should be more rewarding, only to be downsized a few months later. In the meantime, you have a baby, right at the same time the mortgage company jacks your payments up over 50%. You finally feel like you're climbing out of the financial wreckage when you get a promising job a few months later, only to have some horrible allegations made against you and a company that won't stand behind their new employee. The economy is bad, and you can't find a decent job. You can't make your house payments. There's just not a whole lot you can do about it - life just sucks that way sometimes. I'm slowly learning that no matter how much you try to prepare, no matter how much you try to do things the "right" way, life is bound to throw you curve balls. It's okay, and I get it. I'll take these curve balls in a heartbeat over some of the other bad things that could have been - and one day will be - thrown our way. And I guess that's why I'm trying not to be ashamed over what's going on with us and why I'm talking about it on here, WHERE EVERYONE CAN SEE. It's a part of our lives right now, it's what we're thinking about, it's what we're going through. Besides that, it'll be nice to re-read this one day in the future, after we've won the lottery and are soaking up the sun on some tropical island, and laugh about how stressed out I was over a stupid house.

Now that one hurdle has been jumped, we're on to the next: finding a place to live. Hopefully we'll have a place lined up within the week. We're quickly running out of empty space in the garage and house for packed boxes. Moving is FUN! Updates will surely follow soon...

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Interesting Lunch Today

Because I still felt crappy this morning, I went ahead and called in sick to work, just to play it safe.  Being at work is misery enough in itself; I didn't feel like enduring it while feeling sick to my stomach.  Not to mention, when you do go to work sick, everyone gives you a hard time about bringing your germs in.  Of course, when you call in sick, everyone gets pissed off that you called in sick.  You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

By lunchtime, I was feeling much better and stir crazy after having been cooped up in the house since Friday night.  We decided to go out to lunch at Burger King - which, I realize, sounds like a completely absurd choice considering how my digestive system has been since Saturday, but the pros of them having macaroni and cheese for Asher and Stephen having a free whopper coupon for himself seemed to outweigh the con of possibly causing an intestinal blowout for me.  (Okay, it still doesn't make any sense, but my stomach handled it fine, so leave me alone.)

Stephen and I had finished our lunches and I was feeding Asher when a very young woman approached us to inquire about Asher with her 14 month-old daughter.  We chatted while her food was being prepared and Stephen got her a highchair, since she and her daughter were by themselves and she had her hands full.  They sat two booths behind us, but the mom was obviously craving some mom-to-mom conversation, as she kept trying to talk to me from her booth.  At one point, she mentioned that she's only nineteen and, since none of her friends have kids, she doesn't get to get out much anymore.  I felt so bad for her; she was very sweet and eager to talk.  After about fifteen minutes, we decided we should get together for a playdate, since Asher and the little girl seemed to enjoy flirting with each other and neither of the kids are in daycare and get regular interaction with other babies their age.  I gave her my e-mail address, and am now waiting for her to write to me.

Here's the silly thing:  I thought she was a very nice girl and I think it would be great for us to get together for a playdate, but I feel so weird about meeting a potential friend at random at a Burger King.  Seriously, I may as well have just picked up a guy at a sleazy bar!  I am so weird.  Could my attitude have anything at all to do with why I don't have very many friends?!  Now watch, she won't e-mail me, and I'll feel all rejected and used.

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Busy, Busy, Busy

It seems like each of us have been preoccupied with our own things over the past week. I've come down with a rare case of motivation and have started about fifty tasks, from laundry to Asher's birthday invitations to decorating for Christmas to wrapping presents to completing Christmas cards to working on party decorations, to name just a few. I was really proud of myself; I actually finished a project yesterday when I addressed the last invitation to Asher's birthday party. Of course, I forgot to take them to work with me today to mail out...Argh. Stephen has picked up quite a few more hours' worth of work for the next month; in fact, it's almost 10:00 right now and he's out working. Asher is just his usual busy little self, which keeps Stephen and I plenty busy just keeping an eye out for him. Seriously, you turn your back for two seconds to gather his dirty clothes, and when you turn around he's got a piece of his own poop in his mouth. Yeah, POOP. In his MOUTH. And there isn't a hint of a look of disgust on his face. (For those wondering, he'd had some tiny, cocoa-puff-sized poopies in his diaper yesterday and one of those "puffs" apparently fell out of the diaper when I wrapped it up and, of course, he found it. Did I mention it was with his mouth?) On a less disgusting note, one new thing Asher is busying himself with is trying to walk. Last night he took an itsy-bitsy step in the bathroom. I'd hardly classify it as walking, but it's definite progress. Today I've noticed he's been holding onto things less and standing on his own more, so I think he's motivated to get the ball rolling. I don't know whether to be excited or petrified.

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The Death of My Blogging Community

When I began blogging almost two years ago, it was because I really liked the idea of keeping an online journal that friends and family could read and keep themselves apprised of what (little) was going on in our lives. Since my pregnancy, I've used the blog mostly as a way to document Asher's life for him, us, and our loved ones. It's been an awesome way to share photos with grandparents and exchange baby-rearing wisdom with fellow moms. I know it's totally lame, but I get so happy each time someone leaves a comment on my posts. Sure, lots of people could be reading my blog, but how do I know if I never hear from those people? Not to mention, some of the comments I've received have seriously pulled me through the craziness of this year. So, if you love me, you will leave me a comment. (I'm going to be so distraught when I receive ZERO comments on this post.)

Much to my delight in the past two years, several friends and family began their own blogs. I love being able to click on a link and be taken into the "world" of my best friend, or my sister-in-law. Call me lazy, but it's awesome to be able to know what's going on with someone you care about without having to talk on the phone or e-mail, especially during this time of my life when being a full-time working mom with a very active seven month old makes it next to impossible to keep in touch in the traditional ways with people. To me, it makes the distance between me and other people much shorter. It's kind of like I get to experience a bit of their lives with them without physically being there.

Unfortunately, I've realized this week that nearly all of my linked blogs are dead and I fear that pretty soon I won't have any more blogs to peek in on. Most of my blogging community has gone MIA, and I'm pretty much left with two blogs to monitor. TWO! Satisfying my nosiness is going to be very difficult to do with only two blogs to read. People, for the love of God and everything holy, BLOG already! It's easy, it's a nice way to document your life - you know, if you don't mind everyone reading it, it's free, it keeps people connected, and, most importantly, it keeps me entertained. Lord knows I don't get much entertainment these days. Help a poor girl out - I'm lonely over here!

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Some Good Cheese

This is what I've been listening to nonstop in the car this week. It's cheesy, but darn it, Junior Senior always puts a smile on my face. How could it not?

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What a Crap Day

Don't let the picture fool you; just as I predicted in yesterday's post, today was not a good day.

(1) Asher awoke extra early this morning, starting around 4:30-5 a.m., crying. Not for a bottle, not because he was done sleeping, but just because he was grumpy or didn't feel well and wanted to sleep on someone. After much jumping out of bed and attempting to console him bedside, he got his way. And I got little sleep and a stiff back.

(2) During my early morning baby wrangling, I was mauled by my cat. Stupid-ass Charlie...I finally got Asher to sleep and laid him in his crib, tiptoed out of his room only to find Charlie and Sam had wandered in. I scooped Charlie up because he meows like a little beotch when you try to shoo him out and, instead, attempted to shoo Sam out. For some stupid-ass reason, this freaked Charlie out, so he mangled my upper left arm by springing off of it with his back claws. As I was left biting my knuckles to keep from yelping in pain, he meowed like a little beotch and galloped out of the room, which, of course, woke Asher up. Again. If you can tell from the below picture, I now have three perfect puncture wounds surrounded by a lovely bluish-purplish bruise. Sexy for summer wear!

(3) Asher fell off the guest bed today when Stephen turned his back for a short moment to grab his glasses. I was in the other room and when I heard the immediate screaming that followed the loud THUMP! I knew what had happened. Stephen felt awful. I told him at least he didn't fall from the stroller on the hard floor in the kitchen, face first. Not that that happened under my watchful eye, oh no...never.

(4) Asher would not take a nap today. Not at all. Surely that couldn't be because he doesn't trust us, after we had people stick needles in his legs yesterday and allowed him to plummet off the bed today?

(5) Work was awful. AWFUL. I ended up taking all day off yesterday because of some stuff Stephen had to get done for one of his jobs and because of Asher's doctor's appointment, and then I called in this morning because of Asher not feeling well and me not getting hardly any sleep. My desk was a disaster when I left it on Friday, and you should have seen it today. And my inbox! I shudder thinking about all of those wretched, unread e-mails. And then there's the stupid-ass "fires" that management thinks you should drop everything to tend to and then they have the audacity to get snippy with you on why something isn't done...WELL DUH! Um, perhaps if I was allowed, for once, to focus on my work-work instead of stupid-ass protocols or reports, THINGS WOULD GET DONE! I am BEYOND done with that place; if Stephen hadn't lost his job recently, I was ready to put my notice in today. I was so close to tears by the time I left today. I hate it that I allow that place to get to me like that, too. It's hard, though, because I just want to be with my little boy. It was murder having to leave him today when I knew he wasn't feeling well and, no matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, I can't help but feel like a bad mom for not being with him. I keep telling myself, this is temporary, you can leave soon! But I worry I won't be able to. Ugh. One of my attorneys gave me some excellent advice today when he told me to take some Valium. Seriously, I'm so high-strung lately, I really do wonder if I ought to get on some anti-anxiety medication. I'm so worried I'm going to blow a gasket one of these days, or that my poor heart is just going to explode from pumping so vigorously all day long. I've always had a short fuse, but since Asher was born...I don't even think a fuse exists at all anymore.

(6) Stephen received a notice that there's a certified letter awaiting him at the post office from his ex-employer. WHAT THE FLIP DO THOSE BASTARDS WANT?!

(7) Not one, but two pairs of my favorite pants somehow got dark stains on them during washing. WTF? The washing machine is supposed to produce clean clothes, not make them dirtier! Frick! So now I have to go buy new pants for a job I don't want to have to even go to, let alone dress for.

Lord, I pray tomorrow is much better. And if it's not, please lead me through and help me not to maim anyone. Not that I have anyone in mind, no, no one at all. Valium? Me? Really? Nah...

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Positive Thoughts, Positive Thoughts!

Well, just as we assumed would happen, Stephen lost his job today. Of course, wouldn't you know they didn't mention word one about the retarded and false complaint that had been made about him only a week ago. Was the investigation ever even finished? Obviously not - they never even spoke to Stephen regarding the alleged incident. I honestly sometimes wonder if the whole thing was concocted by his bitch - er, I mean, boss. Who knows, because I doubt we ever will. Working in a law office is really great when shit happens in your life because you have a world of legal expertise right there at your fingertips. Unfortunately, their legal expertise didn't have anything positive to tell me, except that they're positive there's not much we can do. In Indiana, an employer doesn't have to have any reason for terminating you - they just can't terminate you based on discriminatory factors. And, I guess proving you've been wrongfully terminated is next to impossible to do, especially when they play the "oh you're just not a good fit for the company" card. How conveniently vague, thanks. On top of that, I would assume it'd cost a lot of money to try to prove it, of which we don't have.

*sigh* This sucks.

So my emotions this afternoon have been flip flopping a bit. There's a little bit of relief - like I said, I knew in my gut they were going to do this to him, it was just a matter of when? There's a LOT of pure rage - seriously, how can they get away with this?! Stephen bends over backwards to be a good employee - he even gave up his one free Saturday in nearly two months to drive two hours to take ticket stock to a store, and do they know how much overtime he didn't claim because he wanted to do a good and thorough job?! Livid! I am livid! Why does the nice, good guy always get stomped on? I am sick and tired of this trend of his bosses chewing him up and spitting him out. I promise I am not just sticking up for Stephen because he's my husband - he'll be the first to tell you I'm probably his biggest critic, behind himself. He is truly a GOOD person, and a GOOD worker. Ugh... And, of course there's sadness; after all, there goes my opportunity to quit my job and be a full-time mommy. I have to admit I'm feeling a little heartbroken right now. But, I'm determined not to let this give me an ulcer; after all, he'd only worked there for about five weeks and we went for so long without him working that job before. Besides that, Joe can have his knee surgery, Stephen can be with Asher Bug, Stephen can search for another job, Joe can recover from surgery, Stephen can get another job, Joe then can have Asher back, I can quit my job after the grace period has ended, and then my dream can come true!

It's not just wishful thinking! It's just GOT to happen! One of these days. Maybe? Boo.

I won't think about the fact that it took around nine months of searching, applying and interviewing for him to finally land a good job.

It's really aggravating because I don't feel like we're greedy people...I don't feel like we ask for too much. All I want is a nice, yet modest, house, a few kids, a wonderful husband, one reliable income off which we can live, and good health. Is that too much to ask? Really? Watch My Super Sweet 16 on MTV and then tell me I ask for too much.

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If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

I haven't been very diligent in posting to this lately and it's due to two main reasons. One, we've been very busy the past couple of weeks due to Stephen working so much or being out of town. Asher and I actually went with him on an overnight trip last week and had a really good time. This week I took a couple of days off while Stephen was out of state to stay home with Asher. I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Asher Bug. We napped, went shopping, listened to PaPa toot his horn at Park Band...we had lots of good times. Spending time with him during the week further fueled my desire to be at home with him full time. Grandfather Day Care is wonderful, and I know Asher loves spending time there, but it kills me that when he's home during the weekends, I feel like I'm disrupting any sort of routine that's been established for him. Not to mention, only seeing him for an hour or so an evening before his bedtime is murder. Granted, I'm thrilled and extremely grateful that Joe has been so gracious to watch Asher for us - if Stephen nor I can stay at home with the baby, we want him to be with family. Unfortunately, I don't know how much longer this can last...Joe has a very bad knee and is needing to have surgery. I can't keep expecting him to put his health on hold so that he can accommodate us. If this had been just a week ago, I'd probably have been thrilled when Maryann called to see when they ought to schedule Joe's surgery because it would have meant I'd need to quit my job. Finally! An excuse! We'd agreed I'd keep working for as long as Joe wanted or was able to watch Asher. However...

Reason number two I haven't been posting much: the shit keeps hitting the fan.

This has been both the most joyous and the most stressful year of our lives. Asher, of course, is our highlight of the year - of our lifetimes. But all the transitioning into parenthood, the lack of money, the loss of our house...it's been nothing but chaos. Things were looking brighter the past couple of months, though. Stephen found a job he really likes, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, as far as work was concerned. We'd grown to view the loss of the house as a blessing in disguise, and have actually been looking forward to moving someplace else.

And it never, ever fails. As soon as you feel like your head is above water, something - or, more appropriately, someone - comes along and shoves you back under.

I won't go into details as it would be unwise to at this time - and you know it's difficult for the Queen of TMI to not go into details - but I'll just say that we just found out earlier this week that some very false and very ridiculous (read: laughable) accusations have been made about my husband that is jeopardizing both his job and his reputation. So, once again, everything is up in the air in our lives and we're just waiting, waiting, waiting for the next steps that need to be taken. And in the meantime, we've both been upset, a little depressed, disappointed, frustrated, scared, and angry at the whole mess. Those emotions don't make for very fun postings, so I have been sparing everyone from the drama.

Hopefully I'll be feeling in better spirits and will hop back on the blogging bandwagon soon, but if the number of postings seem few and far between you'll know it's just because the inside of my head is a pigsty right now.

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Season Aversion?

It's incredibly hard to believe it's been a whopping year ago since we came out with the news about my pregnancy with Asher. Our lives have changed so much in the past year (so so so so SO SO SO, oh-so much), but it still seems like only yesterday that I was feeling the crippling grip of morning sickness, better described as all-day and all-night sickness. Of course, that could be because I'm feeling it ALL OVER AGAIN.

No, no, no, I'm not pregnant. This is even weirder than pregnancy. My sister-in-law had mentioned it to me last Fall, saying that she felt pangs of nausea just like she did the year prior when she was going through her pregnancy pukiness. I'd never heard of this before. And still to this day, I haven't read or heard anything about this in all of the hundreds of books, internet articles, e-mails, and conversations with other women I've had.

But wouldn't you know it? The weather has become disgustingly humid and hot (like it is every June in Indiana), and we've had to close up the house and turn on the air conditioner. The minute this all happened, I started getting pangs of nausea. It's the craziest thing! And not only is the weather making me want to barf, but certain smells that made me queasy last year are suddenly setting me off now, too.

It must be a psychological issue, one similar to taste aversion - where you eat something, get sick for whatever reason within a short period of time after eating it, and then you relate your feelings of sickness to that food to the point where just the thought or smell of that food can make you feel sick. You know, the way I can't even think about a chicken pot pie from Boston Market because I had it for dinner the first day that I started feeling nauseous last year. I could totally hurl from just writing about it. It's the only explanation there could be - the weather is just flooding me with precious memories from last year. Memories of me with my head in the toilet bowl. At least last year when I went through it, though, it was for a good cause - I don't know why the hell I want to continue tormenting myself with it this year.

I have been very reflective, though, about my pregnancy lately, and not just because of my lingering pseudo-morning sickness. Ever since Mother's Day, the day on which I found out I was pregnant last year, I've been fondly reminiscing about being pregnant. Actually, before I even had Asher I felt sad about the pregnancy ending. I loved the excitement that came with being pregnant; I loved how special I felt for getting to grow a person inside of me; I loved the bond I felt with the baby. And yes, true, there will probably be at least one more pregnancy in my future. And it will be special, too, but it's going to be a different kind of special. I realize this makes me sound selfish, but it's true - I have a kid now already, I've been Pregnant Kim before, it's old news, and I won't be treated quite the same as I was the first time around. It's like, the novelty of it will have been worn off. Not to mention there'll be a little rug rat I'll be chasing after while in the throes of vomiting and backaches. I'm afraid, too, I won't have the time or energy to cherish the subsequent pregnancies like I did with my first.

Who knew nausea could bring about such feelings of nostalgia?

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A Childhood Fantasy Come True

Guess where I'm going to be on October 24. Just guess! Only at the sweetest concert ever, that's where! That's right, baby - I'm going to see NEW KIDS ON THE FREAKIN' BLOCK. And it's going to be so damn awesome.

I think I was in third grade when NKOTB first started becoming popular, and I was in love with them for a good three years or so. You know, until they sort of disappeared. That's a long time for a kid! My first love was Jordan...It's funny, I had a stuffed moose that I used to sleep with and every night I'd pray to God that he'd turn my moose into Jordan. Yeah. There would have been so many things wrong with that had he granted my wish. Then, towards the end of their popularity, I ditched Jordan for Joey. Mmmm....Joey. Once he finally hit puberty, he really had a nice voice.

I would have killed to have been able to go to one of their concerts when I was little. Alas, I was, like, EIGHT, so for some reason Mom would never let me go. Even though I had all their albums and day-glo t-shirts and scrunchies and Tiger Beat posters slathered all over my bedroom walls! Gosh, Mom, I was like their BIGGEST FAN and you wouldn't let me go support them and I just KNOW that's what was the cause of their downfall.

I am not ashamed to admit it, I am still a fan. I still know all the words to "Popsicle," and "Please Don't Go Girl" still makes me swoon.

As soon as my BFF Angie found out about the NKOTB reunion tour (don't call ME a dork - SHE'S the one on their mailing list), she fervently began her quest to obtain tickets. But wouldn't you know, the tickets sold out practically as soon as they went on sale. Besides that, tickets in the nosebleed section were over $100. Guess I'm not much of a fan, after all. There's no WAY in hell I'd pay that just for nostalgia's sake. Fortunately, with Angie's sweet texting skills, she WON tickets from a radio station the other day! And she wants me to be her date! We don't yet know where our seats are going to be, but I've got my hopes set for Joey's lap.

This concert is going to be so freakin' bad ass it's not even funny. I wish I hadn't gotten rid of my banana clips and day-glo t-shirts, though. To Jordan and Joey: It's too bad for you I'm married, 'cause I'm like totally legal now and stuff.

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Finally, My Laziness Has Paid Off

For those of you who know me well, my grooming routine is simple and comparative to that of a dog's: Springtime rolls around and I get my hair cut, while for Winter I let it grow out to keep my neck warm, then I pepper in a few trims in between for maintenance. However, my routine was MIA for quite some time - I hadn't had my hair cut in almost a year and a half. I'll admit - it's always been difficult to get myself motivated to get a haircut. Most people find a trip to the salon a soothing experience; I'm weird, I feel like it's an invasion of personal space. Pregnancy and a newborn baby were just easy added excuses for me to let it keep growing.

But as of tonight, Mrs. Scraggles is gone.

I came home from work this evening and decided my hair and I needed to do something to boost our relationship. I couldn't take it anymore. We'd both grown to hate each other. I was angry at how it was always in the way, always all over the place, looking awful and crazy. It was angry that I'd let the baby pull it all the time, that I'd become so ashamed of it that it had gotten to the point where I was wearing it in a ponytail almost every day. My hair became so upset with me, in fact, that a couple of months ago it started falling out. I know women's hair usually falls out after having a baby, but I had no idea my hair would be HALF as thick as it was pre-baby. It was disgusting, scraggly and an absolute mess. It had to go.

So, I drove my sorry hair over to the ever-so-fancy-schmancy Great Clips and told the girl I wanted it cut just barely below my shoulders. She was like, "Here?" I was like, "No, shorter." "Here?" "Um, shorter." Why are they always so scared to cut long hair? They must get a lot of crybabies under their scissors. She measured and determined if I went that "short" that she'd be cutting a good ten inches off, and would I be interested in donating it to Locks of Love? Of course I would! The thought had crossed my mind - I'd looked at their website - but I didn't think I had enough length to donate. Guess I was even frumpier than I'd thought!

Four good things came out of it. (1) My hair looks better. (2) I got to donate to a good cause. (3) I got a free haircut because of my donation. (4) I got an awesome excuse for my laziness, because now I can say I donated my hair and people will assume that's why I grew it long in the first place. And Asher was so cute when I got home. He kept looking at me, grinning while studying my face. You could just see the little wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out what was different about me. Like, I recognize you, Mommy, but you look like a much nicer and less crazy Mommy than before.

Yes, Asher. Less crazy is right. And maybe less grumpy, too. Slowly but surely, I'm finally beginning to feel like my old, pre-baby self again. Of course there are parts of me that are forever changed - and in GOOD ways. But there are some parts of me that have become very dark, very tense, very on-edge, very serious, and almost bitter since I've had the baby. I think a big part of the problem is that I've let too much of myself go. I'm a big believer that when you have kids, you are supposed to put them and their needs way ahead of yours. If you have to go without in order to provide for your children, well, suck it up because that's just a given in parenthood. But there are some things I've given up that I shouldn't have to, things that no one asked or wanted me to give up. Hell, remember in the beginning I'd all but given up on showering there for awhile - I just didn't think it was allowed. How dare I leave my baby for 10 minutes for a shower! How selfish of me! Luckily for everyone, I wised up on that one. I'm still shaky on some things, though. Finding time for haircuts, shaving, ironing my clothes, changing the sheets on my bed, painting my nails, tweezing my eyebrows...these, too, are small things I'm gradually learning to take back. The more I take back, the happier I feel. It's like I'm not just Momzilla anymore - I'm becoming a woman again! And that's why it's important not to completely lose yourself in the chaos of motherhood - everyone will suffer, because you'll be miserable and boy-oh-boy will it show.

I'm sure Stephen will be happy when I take sex back. Baby steps, Stephen; I've got to take baby steps. Let me re-master shaving first.

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Townhome in Need of New Owners

As of late last week, our house is officially on the market.

I'm sad, I'll be honest, but in some ways I'm excited. I'm hoping that with getting rid of this house, we'll be able to free up money to allow for other things, things like me quitting my job so I can stay at home with Asher Bug. Things like our sanity. I love our house, and it has sentimental value to me because it was our first house. But, it never really felt like home and I was never 100% happy with the layout of the downstairs. Plus, there's the ridiculous association fees, no yard, and the fact that being attached to three other units never fully let us shake that apartment feeling.

So even though we've upgraded our family, this is going to be the year of downsizing. I plan on selling or getting rid of a lot of the clutter. I want to find a smaller place, something cozy and homey. I want to simplify. This is the year of my letting go.

It could also be the year I have my first nervous breakdown?

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Riddle Me This

Last night I went to bed around 1:30 and, as is customary, Stephen stayed up a couple of hours later than that. At some point after he'd gone to bed, I briefly woke up and noticed the radio clock that resides on the vanity in my bathroom was sitting on my nightstand. Not plugged in, or anything; just sitting there on the edge of the table. That's weird, I thought, but figured Stephen must have had some reason for moving it before he went to bed but got sidetracked and just set it down there.

This morning after Asher woke us up, Stephen looked in the direction of my nightstand and scrunched up his face. "What the heck is that doing there?" he asked. "That was my question for you," I replied. "I noticed it in the middle of the night and wondered why you had moved it." Stephen thought about this for a minute and finally said, "That's freaky. If I did move it, I have absolutely no recollection of doing so." We then spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how the clock was moved.

Our options are: (a) one of us is losing it and starting to sleepwalk from our baby delirium, (b) our house is haunted by a ghost who likes playing with radio alarm clocks, or (c) one of our cats or Asher is playing tricks on us...very talented tricks, I might add, for a cat or a three-month old baby.

We don't really like any of the options and we're a little creeped out, to say the least.

I called my mom to tell her our strange happening, and her guess was that Stephen probably did it right before he went to bed, when he was drunk with exhaustion (going to be regularly at 3 or 4:00 in the morning will do that to you). Then she further reassured me by saying I should be relieved because obviously Stephen doesn't hate me since he didn't bludgeon me with it in my sleep.

Thanks, Mom. You always know how to make me feel better.

And Stephen, I love you. I really, really love you. Remember that before you go to bed tonight and are toting around the small television from Asher's room.

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Don't Eat the Pictures!

Look what my dear husband found for me! It's a clip from one of my favorite childhood movies, Sesame Street's "Don't Eat the Pictures." We've been singing the chorus of this song for years to our cats, changing the words as appropriate. Most commonly inserted words in place of "pictures" include: rubber band, plastic bag, puke (Sam likes to "clean up" cat vomit; doesn't matter if it's his or another cat's), wrapper, and baby toy. I'm sure that in a few months when Asher begins "mouthing" everything we'll be singing it a lot more.

Yes, I'm a big dork. But, if nothing else, I thought my mom and sister would enjoy this...

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According to Stephen, There Are Just Too Many Douchebags Out There

I can't think of a more festive way to kick off Christmas, can you?

http://www.globalorgasm.org

I had no idea creating world peace could be such a sexy endeavor.

(Hopefully Adam doesn't already have this posted as his WTF of the Day. But seriously, WTF?)

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Sophie Would Look Beautiful in the Pink One

Bored, I stumbled across this site when perusing through different blogs.

Kitty wigs - I need one! It's just too bad my cats won't let me play dress up with them for longer than 2.7 seconds. Otherwise, the $50 would so totally be worth it.

However...I bet they'd fit Baby Neener's little newborn head...Perhaps I should register for the electric blue one?

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So Not Cool

When is it okay to wear a Year 2000 Mickey Mouse jacket? Before you answer "never", you're apparently wrong. According to one lady, apparently, it's fashionable seven years later. You know, once it becomes a vintage collector's fashion piece.

You're probably jumping in your car right at this very moment to run to your closest Goodwill or Salvation Army to find yourself a similarly sweet trendsetting piece, but once you locate that awesome turquoise windbreaker with the giant Tazmanian Devil on the back or the hunter green fleece pullover with Winnie the Pooh embroidered on the left chest, you may find yourself unsure of exactly how and when you should let your classiness shine. The answer is simple: At work, of course. What other outer apparel would look as smart with a pair of pleated, highwater slacks and chunky loafers a la 1994? My only suggestion to this woman would have been to add a lovely satellite dish-sized set of bangs smack in the middle of her forehead. That would have been professionalism at it's finest.

As much as I wanted to put out an emergency call to Stacy and Clinton, I reminded myself that it's people like that who make me appear to be much more stylish than I really am, and I figure I can use all the help I can get. See, there really is a place and a purpose for everyone in this world.

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Giving Thanks

I'm afraid I've been a bit on the negative side lately - like, for my whole life. Honestly, I'm actually a very happy person and I do realize I have a lot to be happy about. For some reason, though, I have the annoying talent of overlooking the positives and focusing right on the negatives, and stress and pregnancy have further honed this talent recently.

This morning, I opened my inbox to find a very sweet e-mail that Laurie had sent on Thanksgiving simply stating that she was thankful I was her friend. Again, maybe it's those darn hormones, but receiving that little message made me feel so good and made my heart melt. It also made me realize that I tend to forget to stop and count my blessings regularly, so I thought I'd shake things up a bit on here and actually post something positive for once. No negatives. (At least not on this one posting.) I feel I need to make this list for those times in which I'm feeling sorry for myself, for when I feel like everything is falling apart, or for when I'm simply having a bad day.

The top ten things for which I am thankful this year:

(1) My husband. I could write a novel on how wonderful he is as both a person and as a spouse. He is my saner half, the glue that holds me together. He absolutely works his ass off and is always trying to better himself to provide as good a life as possible for us. He is going to be the best father a kid could have and I absolutely cannot wait to witness the bond develop between him and Baby Neener. I am so grateful that one thing I do NOT have to worry about is my child having a deadbeat dad or me having a deadbeat husband. I am thankful to have a person other than my mother in my life who will always be there for me, will always support me, and will always love me. I am also thankful to be married to a man who will actually cook me dinner, iron my clothes, and clean my toilet. It's really no wonder that I love him so much.

(2) My pregnancy. Yes, yes, I've whined and complained and moaned and groaned SO much about it over the past several months, and, let's face it, the act of being pregnant does have a lot of discomforts and scary changes attached to it. But I know the end result of this pregnancy will be the start of a new life that I will love more than my own life. It will be the start of a wonderful new chapter in my life. It will mark the beginning of my very own family. I am so very, beyond words, thankful for this baby and for everything he will bring to my life. And for as much bitching as I do about carrying him, I also know I'll miss him when he's outside of my body. After all the nausea, backaches, and exhaustion I've experienced, feeling him squirm around inside of my tummy makes it all worth it, even when it feels like he gets a foot caught in my ribs. I think I'll probably feel a little loneliness inside of me when the little critter moves out.

(3) Family. They are always there when I need them, and will do anything to help out. My life is in the process of changing radically and I'd hate to think how much more difficult this transitory stage would be without their support and assistance. And once the baby is born, I know my survival of the first year will largely be thanks to the assistance of family. I'm sure my baby will be as sweet as pie, but I'll be going crazy with all the changes - hormonal changes, sleep changes, stress changes, body changes, lifestyle changes, diaper changes - and on top of all that I know my evil perfectionist side will taunt me the entire time, reminding me that I could be doing things better, that I'm an awful mother. I know it will be family who will be there to offer advice, remind me that I'm human and am not Robo Mom, step in and help out when it's obvious I've been pulling my hair out, and most importantly, will love my child almost as much as I will. After all of that, I know they won't proclaim to the whole world what a mess I am. That would mean they would have to admit to being related to such a mess. That's what keeps family secrets within the family.

(4) Friends. They have given countless words of wisdom, listened endlessly to my whining and worrying, offered neverending support, have made me laugh and lifted my spirits. They are my family away from family, and even honorary members of my family (you know who you are, Angie). Without my friends, I seriously believe all of the crazies that live inside my head would escape through my nose and eat me alive.

(5) My kitties. They are soft, snuggly, warm, and greet me at the door in the evenings when I come home feeling like I've had the living Hell beat out of me. They say having pets lowers your blood pressure, reduces loneliness/stress/depression, and improves your mood, therefore making you a potentially healthier person. I am a firm believer in this. However, I do think that if they would use the toilet, feed themselves, and not throw up on our down comforters, they would be much more effective at improving my health. But maybe that's asking too much?

(6) Having a roof over my head. It's expensive. Like, VERY expensive. But, it sure is nice not living on the streets.

(7) Having vehicles in good running condition. Walking or riding my bike to work would just plain suck. Especially at eight months pregnant in November.

(8) Good health. (Knock on wood.) Actually, my health hasn't been the greatest this year, in comparison to most years. I've had the stomach flu twice, two or three colds, and, although it was from pregnancy hormones and not my health per se, months of nausea. However, to my knowledge I did not acquire any major STDs, leprosy, or emphysema. For this I am quite thankful.

(9) Naps. They have brought immeasurable comfort and relief to me in the past eight months. My only complaint is that I could greatly use more of them.

(10) Chocolate. I really don't think I need to say anything more.

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