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1月28日 OutcastsHere by popular demand: Toni's Ghetto Biscotti
Ingredients: 1 package Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Directions: Place pre-cut cookies onto baking sheet. Cook...liberally.
For your viewing pleasure, I added to my January photo album. What you will see is Mia in her darkest, illest hour of cough and cold, and me, or at least my torso, as it looked today before we went out for the afternoon. I'm having a bad-bra day. Be kind.
I want a pea-shooter.
So that at night, when the dogs are biting/licking/chewing/sniffing/scratching/trying to get on the bed/whining to go out for the hundredth time/moving in anyway whatsoever/breathing even, I can swiftly sit up and blow tranquilizing darts at them. I'd even settle for small rocks--just enough for them to get the message. A pea-shooter would be better than my pathetic finger-snapping, or worse, my (loud) whisper "Shut the hell up!" A thrown pillow would probably work, but then there's the issue of finding one, aiming accurately, and then retrieving it after I do or do not hit my target...come to think of it, thrown pillows don't work at all.
Mia's finally feeling better. She still has a little bit of a cough in the mornings and at nights, but her fever is completely gone and she's got her voice back--and to think I couldn't stand those 2 days of utter quiet. I took her to the library to get us out of the house today. She was stoked--when we got there a group of girls her age was playing over at the "princess table". Mia immediately went and plopped herself down among them, all decked out in her trademark "boy" clothes, completely out of place in a sea of pink jumpsuits, sparkly hair ribbons, and ballet shoes. I wasn't aware that preschool girls were capable of such cattiness until today: "Why do you have a Spiderman sweatshirt on? We were sort of playing here, just us. You can watch over there." And, worst of all, "Your mommy has a fat belly."
Bitches.
Luckily Mia gave up on them fairly quickly and joined a group of righteous boys over at the train table. They quickly accepted her and were all sad to see her go when she left to give the girls one more try. Those scandalous little clones--everytime Mia got out a toy, one of them would take it from her and say something nasty, like, "No! This is what I was about to play with!" I don't know where their parents where--I kept looking around but no one seemed to be taking an interest in their rude behavior. Whatever.
Speaking of being rude, I swear, it was like 500 lb. Amish mommy day--a whole troupe of them were parked in all the rockers, each one with a baby on her knee, and weighing more than those chairs were meant to hold. The height of my library time came with their departure--each mommy went to a random person in the children's room and handed out a wicked awesome brochure for their church. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON to receive nothing. What the hell? I mean, sure, I sacrifice goats in my spare time, but they wouldn't have known that just by looking at me. I don't get it. I combed my hair. I actually remembered to brush my teeth, and I made a concentrated effort to keep my facial expression pleasant today. It wasn't easy! Like daughter, like mother, I guess. It sucks to be snubbed. 1月24日 Sick NastySurprisingly I've not come down with the black plague as bad as I thought I would...or maybe it's just biding its time...Cheyenne's pretty much back to normal, except for a wicked cough that comes on strong only in the morning before school and night before bed. I sent my little biological weapon off to school anyway this week, with that cough plus a runny nose. Yeah, I'm one of those people. But she acts like she feels so good during the day. Mia, on the other hand, is feeling pretty puny and is laid up in my bed, without a voice and just basically beside herself, because I haven't let her do much that involves getting out from under the covers. So I guess I can now be officially counted as one of those people on house arrest for the time being. I'm still worried that this cold will hit me just as I get ready to leave for Georgia next weekend. I couldn't live with myself if I gave my tiny little neice the whooping cough or something to that effect...and I'm pretty sure my sister would kill me too.
I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I'd like to ask her all the questions I normally mean to ask her but instead forget to...and now I forget what they ever were to begin with. I already told her to threaten her associates about coming at me with scissors during labor; so that topic has been addressed. I guess I could always find out about childbirth re-education classes for people like me, who have done this whole thing before but can't remember shit. I was kind of hoping that sort of information will be volunteered to me tomorrow along with a ton of other helpful tidbits about pain medication and hospital policy...but if I go there that means I'm acknowledging that this is actually happening, soon, and I am nowhere near ready--admitting that this baby's arrival is not too far off might just cause me to lose my mind. I really just like being pregnant, thank you very much. Can I ask for an extension?
I thought about attempting to bake cookies; but I was fired, again, when I, again, burned the hell out of the last batch I tried to make. You'd think I could handle even just the simple refridgerator pre-cut dough, but I manage to get them nice and crispy no matter what. I just can't keep track of time--when the buzzer goes off, the cookies don't appear to be even close to being done. So I say to myself, "Just a minute more," and then leave them in for an additional 5. I pointed out to Caleb that if you scraped off the black parts, you'd have a cookie ideal for dipping into your coffee...a sort of ghetto-biscotti, if you will. Voila! Right? But he wasn't buying it and we ended up throwing all 36 of those damn things out. Normal people would permanently give up, but I've got one more $1.97 package in there that begs to be char-broiled...
AND...adding on...I called my mom this morning to see if I couldn't regain a little bit of my sanity back by talking to another grown-up. We chit-chatted for a while and hung up when she went in to work. And then--FRICK!--my sister Katie called me and asked me if I remembered what day it was. I said no, and as soon as I did, I realized that today is my MOM'S BIRTHDAY--and that I completely blanked and forgot! What a schmucky daughter I am! Apparently she got a pretty good kick out of it, and I called instantly and told her I was sorry, and that if it made her feel good, that I would feel bad for the rest of the week. Damnit! As if not sending a card wasn't enough, I actually called her to talk about nothing and then hung up without saying happy birthday! Talk about a slap in the face. If it were me, I would've cried. So, Mom, I apologize once again, I love you, and I hope you have a very happy birthday celebration day. 1月22日 If You Don't Know...Before I start off with my customary "Screw you in a goat's ass" comment I usually love to give out so freely, I'd like to take a moment to thank the quite-obviously-"knowledgeable", un-bipolar gem of a person that messaged me in regards to my previous post. I am so glad to know now that mental illness is, indeed, all in a person's head, and that medication is for uneducated, lazy pansies like myself, and that all I've done by addressing the issue of bipolar disorder is encourage people to go out and get drugged up the second they feel slightly grouchy. And to think, all this time, all this "unneccessary anguish" that I "put myself through"...Thank you. Thank you. You will do great things. And now, for the people checking in from planet Earth, although I'm no expert, I'll revisit the topic with the very same perspective I'd had for the past 2 years: Mental illness is a disease, just like diabetes or alcoholism or anything else that can cause a person's body chemicals to get out of whack, and it, fortunately, can be treated with modern medicine. Clinical depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, whatever--it's not all in a person's head and sometimes they can't just "snap out of it", and while you probably can't understand it, you can be understanding.
Those of you who have been reading my blog for the past 2 years no doubt web-witnessed my little Spring of 2006 episode in which I was ready to kill at least one family dog, and my husband--God bless him--was probably ready to kill me. The entire cycle lasted for 3-4 months, through which I went from being pleasantly energetic, to constantly irritated, to down-right pissy, to stark raving mad, to sad and sluggish, to utterly anti-social and afraid...the latter being the worst part, by far; I couldn't even bear the thought of going to one of Cheyenne's softball games, for crying out loud. It was then that my sweet Caleb gently suggested I talk to a doctor ("What the hell is wrong with you? Do I need to check you into the looney bin, dearest pie?") and I submitted to the problem at hand.
Now that I'm "back to normal" I can honestly take a look at that time of my life and still not have a good explanation for what all went down except to say that my body chemistry was completely off kilter--that tends to happen when a person HAS AN ILLNESS. My skin crawled. My face was breaking out. My period was jacked up and as I mentioned last time, I unknowingly gnashed my teeth together all day long, so much that I'd go to bed with a sore jaw and a massive headache. If it were truly all in my mind, I think I'd be able to come up with a better reason, and I sure as hell would've been able to stop it before it got so out of hand that I sought help from a MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL--also something that tends to happen when a person has an illness. Hmmm...I'm seeing a pattern here.
While I agree that maybe drugs aren't always the immediate answer, and that yes, some doctors are quick to prescribe them and patients are quick to rely soley on them, they helped me when I needed the help. Medication put my body back on a more even keel, and I've been lucky enough to be able to keep it that way through simple things like diet, exercise, sleep, and the constant subliminal monitoring of my mental state by my loving husband and family. Not everyone has it this easy, and I do worry from time to time that I might not recognize a slip if and when it happens again. But for now, I treat myself like I would if I were worried about any other disease--I take care of myself. If diabetes ran in your family, would you not eat right and watch your weight? If alcoholism were an issue, don't you think you'd avoid drinking? With either of those things, you'd be watchful of yourself for symptoms, and hopefully you'd seek help if something didn't seem right.
Like I said before, I'm no expert. A really interesting blog on the matter can be found at Hilary's page. She writes about bipolar disorder, which is sooo not just happy/sad from minute to minute, and the girl knows what she's talking about, unlike...well, I'm not going to go there. (Oh, who am I kidding? I just did! Toni=feeling pretty gleeful right about now.) So go check that out, and for the love of Pete have the balls to leave a public comment with your name on it so that everyone out there will know what a fabulously smart person you are when it comes to the wonderful world of the human brain. 1月21日 Passing On Diseases...Well, guys, I think it's safe to say that...wait for it...I'm coming down with the black plague.
My cough is nothing like Cheyenne's is, yet, but I don't doubt that it will be by the end of the week. As of now, I'm tired, and achey, and just basically beside myself with a general feeling of un-goodness. I wanted Caleb to stay home so badly today; I didn't tell him...but I was fighting back tears while he showered and got everything ready to leave. Why this was a big deal to me today, I don't know; he'll be back tonight so it's not like he's going on one of his usual week-long business excursions. I just have this overwhelming desire to cuddle up under a big warm blankie, next to my husband, while he pets my hair and rubs my tummy.
You know, kind of like the way he treats the dogs on a regular basis.
But I'm a big girl. I didn't ask him to stay, which he couldn't have anyhow, and I didn't cry. I got most of my chores out of the way, I played with all of Mia's toys (with her, of course) and I even finished a book that Cheyenne insisted I read: "Define Normal" by Julie Anne Peters. It's about a good girl that becomes friends with a bad girl, who's really not that bad, and who helps the good girl when her mother is clinically depressed and can't take care of the family anymore.
This must've been the book that sparked a small discussion about depression and bipolar disorder Cheyenne and I had last week--she surprisingly brought it up on our way to the store so I answered her questions as honestly as I could without saying "You know, Cheyenne, I'm a total nut job myself," but I know she's not stupid. I think she suspects...why else would she have suggested I read that book? I was pretty obviously "not bringing my A-game" for a while there the summer before last. I found it hard to talk about mental illness with her; how could she possibly understand? Will she be afraid of me? Will she worry that I won't be able to take care of her one day? Or will she think it's cool and tell all her friends that her mom is truly psycho?
So when she asked me point blank "Are you bipolar, Mom?" I quickly veered the conversation in the direction of my own (crazy) (biological) mother, and I told her that there are ways to handle any disease, and signs to watch out for...and measures--and medications--you can take. I told her that if I felt like I wasn't myself and I thought depression or bipolar disorder might be the problem, I wouldn't think twice about seeing a doctor to get better. And she seemed satisfied with that answer.
...For the time being. One day I'll tell her how it feels to toss and turn every night for weeks, to have your thoughts race and your head spin, to talk so fast that you can't even keep up with what you're saying...to want to spend money like a drunken sailor, or, to want to just drink like a sailor--at 1:00 on a Tuesday afternoon. She'll hear what it's like to rage like a maniac for days on end over nothing in particular, to unknowingly grit your teeth so hard that at the end of the day your jaw aches, to be pissed off at yourself for being pissed off at everybody else...to be so inspired to do something one day, and yet completely lose interest the next, to sort of watch yourself do or say all these things and wonder what the hell is wrong with you. And I hope she never gets to where she can't bear to be around people--even family...or physically can't get out of bed, or starts bawling without reason on any given day because she's so inexplicably sad. No, I don't think she's ready to hear any of that right now...but I know eventually the conversation will have to be had. Maybe by that point I'll understand it a little better myself...though hopefully I won't have had any more hardcore experience as a teaching tool. 1月19日 Just a Matter of Time...I knew someone in my house would get that crappy cough that's going around sooner or later. Everyone else in the world seems to have it. Cheyenne is back in her room for the second day in a row, drugged up, in tears, and hacking like nobody's business. I don't know anything different I can do for her except to keep her partially reclined and heavily medicated. The poor dear.
Watch me come down with it just in time for my trip to see my neice. Frick.
Caleb and I finally got our Christmas web-cam up and running. We chit-chatted with his sister for several hours last night; let's just say this was the best $25 anyone who lives away from family could ever invest in anything...ever. On our way to bed last night, Caleb said, "Wow! I haven't been able to hang out with my sister like that in a long time!" I don't care if last night was the only time we'll ever use the camera; those 2 (or 3 or 4) hours made the cameras worth every penny. Drawbacks? Now I have to make sure I shower daily. AH, TECHNOLOGY, wonderful technology. Let's hope the rest of our family is lucky enough to figure it out.
On a pregnancy note: At week 22 (?) plus a few days, I've mastered the creaky waddle-walk that comes with late pregnancy; my belly has already reached catastrophically huge proportions...or at least, it feels like it. Every joint, every ligament from my neck down aches. I'm scared to think how big I'll be towards May. This could get ugly. Really ugly.
I shopped at Sam's club online again for the second time; I highly, HIGHLY recommend doing this if you're a frazzled, busy mommy of children under 18...or if you're pregnant and lazy, like me.
Well I'm off to enjoy my Saturday--gonna nurse a sick child back to health, gonna catch a cold, gonna make 50 PB&J sandwiches, wash a million loads of laundry, and watch Beethoven an infinite number of times while wishing it felt warmer than 2 degrees outside. Have a great weekend everybody! 1月16日 Off My ChestI'd like to get a couple things out of the way before I talk about nothing at all:
And I'm spent. I was going to mention something in reference to an article on MSN about little girls hating their looks; but in every example they gave, the mother was pretty much behind their kid's self-loathing attitude. 2 words: Who gives a flying fuck how you look? Okay, wait, those weren't the 2 words. Here: INNER BEAUTY. Sure, I tell my girls that they're pretty...from time to time. They are, right? But way, way more importantly, they're smart. They're hilarious. They're sweet and kind and honest and I make sure they hear it everyday. And even though it's hard to remember, especially in reference to myself, those are the things that matter the most about a person. That is all. 1月15日 I Wonder If Crying Could Help My Cause...I've heard there are several things that can make or break a marriage; the only things that come to mind at the moment are building a house and having a baby. We've successfully managed both without killing each other and I can come to at least one conclusion: It's not the having of a baby, but the NAMING of the baby that can truly test the love between a husband and a wife.
We take our quest for the perfect name with the utmost seriousness. It can't be too popular. It can't be too off-the-wall. It can't sound remotely feminine. In fact, it can't be anything that's already been used on a girl. Not even once.
Naming a human being is tough stuff. Caleb and I have specifically designed a ritual just for this task: I'll throw out a name, and he'll make fun of it in every possible way. Then I'll pick one of his names and come up with a long list of insults. Then he'll say something derogatory about me; and then I'll take the opportunity to totally trash him and dump on all his shortcomings (i.e. complete lack of taste). When we play the name game, we're not two loving parents trying to find the perfect name for our son; we are vicious, vicious enemies, hell-bent on crushing each other's every last hope, dream, and deepest desire.
ME: "What do you think of the name Seaver?"
CALEB: "Like, Seaver-Beaver? Rhymes with Cleaver? That Seaver?"
ME: "Well, I thought it was cute. At least it was original."
CALEB: "It was so original I thought I was going to throw up."
ME: "Hey, it's better than having absolutely no imagination whatsoever."
CALEB: "I come up with original names all the time!"
ME: "Really? Like what? Jackson?"
CALEB: "No. Like Maverick. Or Riddick."
ME: "Sounds like a Nazi to me."
CALEB: "Oh, and Otto doesn't?"
ME: "Riddick? Please. Kids will call him Dick, and that's just awful."
CALEB: "No they won't. Riddick will kick the kids' asses."
ME: "Dick. Rid-ICK! Icky-Dick. Get Rid of Dick. Or, if the kids were really mean, Riddy-Biddy Dicky."
CALEB: You're RID-DIC-ULOUS!"
ME: "I rest my case."
CALEB: "Ah, fuck you."
ME: "So...Did you like the name Seaver or not?"
And so it goes on. Although I don't neccessarily think that a name is completely off-limits if you can make fun of it--look at my name, Toni, for example. Toni-baloney, Toni-the-phony, Toni-pony...but Riddick is pretty bad, at least in my book--Caleb's problem lies with the fact that he was never properly humbled as a child. What the hell rhymes with Caleb?
I distract myself from naming the baby by trying to get ready for the baby. I've pulled out all of Mia's old clothes and blankets and come up with 2 or 3 things that can actually be used for a boy. We even semi-agree on crib bedding, and I congratulate Caleb for picking Mia's old stroller, bouncer, carseat, playpen, etc. in all neutral colors, because then we'd really have problems. At least we don't have to drag each other from baby-super-store to baby-super-store, trading insults about our very different choices in nursery neccessities. I don't want to have to bust out with the true meaning behind Caleb's name: "dog-like". 1月11日 Things That Make My Stomach TurnToday, as I was driving to pick Cheyenne up from school, there was a car in front of me with a bumper sticker that said, and I quote, "To HELL With Our Enemies; God Bless The United States."
And, yes, that upper-case HELL was actually underlined on the sticker.
That's a little harsh, is it not? I mean, come on. Snow fell in Baghdad today; fighting stopped and people were happy, if only for a little while. Doesn't every country deserve a little of that?
I'm reminded of the movie "Head of State" with Chris Rock. He runs for president, and his opponent had the great slogan of "God Bless America, and No Where Else." It seemed pretty absurd in the movie, and yet, here it was, backwoods-redneck-uber-bigoted stupidity at its finest, staring me right in the face, in the very town that I live. The odd thing about it was that the car had a Washington state plate, so whoever was driving it had obviously expanded his horizons a little more than your ordinary close-minded country boy by living more than 2 hours away from the location of his birth. Please note that not every ignorant person is a redneck from Oklahoma.
He or she could be from Alabama.
I'm kidding.
Another thing that shocked me during that 5 minute trip was the realization that my kid somehow knows the words to Night Ranger's "Sister Christian". Truthfully, I'm not sure what disturbed me more: The bumper sticker in front of me, or my kid belting out "WHAT'S YOUR PRICE FOR FLIGHT" at the top of her lungs. It's something to think about. 1月9日 Daily Dose of Random-ness I've nothing specific to blog about at the moment, so here are some things that come to my mind for no particular reason:
I've been walking again since the weather has been so lovely here. Yesterday it was back to being a little on the freezing side, but I hated to stay indoors so I put on Caleb's brand-new Carhart jacket and started trucking around the neighborhood. I was warm and toasty but I must've looked like the friggin' Uni-bomber, with the hood completely covering my face and jacket swallowing my arms and most of my legs...my jeans kept falling down (I have to wear them under my belly, okay?) so I pulled my arms inside of the coat and held them up as I went on: a short, fat, armless uni-bomber shadily making my way past beautiful golf course homes. Other ladies walking crossed to the opposite side of the street when they saw me, and they wouldn't even wave...normally I would've been miffed, but the whole situation struck me as funny, so I giggled to myself, which, I'm sure, weirded the ladies out even more. Bitches.
Mia is so indescribably sweet these days, even when she's being a stinky boy (her words, not mine). Read on:
Cheyenne has started fresh in the new year with some kick-ass new clothes, shoes, and accessories. She's somewhat back to her old self; she's talking to her old friends again and she's even picked up a few new friends. I'm enjoying it as much as she is, I think, for now, but I won't be surprised if she goes through another anti-social cycle before the school year's out. But at least she'll be stylin' if she does. I noticed her school put up a new sign over the holiday. This plain, black-and-white notice is about the size of a speed-limit sign, is placed in a most obscure location and it proclaims to all who exit (not enter, EXIT) the main parking lot "This is a drug-free and a gun-free school". Whew. That was a close one. Because before that sign, I might have accidentally brought drugs or guns on campus. But knowing what I know now, thanks to that sign, I won't. And I'm just sure it will stop the people that intended to sneak that stuff in right in their tracks. That'll deter 'em. Geez. Who's idea was that? Couldn't that $50 have been better spent on something else? This school is falling apart. There's not a day that goes by where every toilet in the bathroom overflows...unless you count the days in which there is not water in the building at all, which is about half the time. Could the money have gone to buy a few books for the dinky excuse of a library (seriously, we have more books here at the house than they do at the middle school)? What about some basketballs for the playground? Some actual hoops for the basketball goals? Tether balls for the tether-ball poles? Jump ropes that aren't kindergarten-size and 50 years old? Air fresheners to help tone down the smell of mold? A gymnasium ceiling that's not leaking and crumbling? But I digress... Shadow hasn't eaten in the past 24 hours, and seems to have no intention whatsoever of moving from her cozy bed anytime today. When I go to sit with her, she lifts her head and wags her tail...so she can't feel too bad. I brought her food but she's not interested, no matter what kind of yummy stuff I mix in with it. She laid around all night last night burping--loud and long--it was weird. And gross. She's got to get hungry sooner or later...I will keep an eye on the situation.
1月8日 I Guess He Does Love Me...Pregnant women have some wild dreams. I've given birth to puppies, kittens, baby snakes, and a grown man. I've laid eggs; and then I've accidentally scrambled eggs. I usually wake up feeling so disturbed and upset that I just can't function right for the better part of the morning--I don't easily shake bad dreams. Last night, I had the worst one yet:
Caleb and I were staying at the beach. I was 9 months pregnant and Caleb and I had spent the day apart. I left our sweet condo to go look for him, and I found him down at Bamboo Willie's, one of our old favorite hangouts, eating raw oysters with a big bunch of people that I didn't know. They all started to make fun of me so I left to go look for some seashells. I found some wicked cool ones and went to show Caleb at the bar. He got all mad at me and said that it was illegal to pick seashells if I wasn't going to eat what was inside. I looked down and realized that there was some slimy pink mollusky-alien-creature coming out of one of the shells and it was munching on my hand, crunching my bones...and everything. I threw the shell on the ground and the slimy thing died. Then Caleb forced me to sit down and eat the rest of the gross shell-babies. People started crowding around me and making fun of me, Caleb included. I started crying. Then I peed my pants. I threw a fit like a little kid and refused to eat anything. Caleb was being so mean. Then they all left, and I was alone on the beach with a stupid bunch of shells.
Damn that Caleb. Damn him for being such a jerk. Damn him for ditching me to hang out with meanies. Damn him most of all for not eating the aliens for me, so that I could legally keep those beautiful seashells.
If I'm not having funky dreams, than I'm not asleep. I just can't seem to get comfortable. My belly feels like it's about to explode. I feel like I'm already lugging around a 10-pounder...like I'm 9 months pregnant instead of 5. Maybe this is typical of a third pregnancy, maybe I'm just an ultra-sensitive pansy. I hog the entire bed and steal all the covers...and the pillows. I prop myself up from all angles, I toss and turn all night long, and I get up to pee every hour on the hour. Caleb snores right through it all; damn him for that, too.
But this morning, despite my nightmare and my constant struggle to stay asleep, I felt more rested than I have in months. I've noticed a pattern this past week--today it actually hit me. Everyday I get to sleep in while Caleb gets Cheyenne out the door. He starts the coffee and works quietly in his office. I wake up sometime later all snuggled up to a pile of pillows strategically placed where his body was laying all night long. I asked him if he was trying to make sure I didn't fall out of bed. He smiled sheepishly and said, "Well, I know you sleep better when I'm beside you."
Awwwwwww.
I guess I can forgive him for the seashell incident now.
1月5日 An All-Day AffairI fucking hate washing the dogs.
Today we bathed all three of them, and I don't mean outside with the garden hose. (I fucking hate winter, too.) Consequently, I have to shop-vac and steam clean the entire house, boil my whole body in a tub full of hot water, and set fire to the girls' bathroom.
I have a bachache from hell and the baby thinks he's Jackie Chan today.
Signing off... 1月4日 Why Don't You Just Press The Easy Button?Week 20, Day 2. Or 3? And who really cares enough to count by actual days anyway?
When I was pregnant with Mia I started having shortness of breath followed by what felt like a heart attack at around this far in. Today I experienced a little bit of the old symptoms; only this time could I immediately diagnose myself with anxiety and that calmed me the hell down. Drinking ice water and laying on my left side helped to relax me a little bit. I even enjoyed a nice soak in the tub while Mia flung armloads of not-so-soft bath toys at me and insisted upon "washing" my hair with her Fairy-Berry-Strawberry Shampoo. It was...pure bliss. I am somewhat relaxed now, 7 hours later.
I skipped grocery shopping in town and instead have discovered the ultimate joy of shopping online. Did anyone else out there realize that you can have Sam's club pull your entire shopping list and have it ready for you to pick up within 24 hours? This is something I wish I'd known about while Mia was going through her terrible two's. You just pick up your order, pay for it, and poof! You're on your way home. No crowds; no navigating through that dingy warehouse-setting chasing a hyper toddler and buying a bunch of stuff you don't need.
Another online shopping discovery: Barnes and Noble is way cheaper over the internet, and certain orders can be shipped for free. So rather than trek into town and spend $5 more per hardcover childrens' story book, plus pay the friendly local United States Postal Service a whopping $15.00 to deliver these not so lightweight gifts, I simply ORDERED the books and had them delivered for FREE! (I now encourage you to congratulate me like the genius that I am.)
I also bought my plane ticket down to Georgia today; and in February I'll be well on my way to visit my sister, her husband, and my new little NEICE-Y REESE-Y! (Yeah, I said it.) Bonus is that my mom's also visiting my sister that weekend, so we're gonna all hang out together. It'll be just like old times, except Jenny will be the one with the kid and I'll have absolutely no one to take care of but my damn self. That might also fall under the catergory of pure bliss. We'll see.
1月2日 Don't Know What You Got Til It's GoneWell, I've calmed down a little bit this week. Maybe it's all the relaxing I've been doing; maybe it's just knowing that I've got the closet nice and organized and ready for our kid (even though he won't be here for another several months). I'm not so worried about having a boy anymore...well, at least for now.
Caleb and I have been aggressively negotiating boys' names. He scoffed at "Silas", and I vetoed "Riddick." We were almost settled on "Jackson" until I killed it dead with my "Just Jack" impression from Will and Grace.
I thought it was cute.
Back to the drawing board.
On Sunday we sorted through clothes--mostly Caleb's--and took 10 bags worth of wonderful wearable stuff over to Goodwill. You'd think our closet drawers and shelves would be bare after that, but you would be wrong. It blows my mind to think we had somehow crammed all that crap in there. I'd say a good 75% of it hadn't been worn in over 2 years.
Caleb is a horrible packrat. I tend to throw things away without thinking. If it's lying around and I don't like the look of it--clothes, shoes, papers, decorations--it's out, and whether it all goes to The Salvation Army, Goodwill, or the trash can, I care not. My habit has gotten me into trouble before. Important phone numbers, files, directions, reciepts, warranties...you know, the stuff you'd never even know was gone until one day by stroke of bad luck you need it in the worst way. I'm surprised I'm not divorced yet. |
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