I'm partying like it's 1999. That's right. I'm doing the same thing I did in 1999.

In 1999 I rang in 2000 with my beautiful two month old baby girl.  I can't remember exactly what we did but I'm sure it involved staying at home (we lived with my parents) and watching TV.  I'll be doing the same thing this year too - except I added a husband and a house and three annoying dogs and that beautiful little girl is now 10 and she can talk back to me.  I also might actually might have to make some food, like, with my hands and not my boobs.  If I made food with my boobs now that might be a little awkward. Ok, fine.  A lot awkward.

I'm not making resolutions or anything fancy like that.  I just hope that 2010 brings better health than last year.

Much love to you and yours in the new year. 







Party like it's 1999 for me.

All he wanted for Christmas was peace. All he got was pieces.

I woke up early the first day of my Christmas vacation because those damn dogs had to go out and my husband was "asleep" and I couldn't stand the whining from the cages.  These dogs may not look smart but they are (for the most part, with the exception of Prin, who makes up for her lack of intelligence with her looks)...anywho, they've trained themselves (I doubt any of us had anything to do with it, in all honesty) to go downstairs and outside through our nifty doggie door (FYI we have an ALARM so don't EVEN THINK ABOUT IT) so being that I'm on vacation and it's early and I'm lazy I just waited at the top of the stairs for them to come back up.  As I stood there  something caught my attention.  I stared for about five minutes trying to figure out what the hell I was seeing.  Then I noticed a few other things...and well...I don't want to brag or anything but being the great junior detective that I am, I put two + one together and got three and felt pretty damn proud of myself for doing math so early in the morning without my iPhone calculator app.

The crime scene photos explain it all.  Mostly they explain it because I wrote on them.  I love Picnik. 

  

Christmas Spirit

My kid isn't always the most grateful child.  She's never been without a bed, or food, or clothes, or toys, or books, or love.  In her world she expects those things to be there.  And sometimes she demands more.  More than she needs.  I know I created this monster because I felt so guilty for not always being there.  For having to leave her in the care of others far to often so I could go to work or go to class or on a date (in search of the ONE that would be the perfect husband and father we needed - FYI I found him).  I would buy her things to show her how I thought of her while I was gone.  I would let her sleep next to me each night because I missed her so much during the day.  I still do these things even though she doesn't always say "thank you".

But one thing I've been doing lately is saying "no" more when we are at the store because there have been too many angry tantrums when things didn't go her way (how many plastic animals does one child need?!?)...I'd tell her she could get one and she'd want three and I'd say no and she'd stomp and pout....really, kid?  This would result in me getting mad at her that she wasn't appreciative of the fact that she was going to get one when most kids have NONE.  And she'd say she's sorry and give me that face and I would cave.  Then I'd end up mad at myself for always giving in.  And then I'd go home and drink.  Green tea, people, green tea.  With vodka, maybe.  Of course her appreciativeness would be fleeting.  As would the desire for the little toy SHE HAD TO HAVE that I would find still in the bag, a week later, never been touched since that moment in the store.

I've found that the time I spend a playing a game of pretend with those damn little plastic animals (that literally can cover my entire kitchen table island) or telling fart jokes or actually just farting on each other is much more satisfying.  She is much happier and appreciative of THAT than she is of the things she gets.  The magic of going to a movie on a weeknight is soon forgotten but she'll tell me she loves me for DAYS after I let her fart on me.

Yesterday we went out Christmas shopping in 75 degree weather (seems unnatural, doesn't it?) and to sign her up to play softball this Spring (side note: she doesn't want to but she needs to play a team sport so we're kinda forcing her to do it).  She got really bratty when we were looking for a glove because, well, she doesn't want to do it and she was also hungry and when this kid is hungry WATCH OUT.  She goes "FULL-BRAT" and has been known to make grown men cry.  So we took a little break and went to a local restaurant to get some lunch.  In the waiting area they had a Christmas tree with little paper ornaments with the name of local foster kids and seniors and their "wish lists".  Some of these "wish lists" were heartbreaking.  A jacket.  A new hairbrush.  A blanket.  My daughter asked us what the tree was for and we explained it to her.  She asked if she could pick one and we said yes.  Also, she ate an entire salad and full meal...so yeah...mother of the year was starving her child in a quest to find a glove.

Anyway, on the way out she spent about 10 minutes looking at each one before she finally picked a seven year old girl who had asked for a jacket and the Tinkerbell movie.  As we made our way to the car she said the reason she was taking so long is she wanted to find one that had listed "a family".

A family.  She wanted to give one of those kids a family.  Us.

I guess I haven't done such a sucky job at teaching her to be a compassionate person as I thought I did.

UPDATE: Don't get too teary-eyed folks...she just told me she hopes I get coal for not letting her have a THIRD candy this afternoon.  Sigh.

UPDATE 2: Now that I've thought about it maybe she wanted to actually just give us to another kid.  As in, wrap us up and put a bow on top and be on her merry way...

Where I explain what I've been doing. Brownies were involved. The kind you eat. Not the kind that sell you cookies.

Haven't posted in a week.

Stares off in the distance...

***doodilidy-doo doodilidy-doo***

*insert dreamy dream-like sequence soundtrack and waves a la Wayne's World here*

Thursday

My kid got sick...AGAIN.  Unexplainable abdominal pain.  Doctor ordered more blood and urine tests. 

Blood drawing room ALMOST destroyed by my kid's fear and rage (SOMEONE HELP ME! HEELLLLPPPP ME).  

The phlebotomist was a bitch who apparently never dealt with kids who had a fear of needles before. 

The RECEPTIONIST was the one who came back and calmed everyone down and got her to agree to the test.  

I cried and hugged her and thanked her (the receptionist) and asked if I could be her best friend, like "we'd go to the mall and have sleepovers where we would do each others hair" best friend not just the fake "I'll tell everyone on my blog I'm your best friend" kind of friend.

I shot evil looks at the phlebotomist. 

I think I was hit by a truck.  Or maybe I just felt like I was.  Hit by a truck, that is. 

I learned that next time she has to get blood drawn I'm going to request a private room and someone who isn't a bitch.  I will say that.  Ok, I won't really say "not a bitch" because I'm a wimp.  But I will THINK it.

We canceled our weekend trip to wait for the results.  

Friday

Results came back normal.  (I'm not saying I wanted them to come back NOT okay...but after all that...well...I wish they would have told us something.)

We got a referral to a pediatric gastroenterologist.

I learned how to say and spell medical terminology that end in "ologist" or "ology".

It rained. A lot.

The dogs pooped.  A lot.  In my house.  I didn't clean it up. 

Don't worry it got cleaned up...I'm not that gross.

Saturday

I learned that you can't just put "ologist" at the end of something and expect to sound smart.

My husband and I went out.  Just us.  Yummy Mexican food and a movie (The Blind Side - I COMMAND YOU TO SEE IT).  I felt like a real grown up.

Dr. Google is not my friend except when he is.

I worried.  And slept.  A lot.

I used the words "a lot" a lot.

Sunday

I decorated for Christmas but left all the boxes where they were.  So it just looks like it normally does except more red and green and big gray storage bins.  They make excellent foot rests.

I got a holiday card from TheBloggess.  It's so special I'm not even going to share it with you.  Sorry.

Jenny and I are like, best friends now.  The kind that do each others hair.

Fine.  I had to pay for that holiday card but it was worth it. 

I may have folded laundry and put it away.  I don't remember.  Probably not though.

I know I went grocery shopping.  I have a lot of items from Costco.  Including Pennsylvania Dutch Egg Nog and Revolution.  And a large box of Ghiradelli Brownie Mix.

Monday

I went back to work.

My husband is home but still working.  I'm just glad he's home. 

I cooked dinner.

Fine.  I warmed it up. 

Costco Mexican meat and rice and beans is good y'all.

I made brownies.

I mixed those brownies (warm right outta the oven) with Breyer's Coffee Ice Cream. CAN YOU SAY DELICIOUSNESS? 

I can't.

*DREAM SEQUENCE STOP*

*This probably wasn't accurately classified as dream sequence as it was quite real and I think dream sequences tend to be a lot more fun filled with cabana boys bring you margaritas and asking if you'd like a spritz of Evian to cool off.  I should have went with the fast forward-jarring noises-crashing sounds sequence instead.  It would have likely been more fitting.  Except when I ate the brownie/coffee ice cream concoction.  That was pure heaven.*

Love - Hate.

December 4th, 2009, the First Annual Today Sucks Day.

This post was inspired by this tweet.

8:30 a.m. - new e-mail says Outlook! Whoopee! Excitement!

Except.  Wait.  It's from my husband with the subject line "Bad News :(".

No, no, no.  I just got an e-mail the other day from him with the subject line "Good news!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I knew it wasn't "Horrible, Terrible, Life-Altering News" that would bring me to my knees in grief because hello he would have called for that.  Uh, I hope.  I knew before I even opened it that it would say that he wasn't coming home the next day.  I didn't know it was going to be four more days. I know that doesn't seem like a lot but since he's been gone since the Sunday after Thanksgiving it seemed like an eternity.  He travels a lot.  It sucks but it's his job so we deal with it.  But it doesn't stop me from being upset that he's not here.  Especially since he's been gone more than he's been home lately and it is taking a toll on all of us.

11:15 a.m. - cell phone ringing! Whoopee! Excitement!

Except.  Wait.  I don't recognize that number but it's local.  It's the kid's school.  She's running a fever and her stomach hurts.  I need to go get her.  I tell them it will be 30 minutes because I'm at work.  I hear a sigh from the nurse.  I apologize (for being at work...what is wrong with me?!?) and say I'll be there as soon as I can.  I hurriedly give instructions to the staff to finish the project we're working on and tell them I'll be online when I get home.  I rush out the door.

12: 04 p.m. - home.  The kid hurts.  A lot.  Give lots of water.  Pepto. Hugs. Kisses. Beg her not to puke.

12:10 p.m. - get the laptop.  No Internet.  What?  I need to work!  Call INTERNET COMPANY.  Annoying voice prompt that keeps telling me it can't understand what I'm saying and when I use the keypad it acts like it doesn't hear the tones.  I am now yelling at an automated voice that says "I'm having trouble understanding you"...and "did you just say "fuck off?"...(ok, it didn't say that but I might have).  I finally get a real person but I have a sneaking suspicion that they are 15,000 miles away from me.  I am right.  I can barely understand what he is saying to me.  Listen, I get it that this work is outsourced but please, whatever language you are providing customer service in, please speak it so I can understand.  He starts asking me all sorts of technical information that I do not know.  I trudge upstairs to look at routers and wires and the like and can't find what he wants.  I am furious.  "It worked 12 hours ago!  I haven't changed anything!  Can't YOU look at the account and tell me what is wrong?"  Of course he can, he says.  I just need to tell him my husband's "right winger".  Um, can you repeat that?  Oh -- his favorite singer?!?  His favorite singer?  How the hell do I know that?  He likes all sorts of singers.  He was a music major - it could be anyone!  Do you want me to go through his CD collection until I get it right?  HE CAN'T COME TO THE PHONE HE IS NOT HERE.  He tells me he can still help me if I fax him some documentation.  I CAN'T FAX YOU ANYTHING BECAUSE WE DO NOT HAVE A FAX MACHINE.  WE USE THE INTERNET AND MY INTERNET IS BROKEN. FIX IT!  FIX IT!  I pay the bills, can I give you my SSN?  No.  Can I give you my blood type?  My dogs?  Anything?  Nothing.  I AM CANCELING MY SERVICE.  I push the "End Call" button on my iPhone as hard as I can.

I email my husband.  No response.

I rip the wires out of the router and plug it all back in.  The fucking thing starts working and I start crying on the stairs.  My kid comes up and consoles me.  The kid that is running a fever of 100 degrees.  Great, I don't think I'm going to win mother of the year.

1:03 p.m. - call the doctor.  Get an appointment.

3:30 p.m. - leave for doctor.  The kid is in major pain.

4:00 p.m. - doctor asks kid lots of questions about what she had to drink today.  She tells her diet pepsi vanilla flavored.  For the record, I DID NOT give her that.  I tell her, no you didn't.  And she says, yes I did, when you were crying on the stairs.  Oh. BLUSH.  Thanks for telling the doctor that little tidbit.  The doctor politely ignores that comment and goes on to tell me it's "just the flu".  The flu?  She's HAD BOTH FLU SHOTS.  I practically killed people to get these shots for her and now she has the flu?  You have got to be kidding me.  The doc cheerily says rest, fluids, and she'll probably start throwing up tonight but she'll be better by Sunday!   Kiss my ass, doc.

4:30 p.m. - I again beg the kid not to puke on the way to the car.  She shoots me a look that could kill and tells me that I am being inappropriate.

4:31 p.m. - she's going to puke.  In the car.  Actually, my husband's truck because MY car was out of gas and I didn't have time to go get some before the doctor appointment.   Go ahead and puke, kid.

4:32 p.m. - she's not going to puke.  She just feels like it.  Can I drive more quietly, please?  Uh...sure.

5:00 p.m. - home.  Movies.  Water.  No food.  Pain.

6:00 p.m. - more threats of puking.  I'm praying to Baby Jesus, hard.  Please, please, please don't make her puke because then I will puke and the dogs will start eating it and then I'll puke more and WHO IS GOING TO CLEAN THAT UP?

6:30 p.m. - she's not going to puke.  I give her a warm shower.

8:30 p.m. - my parents bring us Tylenol (all I had was Motrin and I didn't want to upset her stomach) and crackers and ginger ale.

9:00 p.m. - My eyes well up after they leave because I am all alone with a kid running a fever and threatening to puke.

9:15 p.m. - fever is higher but she's sleeping.  I decide it's a good time to cry now.

9:15 p.m. - 8:00 a.m. - I watch her sleep.  I watch her chest go up and down.  I lay my hand on her so that I can feel her chest go up and down just in case my hearing fails me.

8:00 a.m. - 102.  More Tylenol.

9:00 a.m. - begin watching Land Before Time.  It's a marathon, y'all.  ALL DAY.

1:00 p.m. - (this is technically December 5th, but who's keeping track?) I beg my twitter followers to send vodka.  No one listens.  I cry some more.

So...did your December 4th suck as much as mine or BABY JESUS FORBID, more???

Tell me about it or leave a comment with a link to your post about your

First Annual Today Sucks Day.

Do your boobs hang low? Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?

I encourage my daughter to ask me anything.  By that I mean ANYTHING.  I'd much rather she get information from me than from somewhere else.  When I had to explain to her what a condom was when she was 9 (after hearing it on Supernanny) she told me that she appreciated that I didn't lie to her like I "usually" do -- aka Tooth Fairy, Santa, Easter Bunny, etc...(I'm never going to live those down).  I decided then that the only way she wouldn't end up a drug addict on the street was if I always answered her honestly so she would trust me when it came time to ask more important questions.

So the other night when she started to ask me a question and stopped herself because it would be "too embarrassing" I pressed her to ask me. Remember, I said...you can ask me ANYTHING.  She giggled and hemmed and hawed and finally spit it out.

It sounded something like this: "Howdidyougetsuchbigboobs? heheheh hahaha."

And my response was something like this:  "Uh, mmm, well all women are different - it depends on your genetics, your weight, and probably other things that I know nothing about..."

Giggling, laughing, and with a slight pink hue to her cheeks she looked relieved. "Oh ok...I just wanted to know if my boobs were going to be like yours when I grow up.  Except I don't want mine to point down or hang past my ribs like yours do."

Yeah.

I think I've had enough with the honesty for one night.

Tell me that you've had your kids say things like this to you...please!!!

Photo: jupiterimages

Where did your journey begin?