Puff, Puff...

I am jonesing for a fire stick bad these days. I think it's partly to do with the beautiful spring weather. That's right. The weather turns sunny and spring-like and a young girls fancy turns to lighting up a nice cigarette. Aaahh..Can't you just smell the sulphur from the match? Don't you just love that first bit of smoke inhalation?

Last year when I was a regular smoker (how else did I handle PPD?!) I would sit out on my deck after work, wine glass in one hand, and ever present cigarette in the other. I would chat with my neighbors about my heinous job, deadlines, and the need for freedom I had boiling inside me. No one told me that becoming a mother in this post-feminist world could make you feel like a bug trapped under a glass. All this week I look out at the unused deck whistfully thinking of cloves and chardonnay. H is brewing about it too I can tell, minus the chardonnay part.

Then there I was at the gym today reading Erika Schickel's book, 'You're Not the Boss of Me: Adventures of a Modern Mom' while I put some more Avon Walk training miles on my kicks. She has a whole chapter on smoking, fire, and pot. Hmmm... As I treaded along on the mechanical walking device I could not stop smiling about how Mom's do need some sort of vice and always have. I continued to read and found myself dreaming of lighting up a smoke about every 2.5 seconds. Maybe I should find a tobacco store nearby I was thinking. Is there a place around here that sells Splash! cigarettes? As Schickel went on about being a Cheeb head Mom I suddenly noticed something. Wait. Could it be? Do I smell pot? Here at the gym? My gym? My pink and purple palace of women who strive for toned thighs?

Oh yes, I do smell the wacky weed and it's wafting off some sweaty someone right next to me on a treadmill. I inhaled deeply. Huh. I followed that woman all the way to the weights where I continued to breathe it in. Don't mind me, I'm just using the ab machine over here. I'm not sniffing you. I'm no Narc. I swear! I just couldn't fathom it. She's my Mom's age. That is not bergamot or Anise perfume. There's no whiff of a patchouli undertone anywhere. That is just plain old Mary Jane. Sadly, my time was up. No more sniffing out the gym patrons for me today. My saggy, be-diapered butt child was jonesing for something all together different. A diaper change and snack. It was time to head home to stare whistfully out at the deck thinking of a time when I allowed myself to not think of lung cancer and just enjoy the company of friends, wine, and a pack of soldiers. Among other things.

Product of the Week!

This week's product is a book. A book I can safely say kept us sane in the last few weeks. I don't normally do this type of thing either. I don't like reading childcare books. I find that I'm usually already doing what they say and I have a few "Duh!" moments and throw the book to the wayside or I just don't agree with their methods. The book, 'Good Night, Sleep Tight: The Sleep Lady's Guide to Helping Your Child Go to Sleep, Stay Asleep and Wake Up Happy' (Sheesh!) actually did do all those things.

I bought the book out of desperation and had a friend suggested it. Her child wasn't sleeping through the night. She read the book. The kid sleeps like magic. We were on month three of that after an almost entirely blissful year of angel baby sleep through the night nights. We removed the pacifier. It helped. Then T.D. cried for a bottle each morning at 4 a.m. I couldn't seem to elminate the binky or break her will no matter what H and I tried. I cried and screamed. H cried and screamed. The dog howled. I broke down and bought 'The Sleep Lady's Guide'. Amazon quickly delivered this little gem of a book to our door. The bottle was dropped. I won't tell how. Read the book! We figured out naptimes on a better schedule for all of us this week and last week we slept like logs. T.D. did too despite being in a new locale. Heaven on earth right there people!

What I find so great about this book is that it's not just for problem issues. Sleep Ladies, Kim West and Joanne Kenen, go through the stages of children, possible problems and age groups. I had not even thought of that. New Mom syndrome I suppose. I eagerly devoured the one year old chapter and learned a lot in a short time. It needs to be a short time T.D. is a climber and walker now.

If you are having sleep problems with your child, be it one month to four years old I highly recommend picking this book up. You may not agree with all of it, but you will take away some valuable information. I did.

The Lovely Letter F

Is it just me or can you too throw around the F word at any given time and have frequently been known to say, "Motherfucker is my favorite word." It just has a nice ring to it. I can't help it. It's vulgar, crass, and sounds unintelligent. Sometimes though it's the only word that will do. Let's hear everyone yell, "Oh that poor child she's raising. What a foul mouthed pig she must be."

I do have to say that I draw the line at one usage of it. Fuck You. I hate it. I can say motherfucking this, what the fuck, mother fucking that, but 'Fuck You', which seems to always scream in all caps even when said in a whisper, just gets me. When someone says it to me something in me shuts down. Hostility arises. Distance is brought up and I can no longer communicate with that individual. They temporarily cease to exist. Maybe it's because I only use that phrase when I'm so angry that I can't think straight and I want to really be mean. I just can't seem to throw that version of 'fuck' around lightly. It hurts to hear it.

So is it just me that feels this way? I sound like Andy Rooney here. Next thing you know I'll be talking about carrots and how closely related they are to shoes being too tight and how that really sticks in my craw.

Irritation

This kind of stuff bugs me. It makes me feel like sometimes we just might know a little too much. I think why do I need to think of one more thing? As if pregnant women don't worry enough or have people telling them all sorts of "advice" on a daily basis. Like how brownies aren't good for pregnant women and other nonesense.

I give you this and ask you- is this too much information? Do we really need to be concerned with this? I can see it now. In twenty-five years some guy will flip out on his Mom who has been pestering him for a grandchild and he'll retort with, "Well maybe if you hadn't stuffed your piehole with so much beef every day I could give you one!" Ugh.

GNO-Old School Style

Last weekend H had his annual fantasy baseball draft. It's part of the reason I chose that weekend to head to my parents, beyond the extreme curiosity about their new place. I don't like being home when he shuffles in partly hungover and whining about all the crap food he ate all weekend. That and I always feel a bit resentful and jealous that his friends still do such things.

That brings me to the point of today. Why is it ladies that we get married, have kids and that inner fun girl just says, "I'm out." She shrivels up and dies. Unless your sister is having a bachelorette party your kicky heels don't see the light of day again until the tot takes them out of the closet themself and decides to give them a whirl. I did just get a bit Carrie Bradshaw on your ass but I don't care. Maybe it's just me, but each time H has a guys weekend it goes pretty much the same way.

Friday night is happy hour (working women might still get a chance at this), then they all crash somewhere. Saturday, hung over and still sleepy, they hang out in their shorts and scratch themselves while shooting the shit and wait for the draft to begin. The draft ensues. Wings and cheesesteaks will be involved as well as dip spit and ciggies. Though I don't see any of H's friends saying, "Hey! Pass me a ciggie would you?" After that whole sports mish mash is over they go out. They get themselves all cleaned up and they smell nice once again. They have a nice dinner out and then hit the bars. It's at this point that the whiney, five year old brat in me comes out and petulantly shouts, "I want to go too!" It didn't help that this past weekend some wives were involved in the going out on Saturday thing while I was at my parents holding a screaming in your face T.D. until 11 p.m. Bedtime? Normally 7 p.m. I was in agony.

I'm happy that H has these weekends with his friends. I think it's great that they still get together and do this. It just begs me to ask why on earth my friends don't. I still want all that! I'm not dead! I have tried on numerous occasions to set this stuff up and it always fails. We go to some chain restaurant where the mundane feeling starts to creep in. Half of us are dressed up and the other still in what we wore all week. Pooh on that. That is total crap ladies. I don't accept it anymore. We need this type of stuff, minus the nut scratching, to feel alive, know ourselves and our limits once more and yes, to feel sexy.

I'm grumbling away this morning and I don't care. I hate that the only time I ever get to go out like this is with my spouse. I miss dancing. I miss the getting ready and knowing I look good. I think most of all though I miss that side of my friends.

Anyone Got a Light?

Morning. I need a cigarette or four and a bourbon. I don't even drink bourbon, but it sounds like the breakfast of champions right about now. It's definetly the day after a vacation where it's all craziness and mayhem after you come home. Needy child after being at grandma's, laundry, errands, and well, back to work. Yippie Skippie!

The trip home was essentially uneventful unless you count the woman giving birth, or at least that is what is sounded like, in the Maryland rest stop bathroom. Wow. The screams. The wails and cries for "Dear God help me! Someone help me with the Pains! It was like Melanie was giving birth all over again during the siege of Atlanta in there. We found high chairs at lunch time and we got home before we both totally went over the edge of sanity after being in a car for eight hours.

T.D. is sportin' bows in her hair now courtesy of Mem and I approve. H said they should change colors with her moods- red for angry, black for foul, and so on. I'm fine with the fact that now she looks real cutesy girly poo like. I'm kind of sick of people calling her "buddy" just because she's wearing a blue shirt or green sweater. All of a sudden she seems more like an actual thinking person and no longer such a baby. She's showing us what she wants, knows where things are, and has a range of more complex emotions. She's also less pliable and bendable to my will. I knew that wouldn't last forever.

It's off to tackle the laundry monster, do some actual work and oh yeah maybe dress myself.

Over the river and through the woods...

We have internet! It's really true! My fingers have been positively itching the last few days and now it's here! My parents, having just moved into a new place had to wait until their provider got their little booties together and extended the internet privledge to them. At last.

The trip up North did not start off as planned. When does it when a toddler is involved? H, feeling sentimental, had the brilliant idea to wake T.D. up early the morning of departure. I cringed and declared I did not like this plan. I could see chaos written all over it. However, I let him do it much to my chagrin. Chaos did indeed reign that morning after H left for work. Instead of getting myself ready and loading the care while she slept I did it while Lex, the dog escaped out the front door and a red-faced angry T.D. screamed each time I took a bag out to the car. An overtired T.D. did not like me leaving her repeatedly and each armload of stuff up and down our townhouse stairs upped my stress and sweat level. I had to take a quiet moment in the car after it was loaded up with bags, baby gear and a now slient T.D. before I got us on the road. Finally only and hour and a half later than I wanted were we able to make our departure. Onto the open road!

Twenty minutes into the Diane Rehm show and rolling green the state of Maryland, T.D. was knocked out. I blissfully drove through what felt like the never ending state of MD and prayed she would sleep until Delaware. I chanted it frequently like the Beastie Boys song, No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn using the words Don't Wake 'Til Delaware! The kid slept through until the Jersey Turnpike. YES!

I just have to say WTF to a few things? What the holy F to the Delaware Memorial bridge! Fifty miles per hour for those of us who find bridges incredibly death defying feats to cross is pure excrutiating torture for my driving soul. WTF to the Woodrow Wilson rest stop too. No high chairs? NO HIGH CHAIRS in the whole damn place?! I had to place a napkin on T.D.'s tiny lap and hope she wouldn't decide to throw the whole paper mess containing her ultra healthy lunch of tomato slices, banana from the Roy Rogers register, and chicken strips onto the floor. I had her in the stroller but still it was a bit stressful. WTF to the creepy guy who wouldn't stop leering at T.D. either. Ick! The women at the life-saving Starbucks who had never witnessed a Starbucks rankled me too. Really? Never seen a Starbucks? They were not foreigners just off the boat. They looked, sounded, and dressed like the average middle-aged suburban woman. Mom jeans, button downed sweaters, white keds and all. Simply mystifyied me as they proclaimed the use of cinnamon in coffee. Oh my! How daring! Fat-free muffins too? How nice of you Starbucks- what a novel treat! Eesh. I just wanted to clothesline them and get my latte to go. I'm a mean bitch when I want some latte in me I know.

On the road again we made it through Jersey and New York easy peasy. I liked the feeling of driving through NY traffic and not blinking. It's nice to feel capable and independent again and at something other than making waffles and cleaning a mean bathtub. When we hit CT though it was another story. T.D. was awake from her second nap and pissed to find she was still strapped into her seat. Toys were flung about, shoes and socks were the devil to her feet, and the sippy cups were long gone into the nether regions of the car. All attempts to sate her with crackers and fun songs were shot down with angry screams from a fuschia faced czar. My eyeballs began to ache and head to pound. Dan Zane's Catch that Train was making me crazy. Baby Loves Disco failed to rouse either of us as well. It was time to break the emergency glass and bring out the unthinkable. That's right. Stashed in a plastic baggy deep in a car compartment was a pacifier. I hated to do it but short of swerving off the road after twenty minutes of solid screaming and fighting I had to do it. It was for the best. You know what. She studied it and played with it more than it was in her mouth, but it still shut her up. Peace resumed.

After eight and a half hours in the car we made it. The remote, and yes, narrow winding roads that surround my parents new home. I practically fell out of the drivers seat with joy. Food that's not vacuumed sealed, clean bathrooms, and a waiting grandparents arms were pleasantly found. We're here!

And P.S. Who knew that Jersey is the easiest state to divorce in. For only $299 you too can give your spouse the old heave ho! Really. It's advertised every square mile that fast and quickie divorce. That and Foxwoods is having Huey Lewis and David Copperfield in one short month! Fun times for all!

Road Trip!

My mother called last night. She felt I needed directions of the utmost detail for their new house. T.D. and I are heading out for a few days into a land without internet. I'm scared. I will feel so alone. I will miss you internets. The conversation with my mother went something like this-

Mom: Ok, when you get to this route you will pass the casino. Really pass it. The whole thing. Don't be fooled by the other roads that seem like our roads. They are marked like that. So go pass the casino employee parking until employee lot 10. Lot 10. Employee Lot 10. Ok?

Me: Desperately trying to listen and not laugh as she confuses me with more and more details in what I know is really quite simple.

Mom: The road to our house is really narrow, winding and hilly. So hilly and narrow and winding that sometimes when you are going up a hill you might not see another car and the road is narrow so you have to be...

Me: MOM! I got it!

H: (He can't even hear the conversation but knows without a doubt what she is saying and yells) She's 30 years old and has a kid! I think she can figure it out!!!

Me: Burst out laughing finally and tell my Mom through gasps and guffaws what he just said.

Mom: Oh really? Well tell him I hope his baseball draft this weekend is total crap!

Ah family...

My Mom continued to point out park signs, fast food chains and other obscure tiny roads I should NOT take. I tried to filter it out and come up with a simple- turn right near the donut shop. Easy.

So we're off! T.D. and I head out to lands up north for a few days. Fear not! We'll be back Monday. They don't have an internet connection going yet up in those parts of them there woods. AT&T is slacking I guess. I'll try and post our adventures. For now know I'm probably EZ-passing near your town this week.

Musical Meme

Musical Meme
I've been tagged by Life As I Know It to do a Musical Meme. Here goes nothing!

The guidelines are: list seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

In no particular order:

Back in the Day, Christina Aguilera
This song makes me want to sing out loud. I have to lip sync even at the gym much to my embarrassment. I love that someone else under the age of 50 also loves these old singers and their songs.

It's on The Rocks-The Donnas
Perfect for the Road Trip I'm taking this week. These fun rocker chicks make weaving in and out of traffic as I dance in the car that much more fun. And we've all dated that guy that needs way too much attention.

Maybe I'm Amazed- Sir Paul McCartney
Yes, I put Sir before his name. I'm a dork I know. Suck it Heather Mills you will not go far in Dancing with the Stars. This song is beautiful to me. I play it at least once a week and it never fails to move me.

I'll Be Around- The Spinners
Always makes me sing aloud and think better of my fellow man. It even cures me of my evilness while sitting in the unholy hell that is DC metro traffic.

Rock With You-Michael Jackson
Reminds me of working at CVS when I was sixteen and chained behind the register. My best friend had the dance from the video DOWN and would come in and perform it while I was stuck at work. I laugh each time I hear it as I think of those days.

View to a Kill-Duran Duran
Reminds me of high school. I'm not that old but I did drive to school with an old friend each day who was way too into these guys for a 90s high school guy. We would traverse over bumpy dirt roads to school each morning rocking out with bad 80s dance moves in his white VW rabbit.

Seven Nation Army-White Stripes.
ALWAYS on in the car or on the iPod. Always. This song speaks to me and gets down into me in a way I just can't articulate. It makes me want to smoke and run at the same time. I don't get it either but I love it and sometimes that is just the way it is.

I tag Colin Chronicles, Where in the World, Diane's Rantings, Tumble Dry, and Catalog of Bitch. That's all.

Hop, Skip, and Jump

on over to THIS for a laugh, groan or an Oy Vey! Seriously, I can't believe this crap.

Oh and there's 46 days left until the Avon Walk. My current total is $1285.00. I NEED $1800. Donate (see bottom of page) or feel like a crummy human being for the rest of the day.

Her Majesty Isn't Pleased

To her credit T.D. doesn't waver. She has a strong personality I know this. It shines through whether it's 2 a.m. or 2 p.m. Yesterday I got a good dose of how strong that little dictator's will really is.

The temper tantrums have begun. I am in disbelief. Ok, I was in disbelief. My eyelids have peeled away from my eyes in the way that only intense screaming can induce. On Saturday night when she screamed bloody hell like Norma Rae in an On the Border restaurant, throwing spoons, food, and cups around like confetti, H and I were shocked. I was also horrifically embarrassed. MY CHILD doesn't do this. I knew it was bound to happen sometimes but, really this was new territory. Naptimes have always produced tears and screeches, restaurants do not.

Yesterday, I simply wanted to take the cheese slice she was inhaling at warp speed and break it up a bit more. Oh no! BAD MOMMY! How dare you take cheese from the queen on her highchair throne! Peasant! I spit my cheese goo at you! The beat red face appeared, the screams and crying was so loud the dog left for parts unknown and my ears bled just a little. She then refused all food after that. When I tried to place her in a better place to eat a cracker later that day so the dog wouldn't take it from her she screamed again. Throwing herself about as if my touched burned her precious baby skin. I found myself shaking my head and then hanging it in shame.

How did this happen? When did T.D. become so well... bratty? What did I do? HOW DO I GET IT TO STOP?! Today, it's a bit better, I've only cleaned up dog vomit off the floor twice and Elmo seems to be occuping her time nicely. When I tried to remove massive quanities of a Kashi waffle from her overstuffed pout she only tried to bite me just a little. Progress? I have no idea.

Readers I am at a loss. Is this normal behavior? Is my tyrant really a tyrant hell bent on filling my days with screeches and outcries?

Unhooked

I finally finished reading, Unhooked by Laura Sessions Stepp. Ms. S.S. is not always the most popular girl out there, especially in these parts, but I wanted to take a look at what she had to say for myself.

Unhooked is about "how younge women pursue sex, delay love, and lose at both". Stepp took a year or so to interview in-depth and observe high school and college girls from relatively the same backgrounds (middle to upper middle class). What she found was that these women are highly motivated, ambitious and hardworking individuals. They've been trained their whole lives to excel in whatever they do. They also don't have a ton of time on their hands. That leads to hook ups. They are quick and don't require much effort. Stepp writes that today's young woman wants to be seen as independent. Thus having a boyfriend or relationship is seen as weakening her. She is now almost a 50's housewife if she wants a relationship. Guys of this age bracket feel the same way Stepp says. It's all about instant gratification. Sex is not intimate or even all-together satisfing. Dating is not done. It's hooking up or marriage. No holding hands or going out. There is no room for the in between. In fact, as Stepp writes, it's considered taboo. Who has time for it or needs a relationship?

This generation has been raised to perform at thier peak level at all times. They must be the best. They don't have time for a serious or even a fun relationship. They need the hook up. What Stepp found is that neither gender is happy with this overall situation and lack of intimacy. They want more but don't know how to obtain it or ask for it. They've been told by adults their whole lives to focus on education and not how to build successful relationships. They see their parents marriage primarily as a business partnership or even less. After all the divorce rate is about 50/50 these days.

This book saddened me. It did make me take a look at the examples H and I are for our daughter as far as relationships go. We are her first look at a relationship and one that shows affection. H's influence in her life must be strong throughout. I look back at my past boyfriends, losers or not, and am thankful I had them. Yes, my parents did say, "you are too young to be so serious", but we never lasted as couples and I'm glad I got the experience instead of waiting until I was 30 to start dating. Yikes! Who wants to do that? Dating was fun even for all it's craptastic moments.

I have to ask has anyone else read this book? Has anyone else noticed this attitude in the younger generation? I can't take this as total truth. I know it's not. It never is, but I'm just wondering how others feel about all this.

A Valid Point?

H said to me the other day in a rather random conversation, "I think we all feel a bit bad about it. It's like we are all partly responsible for the problem. You know?"

What was he talking about? This-



And this-



I have to wonder. Does he have a valid point? I think he might. She can't even get through rehab right and we're all there watching and reading. We've witnessed every falling down, peanut butter/puking, umbrella throwing moment in this girls life since she was fourteen. Shouldn't we all just stop staring at her like she's a circus freak and as H said, "Let Britney heal Britney."

I know I was dying with laughter over this philosophical moment too. I am just waiting for the day however when Brit is interviewed by Matt Lauer again but this time wearing special healing beads and talking about her whole new lease on life and her seventh husband, Paulo, 18 years her junior.

Long Live GNO!

Yippiee!!! It is with great pleasure that I wish to announce that I got out of the house last night!!! At long last. I'm sure some of you out there know what I mean.

I get out of the house usually everyday be it the gym, errands, or a playdate, but Girls Night Out is different. We don't talk about our kids, there is sometimes alcohol and always laughter. Geez, that sounds corny. I don't care. I got me a pedicure last night chickies!! I feel purty. I normally ban that type of thing during Avon Walk training season, however there's an exception to every rule right?

When my girlfriend called saying we were all having wine and nails last night I immediately said, "YES!" I didn't want to come home even after my toes were a pretty ruby slippers a la Dorothy shade of sparkly red. I did though. I was in a much better state of mind and mood too. I actually cuddled with H. I do not cuddle. That is not my thing. I guess a coat of fresh paint really does some good.

Even today despite the rain and promise of more snow I am still bubbly and more lighthearted. It was really just what I needed and in the nick of time. There are only so many days I can feel like Joan Crawford before I actually do start wearing shoulder padded bathrobes and forcing T.D. to eat raw steak.

Scrub Tina! Scrub!

So it's going to be one of those days...I'm feeling a little Joan Crawford like. Scary, I know, but Mommie Dearest traits probably reside in all of us at some point right? Please someone tell me I'm right! They are either deep below the surface or sometimes fearfully bubbling up a little too close on some days I think.

Now before someone sends me a nastygram about child abuse that is not what I'm talking about here. It's just one of those days where it's not even 9 a.m. and I already feel close to losing it. I think I just need some alone time. Me time. Time without someone at my feet, grabbing at me, or tripping me up as I wade through the sea of alphabet blocks and cracker crumbs. The dog is not an innocent bystander either. She's quite possibly the most evil little instigator out there on days like today.

Since we all got out of bed this morning the dog, Lex, and T.D. have been waging war on each other. I can easily say that a war of bananas is not pretty or easy to clean up on either one of them. The ants will surely come back to our house today if I missed even one ounce of banana smear on the walls. There is much pandemonium and mayhem ensuing every 2.5 seconds in our house. They bark/yell at each other, shove, lick, bite and run each other down. They both clamor for food and affection. I give. It's not enough today. They want more. The each want all of me every single second. I've already yelled at Lex to leave her "sister" alone and banned her from the den and office. I'm not a "Calgon take me away" girl. I am not prone to just looking off into the distance wishing for a peaceful moment. Nope. Instead I find myself feeling my blood pressure escalating and then about to lose it. Images of Faye Dunaway deluge my brain as she throws Ajax around a gleamingly blue-tiled bathroom. I laugh maniacally. I instantly feel bad, after all my throat is sore from screaming. That was a joke.

However, here is the kicker. When confronted with the fact that tonight is Girl's Night Out (GNO) on my block all I can think of is how I miss time with H. He's been working mad hours lately and hasn't been home much. I miss him. I want to spend time with him, but I know I also need time for me. I need time to Calgon it up, to feel pretty enough to go out tonight, and actually focus on what my friends are saying and not thinking of home life. If I don't get that time I will probably end up telling both the dog and T.D. to shape up or I'm putting them on a corner in a box labeled, "Puppies for Sale".

Anyone else feeling like it's not so bizzarre to want to hack up a whole garden of rose bushes and fruit trees at 3 a.m.?

Bad Moments and other Nonsense

Forgot to set alarm, a rarity indeed- Check.
Race to get myself and T.D. out the door in under 15 minutes- Check.
Driving like a psycho on a spree to the mechanics-Check.
Having no place to park and screaming at H on the cell phone because he sounds like he fell down into a cave the likes of some recently filmed horror flick- oh yes, check indeed.

Yup. That was my morning yesterday. After I finally made it into the auto place to stand in line, have the clerk tell me that I was going to have to be wedged in between other appointments (huge sigh from him and me) I took T.D. out. I thought, won't this be fun! We'll take a stroll to the store and pick up some things, I'll buy a tasty latte and we'll head to the library while we wait.

Ha! When the latte spilled all down the backside into the stroller's convienent carryall section and the temperature turned out to be a lot colder than I predicted, it wasn't too much fun. The workmen stopping to stare as I manuevered the stroller through the workcones to get to the library book drop off wasn't too fabulous either. GET BACK TO WORK! I always want to scream. Stop staring at the dishelved, latte soaked women with the cracker encrusted baby! I felt like the morning would never end. It felt even more like that when the brake light refused to go off AFTER they worked on my car, which never had a brake problem to begin with, requiring me to go back and yell to someone to get out there and help me as I was not going to be extracting T.D. from the carseat again.

Turns out, everything was fine. A-ok. Great in fact. The rest of the day was rather blissful actually. The weather warmed up, we had lunch out at a quaint little garden cafe by the river with a friend, and T.D. played out in a park for the first time ever, while I successfully downed my second latte of the day. Must remember that the next time the day starts off like a dog just shat on your head it can get better.

Big Thank You

Breifly I just want to say a big THANK YOU to Julie at Blogher for fixing my mess of a blog. Whew! Also to MommaK and everyone else who has made extremely generous donations to my Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. Their help has helped me get closer to my fundraising requirements and goal.

THANK YOU!!

Head on over to my reviews (see sidebar) and check out this week's fun find!

Changes

Yesterday I visited an old friend. Someone I hadn't seen in the last five years. We became friends over our mutual misery we had in our first jobs (we both worked for the same boss) out in the real world and our love of travel. We traveled together a lot in that job and usually with each other. I think I had forgotten that until last night when I reviewed some old photos of all the places we had been. We both ended up moving to places we traveled to for work. It worked for her and not for me.

We met however in College Park. Aah, my old alma mater. How I love thee. My Maryland, my Maryland. Garyland, Go Terps, and all that other stuff. How odd it was to go back with T.D. in tow. There I was navigating the crowded streets in my giant SUV, or at least it felt that way with all the civics and smaller college cars around. Where were the athletes in their big SUV's? The ones who always got out of parking tickets when I went to school there. Students darting here and there looking incredibly young to me.

It felt like eons ago that I was there as I hoisted T.D. on my hip and walked to the restaurant for lunch with my friend. The idea of breaking out the stroller was just too much. Like a beacon saying, "Look at me! The old lady with a kid!" Really though no one was looking at me at all because I was just some adult on the sidewalk and they are busy going about their lives. The restaurant we chose was one I loved back in college. We frequented it for happy hours every week and I thought heaven was in there chicken salad sandwich. As we walked in to the empty by day bar showing all its wear and tear from years of students puking in trashcans and boots and heels scuffing the hardwood floors I felt so strange. It's bright in there by day and the search for a high chair(?) was long. They had one. I had to laugh. Why would they ever need a high chair. Suddenly my diaper bag felt like an artic explorers backpack in size. The waitress looked thrilled to have a tot at her table. Don't worry I cleaned up the grilled cheese and pickle bits off the floor for her and tipped her well.

A few college girls with their Moms having lunch remarked on T.D.'s cuteness while I inwardly thought, "Oh, I used to be one of you...watch out it goes so fast!" Life seemed SO complicated and stressful then. Ha! I remember an aunt telling me that it may seem that way now, but it's the most unencumbered time of your life. How right she was. Enjoy it she said, and I did. I had to laugh when I went into the bathroom, probably the first time I've ever used it sober, and it was still just as gross during the day. The doors didn't close, the toilets still don't flush right and the stall had 'KD 4-EVA' scratched into the side. Some things never change do they?

I pointed out a few spots to T.D. on our walk back to the car. "That's where Daddy wrote, I love you, in the snow to Mommy." and "Here is where Daddy and Mommy had a big ol' white trash fight." You get the idea. Memories. Things change. We grow up, move to new places, start lives, restaurants with heavenly chicken salad sandwiches are out of chicken salad the day you visit, and suddenly you see more of the old, scarred floors, dusty windows, cracked and peeling paint that you never noticed before. You love it still, but now in a different way. Just like you still have to hover to pee in the bathroom because it probably hasn't really been cleaned since 1986.

Top Momma!

I'm on Top Momma! See how long I can last. Go on click on the title of this post and help me stay there! You'll find me in gloves and hat daintily waiting for you to click on my pic!

Whew! It's tough at the top!

Foiled!

Yes, yes, I know something on the site is dangerously amiss. Things keep shifting and I don't know why or how to get that sidebar up to it's rightful place again. I'm getting extremely frustrated with the whole thing. I'm also considering re-designing the site anyway so I'm mulling through that.

In other news my first official "me" day went bust. That little nasty muscus man in suspenders and plaid pants decided to visit and settle in my chest this weekend leaving me bedridden on my one day of "being able to do whatever I want." Yup. H devised this plan where one day a month I don't have to answer to anyone. No working allowed. No changing diapers or making meals, just doing whatever I want to.

What I wanted was to get the hell out of the house without anyone in tow. I wanted to train with my walking group for the Avon Walk on Sunday. Ten miles. I wanted those ten miles on a nice and sunny day knocked out and under my belt. I laid out my walking apparel and needs the night before. Afterwards I wanted to maybe go to the movies or shopping. You know without a sippy cup in my purse and no stroller to heft out of the car. I didn't want to ask anyone if they were hungry or where they wanted to go. I just wanted to think of what I wanted. Quite frankly I have kind of forgotten that and how to voice what it is I want. Weird how that happens. It's been a month since I've had a night out with the girls and who knows when since H and I had a date night. I'm in desperate need of some down time.

I had set the alarm for bright and early. The alarm went off and I couldn't even groan. No voice. I felt like I had been rundown by a passing train. A train on it's way to hell. I had to call out of training and thought, "I'll just sleep some more and then be ok for the day." Except when I awoke four hours later I was still on deaths door. I figured maybe a shower would help. Nope. Still felt like roadkill. Except roadkill that was now really exhausted from just toweling myself dry. H took T.D. to the mall. I went back to bed. I slept the afternoon away and woke up wishing I could sleep some more or that there was something besides water in the house to drink. Orange juice please? So much for my free day I thought as I started dinner and laundry while compiling a grocery list. I bitterly cried on the kitchen floor while making chili afterwards angry that my day was shot to shit.

Next month, there is always next month. Right?

Die! Sissy Ants Die!

First I would like to say a big THANK YOU to all of you who sent me your ant killing advice. From you I learned that cayenne pepper kills ants in sunny California while 409 Antibacterial spray works best in Hawaii. Did you know that alcohol and water will kill evil little ants residing in Massachusetts? I do now. I tried all of these techniques over the last few days. I have to say that they are working. Even the pepper. No ant is crossing my threshold now.

Oh and the ant traps and Raid help too. The search for that stuff was for some reason far more complex than it ever needed to be. I looked at three stores and thought I was going to lose it as I wandered around Target today looking like a complete loon. I was shuffling the aisles with varying speeds, T.D.'s hair flying backwards one minute, and the next coming to a screeching halt with the cart. I COULD NOT FIND BUG SPRAY. I aimlessly meandered around Target for what felt like eons. Home and Lawn department by chance? Nope. Sporting goods? Automotives? Household cleaners? Nada, zip, zilch. Niet. I did ask a red-shirted stocker with a rather nice hair band and afro and he told me the outdoor area. Oh yes! That must be it as I sped across the store. Wait a minute! I've been there already! He is telling me to buy, Off! bug spray. EEEHHH!! At this point the store workers seemed to be eyeing the crazy lady (me) who was muttering to herself/talking to her toddler. "Attention Target team members, the Crazy lady in the headband (yes I was rockin' a headband thank you) is heading to housewares again. Keep an eye on her. She might be trying to filch some chafing dishes." I finally just packed it in and left all together. I headed to yet another grocery store where I felt like a scabies ridden hag buying ant traps and Raid. Lovely.

Now wherever those little black irritants try to go they will be bombarded with ant traps, sprays, alcohol, and cayenne pepper. They are no match for me and my psychotic anti-bug campaign.

Random Fizzy Thoughts

I've had some random thoughts fizzing up to the surface of my brain over and over again the last few days. Maybe if I just throw them out there I can get rid of them.

1. I wonder if my watching 'Step Up' on the DVD player in the kitchen will influence T.D. in a negative way or maybe just propel her into an early dance career.

2. Will watching too much Felicity make her a neurotic kid?

3. Dick Cheney has DVT (deep vein thrombosis). I think it's time to open up ol' Vader again and fix some of his spark plugs.

4. Do the Koreans also wonder what is up with Kim Jong Il's hair?

5. Um... I have some thoughts regarding a certain Vladimir P. If I type them will I be dead in 24 hours or less too?

6. I'm scared now. I didn't mean them Vlad. I think you are smashing really I do.

7. I am so fired up about this whole veterans of the Iraq war and the crap treatment the VA has provided I could spit venom. I've seen many sides of this, turned it all around in my head for weeks, read a lot, listened to more on the radio and TV and I still can't write about it because it makes me so mad. Funds are there but not being distributed? Black mold? No treatment for over a year?! It's total Bullshit. I knew I got bad treatment as a spouse, but this is beyond comprehension. (Sorry Mrs. M but we can't give you your needed cancer screening until we stamp your file. And we won't stamp it for over SIX momths...even though it's sitting in my inbox right now. Oh and once we do stamp it we won't actually see you. You have to go out of network for that. That is another six month waiting period. AUGH!!!!)

8. I am determined to handle the ants myself despite calling the exterminator. I will beat them!

9. freakin' snow

10. I am still $600 away from my Avon Walk goal and seriously freaking out now.

If I had nuts

I've been a bit frazzled this morning. Hm.. more than a bit. We are having a grand old time in our house now that we are having full nights of sleep once again. Whoo hoo! I know we party so hard in our house. She's doing some bizarre tribal screaming thing in the early morning hours though. It's a test. Or perhaps a transition. Dictators are commanding and bark orders gruffly. This scream is more like that of a spoiled heir. We're playing a game of who breaks first at this point.

I don't know why I feel so frazzled either. I'm made my deadline and what I'm working on now isn't too time sensitive. I baked my ass off yesterday, making dozens of cookies and brownies for a bake sale at H's work. It's all for the cause. The Avon Walk for Breast Cancer cause. I was thwarted in my attempt to train for the walk today, first by the BITTER cold. Egads! If I had nuts they would have frozen off in the morning cold. So bright and early T.D. and I headed out to run ONE errand and then head to the gym. I pull up and the place looks deserted and closed. I look at T.D. She is knocked the hell out. We drive home. Back to the computer I sit to work or battle the ants that are invading our half bath. It's March! What is with the ants? I'm freaked out about using spray as T.D. spends half her life on the floor. I'm also incredibly grossed out about having ants. Do I live in tenement housing with trash everywhere? Nope. My only guess, the dog poop leaving neighbors are connected to us on that side. I'll blame them. Then clean the already scrubbed floors like a woman possessed for the fifth time.

So see really no need to be frazzled right? It's just another day of me sitting in my artically cold basement office, clacking away on the keyboard during naptimes. I'm getting used to being in my gym clothes or jammies for longer periods of time. All the time spent at the gym anyway has me looking better in them so why not.

The Product of the Week can be found here!

My Little Frankenstein

This morning started off with a gag. A whine and a gag. The dog started whimpering around 4:45 a.m. Then T.D. woke up demanding sustenance. As soon as that was taken care of, the second floor toilet began to gurgle and hum in ratjher menacing way and began to run continuously. H got up to fix it. As he walked back into the room the unmistakable sound of puking ensued. Lex, the dog, was throwing up. The toilet began it's run again. It's morning in our household and a Monday to be sure.

I didn't want to get up. Seeing as I have a deadline looming though I knew I had to squeeze in a few hours of work before T.D. awoke again for good. As I lay in bed I recalled the weekend which was a blur. Aren't they always? Errands, work, figuring out our budget, and some fun thrown in I couldn't even remember really what we did. Then I remembered the best part of all. T.D. walked! Her first real steps without any assistance whatsoever! I spied her taking a shaky step away from her high chair and thought, maybe she'll walk from me to H and so forth. She did. Each step was a bit wobbly with her arms thrown out in front of her like a possessed mummy or Frankenstein. I fear for the villagers now that she is on the loose. She will bring chaos on Lex and those around her now that she is truly mobile.

It was amazing to witness though and see her excitement over her acheivement. My little Frankenstein is growing up. sniff...

WomanSavers

Due in part to my passion for women's issues and also to some personal experiences in my own past I am always looking for information on the web about helping women whether it be through volunteering, donating cold hard cash, or even writing about my own personal experiences. The other day I found this site, WomanSavers.

WomanSavers is a unique site. It's informative, full of articles on how to know if your man is cheating or abusive. If you are being abused, there are ways that WomanSavers illustrates on how to obtain help. You can take fun quizzes, send snarky e-cards, watch funny little videos or donate money by survey's to various charities. I've clicked around this site on numerous occassions and I keep finding new things.

I think by far the most appealing in the voyeuristic sense is the Rate A Guy section. Here you can type in old boyfriends or other slimey creatures from your past or present and see if they have been rated before. I had great fun with this section! No one I knew turned up but if you sign up as a member you can countless "reviews" on men. There are many, "Ladies Watch Out for This Guy" ones. So the next time you are about to embark on another first date maybe you want to check out this site. It's worth viewing no matter what.

Fun! A present!

I have not been having the easiest time in certain areas of my life. Remarkably the cold turky pacifier event has resulted in only one 5 minute 2 a.m. wake up. T.D. is now back to sleeping through the night. She only seems to miss it a bit at nap time. Now she just sniffs her pink blanket a tad bit more. She's getting weird about that blanket, weird like, Producers/Matthew Broderick weird.

I think the adjustment to being at home has even gone well. It's the grousing of my daily frustrations I miss. Commiserating. I can't seem to find a way to do that. It's not like the other Mom's on my block are writers and know what that is like. Some days the only person I talk to beyond the age of one is H. It's getting to him. It's getting to us. We were heading down a slippery slope. Things were let's just say, edgy in our house the last few days or weeks. It was scary.

So imagine my surprise when KittenW sent me a present. I thought it was a birthday present for T.D. since she turned one only a week ago. Nope! Mine! All mine! It's a purse too! A darlingly cute purse from a Hawaiian swap meet. I was elated. I am elated. I love it! I can't wait to tote it around this spring/summer. Her note touched me saying she knew things were rough and to hang in there it would all be ok and she was thinking of me. It was an incredibly touching gesture that I am very thankful for. It made me look at the brighter things in life. Isn't it nice to know that someone is thinking of you and you don't even know it?



Thanks again KittenW!

PBN-School Zone Product Review

The arrival of the School Zone Discovery Cards was a big deal in our house. It’s my first product to review for the Parent Bloggers Network and of course, new toys are always welcome. I was not prepared however, for the enthusiasm that spewed forth from my one-year old daughter when I took the brightly colored packages out of the shipping box.

Her little eyes lit up and her tiny hands reached out for the parcels. She started squawking and begging for them immediately. I got only halfway through the instructions on how to use the Peek-a-Boo-Bunny (I didn’t get the bear one) when the cries that translate to “GIMMEE! NOW!” became too much. I handed over the Peek-a-Boo-Bunny first. In mere seconds, she had the cards out of the box and all over the kitchen floor. She inspected the bunny’s magnetic hands that easily play Peek-a-Boo and found it highly amusing as she laughed loudly. She really wanted to figure out how the magnetic bunny hands played peek-a-boo. It was quite serious work. I sat on the floor with her and attached the cards one by one to the magnetic bunny board. We flipped them over and over again asking questions like, “Who likes honey? The bear likes honey.” After a short time, she caught on and figured out that by pulling the flaps down the cards reveal more pictures, like who lives in a nest or web. While she seemed to enjoy the cards with their brightly colored pictures and flaps at first, they did not hold her interest for very long after that initial playtime. I have tried to engage her on numerous occasions to play with them on her own or with us. It might be that she is just a bit too old for them since the cards are for 9 months on up. I think the price of $10.99 is fair. The product is packaged nicely and would travel well. It would probably do well on a road trip and definitely as a gift.



Next, we broke out the Fuzzy Animal Friends Clever Baby Cards. Her little hands couldn’t tear apart the packaging fast enough. The colors on these cards are very bright with lots of foil, fur, and crinkly bits protruding from them. My kid loves textured toys like this. The googly eyes on the snake and crocodile cards were mesmerizing to her. She has spent the last few days playing with these animal cards over and over again. She wants us to review them with her too. We read the cute sayings to her, such as, “slither and shake purple snake”, time and time again. She likes to chew on the crinkly legs and tails and look at the how the foil colors change when she waves them around. This product has held her interest for far longer than the Peek-a-Boo-Bunny set. We have spent a lot of time going over the different animals, their colors, and the various textures such as furs and feathers. She loves to rub her hands on the cards and point out the varying grades of sensations. I like this toy for precisely that reason. While it’s geared for ages six months and up it is a hit in our house and the $15.99 price tag makes it a good buy. I will keep this toy in mind to give as a gift and keep for our next child.

For us, the Fuzzy Animal Friends fared the best in our house. The cards kept her engaged with their bright colors, different textures, and appendages. While she liked the Peek-a-Boo-Bunny magnetic cards, they just didn’t hold her attention for as long as the animal cards did. I do overall think that the School Zone products are well made, educational and make excellent gifts.

You can check out more reviews for this product by other bloggers and various other goodies at the PBN
site.