NoMoBloMo

I had to go to Walmart again today. I know I know, shut up about Walmart already. But! This is totally my blog and I must purge my wrongdoings somewhere so you are just going to have to deal. Look! You are totally still reading. You really are such an A-hole, but a lovable one so I guess that I will let you stay on to read this most uninspired tale of how I went to Walmart for my favorite generic pull ups. It was very very cold outside, and my eldest decided during our trip that she would not! wear! shoes! nor socks! So I had the barefoot child in the cart and one on my back without a hat and a sort of lightish sleeper on and there was glaring. At me! By the Walmart shoppers who were all bereft of teeth and morals and possibly clean underwear. In the end I buckled under the pressure of all the dirty looks and made Goldie put her hood up on her sweatshirt, as of course she was not wearing a coat which is certainly reserving me a special place in the 4th circle of hell. Then I actually asked an elderly greeter to assist me in putting the rain hood over Roob's head before going out into a blizzard. Am wonderful parent.

And this, dear reader will conclude the month of Najomamablowme where I successfully wrote every Goddamn day for 30 days. Am tired. Am taking the weekend off. See you Monday.

By Popular Demand

While getting Ruby ready for her bath tonight, I got a call from my buddy Anthony. He told me that I am a rat bastard for not keeping in touch, a conversation we have several times a year, after which we start having coffee once a week for two months and then don't speak for three. I told him I was getting ready to write my daily blog entry and that I didn't have anything to say and he suggested that I talk about how I have replaced some of my friends with my children and that said friends are pissed off about it. I told him that would not make for very interesting reading and to try another idea on. That is when he had a flash of brilliance and told me it was time for another installment of How the Crazy Internet People Found This Blog.

As always there were many searches for Giant Hooters, Love Letters to My Husband, Manary Glands and my favorite: 38 Weeks Pregnant with Stabbing Vagina Pain . I seriously want to find each of those ladies that search for that and buy them a Reeses Peanut Cup Blizzard or something, because oh my hell I tear up just thinking about that.

• Delivery Room Poop Stories- Oh my God. This was one of my biggest fears. Then it was realized. Thank you so much for reminding me.
• Stretch my Polyester Shirt-If I am correct, most shirts that come in the polyester variety can be found in large enough sizes so that the stretching becomes unnecessary.
• Why am I not pooping-Dude. I don't know. Two words: Eat Beans.
• Sore Throat Vinegar Pepper-So I'm not the only one! That is some good stuff! I even bowed to the crunchy earth goddess within and bought the stuff with vinegar mother in it. Non hippies, I know your eyes just glazed over, but whatevs, I totally think I am living in 1977.
• Fat Ass Green Milk Dog- Where would I even begin?
• Roob my Boob- Isn't it a great rhyme?! We try different versions like, Roobie Doobie wants a Boobie.
• Girl wets pants on date-Perhaps you won't be asking her out again?
• Water Polo Swimsuits Oops-I actually have a story about this where I should have worn two suits at the state championship and some large girl managed to tear that sumabitch and my boob? Fell out of my suit.
• Pain Inpatient Experiences Blog-Ha ha, now this is a great Inpatient Experience for your Blog. There was this one time, I was in the hospital, begging someone to make the pain stop because there were PEOPLE COMING OUT OF MY VAGINA and they were all ha ha, sometimes the epidural doesn't always take on both sides, and then I hung myself with a hospital gown.
• Delivery Room Pics- Are you serious? All I remember is finally opening my eyes after several hours of soul shaking, vagina crushing pain and seeing kindhearted, good friend Mindy through my knees and calling her a cocksucker. The end.
• Love to Watch Girls Pee in Their Pants-Its all fun and games until you realize that the cleanup is up to you.
• 37 weeks pregnant Head so Low Problems Pooping- Is there anything that you don't have problems with at 37 weeks along?

Nothing to See Here

Sorry kids, nothing entertaining here today.....just bitching about stuff that is not very interesting.

My hormones are officially kicking my ass. Those of you who are daily readers may have noticed a certain undertone of, hmm, how to say this politely....lets just call it The Complaining ohmygodmakeitstop. It started with the acne, moved on to the insane lonliness, wearing socks with flip flops and has climaxed (that I say with a LARGE spoonful of irony considering the hormonal situation) with two days that I can only describe as me having The Crazy with a touch of The Irrational. I am at a loss here. I thought I had dodged the PPD bullet with the exception of a two day crying jag a week after Roob was born, which to be fair, she was crying too so it wasn't like it was that weird.

Yesterday I just felt a cloud of yuck move in. It scared the shit out of me. I warily faced today and thought that things were going ok until I was driving home from a playdate at my sister's house and found traffic backed up as far as I could see and so it was obvious I would have to take another way and I just went nutso crazy. My cope-er was completely broken simply because I WAS SUPPOSED TO TAKE TUALATIN-SHERWOOD ROAD HOME BECAUSE THAT IS THE WAY I ALWAYS GO. So I did what any crazy person would do, I flipped a u-turn and wailed like someone had kidnapped my children for the next hour until I got home.

I am feeling like it is passing now and Thank God for amazing friends who will listen to my bullshit, but seriously, WTF? Also? Don't worry too much because I truly will be fine. I just needed to write about it so I could get it out and move on.

Not Cool

I always wanted to be the cool mom. Somewhere deep inside me I knew that this wasn't possible. It's just not in my genetic make up. I am, after all, from a family who drove matching giant diesel (way before diesel was cool, think clouds of black smoke) Oldsmobiles. 1 pink, 1 blue, no shit. To protect the pastel paint and whitewall tires, they were fully equipped with CURB FEELERS. Do you know what we stuffed my father's stocking with? Pocket protectors. Yeah. I feel like calling my mom to ask her to drop me off two blocks from school just thinking about it. My dad got stuck somehow in 1959 and never made it out.

Enough about them and how uncool they are, lets talk about me and how uncool I am. Ahem. So tonight, after spending my day trying to wade through a major shitstorm that life has dealt me, no one felt like cooking and so off we went in attempt to cure our blues with a soothing cheeseburger and fries. As I inhaled my dinner, I looked around and saw some young people having fun and I remembered being them 15 years ago. I took a hard look at myself and realized that I had become that woman that I swore I would never be because really is it that hard to keep that baby's nose wiped and seriously, what kind of person shoves their screaming child's face full of french fries just to shut them up. Good Gawd. And did you just, like, not notice the applesauce all over your sweater? Buy a mirror, get a clue, lady. As we were finishing our meal, Goldie started noticing the faux 'presents' that were out as decorations and she lost her damn mind. "Happy Birthday?" she asked. "No, baby, those are just for pretend. "But I WANT HAPPY BIRTHDAY." Holy fuckerini, I have to get out of here. As I snatched up my convulsing toddler I saw a man, middle aged, glaring at me and he shot me a look so dirty that I needed a shower (in addition to the dirty I was before the look). I can't believe that people could be so hateful. I mean, we were at Red Robin, not Spago asshole. Did you not notice the balloons as you walked in?

I also have become a Puritan in regards to my children. I am definitely the friend you would come to if you are having some sort of sex crisis or malfunction in your Lady Garden, because I am all about getting up in your business regarding your, you know, business. That said, I am the complete opposite where my children are concerned. I will NOT be the neighborhood cool mom who will have a bowl of condoms on the table next to the Cheetos. I just freak out at the thought. They can learn about this stuff when they are 14 the same place I did, from drunk 19 year olds that wanted to get in my pants. I think I just hyperventilated a little. I have not even given her a name for her um, private area and was totally at a loss as what to say when an issue came up regarding what parts of our body we DO NOT TOUCH AT THE TABLE. I just told her that you should only touch that area in private. When I'm dead.

Oh my God I am not ready for this stuff.

I've got to stop hanging out at Walmart

Because Seriously:

My husband totally made fun of me or I wouldn't have even noticed. A guy who wears a hat that has earflaps.

Because your real friends will tell you the truth

And now for an update from Lonelyville population 1:

Things are looking up! Thank you for the kind comments, emails and even! phone calls (God I love me the phone calls! I feel like a human again. But apparently a pathetic human, as my most honest friend Devin pointed out in her email this afternoon:

Ok lady you have some issues. Just read your blog. First of all if people are your friends you can never bother them by calling or emailing them so call or email away…I will say that yes everyone is very wrapped up in the post holiday clap trap…some unpacking, some decompressing, also back to the old work grind…so although you didn't have people awaiting your arrival outside your home, or people threatening suicide if you didn't call immediately, you are still as ever loved. Crazy and insecure but loved none the less…wanna go have coffee..

Devin, as you might have guessed, was voted Most Likely to Tell You if Your Butt Looks Big in Those Pants.

So thankful for all of my friends, the painfully honest ones as well as those who will happily blow smoke up my ass. There is room for all of you.

Somebody stop me or I'll actually post this

Hi. So. Well. Hi. While the holiday was indeed lovely and I definitely love spending time with my family, the lack of contact with my friends is making me insecure and crazy. My phone and email haven't been this quiet, like, ever. I am left to ponder when it is appropriate to resume contact with people. I keep picking up the phone, only to put it down again wondering if it is too soon and maybe people are still with family or maybe they just started back to work today and I don't want to interrupt them or maybe they stayed with the in-laws and are having post-vacation sex and I certainly don't want to disturb that. Sigh. I swear that sometimes making phone calls is just way too stressful. Love talking on the phone, hate the dialing. I always feel like I am bothering people, even my close friends. Yeah, yeah, I'm weird.

I need your help. Companionship with someone that doesn't bear a resemblance to me is needed. When should I start the email and phone campaign to kick off Operation Lonely Lady?

So, like, you know, call me and invite me out for some coffee. Or wine. Or don't. That's cool too. Maybe you're busy. Or maybe I'm just imagining that you are busy. Do you still like me? Oh my God, did this post originally come from a note I passed during 3rd period in 8th grade or what?

Also? Call me.

The Bathroom Incident

I have returned to give you a glimpse into the indignities that raising a toddler often involves. I am finding that the solitude of the long holiday weekend in addition to my idiotic plan to be part of the daily posting club for November has turned me into a rather prolific writer.

We were on the road Saturday and Goldie started shouting that she had to go potty and because I chose rock instead of scissors, off I went into the busy truck stop bathroom. It smelled. Horribly. But, Goldie insisted that she had to go so I waited in line and tried to keep her from peeking and crawling under the stalls. I could not, unfortunately keep her from sticking her eyeballs against the cracks in the stalls and saying "Hi!" to each lady as she was doing her thing. It is important to note that the line was stretched in front of the stalls.

Finally, we were up to bat. Goldie informed all 20 or so ladies that it was OUR TURN! and in we went. I closed my nose and told her not to touch anything. She proceeded to fish a tampon applicator out of the receptacle right as my gag reflex went into overdrive. Finally she was finished and I decided to take the opportunity to go myself as I had seriously overdone the coffee. As I sat down, she started saying loud enough for the entire room to hear"Mama go poop? Poopies Mama?" I shrunk. Oh my God. Ok ok, response, hmmm."um, honey, nope, MAMA IS NOT POOPING. DEFINITELY NO POOPING HAPPENING IN HERE." I thought that the incident was over, but instead she did the unthinkable. She opened the Goddamn stall. In front of many, many women. My pants were down. I was mid stream. I made tragic deer in the headlights eye contact with some unsuspecting woman. So I did the only thing I could. I died. Right there in Umatilla, Oregon.

Well, almost. Actually I managed some type of humiliating maneuver that involved, grabbing her by the arm and shoving her between my legs to use as a shield as I pulled up my pants. There was no wiping and therefore, there was much itching for the remaining 4 hours of our drive.

And that should serve as your reminder to take your pill today.

Home again home again jiggity Jig

We're home! And right back in the swing of things apparently as we had the pleasure of calling poison control within 30 minutes of our arrival. It appears that an entire bottle of children's Advil is considered to be more of The Toxic rather than The Refreshing. Fortunately it seems that everyone is going to live. Unless they get into the vapo-rub again. Then they will die. Because I will kill them.

It took a mere 7 hours to get home. I love long drives. It makes me sentimental and I like to stare out the window and get all melancholy listening to depressing folk music. Today, for example, I listened to Joni Mitchell croon The Circle Game and decided that there was no point in carrying on. Then we stopped at a gas station for a frappaccino and I regained my will to live.
*Note to self* Remember to write post about The Gas Station Incident: Humanity Lost.

Also: Davey? I must confess that the horrible smell in the car the entire day was not, in fact, the cows that were grazing in the field on the side of the highway nor either of the children as I had indicated. What can I say? Stuffing made me a little gassy. I don't want to talk about it. Though I will say that I am really surprised you didn't pass out.

How about fasting the rest of the week?

I got nothin'

We have been immensly enjoying our time here with David's family. We have been busy stuffing ourselves like pinatas and showing Grandma how we can poop on the potty. Goldie, not David. eh hem.

So, that's pretty much all I've got tonight. We ate an embarassing amount of Italian food tonight and now Davey is snoring softly next to me, but I am sure that if I tried to change the channel he would be all "hey! I am totally not sleeping. am awake! Am...Zzzzzz"

It's just that kind of a night.

Update!!

I forgot to add an exciting item of note. There is good news and bad news:

The Good (Great! FANTASTIC!): I got my first consecutive 8 hour stretch of sleep last night in 6 months last night. I know what angels taste like now.

The Bad: Without the midnight and 3 a.m. feedings my boobs went from droopy with a side of squishy to Porntastic overnight. I was all EAT! EAT! and she was all "but I'm full, yo" and I was all stuck without a pump and begging her to just take a little off the top, please. Her little belly was something to behold, tight as a tick she was.

That is all.

Another sappy Thanksgiving post. yawn.

Seems like everyone in the blogosphere has given their two cents about what they are thankful for and it is really hard to find anything original to add. Except that when I say that I am thankful for my friends, what I mean to say is that I am so grateful to have a bounty of friends that I don't know how I could live without. The kind of people that give you hope in humankind, to know there are some who have remained somehow untouched by cynicism and selfishness, that there is still goodness in the world. Some of them even read this blog. You know who you are and I only hope to return a little bit of what you give to me.

I am grateful for the kind of husband that gives me the freedom to do what I need to do to be happy. He also makes me laugh every day. In fact, he is laying next to me as I type this and just saw a commercial for building materials and said that housing insulation makes him "hot" without a hint of irony. Hysterical.

Most of all I am thankful for my babies who are asleep in the living area of this hotel room. While my Ruby sleeps fitfully tonight, I know women whose babies didn't survive birth this year and it makes her sweet baby sounds that much more precious and to know how fragile the life that has been entrusted to me is.

And my Goldie. The child whose light burns so much brighter than most. I am just thankful that her exuberance hasn't got her killed yet and that we have had another amazing year together.

I hope that your Thanksgiving has been as blessed as mine.

Update

We made it! Thanks to Dramamine and good weather we got here in record time. So far we have only had time to eat a quick bite at Cafe Grandma where she served stew with a side of Thrilled We Are Here and was rewarded by having a toddler try to use her brittle hip bones as a trampoline.

Now we are back at the hotel where Operation Cry My Face Off was implemented by a very tired Ruby followed by Attack of the Not Listening courtesy of Goldie. But! All is well, one child is passed out and the other is talking to herself and giving me a moment of peace before I pass out.

Thanks to all who commented and emailed about Project Burning Lips, the Aquaphor is heavenly and the Lanisoh worked nicely too. My lips are beginning to reconsider a reconciliation with my face.

Thank God.

And now with less getting the hell out of here!

We were supposed to be on the road an hour ago. But everything has gone wrong. And then we found Goldie alone in her sister's room with a tube of vicks vapo rub, no longer any left in the tube because she painted herself and the room. Apparently the tingling is not so pleasant when you put it up your nose.

I don't think we are ever getting out of here.

And now, a question

Dear Internet,

My lips are effing chapped. Please send remedies and cures. This isn't like a"put on some chapstick" kind of situation. Think deserts. Think cracking. Think Oh my Effing God my lips are going to secede from my face.

Thank you in advance.

The Management

Things I didn't do today

I had originally planned on working today, but it worked out that I got the whole week off (Yay! For the extra time! Nay for the dollahs, but it all evened out.) I had already scheduled daycare and I was all right on, I will take G to daycare and be brilliantly efficient and get ready for our trip and then rainbows will shoot rays of sunshine out my ass.

The day went somewhat differently

8:45 a.m. G at daycare
9:00 stuck in Starbucks drive-thru
9:26 stop by food co-op and talk to hippies. Hope that there are no poppyseeds in my teeth. Spend $5 on lettuce.
10:01 arrive home. Maybe check email for just a minute
11:22 or lots of minutes
12:03 baby down for nap
12:04 mama down for nap
2:05 baby, don't you know that mama is napping? Have a boob. Go to sleep.
2:13 whatevs, I haven't eaten lunch yet. Make sandwich. Is delicious.
2:20 try to do exercise video but sandwich is not digested
2:32 Poopy diaper
2:36 Get out suitcase, add Davey's boxers and a pair of socks make self a hero. Have had very busy day!
3:00 Dr. Phil
4:00 Oprah
4:03 Have become cliche housewife. Look for Bon bons.
4:45 pick Goldie up
5:30 Pizza delivery is served

Must get to bed now. My day was exhausting.

Grown Up

The holidays are drawing nigh. Somehow I figured that when I got married that rather than a blending of lives, I would sort of absorb Davey and he would just do what I say and shut up already. And he has. For three years. Three years of holidays without me asking what he would like to do. I'm still young after all and a young woman needs her mama. What is this you say? I am how old? I am now the mama? como se dice Selfish Wife? Holy shit. No one told me.

This year we decided that I would put away some of The Self Centered and do what Davey wants, because, who knew that when faced with a question such as "what should we do for the holidays?" That he would have an actual opinion? Something new every day. Did you know that he has an actual family? He also tells me that he has 'feelings' and 'will bleed if he is cut' but I am not convinced.

We will pack up our car (We are so leaving the Van of Copious Gas Consumption at home), parcel out the Dramamine and hit the road on Wednesday for a nice 6 hour drive that somehow adds 3 hours for each child which means make that a horrorsome (is that a word?) 12 hour drive in an economy car because we are cheap.

Pray for us.

Recap

While it didn't go exactly as planned, I sure did have a good time last night. Hung out with cool people. Drank sangria. And a tequila sunrise. And an amaretto sour (in case I had to barf later. Brillers!) We got down and danced our little hearts out to a homespun jazz group who played us Mustang Sally by request and it didn't even seem that weird until I typed it here. I even proved what a loyal friend I am by hanging back from the group with my friend so that she could fart without anyone noticing. The only bummer of the evening, apart from the farting, was that my husband and I had a miscommunication regarding what time I was to report for Boob Duty and was greeted by a screaming baby and a pissed off life mate when I finally rolled in at 1 a.m.

Oops.

Halloween Girl

Goldie's Godmama Laurel sent me this cute picture yesterday that she took last month when Goldie was over helping her decorate for Halloween. Laurel let's Goldie do whatever she wants to do as long as she is being safe. I'm sure it will be her favorite place to hang out when she is a teenager.

1999

I can't believe that I was invited out on the town to celebrate my friend's daughter (who is also my friend) 21st birthday tonight. I must be cooler than I think I am. Or maybe she thinks that I am cooler than I am. Hmmm. Anyway, I am going out to party like it's 1999 because that was the year I turned 21. One of the few memories I have of the evening was standing on top of a crowded bar while everyone cheered me on and I took a double shot of something called Black Death, followed by many amaretto sours. The main thing I learned that night was that if you are going to barf your brains out in your dorm room sink, drink amaretto sours because they taste the same going in both directions. Also? Remember to take the next day off of work. Your co-workers will thank you.

Again with the zit talk.

Ok, the skin situation is out of control. I am not equipped to deal with acne on top of everything else. I think that life has played a cruel trick on me because I never had a zit until I was over twenty years old. yeah yeah, I know people hate that, but again I remind you that my thighs touch, so, good skin is totally fair. I have no idea how to take care of my skin because it was always perfect. Maybe it would help if I, could remember to, you know, WASH MY FACE before I go to bed. Gawd I am lazy. In my defense, I have a sleep number bed and it is very comfortable. You would want to get in as fast a possible too. But! No more! I have an actual skin care regimen. Will keep you posted, but right now I have to go buy a berka so I can leave the house.

Hi. I have zits. Feel sorry for me.

Do Over

My friend just called to invite me and the girls to join her at tiny swim tommorow. This is a different friend than the one who was unfortunate enough to witness Monday's Poolside Festivities. Because I hate to miss out on any time with this friend, I of course said yes.

What was I thinking and what will I do? This is where I ask you for advice: How can I help a totally non-swimmer such as my toddler, who thinks that she can swim be a little more independent while keeping her safe? I was thinking those inflatable arm swimmy thingies maybe? Because SHUT UP MOM, I CAN DO IT MAH SELF. And maybe die at the same time because I KNOW EVERYTHING AND I AM TWO.

Sigh.

Tiny Food Critics

I am certain that Ruby is going to subsist on nothing but chicken nuggets and Goldfish crackers by the time she is two, just because she won't do anything her sister does. That being said, having an adventurous eater has it's challenges too.

Things said during mealtime:

"You have already eaten at least two cups of sauerkraut and that is ENOUGH."
"Stop crying! Just because we are out of vegetable soup and cottage cheese, it is not sufficient reason to have a nervous breakdown."
"More broccoli please, mama?"
"I like soy milk."
"Do you want more garlic in your tofu scramble, Goldie?"

I know, I know it's weird.Don't worry because I am getting mine nowadays with The Other Child who after a week of eating sweet potato, red curry and coconut milk soup, has decided once again that if it doesn't come from a boob, it's not going to sully her digestive tract. I have decided to go against my natural tendency to go batshit insane and panic because SHE HATES EVERYTHING NORMAL BABIES EAT.

What is wrong with us?

Swimmingly

Davey had the day off today for the holiday. I decided to use the opportunity to take Goldie meet up with my friend and her baby for the little kid/parent swim time at the community center while Davey had Roob at home. Brillers.

This is the part where I confess to the Internet one of my biggest phobias. The pool deck. No I am not afraid of falling in, I am afraid of the slimy goo that coats the concrete floor. As a child I would tippy toe around the pool and since I spent a very large portion of time at the pool, my mother actually took me to the dr. to see if there was something wrong with my feet. Had she asked me I would have told her that just because I was four, it did not mean I couldn't be grossed out because OMG there is someone else's hair on the floor and IT IS LOOKING AT ME. This fear has not improved. I do not under any circumstances go barefoot on that floor and I actually just threw up a little thinking about it. I find it interesting that I spent ten years of my life on swim team and even played water polo in high school. Please do not ask me the rules to water polo, however, because I do not know. I only remember that I liked going to practice because they were at 5 a.m. and the pool floor? Dry at 5 a.m. Also, I once knocked myself out with a rubber covered brick that we had to hold over our heads and tread water. I dropped it. On my head. Just so you know.

My post baby swimsuit is one skirt shy of the one your grandmother wears. The back comes up to my neck and the leg openings almost qualify as shorts. I try to use my children as a diversion so no one will look at me. Isn't my kid cute? Yes she is! Now look away. My friend and I were having a lovely time. The pool was very crowded. I was thinking about how much fun we had at Goldie's birthday party here when we rented it out for ourselves and how much she had like the two story tall slide, too bad it wasn't open today. Then I lifted Goldie to the side so she could jump in and she took off like a rocket. I knew where that little shit was headed immediately: The Slide. I was in about four feet of water with no ladder nearby. I started to head for the steps when I realized that Rocket Girl was barrelling up the stairs to the slide. Thank you Ineffectual Adolescent Lifeguards for not having any idea what was going on. I realized what I had to do. I heaved my giant body onto the disgusting deck in one motion like a beached whale. I sprung to my feet and I hauled ass to catch her. When I finally got to her she was a mere three steps from the top of the slide and probably her death. Motherfucker. I don't even want to think about the visual that I treated the entire pool to as I shook both chins, four cheeks and two giant hooters sprinting to get to her in time. You're welcome.

Also, a special thanks to the naked old woman in the locker room with her boobs tucked under her armpits. I love it when strangers take time out of their busy day to question my parenting and make thinly veiled insults. No ma'am those I didn't know that her swimsuit would leave those marks. Yes she is a big girl. Yes indeed, she is a good eater. Let me know if you need the name of a good nursing home a-hole.

Crunch crunch

I woke up this morning with my third MFing cold in a two month span. I already have a ritual of dosing myself with airborne and zicam at the first sniffle, but the sore throat? Is an a-hole that refuses to die. In my quest to find a magical potion to take away the misery, I made an appointment with Dr. Google and asked him about Sore Throat+Get Rid of+Before I start killing people. I found lots of interesting ideas. The most intriguing was a sort of home brew of cayenne pepper and apple cider vinegar. And when I say "intriguing" I mean "I have cayenne pepper and cider vinegar on hand."

I gave it a try. After all, tylenol, advil and percocet have all failed so what the hell. And you know what? Within five minutes, that bastard sore throat was gone. Like, magically. It finally came back, ten hours later. So I took some more and voila! Gone again.

The crunchiness. Is. Taking over.

On a totally unrelated note: Goldie has started calling me by my first name. I should have known that I would give birth to one of those.

Terrible Post

OMG, this monthlong daily obligation to posting is kicking my ass. I both hosted a dinner and attended a party tonight. I am, how do you say? A little festive. Understatement. A real post to come tommorow night. With pictures! Maybe! Definitely maybe.

Also, Sabrina, I was going to make an exception to my no memes because I loathe them rule and just for you, but I didn't spot one on your site. Unless you are a different Sabrina than I am thinking.

OMG, shut up Kirsten and drag your ass to bed already. I am you and even I can't stand reading this crap.

Whatevs

So, My husbnd just let me kno that every post es ridled wuth mispelings. I told him to skrew off and complan on his own blog. O, rght, you dont have one do you? so sory huny.

A World of Possibilities

Being the good daughter that I am, when my mother called to say that she was sick and had no food in her house, I said 'of course' when she asked me to pick up some groceries. I usually shop at The Winco, which for those of your who are not local is a big, nasty grocery store where food costs about 40% less than a normal store. Because my mom has some food allergies, I needed to go to a Regular store that has specialty foods, which in this instance was Fred Meyers (Kroger for non Oregonians). I noticed some important differences besides the price of the food:

• There were no fights in the parking lot
• I did not step on any gum in the store
• No children with sippy cups full of soda
• All patrons were sporting both shirts AND shoes
• There was not a traffic jam in the beer cooler
• No urine smell (Bonus!)
• I did not spot one dirty diaper tucked into the shelves behind the Jiffy mix
• There were no visible attempts at bartering at the registers
• No sense that the meat had somehow been repackaged from another store before arriving.

Whoa! It was like a whole new world! I think that after having lived in Mexico for too long I have set the bar really low for food procurement. In fact, the checker told me to have a nice day rather than offering to kick me in the teeth or telling me to duck so as to avoid involvement in a domestic dispute.

A girl could really get used to this.

Miracle

Hey, who replaced my toddler with a reasonable, rational human being? The kind who understands why they shouldn't wear a wet pull-up on their head, or eat lemon rinds off the floor. Over three days without a tantrum. She smiles, follows directions (sort of!) and is generally a joy to be around. I am hoping that even if this doesn't last, it is a small glimpse into the future.

If you need me, I'll be basking in the light of my excellent parenting skills. (or so I lead myself to believe, shut up, I have an active imagination.)

Oh no you di'int

So I wrote this whole long sad diatribe full of the melancholy that always follows a stint of volunteering at an amazing nonprofit I used to work at, but I read through it and it was so crappy that I dared not foist it upon you. Suffice it to say that sometimes taking a break from my career is very humbling and occasionally I feel borderline regretful. This is where I am supposed to say something about looking at my angelic children and knowing I made the right decision. I don't feel like saying that. All I can say is that I feel like I am doing what I am meant to be doing right now, but it doesn't mean I am always happy about it.

The community that this particular nonprofit serves is, hmmm, how do you say, colorful? Today I think I encountered every human emotion all within a two hour span of time. Loved every second, I felt like I had come home. I had the chance to give it a try doing difficult tasks while wearing Roob on my back in the Ergo. She was being so quiet and so many people were paying attention to her that I didn't notice at first when a woman said " Ooooo she's got one tooth and it feels like another is on it's way." Cue screeching tires. What do you mean FEELS LIKE? Ahhh Hells Naw, you didn't just stick your stinky paw into my little preshus' mouth. Under what theory is that ok? It's just like when random A-holes thought it was ok to rub my pregnant belly. Just. Don't.

I was later informed that this individual has, um, well, lets just call them questionable hygiene practices. Anyone have any ideas on how to disinfect an infant without melting her skin?

Don't you know that only big sisters are allowed to check for teeth A-hole? Duh.

Hurray!

I just got the word! There is very little to worry about! Unless she was in contact with oozing sores, which I don't think she was, she will be fine.

Whew.

Freaking Out

Um Hi. I am freaking out. I just got a call that someone very close to our family was diagnosed with shingles today and to let me know that they are contagious. This is after having spent a generous amount of time holding, snuggling and kissing my Ruby this morning. I think she is too young for vaccine.

Calling all medical type people! Or moms! Or people who know things! Please email or comment and tell me that all is going to be fine and that shingles isn't very contagious. Or if it is....how contagious is it?

Holy Crap.

My Hippie Alter Ego

Because I am obsessed with BBC America, I watch the show You Are What You Eat every afternoon. Basically this horrible woman is like the Judge Judy of nutritionists. She makes you poop in a tupperware for her examination and then she tells you off. Just my type of show.

She does make some good points and has some interesting looking recipes. Unfortunately, the recipes include some weird ingredients and so I went off to the local natural foods co-op in search of things like Mung Beans and Wheat Free Veggie Boullion Cubes and Cider Vinegar with Mother. Holy crap I am getting crunchy in my old age.

The food co-op is a totally different kind of store. I totally always feel like a freak there, but since I wear my baby on my back, it is an automatic ticket into the club. One major difference is the width of the aisle, something that folks without kids are blissfully unaware of the importance of. Goldie was in a mood and started yanking stuff off of the shelves. In the natural food store you have to quietly suggest to your child to put things back and not touch, wheras in the Big Discount Grocery you can loudly make threats of the I'm Gonna Beat Yer Ass, Junior type. I quietly told her to knock it the hell off after she spilled my bag of Aduzki beans on the floor and I had to find a broom, but when she glared at me defiantly with a glass bottle of tincture of spirulina and hippie sweat and proceeded to drop it on the floor it took every fiber of my being not to slap her little hands. Because I am a monster. And also The Man.

Will let you know if the recipes turn out. Wouldn't it be cool to speak like English people do? I mean, I want to have loads of things and describe my food as lovely or nice and when my kids are being bratty, I would love to sort them out.

An open letter

Dear Zits all Over my Face,

Hi. After thoroughly inspecting the surface of my face in it's entirety, and while I do have to admit that there is a certain clever ring to the concept of the zit goatee, I have decided that you must be a misguided zit colony that was intended for someone who was more like 13 and less like, you know, 30.

Buy a map.

Kirsten

Weekend highlights to come soon. Not to spoil the suspense or anything, but it may include details on how the the Tuberculosis/thrown out back combo that my husband is currently rocking might be more inconvenient than one might think. I tried sushi. It wasn't so bad. Also! Because I am a really excellent mother and live in denial, I sent a sick kid to go for a slumber party. Fortunately, Goldie thinks that being sick only means that she gets to have the orange! medicine! The long and the short is that she came home full of fruit snacks and McDonalds, toting a new doll and talking about soapy bubble baths. I think she had a good time. I must remember to thank my friend for sending the incessantly talking Bee toy from the Happy Meal home because seriously, IT ISN'T VERY ANNOYING.

Goldie-ese, a Primer

Felf=Self, as in I can do it by mahself.
Dakin=Napkin, as in, give me a napkin or I will repeat this word until you go batshit insane.
B=Binky. As in, I WANT MY BINKY NOW
Agua=Water. In my sippy cup. With ice. Or I will throw it at you.
Bottle=Sippy cup. Full of milk. Right now.
Try Again=Do whatever you are doing over. and over. and over.
Market=This little piggy
Mrr=More
Jesus= Sing Jesus Loves me and you better sing it right.
Baby Song=Rockabye baby, I love you forever, or, inexplicably, The Wheels on the bus
O=Other, as in O baby song, in case you sang the wrong one. Also, you are an idiot. Geesh.
Tuck=Tuck me in. Make chant out of it, won't you? Say tucktucktucktucktuck while you do it or you are doing it WRONG and you will have to start over.
No=No
NO= Aw Hells No
NONONONONO=Hell to the nah.

Unbefreakinglievable

Did I ever tell you about the time that the Rooter guy came to do a simple job, except for some reason he ran a camera into the main water pipe of our house without telling me that was what he was going to do and then, ha ha, the camera got stuck so he called a co-worker to bring another camera to look for the first one and that one got stuck too and so they told me "Ma'am, your water line is shot and we are going to dig up the concrete to find our cameras and have to replace your whole water line? No? Well that is a really good story.

A long boring story about my day

My day started at about 2 a.m. with the screaming. Grabbed Roob to feed her and when her face made contact it burned me. Holy crap, she is going to spontaniously combust, I thought and started her on the Advil. As you can imagine, Goldie was next. By morning, however, both of the fevers seemed under control and when my friend Tanya called I was like, "sure, we're still on for breakie, see you in 30." And off we went because really? Eggs Benedict can cure anything. That turned out well and we even had time to get to the park before naps.

I got the girls down and logged into work, but after an hour and a half my lids were drooping and I was all screw this and headed off to naptown myself for The Most Amazing Nap of My Life. I was so cozy, comfy and wrapped in rainbows and cotton candy that before I knew it it was Four. Thirty. My children had slept for going on 5 hours. Fevers aren't all bad.

Then Davey got home and was all, um, have you noticed that every stitch of clothes/bedding/towels we own is dirty? Nope. Sure didn't, I was sleeping. Oh well, why not toss in a load and make myself a hero ,no? Now, there has been a funky smell in my house for a few days. We kept emptying various garbages and even braving the shower one by one hoping to eliminate the offender to no avail. As I walked down the stairs to the laundry room I was all "FOUND IT" and discovered a massive, stinking, foul puddle in my laundry room that was full of food. We no longer eat in the basement. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. There is a major backup. We are screwed until we find a Rooter type person. Or move.

I had been hoping to spend part of my weekend doing pleasant things, as I am sending Goldie to Camp Barb for a night, but it looks like it will be spent doing laundry and possibly hitting up the JC Penny's Big and Tall section because there is a sale until midnight and you know that there is nothing more I love than to go the mall on a weekend, in the middle of the night to find the mens XLT shirts. A fucking riot.

Since Barb is also my lactation consultant, the first thing I will say to her when I drop Goldie off at her house will be "LOOK AT MY BOOBS" because, after a nice, calm, pain-free stretch ,Christ on a Cracker, I think she is not biting, but CHEWING on my knockers with her new puppy tooth. MAKE IT STOP.

It's really sort of amazing that I have any friends at all.

Bonus

You know when the doctors and nurses all swear to you that "oh, it's just not true that immunizations make you sick, you'll be fine"? Well, they are a bunch of liars. All four of us got flu shots yesterday and I am the only one who doesn't have a fever.

Both of my girls feel like they are about to burst into flames and so I am alternating tylenol/advil every three hours. Davey just called from work to say he has a temp too. My poor babies.

Have you ever got sick from a flu shot?