Critter got a new outfit for his birthday. It's cute, and I'm not sure you can see it, but there's a little chameleon right above his little pocket. I'm particularly happy about the fact that its a size 12 months and he's not swimming in it. That's a really good thing.
Something about this outfit has had me giggling all day long. Maybe it's the bulbous belly Critter is sporting today. Maybe its the fact that he flirts unabashedly with every pretty girl he meets. It could be the rash of curls sitting on the back of his head, but it could also be the undershirt poking through and the collar hanging wide open.
Whatever it is, I have been having fits of giggles all day, because every time I look at the boy, all I can think of is Leisure Suit Larry.
* I find it horribly ironic that when I am in the bathroom (incidentally the ONE room in the house with a lock and trust me I use it) my 7 year old can locate me every time. It's like a bathroom homing device. It happens so fast it's like a force of nature- the knock followed by some question I can't quite hear because he's hoping I'll just say yes to get him to go away.
* Since when does spring break begin at noon the THURSDAY BEFORE the week of spring break? I wish school had been like that when I was a kid. I'm not happy, I tell you. It's like a pop quiz in patience. And I showed up without a pencil. Or any paper. And I wind up kicking the desk of the kid in front of me to ask if I can borrow some of theirs. Not that I've ever done that, by the way. I was always the kid who's desk was kicked.
* I had to go see the doctor yesterday, and wound up wanting to crawl into a cave and hide. Why? I'm so glad you asked. Apparently I felt the need to assure him I was 100% sure I was not pregnant because my husband had a HYSTERECTOMY. Not only was it highly embarrassing, but I was at an urgent care clinic, so there were 4 or 5 beds and a full nurses station with nothing but a sheet between any of them. Yep. This is why I don't talk to strangers, I generally open my mouth and embarrass myself something fierce when I try. So to anyone out there who meets someone for the first time and thinks, "Well, isn't SHE quite uppity?" Please take into consideration she might be trying very hard not to tell you her husband had a hysterectomy.
* I am fortunate enough to have been given antibiotics at my appointment yesterday. Fortunate because I may or may not begin to feel better at some point within the next 24 hours. The sheer irony is that I am now nauseous beyond belief AND my symptoms haven't disappeared.
* I should really put dictionary dot com on my top tool bar because I rely on it like I do the sanity of a bubble bath. I turn to it frequently, and I've checked it no less than 4 times today.
* We took full advantage of the warm spring weather on Tuesday, and walked to Smoochie's school to pick him up from his after school Spanish class. He has this playground that would be really really cool except it was built back in the wooden playground equipment days. Smooch and Florida (his stuffed dog mascot) require splinter removal surgery at least once a week. Bonehead has it down to a science.
* While at the park, I placed Critter in the baby swing next to another baby approximately his size. The other little guy? 6 months old. Yes, in fact, my 13 month old is so little he can't sit facing forward in a car, and wears 6-9 month clothing quite roomily. I try to fatten him up, and trust me he eats everything but the kitchen sink, but he just hasn't seemed to hit any kind of growing spurt in, well, since he's been born, basically. He's gained 8 pounds since he was born leaving him at 13 months and 18 pounds. The doctor has assured me (repeatedly) he's healthy and just has a little build. Still, until he is 6 foot two and I'm looking up at him to yell at him about the garbage not being taken out this week, I worry.
* I have parent teacher conferences tonight, and fully expect a good report. The boy got a Captain Underpants book last night and is already on chapter 10 (for fun, not even as an assignment) so I think the report will go well.
* I am proud as hell that my boy has been in his bedroom reading to himself for the last hour straight. For fun. On his spring break. How cool is that?
update: My boy just informed me he was on page 119. Did I neglect to mention I was proud of him?
I am not Irish. But anyone who has laid eyes upon my Beloved Bonehead knows beyond doubt he is, from his red hair and freckles to his ability to burn every time he spends more than 5 minutes in the sun-even while sitting in a car. The money I've spent in sunblock over the years is another blog post entirely. And I won't even begin to go into his superhuman metabolism for whiskey.
I am beginning to wonder if (living in close proximity to my Irish hubby) the luck of the Irish has rubbed off on me lately, for I experienced a new bout just today (pay no attention to the fact that I dropped the eggs I bought at the store this morning and broke half of them). This morning, when I went online one last time to get Bonehead's personal grocery list, I had a message waiting for me.
Sandi from Lucky Thirteen Plus One had a gracious giveaway on her blog, and I am the winner. I won a $100 certificate to Amazon.com! I have been a reader of her blog for a few months now, and I admire her for her ability to keep her sanity while being the mother of 14. Thank you, Sandi.
And now for the next installment of my most embarrassing moments...
I worked for a wonderful company as a temporary employee for a full year, but alas they didnt have a permanent opening for me. My daycare situation changed and I found myself giving notice because 85% of my paycheck was going to daycare costs. 6 months later, there was an opening within the company, my former supervisors let me know, and I applied and got the job.
It was a marketing position, and I absolutely loved my job. I already knew 98% of my coworkers, how the company worked, and it was like being home again. As part of my duties, I worked closely with the company salesmen across the country. I had contact mostly through email or phone, and every once in a while I would meet a couple of them as they flew into town for various training programs.
The company hosts a meet and greet dinner once a year in the spring (among other things) and as part of the marketing department, I was invited. The dinner is held at a local bar that I had not been to. I soon learned they were famous for their fried potato salad.
Normally, this type of social situation would be the source of at least a week's worth of anxiety because I am beyond shy with people I do not know. If I know you, look out, but if I don't know you, I clam up pretty tight. But I knew some of the people at this dinner, and I'd planned to go along with a couple of girlfriends from work, so I at least would have the company of friends and feel more comfortable.
Although I do drink occasionally, I don't drink often- mostly due to the fact that I have a very, very low tolerance. And due to the fact that my father died in a drunk driving accident when I was young, I never ever drink and drive- not even one drink. On this particular evening, i worked out an agreement with Bonehead for him to drop me off and then pick me up at a certain time so I could just relax and enjoy myself. I would be able to partake in free drinks after all.
So I arrived and ordered a margarita (oh how I love a good margarita), and relaxed with my girl friends and met some of the salesmen and got to match up some faces with the names. Dinner was taking a while, so I ordered another drink and laughed and talked and was social. Others at my table ordered another round, so hey, what the heck, I did too. After all, I wasn't driving.
Soon (three drinks for those who haven't been counting, but in my defense it was three on an empty stomach) my cheeks began to feel light. I became a bit giddy and was, well, quite happy to say the least. But I was trying desperately not to show how much of a light weight drinker I was. So, I ordered one more with the intention of not touching it until dinner was on the table.
Dinner finally arrived, in buffet style. I got up and made myself a hamburger with all the fixings, grabbed some fruit salad, some of the infamous potato salad I'd heard so much about, and settle back down to enjoy. There were oohs and ahhs from every side of me, and I agreed. The burgers were awesome,and the potato salad was fan-tas-tic.
When I was about 3/4 of the way through my burger, I realized something was off. I looked down at it and saw cheese, tomato, onion, lettuce, ketchup, and wait....I turned it around so I could look from a different vantage point....did I just really....
I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed my close inspection of my burger, but no one seemed to notice. Slyly, I used my thumb to pull up on the top half of the bun to gain a better glance inside...
THERE WAS NO HAMBURGER IN MY BURGER!!
And not only had I eaten 3/4 of it before I noticed, but I oohed and ahhed about how darn good it was too!
I quickly ate the rest of my burger so that no one would notice my lightheaded error and told no one, until I got home and confessed to Bonehead. Who laughed for quite some time at my expense.
I kept it a secret until the next year when It was time for the dinner again. I finally fessed up to my coworkers, who thoroughly enjoyed razzing me for it.
Happy St. Paddy's Day everyone, drink safe and remember to put your paddy on your burger...
FRIDAY MORNING 8:39 a.m. :Chasity has been located. She was spotted at about 8pm last night. According to our report, she got sidetracked on her way up the mountain by some hot springs. The search party located her lounging in one in bubble bath fashion with a glass of wine. She stated she spotted the Wifus Domesticus and it scared her senseless. She ran as far away from the mountain as she could get.
9:01 a.m. :I have been dragged back into the jungles of domesticity. Believe me, I was kicking and screaming. But now that I am back at base camp and have been allowed the additional luxury of a cup of coffee, I must once again gear up for the day ahead of me. It is Friday. The weekend quickly approaches, and I refuse to allow this mountain to loom before me for another day with out conquering. No bubble baths, no excuses. I'm going in.
12:16 p.m. : I failed to notice it was Friday the 13th. Normally I don't put too much stock in the day (my 13th and 18th birthdays occurred on Friday the 13th and they turned out pretty good) but somehow I managed to cut my thumb by breaking a glass while loading the dishwasher. Spiderman bandaid anyone? Heading back to base camp to throw some salt over my shoulder.
THURSDAY MORNING 8:58 a.m. : Base camp is in fairly good shape this morning. It should take less than an hour to whip things back into the shape they were at approximately 16 hours ago, so that is good. Of course, that leaves me no choice but to tackle that mountain today. Crap. Can you climb a mountain in a haz-mat suit? There will be skivvies. Scary, scary skivvies.
10:14 a.m. : The dishwasher has once again been tamed. In 5 minutes, I am going to begin my ascent up the mountain. I fear for my safety. If no one hears from me by noon, send reinforcements.
2:36 p.m. : No word from Chasity in more than 4 hours. Search party assembled and deployed. 3:26 p.m. : Base camp has lost contact with the search party. What the heck is going on up there?
WEDNESDAY MORNING 9:01 a.m. : Base camp is running slightly behind the times this morning- I was up for an entire hour before I was allowed the simple luxury of a cup of coffee for crying out loud. The headache I experienced yesterday proved devastating for my day,and no shopping trip was ever made. Late last night, I was reminded of the impending visit of my Mother-in-Law to base camp today. I still need to endure the trip into the jungle for supplies, especially if I don't want to be washing all my dishes by hand today because the base camp manager is a total slacker and still doesn't have dishwasher detergent. And although my Mother-in-Law isn't one of THOSE types, I still draw the line at having a sink full of dirty dishes upon her arrival. So, as the first part of my morning agenda, I will traverse to the grocery store while Mount Laundromonjaro looms ominously in the near distance. I wonder what kind of tow rope it would take to move a mountain...
11:48 a.m. : Domesticity sucks.
12:54 p.m. : Have to wash my outdoor gear because the expedition leader spit up all over them while we were grocery shopping. I am truly stunned by the ability of the little guy to spit up on average of once a month at home, while managing to spit up every time I take him into a store. I have also spent considerable time pondering the possible answer to the question, "At what age does it stop being spit up and start being considered throw up?"
1:55 p.m. : Just got word that Mother-in-Law just morphed into Mother-in-Law AND Father-in-Law. ETA is in about 2 hours. It is official: There are now not enough seats in my living room for every one. Maybe I should move back in some of Mount Laundromonjaro to be used in bean bag fashion.
3:50 p.m. : Base camp has almost pulled it together. The floor has been vacuumed, the kitchen table has been cleared, the dishwasher again tamed for the time being. The great In-Law caravan is set to arrive in T-minus 28 and counting. The 7 year old scout has just made his Kramer-esk entrance and I must go procure after educational sustenance for him. Bonehead scout was close behind. Base camp is officially feeling much louder and more crowded.
TUESDAY MORNING 8:00 a.m. : I did not spill my coffee all over my leg this morning, which is a good sign of the day to come. I had planned to climb the mountain of laundry that lies at my feet, but I did not foresee the poor planning shown by the people running the base camp operation. Base camp appears to be run by imbeciles who didn't think planning for the week ahead before Tuesday was really all that crucial. I will clearly have to spend today foraging for supplies and postpone the ascent up the laundrigal mountain until tomorrow. I can't help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment that I'm a step ahead of the game this morning. My son is already wearing pants.
8:17 a.m. : My need for a shower is overwhelming. Having sipped on 1.5 cups of coffee, I am off to find the local watering hole and pray that the expedition leader doesn't scream too loud from his bungee throne.
10:51 a.m. : Made an executive decision to forage for sundries after morning nap. All attitudes are markedly improved after napping, or at least that is what I have been told. I have opened my mouth (through google chat, so, fingers?) and inserted my foot with one of my scouts, so I fully anticipate not feeling too great for the duration of the day. It makes me want to crawl into a cave and hide- now where is that spelunking gear I had to get my hands on yesterday? Apparently it will be in high demand this week.
1:07 p.m. : Having obtained a rather severe headache, I am trying to squash the urge to go on a canibalistic rampage. Am taking medication and closing my eyes and hoping it goes away before the little expedition leader wakes up from his nap and I have to brave the jungle that is the grocery store. Today is turning out to be a fairly rough one, and the mountain still awaits me.
3:37 p.m. : Headache has finally started to go away, but is still under the surface. The scouts will be home shortly, and with a headache that could show its ugly face again with little to no prompting, I am considering waiting by the door with strips of duct tape. It does sound tempting. I'm counting the day as a loss at this point, and will make additional attempts at domesticity and climbing Mount Laundromonjaro tomorrow.
This week I will be conducting an experiment of the Domestic Engineering type. I will be performing a weeks worth of domestic duties with an open mind. It will be an exploration of the inner mind of the average stay at home mom. Call it a social experiment, if you will. I will be keeping a journal of my expedition this week, and updating several times throughout the day. MONDAY MORNING 8:28a.m. : I have had an hour sucked from my veins, and spilled 1/2 cup of fresh brewed coffee on my leg. I am taking a survey of the domestic duties needed to be performed today. My home appears to have been attacked by hoodlums. I'm not sure there's a clean dish left in my kitchen, the laundry hamper threw up in my bathroom, and my living room has been littered with stray belts, hangers, and DS games. But first things first: The baby needs pants and breakfast.
8:39 a.m. : Baby. Pants. Now.
8:43 a.m. : Seriously. Quit typing and go feed your child.
10:06 a.m. : Dishwasher is purring away. My little expedition leader directed activities from his booster seat with efficiency. When faced with the beast of the dishwasher we teamed up to tame it with a mighty rhythm: Dish, dish, pick up toy. Dish, dish, pick up toy.
10:41 a.m. : Had a rare sighting of the Wifus Domesticus. She appeared wild and unkempt, her eyes a bit manic. She got a glimpse of me and was gone in just a fraction of a second. It's a good thing too, she scared the crap out of me. The expedition leader has grown tired and shall now be laid down for a morning nap. It is up to me to carry on without him.
11:24 a.m. : Things are beginning to get rough. I'm finding that I must buckle up and push through the need for a nap. With the expedition leader napping I should move on and begin cleaning the bathroom. Is there a category on Craig's List for Spelunking gear?
11:49 a.m. : I am beginning to realize how unprepared I am for this journey. I clearly needed a haz-mat suit to handle my son's skivvies. Also, there was gum adhered to the bottom of my bathroom garbage can. Some questions may be better off left unasked.
12:42 p.m. : The journey in the bathroom was more exciting than I could have imagined. After getting over the disappointment that I had clearly just missed a pack (herd?) of spitting camels, I found the fortitude to continue on. I discovered fossilized toothpaste which I have carefully packed up for future analysis at the lab. On a different note, base camp has run out of paper plates and dishwasher detergent, which can be a fatal combination. I've been informed that base camp has also run out of toilet bowl cleaner. That, my friends, is catastrophic.
3:39 p.m. : With the return of the family scouts expected soon, I feel the need for a late afternoon pick me up. I will soon be expected to answer a large daily quota of questions, none of which are actually about me or my day. It takes energy to know exactly what the ninja skill limitations of Scooby Doo are. Should I go with additional coffee, or prop my eyelids open with a toothpick?
I don't think I've ever asked anyone this question, but do you dream in sound? I do. Quite frequently, in fact, some obscure song that I haven't heard in years chooses to play itself over and over in the background of my dreams. It's almost a nightmare, the never ending Muzac loop of the same darned song. It doesn't matter if my dream is of hunting baby eating alligators or being chased by tornadoes through farmer's fields, it will play itself like there's no tomorrow until...well...tomorrow. The kicker is that once might be a trip down memory lane. 523 times in 7 hours is a nightmare of its own. Here's the music from last night's dream sequence. Enjoy, even 523 times if you'd like, but I wouldn't recommend it.
WARNING: ACCORDING TO BONEHEAD THE FOLLOWING POST IS "A LITTLE FUNNY, BUT GUYS DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT THAT STUFF." Which prompted me to promise him a disclaimer-So- if you're male, you may want to skip the post today and visit again in the near future.Sorry 'bout that, dudes.
In order to explain where I've been for an entire week without so much as a sneeze on my blog, I feel I must tell you a story.
I once cried so hard I lost a contact. Not rubbing my eye and oops it fell out, but cried tears copious enough to wash it out never to be seen again. I was newly pregnant with my firstborn son, and tried to take money out of the ATM so I could stop at Subway for sandwiches on my way home from work. I was denied cash, meaning at that particular moment in time, there was not a spare 20 dollars to my name. After the machine yelled,"Denied!" at me, I continued my drive home and began crying a torrent of tears that only got worse as I started telling Bonehead we couldn't eat Subway. The world was ending because I couldn't have the sandwich my pregnant butt had been craving all day. I lost the contact sometime during that meltdown, never to be seen again. I'd like to say that the meltdown was all about the stress of being pregnant with your first child while being the only source of income because my husband was a full time student and wondering how on earth we were going to feed, diaper, clothe, and nurture a child, (and maybe subliminally it was) but it all came down to one thing in the end.
My hormones had screamed mutiny, leaving my sanity no choice but to jump ship.
My pregnancy with Critter was no better. In fact, my hormones did a switcheroo and I was no longer a sobbing mess. I was officially a snarling, snippy possum on a rampage for no good reason under the sun other than the fact that it may have been shining wrongly in my direction. It prompted my older son to tell me one morning, "I know why you're so grouchy, Mom, it's because you're pregnant." To which I inquired how he knew that and was promptly informed, "Daddy told me."
Upon confronting Bonehead with the statement, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "We boys have to stick together. You're a walking emotional bomb, we have no idea what to expect from you, and he needs to be prepared for that."
I counted on the fact that after Critter's birth (Since we knew that Critter was the completing member of our family long before he was born) I would never have to be such a hormonal mess again. I had no clue whatsoever how wrong I was. Apparently, my hormones have decided to turn that second mutiny into a coup.
Back in the day, it was so simple. Exactly 24 hours before the dreaded monthly event, I would have a mental breakdown. A personal little Nobody Likes Me, Everybody Hates Me, I think I'll Go Eat Some Worms moment or two, and that was it. I could see it for what it was and know that I need to be prepared in the next 24 hours.
Now, apparently, all bets are off. I could turn into a weepy mess as early as a week before, and channel Jekyll and Hyde even as long as 3 days after.
So to sum things up, the answer to where I've been the last week, is that apparently I've lost my flipping mind and have been trying my best to stomp the hell out of Jekyll (and anyone else lucky enough to be in my way) in a coup of historic proportions.
But now that the stable Jekyll has gained the upper hand and I am once again stable emotionally, things are good. You know, for another 25 days or so. I hate hormones.
35 and preparing to begin a new chapter in life as the single Mom of two beautiful boys. I'm approaching each day as a new beginning and still embracing the laughter it brings. And also, I am destined to be eternally pale.