Told ya so...

I told you that my being all happy and boring wouldn't last. Well...maybe I'm still boring. Only you can decide that as I'm obviously biased. But right now I'm grumpy and cranky and feeling perhaps a wee bit hateful. My kids are great. Husband is fine. They've done nothing wrong. This is crabbishness from within (possibly due to sleep deprivation or early PMS).

When I'm like this, I get very annoyed with strangers and, particularly with rude idiots. In case you don't know, I really cannot stand thoughtless, inconsiderate behavior. If someone cuts me off when I'm walking or lets a door close in my face etc, and I am in this kind of mood, I'll call them an asshole or other equally insulting name just low enough that they're not quite sure that they heard what they think they heard. It's actually pretty funny. Sometimes, you can see them sort of stiffen or try to casually look around and see who said it. If they look at me, I look right back at them and smile. It totally confuses them. I know it's childish and passive-aggressive. I just have to act on my aggravation sometimes. It's therapeutic.

The good news is I am only like this intermittently. Most of the time I am my usual nice, self-deprecating and accomodating self. Isn't it funny how multi-dimensional people really are. I can be really nice and kind and sweet and be loved by children, animals and old people everywhere and in the same day, whisper "asshole" to some stranger at Target. This, I think, was one of my problems with the mom's club I used to be active in. I felt like we were all putting on our best Donna Reed/Carol Brady facades and it was really hard to be in a club with 40 other Donna Reeds or Carol Bradys. It actually made me get down on myself. I was like "So and so doesn't curse or use sarcasm or make fun of her mother-in-law mangling the English language..." and it even skewed my wardrobe. Suddenly, my "Elvis...Still the King" 70's t-shirt was juvenile and white trash-y instead of retro and vintage. My Pumas and Chucks were immature and tacky instead of classically hip and timeless. I have a stack of clothes in my room right now that I actually intend to get rid of because I look at them and I'm thinking WHAT on God's green earth made me buy this???? This stuff is NOT me.

I gotta tell you guys, strangers and blog friends alike, this is what's so great about the internet. You will eventually run into people that you click with, that don't care how many times you use the word "fuck" in your blog or that you wrote an entire post about some guys smelly balls or that you don't give a crap about having a super shiny sink. These same people won't care that I wrote a sappy post professing my love for my children or that I claim to love the internet. They will understand how I can love "Anne of Greene Gables" AND "American History X". They will "get" me.

Thank you, Internet. I love you :-)

I am really babbling and blathering and I might never shut up so I'm going to stop now. Thanks for the vent. I feel better already.

A Tale of Two Balls

When my husband and I bought our first house, I kept noticing this weird smell around the toilet in the master bathroom. It was familiar but I couldn't quite place it. Until one day when I realized the smell was that of sweaty balls. Yes. You read correctly. The toilet had one of those plasticky toilet seats and we had intended to change it but hadn't done it yet. And THAT was where the smelly, sweaty balls smell was coming from. The guy we bought the house from, Ted, was a real cocksmacking shithead bastard old-ass motherfucker. As you may have deduced, I didn't care for him very much. This man whom I loathed and who made me insanely angry SO many times while trying to buy this stupid house, had managed to stick it to us one last time with his nasty balls.

But what I really wanted to know is HOW the smell was on the toilet seat. I asked my husband if his balls touch all over the toilet seat, either inside or on it or whatever and he looked at me like WTF? Of course not. But clearly Ted, of the smelly balls, was doing SOMETHING to have left his stink all over the toilet seat. What I also want to know is how his sweet wife Regina put up with it. Didn't SHE notice the stinky sweaty balls smell? Clearly, for his ball smell to have permeated the plastic toilet seat, it had to have been BAD. If your man had balls that smelled that bad, wouldn't you be concerned? At the very least, wouldn't you have bleached the holy hell out of your cheap piece-of-shit plastic toilet seat every day? If it was me, I would have bleached Ted's balls every day, too. Suffice it to say, we went and got a new toilet seat the instant we realized the source of THE SMELL.

Incidentally, after a few months of living in the new house, a check arrived for Ted from the IRS, in an amount almost equal to the amount of money he had screwed us out of (did I mention that he royally shafted us, in addition to subjecting us to THE SMELL?). It was some kind of refund for overpayment. Instead of forwarding it to him, we ripped it up into tiny pieces and ceremoniously flushed it down the master bathroom toilet. Yes. Bad karma. I know. It was worth it. My only regret is that he probably never even knew about it.

Meet Our New Addition

Isn't our new Mac Mini adorable? Okay...it's not really 'ours'. It's my husband's. It's the one I was going to wait until Monday to get him for his birthday. We went and got it today from the Apple Store at the Boob Job Mall (from another post, too lazy to link), which, I might add is a freaking zoo. And very white. Whoever came up with the interior design scheme for the Apple Stores has watched "2001: A Space Odyssey" one time too many. I also got some really cute sandals from the Clark's store. I don't know where I'd find a picture of them unless I snapped one and I'm way too lazy for that, too. Plus...do you really care? 'cause if you do, I WILL find a picture. But if not, then just use your imagination. Like everything in the Clark's store, they are leather. Brown. Lots of straps and woven goodness to the tune of $65. I had an AMEX gift cheque from Christmas so whatever... Then it was off to Starbucks so my husband, who got up waaay early with the Prince, could get a bitter, nasty Starbucks coffee. My daughter got an organic chocolate milk and I got some kind of smoothie thing with all these juices mixed together, providing me with 1350% of my daily recommended allownace of vitamin C. Hooo boy! Do I live on the edge or what?

Anyway, I was thinking today about how lately I don't have much to blog about. Since I analyze every motherfucking detail of my existence to death and beyond, I proceeded as usual and determined that I must be relatively happy at the moment because I always have more to blog about when I'm cranky. These are some of the topics I have bitched blogged about:

- My period returning and people calling it Aunt Flo (it pained me to even type it)
- Stupid guys running in front of my car making me almost kill them and then giving ME attitude about it
- How all the cool moms must be hiding somewhere because I can't find them
- Unreliable people that always fucking flake out and don't even care that they totally suck
- Slutty "My Scene" dolls
- Hurting my neck
- Being up to my belly button in the bodily fluids/expulsions of other living beings
- Not being able to lose my baby weight
- A horrible day before Christmas
- Our TV shitting the bed
- Being the crazy- insane kind of tired ALL the fucking time
- My son (The Prince) teething and not sleeping and being relentlessly fussy
- Going to the circle of hell known as "Babies R Us"
- The quest for the Jumperoo
- People who don't even HAVE children giving parenting advice

Imagine that...I am too "happy" to blog. Fear not, loyal friends and curious strangers. It won't last. By my calculations, I should start PMS-ing in about 7-10 days ;-)

PS: It just occurred to me that some of you might not even know what a Mac Mini is. It's a really ass-kickingly cool, super fast, teeny tiny computer. Just the CPU, of course. It's actual dimensions are approx. 6x6x2. It's smaller than most external hard drives. You can read all about it here, if you are so inclined. We got the $599 one.

Check it out...

As you can see in the sidebar, I've jumped on the "Rent My Blog" bandwagon. I don't want to be the only one without a renter OR a silly little purse-sized dog.

My new renter for the week is Callista from Inconceivable. I got several bids but I selected her blog because I thought she was a good fit for Moonshine.

I read a good bit of her blog and was quite taken with it. I laughed. I cried. I'm not exaggerating. (Read "Jackson's Story")

As it happens, Callista is also a damn fine designer of blogs. If yours needs a makeover, go check her out. There's a link to her design website, Lilac Pixels. Go see her and leave a comment. Go on...git!

Indian food with a Side of Mac Mini and Bad Wife

Today is my husband's birthday. I'm a bad wife. A very bad wife. I have no gift for him (or cake or card) We just had freaking Christmas. I got him all the things I could think of then. I was going to use my first paycheck from my awesome new job (that hardly anyone even gave a crap about when I posted about it) to get him a new Mac Mini for his studio but I don't get paid until Monday. So, per his wishes, we're just having Indian food tonight. You have no idea how much the man loves Indian food. It's a big, major deal. When we were in NYC a couple years ago, we found this street that has nothing but Indian restaurants one after the other. He was in heaven. I, in the interest of being completely predictable and boring, wanted pizza for every meal.

So...later today I will see if I can get a meal delivery service to go downtown and pick up an assload of Indian for us. And then on Monday, we will go to the Apple store and buy a new Mac Mini unless he decides he wants to order from MacMall. I'm pretty sure he will go for the instant gratification over saving a few bucks. Of course he will. Duh!

Have you SEEN the Mac Mini's, BTW? They are so teeny and cute. I should be buying one for myself instead.

Finally (and a cheap substitute for HNT)

As you can see, I finally added a picture to my profile. This is a huge step for me. I'm not entirely comfortable with it being so visible. Depending on my anxiety level, it might disappear or turn up in some less "HEY LOOK AT ME" spot on my blog. I'm not a privacy nut, per se, but I've been online a long time and I've learned a few things about revealing information to the world. One day, maybe I'll tell you all a story about it. Until then... oxoxoxo

PS...My hot (har har) new photo will have to substitute for HNT. Imagine it's just a picture of my neck or ear or something. I've been working my ass off! No time for camera hijinx & shenanigans this week...

WTF?

Holy Mother of Jesus! I didn't realize the power I wield. I had no idea that with just one post, I'd be able to alienate and freak out hundreds, possibly thousands, of visitors and scare them into submission. Well, consider the mood here lightened. I made a post in honor of my dead friend but I am still very much alive and waiting for some action, dammit! Action!

So stop tiptoeing around and gimme some play, all ya'll cold-hearted motherfuckers. Geez.

It's Been a Year

On this day last year, I got an email from my old college friend Lynn's husband, in reply to one I had sent her a few weeks after Christmas. He asked that I please call him at my earliest convenience. A bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I did not need to call him to know something terrible had happened to my friend. But I did call him and my worst fears were confirmed. Lynn had been killed in a car accident Christmas night. They were on their way home from a family gathering when they hit a patch of black ice, lost control of the car and crashed. She was ejected and died instantly. This news saddened me beyond words and it still does.

I know it's customary to say only good things about those who have passed on but this was a person that truly warranted all the positive things everyone said about her. I won't go on and on because I know it's a downer but I really miss Lynn. She was a great friend and a very special person. For me, the world is a slightly lesser place without her in it.

List of Fours Meme

Tagged by Dazed

Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:
1. Bakery clerk (high school)
2. Teacher of developmentally-disabled persons
3. Graphic/ Web Designer
4. Macintosh Tech Support/Corporate Trainer

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Blow
2. You've Got Mail
3. Sixteen Candles
4. School 0f Rock

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
1. Nip/Tuck
2. Desperate Housewives
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. Felicity re-runs on WE/ Sex in the City re-runs on TNT

Places I Have Been on Vacation:
1. Bahamas
2. Florida Keys
3. Seattle
4. NYC

Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. Suburban Bliss
2. The Sarcastic Journalist
3. Dooce
4. and everything in my blogroll

Favorite Foods:
1. Pizza
2. Chocolate
3. Breakfast food
4. Salads

Four Places I would rather be:
1. In Bed sleeping
2. In the bathtub, reading
3. In the bathtub, reading
4. In the bathtub, reading

Four People I Am Tagging With This Meme:
1. Everyone says they don't like memes so I'm laming out and tagging nobody.
2. But please feel free to tag yourself and tell people I did it!
3. Please eat shit and die now.
4. Ha ha! Gotcha, didn't I?

Venting...

I'm so tired of being tired. My husband is going out of town next month for about 4 days. He gloated this morning about how it's going to be so great to get a full night's sleep and not be woken up 2-3 times a night by our resident teething insomniac and I got SO mad at him. When is it going to be MY turn to get a full night of sleep? Hmm? Grrrrr...

You're Someone's Mother?

Not much happening today.Had a busy, busy day yesterday. Went down to the water and watched a big parade and stayed for fireworks. Met up with friends and their kids. Saw tons of people I know or knew.

It's funny how all the people I used to party with are now having kids. They must be thinking the same thing about me that I am about them, which is: "Holy shit...I can't believe you're someone's parent". Some of these people made me look like a nun. They could out-drink, out-drug and out-everything me. There are good and bad sides to living in the same city for 20 years.

I also ran into a lot of people from my mom's club. I was an officer in this club but since I got pregnant with my last child, I lost interest. Naps kind of took over my life. Now the baby's naps rule my life. But really, while every single person in the club was super nice, I just felt a little out of place. I'm not sure that a former party girl with a pierced nose (but no ring), tattoo (usually hidden) and mostly liberal views (also usually hidden) actually fit that well. I always felt like I had to tone myself down to be on their level. It just got old.

When The Prince gives up his early morning nap, I'm going to look into getting back into a playgroup again. Maybe it will be different as a regular member instead of an officer.

Anyone out there in a mom's club? What was/is it like?

In other news...did you know that most people have staph bacteria living in their nose? You should never pick your nose and then scratch your eye (or pick a scab or open sore) without washing your hands first. Apparently, this is one way people get styes and other infections in their eye. I recently read this somewhere. Thought I'd share.

I bet your eye is itching RIGHT NOW.

Grey's Anatomy Gets it's Own Post

Anyone watch Grey's Anatomy tonight? It wasn't that great. PD looked good but doesn't get enough screen time. Ever. It's annoying. Who thinks Derek and Addison have chemistry? Not me. I'm just waiting for him and Meredith to start shaggin' again. It's only a matter of time...

Philosophizing on the Blogroll

You may have noticed that I 've added a bunch of new links to my blogroll. Here's my take on blogrolling...

If I read your blog more than a few times, I bookmark you. If I anticipate that perhaps I might go back and read it again, I blogroll you. For me it's just a simple way of keeping track of regular reads and being able to see when someone has made a new post so I don't have to keep checking their blog and look like a stalker on their stat counter.

I don't do it to show who all my cool friends are and I don't do it in hopes that they will return the favor, although if they wanted to, it would really be appreciated. Everyone knows that the more sites that link to you, the more popular your ranking on search engines (and if you didn't, now you do :-)

I will freely admit that I think about my search engine ranking and if someone told me they didn't care about any of that stuff or if they have no hits or comments or regular visitors, I'd be skeptical. I just have a hard time believing anyone blogs for themselves. Feel free to disagree.

Anyway, if you are not on my blogroll and are offended, please don't be. I forget to bookmark a lot of great blogs that I've been to. Drop me an email and remind me if you want to. I actually get a lot of blog email; more email than comments. I've yet to figure out why...

Todays award...

for the stupidest parents on the planet goes to Anette and Landon Pharris. These are the dipshits that hired a stripper for their 16 yr old son's birthday and got arrested for it after taking the pictures of their monumental error in judgement to a local Walgreens to get them developed. You can read all about it here. Below is a photo of the stripper (left) and the birthday girl boy, Landon Pharris, Jr.

I know this is old news but these morons were just on Oprah* today and I was astounded that people this dumb are allowed to live outside group homes, let alone procreate.

*Yes, I sometimes watch Oprah. Shut up. She does not suck. Wait...let me clarify that Oprah doesn't suck unless she's kissing celebrity ass. I hate when she does that and she does it a lot lately which is why I only sometimes watch it. I also have to make sure that my 5 yr old is off doing something else since the topics, like the one referenced above, are totally not kid-friendly.

Thursday Thirteen

I did this kind of late on Thursday so I don't expect any participation but my exhibitionistic, narcissistic, "look at me!" side wants everyone to know this information. It's IMPORTANT.

Regarding my list...some are current faves, some are old or long-time faves. All are tasty nuggets of TV goodness, which in my opinion, are in short supply these days. Does the world really need 37 different crime scene investigation shows or 3 different flavors of the terribly formulaic "Law & Order"? The long answer is no.

Top Thirteen TV Shows of Izzy 1. Thirtysomething 2. My So-Called Life 3. Felicity 4. Freaks n Geeks 5. St. Elsewhere 6. Scrubs 7. Night Flight 8. Brady Bunch 9. Facts of Life 10. Nip/Tuck 11. Grey's Anatomy 12. Sex in the City 13. Third Watch Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

None for me, thanks.

It really, REALLY irritates me when people who don't even have children give you unsolicited parenting advice. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm just really not in the mood for any simplistic, one-size-fits-all-advice-from-someone-without-a-clue-about-children this year.

The best, however, is the way they give you this unsolicited advice. It usually starts with "Well, why don't you just...yada yada yada", spoken in a tone that indicates irritation and exasperation, as if they've given you these pearls of wisdom a dozen times already and stupid you....you haven't followed it.

What is WRONG with you? You didn't do what that smart person with the clean house, shitloads of discretionary income and no children told you to do. Puh! You suck.

I don't know about anyone else but unless I ask, I don't want advice. If I am venting, I STILL don't want advice. I want support or sympathy or something chocolate.

Please, know-it-all advice-givers of the world, I'm sure you have the best intentions and don't mean to insult my intelligence or be condescending but for the love of God, just stop.

DON'T make me have to get all roller derby on your ass ;-)

The Search Continues... (updated)

I love, love, love getting rid of stuff. LOVE, dammit. This conflicts directly with my other love of ACQUIRING stuff. It's mostly second-hand stuff for which I always have grand plans. Unfortunately, since giving up my garage and larger house in the 'burbs, I have neither the time or the space to store or restore a lot of this stuff. Thus, my love of purging has developed into a way to make peace with my pack-rat side.

On Sunday, I sold a ton of The Prince's outgrown baby stuff to this lady. I practically gave it away and maybe I should have, considering that she seemed to have a hard time coming up with the $50 I was asking but I mentally tallied the retail prices of all these mostly big-ticket items and it was close to $200. Considering our own financial situation (4 people living on one income blah, blah) I felt that I owed it to my own family to at least get something for these things, if for no other reason than to avoid forking over $70 for my own personal holy grail of baby items...the Deluxe Jumperoo.

Since I sold the Baby Prison (an exersaucer that my son regarded as a medieval torture device), I need somewhere to occasionally park The Prince while I engage in selfish, frivolous acts such as taking a pee or getting a drink of water. As previously noted in another entry that I'm too lazy to link to, he's already fallen off the couch once and I saved his ass yesterday from doing it again so yes, he does need to be SAFELY parked sometimes. It would be nice if he didn't totally hate it so I'm pinning all my hopes on the Jumperoo. Unfortunately, finding one is another matter altogether.

Yesterday, MLK Day, my husband was off from work. He's a really good dad and husband and I thought he deserved a break so I let him go play with his friends all day while I hosted a playdate with two of my daughter's screeching, squealing girlfriends. This is not my idea of relaxing or fun in any way, shape or form, but to my daughter, it's pure heaven. She is a terribly social creature who acts as if she will die if she doesn't get to see her friends outside of school. Did I mention that she's 5? The only upside is that The Prince slept all afternoon. Yes, indeed. He slept from 2pm to 5:45pm. I actually had to wake him up. After dinner, I put them in the car and we went to Toys R Us, which happens to be 2 minutes from my house. Unfortunately, this location is closing so while everything was on sale, they were out of the Jumperoo. Grrrrr...

So we walk next door to Target and head to the baby section where a surly clerk informed me that they, too, do not have the freaking thing in stock and suggested I go across the street to Walmart, which in THIS town is like a third world country where nobody has ever heard of that language...what's it called again? Oh yeah... ENGLISH! I told the clerk I'd rather put a gun to my head and the three of us vacated without the Deluxe Jumperoo and no closer to a parking solution for The Prince.

I'm considering a trip to Babies R Us even though I just asked last week for someone to beat me senseless if I ever mention the possibility of going there again. I know it will suck and I don't want to go but I want the DJ, I NEED the DJ. So go easy on me, okay?

UPDATE:
I went to the other Target south of me and they had the damned Jumperoo but while I was there I spent like $50 more dollars. On what? Well...let's see. I bought a big box of baby wipes because my whole family is addicted to them, a pack of TP because we all enjoy being cleaned and dried by paper that has a puppy on the label (when we're not abusing baby wipes, that is), a small pack of antibacterial wipes because the Discovery Channel made me a germ freak (see "100 Things About Me" if you really give a shit how), 2 pair of shoes for the fashion bunny (AKA my daughter), 2 Choxie candy bars of pure evil, a 2 liter of Coke for my hubz, a 5-pack of pink cotton bikini underwear for yours truly and some warm pajamas for The Prince who grows about an inch every freakin' week. I went for a Jumperoo. This is why Target is a DANGEROUS place. I must never, ever go there unescorted. Ever.

Shut UP already!

Did you ever have one of those days where you wished your mouth had an OFF switch?

Maybe because you found yourself blathering on and on uncontrollably to the grandmother of your daughter's friends?

She's a pretty cool grandma. You can tell she used to be an arty, liberal hipster type but still...did I HAVE to do that to her?

I was like a meth monster with a bad case of oral diarrhea — blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I tried to stop it. I really did.

Poor woman...

I really need to get off this fucking computer and start talking to real people again.

The Return of Aunt Flo

"Aunt Flo" Ugh...I've always hated that stupid expression that signified the arrival of of one's period. Why can't women just say "I got my PERIOD"?

Today I got mine for the first time in 16 months. I knew it would return eventually but I was rather enjoying NOT having the bloating and the zits and the moodiness and everything else that comes with the arrival of MY PERIOD. I was blaming a lot of my irritability on being tired and dealing with The Prince's crabbishness due to the thing that I don't want to talk about anymore because I know it's tiresome. You know...the "T" word. In a way this is good. The arrival of MY PERIOD explains a lot.

For example...early the other morning, after being up and down all night with The Prince and dealing with his absolute inability to be content, I was just exhausted and I started sobbing to my husband and insisting that he clearly does not care at all about my mental health and emotional well-being, because if he did he would have somehow found a way for me to, just once, get eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. I swore that I was going to check into a hotel later that day and not come home until I'd captured the sleep that I've been chasing for 16 months.

Later, after I'd gotten a grip and calmed down, I realized I must have appeared really unhinged but alas...it was just MY PERIOD talking. What a relief to know that I will not have to jump through the clusterfuck of hoops known as "managed care" to secure mental health benefits. That might unhinge me for real.

More happy news... According to my toilet-time floor inspection, the bathroom tile seems to finally be losing it's post-pregnancy haircarpet. Soon I expect to be finding nothing but regular old pubic hair on the bathroom floor :-)

Waxing Sentimental

On any given day, it wouldn't be unusual, if you could read my mind, to hear me asking myself "What have I done???" This would be a reference to my children and the fact that we decided to have another one when the first one was 4 and becoming very independent. Now I'm up to my ears in more laundry, diapers, baby food, bottles and nursing pads that seem to end up all over the house. As if that weren't enough to handle, my son is teethng and cranky and lately, seems to never sleep. I complain about this all over my blog. It's not exactly news but for some reason bitching about it makes me feel better.

My daughter, who has become quite an amazing little girl, is a handful in other ways. For one thing, she's like Pigpen. A mess seems to follow wherever she's been. I used to be able to help her pick up but now I always have a baby in my arms. Nagging her to do it herself is exhausting in it's own right. The end result is that my once mostly tidy house has become a torrent of toys, baby items and my own clutter that I don't seem to be able to find a place for anymore or the time to even try (well, maybe if I wasn't BLOGGING...)

My daughter also talks a lot. This is not at all uncommon for the age. Every mother of a five yr old will tell you the same thing but for me, it's like sensory overload sometimes. The baby is fussing or crying or saying his new favorite word, dadadadadada, which may or may not be his version of "Daddy", my daughter is happily chattering, singing or humming endlessly and usually some toy or other thing is making noise or music. Is it any mystery why I sound like such a crab sometimes?

Before you write me off as just another miserable SAHM, I do, thankfully, have other thoughts; pleasant ones even...

For example, I'm frequently thinking how much I love these two beings. No matter how stressful motherhood is or how tired I am or how much I long for peace and sleep and a clean house, my love for them prevails and trumps everything else. They are so beautiful and so perfect in every imaginable way. I swear to God they emanate light. Every smile, every moment of shared silliness and every hug reinforces my belief that I have, in fact, made the right choices in life.

If you could see how much my children love each other...it would make you tear up. My daughter is so protective of, so kind to and so patient with her baby brother. He gazes at her and follows her every move. He grins with absolute glee when she walks into the room. I never dreamed that I would witness this much love between them. I honestly thought she would be terribly jealous of him but she's not. She seems to intuitively understand that he needs more of my attention and that my love for her is not diminished in the least by my love for him. See? I told you she was amazing. My son, equally enchanting, is now clapping his hands and waving bye-bye. I'm certain I've never seen anything more endearing and precious. Everyday I fall in love with him all over again.

These children have brought me closer to pure love and joy than anything else in my entire life. I know I am blessed every time I look at them. These are the thoughts I'm having when I'm not having that other one and prove that I am not a total bitch.

I know this is much sappier than my usual fare and I thank you for your patience. We now return you to your regular programming.

Who's Your Mama?

Friday
I met a friend at the mall today. Our daughters are good friends so we chose the mall with the big-ass play area so they could run around and get their ya-ya's out while we talked. In my head, I refer to this as the Boob Job Mall. Why? Well, because it is a an "upscale" mall intended for people with an excessive amount of disposable income (which begs the question--> Then why do YOU go there? And I would reply..."For the Haagen Dazs play area. Duh") and I swear to God, every woman in this mall that is not a nanny, a grandma or me, has a boob job. Apparently they are the affluent woman's must-have accessory. But anyway, the girls played awhile and when my friend left, I strolled around with my kids for a little bit. And you know what? I still got it! Even without the requisite pair of grapefruit halves sitting on my chest, I still attracted many favorable appraising looks. What do you mean from who? From men! Now, let me remind you, I am a mother of two; one is only 7 months old. I have lamented on this very blog over my 15 lbs of baby weight that will not budge despite a regular workout. Furthermore, I frequently feel that I don't devote enough time to making myself appealing to the opposite sex, including my rockstar of a husband, but apparently, I still got IT! Maybe I shouldn't get too terribly excited about getting once and twice-overed by men that are hanging out at the mall in the middle of the afternoon but whatever...better than being ignored by them, which is a frequent complaint of women as they start to get older. NOT that I'm old yet, mind you. But many women do complain about being invisible to the opposite sex. I don't know what to tell them because...I STILL GOT IT!!! (as noted in previous posts, whenever I seem insufferably conceited, I'm JOKING)

Are you familiar with the store Hot Topic? I was looking into this store as I walked past and while it looks like they have oodles and oodles of super cool, edgy and predominantly black gear, I had to reach back into my past when I was a too-cool-for-school-dressed-in-all-black art fag girl (to anyone not familiar with the term, it's not meant to be an insult to homosexuals and basically, has nothing to do with being gay so please...no lectures ) and ask myself, if you get it at the mall, isn't it like the total antithesis of cool? Isn't the mall, at least for the cooler-than-cool, a place to be avoided at all costs? Maybe it's not like that anymore. I dunno. It just struck me as oxymoronic. Maybe I'm over-thinking it...lol

In other news...

While I have gotten like 8 zillion hits the past few days on this blog, very few chose to de-lurk. I gotta know...is it me? Do I smell? Was it something I said? Do I scare you? I'm just curious. And also a little hurt that only one person bothered to congratulate me on my new job. I am so fucking psyched but apparently you are not. Oh well. If you choose to be a dud and not do the happy dance with me, I guess that's your own lame-ass choice. I still love you, even if you totally suck ;-)

Happy HNT from my Leg!

Good morning, everyone! Before you even consider looking at the photo before you (is it my leg OR my arm?), De-Lurk!




Now...as promised, I am participating in HNT and dedicating it to those who, in keeping with National De-Lurking Week, have posted comments since Monday, with a special nod to Janky. For those of you who have STILL not de-lurked, and there are many, the time is now! Just do it!

Here's a quiz... what is the significance of the photo I posted for HNT? If you read "100 Things About Me", found to your right, you might know the answer.

As an aside, I expect at least a few congrats on the good news I posted below. I'm pretty damn happy about it. Have a GREAT day!

Guess What I Got?

I got a job! It's part-time doing web design and updating. The money is great and they gave me an eMac G4 700 mhz to use at home. This is like 600 times better than my own computer (G3 266 mhz). I'm so psyched. For so long I've been trying to find a steady gig working from home that also doesn't happen to suck. Most of the freelance work I get is crappy production work which basically means doing the scut work that someone else is willing to pay for to avoid doing it themselves. An example would be pathing out 200 pictures of watches for a catalog in Photoshop. It's a no-brainer and I can do it practically with my eyes closed but it's dum-dum work and you can't charge that much for it. Yick! This is so much better. I tried to get this job in August of 2005 and someone kind of threw me under the proverbial bus and, for lack of a better word, stole it from me. Well, this individual didn't produce jack the entire time he had the job and so now it's mine, mine, mine!

Mmmmhmmm. That's right. MINE!

Oh that!

An exchange in my house this morning...

Daughter: Are you not tired anymore? (to me after I finished working out)

Me: Well, I'm still tired but I'm less stressed

Daughter: (looks perplexed)

Me: Stress. It's what makes mommy crazy

Daughter: (face brightens) Oh yeah!


PS... De-lurking is good for the soul!

Shots, shopping and naughty blog searches — Oh my!

Hello all! Have you De-lurked?

Monday

I took the kids to get a flu shot today. I had to go to the health department because their regular pediatrician doesn't have the mercury-free shots. WELL WHY THE HELL NOT??? They started making them mercury-free specifically because parents were concerned about this neurotoxin being used in flu shots but the pediatrician, a doctor for children, doesn't have them? This irritates me. Can you tell? Anyway, my son is 7 months old and didn't even flinch when he got his shot. Not a whimper. Not a tear. He's a big boy. I can only guess that his chubby leg somehow cushioned the blow. My daughter, age 5, climbed behind my chair and didn't want to come out. I felt so bad making her get the shot but seriously, they were both sick the entire Christmas vacation. There was a lot of projectile vomiting, fevers, diarrhea, snot and sleep deprivation involved. The vomiting really sealed it for me. There will be no children sick with the flu in THIS house. Period.

Yesterday we made the pilgimage to the store from hell to buy a new carseat for the baby. Please...the next time anyone hears me say that we need to go to Babies R Us, just beat me senseless right then and there. It will save me a trip. There's nothing on earth quite like BRU on a Sunday. Two hours and a lot of money later, we walked out tired, cranky and totally over it. And that was just the grown-ups. Frankly, I can't believe my husband even agreed to go. He's not a shopper. He won't even go near a mall unless the words "food court" or "Apple Store" are involved. But he was a trooper and actually immensely helpful in navigating through the sea of carseat choices. I have only 2 real requirements in a carseat and those are that it must be easy to use and it can't crush my boy's 'lil peeper. I worry about things like that. I'm not sure if that makes me a good mother...or a freakshow.

It's been three days and the baby is still sleeping in the crib but he doesn't sleep for long stretches like he did before (in our previous ridiculous sleeping arrangement) and likes to wake up at 3 or 4am, flatly refusing to go back to sleep. So what do we do? We put him in the swing. I know this is bad. I know it's prolonging the agony but being up at that hour IS agony so whatever...he sleeps until 7:30am in the swing. Again, I'm getting half of what I want so I am only half as irritated but still twice as tired. *yawn*

And finally, I've saved the best and most bizarre for last ;-P

I don't check my site meter all that often but boy when I do... Here is a small sampling of the more interesting words that people typed into Google's blog search engine that led them to my blog, in some cases rather inexplicably:

exhibitionist
lost my virginity
Baskin Robbins
I feel so sexy
dreamed last night
school uniform fetish
stripper
virginity
HNT
fetish life style
my mom's boobs

I leave you to draw your own conclusions ;-)

De-Lurk for World Peace — OR — if You Like Half Nekkid Thursday

It's National De-lurking Week! This means that instead of just coming and reading and leaving, you leave a comment and say hello or what have you. While you may think your comments are not important, I assure you that myself and most other bloggers really like hearing from you — so say HELLO, dammit!

Oh, come on. It'll be fun. Okay, it may not be fun, per se, but it would make me really, really happy!

And for those of you who came over here to follow up on my threat of participating in Half Nekkid Thursday if you don't delurk... There's been a change of plans. Rather than threaten you with HNT, I've decided I'm going to bribe you with it instead. If you comment, in keeping with National DeLurking Week, I will participate in Half Nekkid Thursday. Do we have a deal or what?

(thanks to Beth for the pic>

Breaking News!

3:45 pm
My son is sleeping in his crib. This may not seem like a big deal but I assure you it's MAJOR! We've been trying to get him to sleep in his crib for a couple weeks and he does nothing but scream and we always wimp out because we are pathetic suckers. Okay. You're right. My husband is not a sucker. It's me. I'm the pathetic sucker.

Now I can't guarantee that he will sleep for long but who cares? He's sleeping in the damn thing. I wanted to regale all my pretend readers with more than this but I promised my real daughter a story and I'm gonna keep that promise.

6 pm UPDATE:
Okay, he only slept for about 45 minutes in his crib but that's not bad. It's about half of a regular nap. Seeing as I only got halfway screwed out of a nap, I'm still halfway psyched. My cup is HALF FULL, goddammit!

10:30 pm ANOTHER UPDATE:
I CAN FEEL HIS TOOTH! This @#$%&! tooth has cost me so much sleep; I thought it was going to be like it's owner and NEVER COME OUT! But tonight he unclamped long enough to let me feel his gums and I felt the tippy top of it. It's about time. I was starting to worry that he might end up being one of those babies that's teething and fussy for an entire year. Anyone who knows me knows I don't do fussy very well. I hope we've been granted a temporary reprieve from the torture of chronic irritability but as my husband so kindly pointed out, his new tooth is really sharp and now he's probably going to bite my boobs. For nearly seven months I've not once thought about that and now I'm totally grossing out on it. Thanks, honey.

You may now exhale...

As promised, my opus is finally complete.

100 Things About Me: A Navel Gazing Extravaganza

(P.S. Please know that whenever I seem insufferably conceited, I'm totally joking)

Exhibitionists of the World Unite

Do you think it's pointless to chronicle all the details of your life if you're the only one reading it? That's not rhetorical. I really want to know. I never cared for journaling all that much. I only enjoyed the part in my "Writing as Self-Discovery" class where the teacher read our journals aloud to the class. I am so NOT your classic exhibitionist, as the recent Glamour article onwomen bloggers suggests we all may be but I guess I'm some kind of exhibitionist OR... is it a case of looking for validation, as one featured blogger claimed to find via blogging? Or the search for a sense of community, as was also mentioned? Or is it all of the above?

Personally, I haven't found a whole lot of any of that. Blogs are great for having an audience but not so good for two way communication. The comments section doesn't really provide for that in a practical way.

I think I am going to set up a message board and link it to my blog. Does the prospect of personal exchanges with yours truly make you guys as giddy with excitement as it makes me?

Also, coming soon...the much anticipated "100 Things About Me." No, I will not pinch you. But please try to curb your enthusiasm. You look funny with that drool on your chin ;-p

You WHAT???

This afternoon I asked my daughter to watch the baby for a minute while I did something on my computer (a mere 10 feet away). She's usually very good about watching him while I run to the bathroom etc.

In her quest to figure out how to turn on Playhouse Disney, she walked away from the him and in that instant he fell off the sofa. Apparently, he was reaching downward to the floor for the remote control (to the dead TV) that happens to be his most treasured "toy". Actually, make that his second most treasured toy. He's a boy. Do I really have to tell you what the first is?

This has all the elements of a "bad mom" gossip session: TV, remote controls, mother-on-computer. This is not good. What is it about the internet that makes us divulge such things?

And I know what you're thinking. I was not blogging. I was checking my bank statement. Really.

So now I know for sure... He has reached that daredevil stage where he will fearlessly launch himsef off anything to get hold of what he wants. It will never happen again. Cross my heart and hope to lose broadband internet.

And by the way, he's fine. Even as he cried he just kept reaching for that remote. He's not even crawling and he's already playing couch commando and hogging the remote. A clear case of nature over nurture...

More later.

Happy 2006!

Hope everyone had a fun and safe New Years Eve. I watched Dick Clark while I chatted on the phone and folded laundry. Yes, I know. I really need to stop living in the fast lane. I have children to consider now. But anyway...do you guys know how they use plastic-coated wire to secure Barbie dolls to the cardboard inside the box? I hate to say this but I think that's what they did with Dick Clark. The poor guy had a stroke like 2 years ago, right? He really looked like he had some plastic-coated wire around his middle securing him to his chair. I don't want to be cruel but maybe it would have been better for him to have been remembered the way he used to be. I really felt bad for him.

And Mariah Carey? What was that get-up she had on? I thought any minute she was going to do a triple lutz, land on her butt and go sliding across the ice. For those of you who are not closet figure skating enthusiasts, I'm saying she looked like an ice skater in that sparkly, spangly outfit. Only Tina Turner can get away with that. Didn't Mariah Carey used to be somewhat dignified? Is it just me or has her cheese factor increased over the last several years right along with her bra size?

Did anyone read the Glamour magazine article about women who blog? Heather from dooce.com was featured. I haven't been to her blog recently but I went after reading the article (along with a million other people) and she's got a pic of the Glamour article right there. You GO, girl!