OK, so I was a bit of a Debbie Downer in my last post and I know all of my followers (all three of you) come here for my clever witticisms and brilliant, self-deprecating humor. But I come here to vomit my mind. If my mental puke makes its way onto your sidewalk, I can only hope that you appreciate getting a little on your shoe. If not, oh well, it's on there anyway.
Anyhoo, I have made pretty substantial strides to reclaiming myself. I've gone walking multiple times this week and have the shin splint to prove it; I went to the tanning bed; and most importantly I GOT MY EYEBROWS WAXED!!!!!!!! This is a major accomplishment in my life. Seriously, they were getting so bushy they itched. It may have been in my head, but it felt like little creatures had inhabited my tiny face forests. When the tore the wax off my face, I didn't hear the desperate cries of a geographically transplanted species, so it probably was all in my head.
In television news The Real Housewives of New Jersey is about to be over (sad), the Falcons are 4-0 (woo hoo!), and I have started to fall for an entire new show: Breaking Amish. That's right, TLC has once again put forth an absolutely ridiculous premise for a show, and it has stolen my heart. 4 Amish and 1 Mennonite 20- Somethings break Amish/Mennonite tradition and go to New York to see if they want to break away from their home culture forever and most likely be shunned/disowned by their family and friends. Bring it on TLC. I can handle your heartbreaking tales of failure and triumph!
Things I have learned from Breaking Amish:
1) I'm super glad I have all my teeth.
2) I must have been so fucking annoying when I was a drunk 18 year old.
3) The preachers' kids are always the worst influences.
4) Apparently red is too bright for Amish women to wear, but bright blue and lime green are ok.
5) Amish people do not cry.
6) Amish pluck their eyebrows.
7) There are red neck Amish men out there who drive with their mouths open. Kristen Stewart style.
I would not make it as an Amish woman.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The Invisible Mother
I feel like motherhood has been a constant, unending struggle. Not really the actual act of mothering: the nursing, cooing, loving, protecting part has come pretty naturally. It's more of an internal struggle against external forces that I am at war with.
I feel like every day is a challenge to preserving my sense of self and establishing my identity as a mother. I'm fighting to convince those around me that I know what I'm doing because maybe if they believe in me, I'll start to. I'm struggling to be thought of as a mother rather than someone who got knocked up and am now dealing with the consequences.
Furthermore I'm struggling not to fade away. My father doesn't kiss me on the forehead when he leaves anymore. He doesn't even say goodbye, actually. He tickles my son, kisses the dog, and leaves. My social life consists of Dora the Explorer, pulling my son away from the edge of the stairs, and being home from 6 o'clock on because I'm the only one that understands and can effectively pull off his routine without upsetting him. If I do venture out, I'm filled with anxiety about if my son's delicate routine is in danger of being broken because his routine is his security blanket. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But where does that leave me?
I haven't waxed my eyebrows in 6 months because somehow I cannot get out of the house for the 5 minute, $8 procedure. I can't sleep through the night because when I wake, I hold my breath while listening to the static on the baby monitor waiting for my son to wake up. I can't remember to drink enough water, or take all my pills. My therapist keeps reiterating that I need to hold onto the things for me so that I don't completely lose myself, but I don't think I know how to do that anymore.
I feel like every day is a challenge to preserving my sense of self and establishing my identity as a mother. I'm fighting to convince those around me that I know what I'm doing because maybe if they believe in me, I'll start to. I'm struggling to be thought of as a mother rather than someone who got knocked up and am now dealing with the consequences.
Furthermore I'm struggling not to fade away. My father doesn't kiss me on the forehead when he leaves anymore. He doesn't even say goodbye, actually. He tickles my son, kisses the dog, and leaves. My social life consists of Dora the Explorer, pulling my son away from the edge of the stairs, and being home from 6 o'clock on because I'm the only one that understands and can effectively pull off his routine without upsetting him. If I do venture out, I'm filled with anxiety about if my son's delicate routine is in danger of being broken because his routine is his security blanket. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But where does that leave me?
I haven't waxed my eyebrows in 6 months because somehow I cannot get out of the house for the 5 minute, $8 procedure. I can't sleep through the night because when I wake, I hold my breath while listening to the static on the baby monitor waiting for my son to wake up. I can't remember to drink enough water, or take all my pills. My therapist keeps reiterating that I need to hold onto the things for me so that I don't completely lose myself, but I don't think I know how to do that anymore.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Always Wear Clean Underwear
Do you remember when your mom used to tell you to always wear clean underwear because if you get hit by a bus, all the paramedics and emergency personnel would see your underwear and inevitably judge you based on the snail trails left in your britches? Well I got hit by a metaphorical bus on Saturday and my metaphorical underwear were metaphorically disgusting.
I went to Babies-R-Us to exchange some shoes that didn't fit Jax/find something to spend my nonexistent money on. I was standing in line at customer service to show someone that I had in fact walked in with the shoes and was not trying to pull a switcheroo (that's right, I used that word.), when I saw my bus. My bus was pushing a pink stroller and loading up bags of merchandise into a cart. My ex was there with the woman he left me for. Now I use the words "ex" and "left me" very loosly: this was my kind of slutty period, so it was more like we saw each other and I fell in love with him and he did not see me as girlfriend material.
Let me point out: he is not my bus because I'm not over him. Looking back, he was pretty much a loser, and it would not have worked out to my benefit at all. But that doesn't change the fact that if I saw him (or anyone I had once dated, for that matter) I wanted to look freaking amazing and show him a) he was stupid to let me get away and b) I wasn't crazy anymore. Unfortunately, I looked something like this:
My hair was up in a VERY messy bun due to bald patches from my son yanking my hair out and/or breaking patches of hair, my post-pregnancy pooch was nestling in for the afternoon (I had just eaten taco bell), and my eyebrows had not been waxed in months. So I hid behind the pregnant woman in front of me and reached the following conclusions:
1) I will never leave the house looking like that again. You never kow who you're going to see. It may be someone that you have petty resentment towards and want them to think you're better than they are.
2) I was lucky to have met my husband because he gave me the mama's boy I so desperately wanted (among other reasons). Since my egg was meant to be fertilized around the same time both men's sperm were meant to do the fertilizing, I got the preferable of the two specimens.
3) My ex, who I remembered looking like this:
actually looks like this:
So though it did not play out exactly as I had imagine, I think the experience had a pretty positive outcome.
I went to Babies-R-Us to exchange some shoes that didn't fit Jax/find something to spend my nonexistent money on. I was standing in line at customer service to show someone that I had in fact walked in with the shoes and was not trying to pull a switcheroo (that's right, I used that word.), when I saw my bus. My bus was pushing a pink stroller and loading up bags of merchandise into a cart. My ex was there with the woman he left me for. Now I use the words "ex" and "left me" very loosly: this was my kind of slutty period, so it was more like we saw each other and I fell in love with him and he did not see me as girlfriend material.
Let me point out: he is not my bus because I'm not over him. Looking back, he was pretty much a loser, and it would not have worked out to my benefit at all. But that doesn't change the fact that if I saw him (or anyone I had once dated, for that matter) I wanted to look freaking amazing and show him a) he was stupid to let me get away and b) I wasn't crazy anymore. Unfortunately, I looked something like this:
My hair was up in a VERY messy bun due to bald patches from my son yanking my hair out and/or breaking patches of hair, my post-pregnancy pooch was nestling in for the afternoon (I had just eaten taco bell), and my eyebrows had not been waxed in months. So I hid behind the pregnant woman in front of me and reached the following conclusions:
1) I will never leave the house looking like that again. You never kow who you're going to see. It may be someone that you have petty resentment towards and want them to think you're better than they are.
2) I was lucky to have met my husband because he gave me the mama's boy I so desperately wanted (among other reasons). Since my egg was meant to be fertilized around the same time both men's sperm were meant to do the fertilizing, I got the preferable of the two specimens.
3) My ex, who I remembered looking like this:
actually looks like this:
So though it did not play out exactly as I had imagine, I think the experience had a pretty positive outcome.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Poor Shaniqua: I May Steal The Contents of Your Freezer
September 7, 2012
One of my nearest and dearest friends (We'll call her Shaniqua) just had a baby. Shaniqua already has a 2 year old boy and just had a little girl. Now Shaniqua and I have one very big thing in common: anxiety. She is actually the first person I met who was seeking help for her anxiety, and she inspired me to do the same. Now we all know that pregnancy and child birth send your hormones into a crazy land of frustration and torment; add an anxiety disorder in the mix and you have a real party.
Also like me, she will never ask anyone for help. I remember when I had Jackson, everyone said the obligatory, "Hey do you need anything? Ok, well if you need anything at all, just call." I just didn't feel right asking someone with their own life and responsibilities for what I really needed: a casserole, a shower, and a clean house. My mother is not in my life, so there was no female figure (or any figure for that matter) that had been there, and would just swoop in and help me re-acclimate to my new role. So I acclimated by attrition.
Shaniqua, on the other hand, has a strong family made up of all women who have had babies. I still hear and see, however, the subtext whenever we speak/text. The subtext being, "I have no clue what I've gotten myself into. I can't do this, my life is falling apart. I haven't showered in two weeks and I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this morning." So I have given myself a mission; I will help her in the way I never was helped and never knew to help before.
The plan as I see it: I texted her this morning. "I'm coming over Monday. If you're not up to it, that's fine. I'm leaving presents and care items at your door. If you are up to it, I'm going to come by and be your personal servant for the day. I know you will never ask for help so I'm forcing it on you. :)" Smiley faces always make you less obnoxious. I will spend the weekend picking up items that helped me out during my first few weeks: granola bars, rolls of toilet paper (I always ran out and never could go to the grocery store), lanolin, and whisky.
September 10, 2012
I woke up with good intentions. I was going to cook a breakfast casserole and Cheddar Ranch Bacon Chicken Pasta (I don't think they could fit anymore delicious foods into that name), get a few things at the store, and go and be Shaniqua's slave. So I start cooking the breakfast casserole when two plan changing events occur: I realize I'm out of eggs and my husband calls and tells me the air conditioning repair man is coming. Awesome.
Luckily Basement Bobby watched Jackson (not an easy task since he's been velcroed to me during the latest teething spell) and I go to the store. Upon arrival back home, I mix up the casserole (baby clinging to my side) and get it in the oven just in time for the AC guy. I'm Suzie Freakin Homemaker, people!
Then my plan falls apart. Velcro baby wants to start cluster feeding, so I can't cook the pasta, I realize I'm out of toilet paper (I guess I never learned my lesson the first time around), and my husband drank all the whisky last night.
Telling myself I'll have to be satisfied with just the breakfast casserole, I make my haul to Shaniqua's house. To my surprise, Shaniqua had it way more together than I could have ever expected. Not only was her little baby girl sleeping peacefully in her pack and play, her house was spotless and she was in the middle of potty training her son. Hoping to find consolation in another mother losing her mind as she was adjusting to a new phase of parenthood as I had, I made a realization: not everyone has had the same struggles I had. I had assumed that someone else had the same needs a me when my own son was miserable and just wanted me to hold him and comfort him. Perhaps my energy and nurturing nature were misdirected....
Then Shaniqua blew my mind. She opened her freezer to show me her pride and joy:
Holy Christ on a cracker. Her baby isn't even a month old and she has enough milk stored to open her own dairy farm. This sight flooded my mind for the rest of the day. I tested her later that night:
Me: "I can't stop thinking about your milk."
Shaniqua: "I don't even know how to respond to that."
I'm so lucky to have the friends I have. Anyhoo, I find it necessary to point out not only is Shaniqua pumping, she is nursing too! This woman is a le leche league goddess.
Things I learned:
1) Don't assume people need you when they don't ask for your help.
2) Take care of your own business before you force your services upon others.
3) I have to start pumping again. In fact, I'm pumping while writing this. Does that creep you out?
4) Always buy toilet paper.
One of my nearest and dearest friends (We'll call her Shaniqua) just had a baby. Shaniqua already has a 2 year old boy and just had a little girl. Now Shaniqua and I have one very big thing in common: anxiety. She is actually the first person I met who was seeking help for her anxiety, and she inspired me to do the same. Now we all know that pregnancy and child birth send your hormones into a crazy land of frustration and torment; add an anxiety disorder in the mix and you have a real party.
Also like me, she will never ask anyone for help. I remember when I had Jackson, everyone said the obligatory, "Hey do you need anything? Ok, well if you need anything at all, just call." I just didn't feel right asking someone with their own life and responsibilities for what I really needed: a casserole, a shower, and a clean house. My mother is not in my life, so there was no female figure (or any figure for that matter) that had been there, and would just swoop in and help me re-acclimate to my new role. So I acclimated by attrition.
Shaniqua, on the other hand, has a strong family made up of all women who have had babies. I still hear and see, however, the subtext whenever we speak/text. The subtext being, "I have no clue what I've gotten myself into. I can't do this, my life is falling apart. I haven't showered in two weeks and I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this morning." So I have given myself a mission; I will help her in the way I never was helped and never knew to help before.
The plan as I see it: I texted her this morning. "I'm coming over Monday. If you're not up to it, that's fine. I'm leaving presents and care items at your door. If you are up to it, I'm going to come by and be your personal servant for the day. I know you will never ask for help so I'm forcing it on you. :)" Smiley faces always make you less obnoxious. I will spend the weekend picking up items that helped me out during my first few weeks: granola bars, rolls of toilet paper (I always ran out and never could go to the grocery store), lanolin, and whisky.
September 10, 2012
I woke up with good intentions. I was going to cook a breakfast casserole and Cheddar Ranch Bacon Chicken Pasta (I don't think they could fit anymore delicious foods into that name), get a few things at the store, and go and be Shaniqua's slave. So I start cooking the breakfast casserole when two plan changing events occur: I realize I'm out of eggs and my husband calls and tells me the air conditioning repair man is coming. Awesome.
Luckily Basement Bobby watched Jackson (not an easy task since he's been velcroed to me during the latest teething spell) and I go to the store. Upon arrival back home, I mix up the casserole (baby clinging to my side) and get it in the oven just in time for the AC guy. I'm Suzie Freakin Homemaker, people!
Then my plan falls apart. Velcro baby wants to start cluster feeding, so I can't cook the pasta, I realize I'm out of toilet paper (I guess I never learned my lesson the first time around), and my husband drank all the whisky last night.
Telling myself I'll have to be satisfied with just the breakfast casserole, I make my haul to Shaniqua's house. To my surprise, Shaniqua had it way more together than I could have ever expected. Not only was her little baby girl sleeping peacefully in her pack and play, her house was spotless and she was in the middle of potty training her son. Hoping to find consolation in another mother losing her mind as she was adjusting to a new phase of parenthood as I had, I made a realization: not everyone has had the same struggles I had. I had assumed that someone else had the same needs a me when my own son was miserable and just wanted me to hold him and comfort him. Perhaps my energy and nurturing nature were misdirected....
Then Shaniqua blew my mind. She opened her freezer to show me her pride and joy:
Holy Christ on a cracker. Her baby isn't even a month old and she has enough milk stored to open her own dairy farm. This sight flooded my mind for the rest of the day. I tested her later that night:
Me: "I can't stop thinking about your milk."
Shaniqua: "I don't even know how to respond to that."
I'm so lucky to have the friends I have. Anyhoo, I find it necessary to point out not only is Shaniqua pumping, she is nursing too! This woman is a le leche league goddess.
Things I learned:
1) Don't assume people need you when they don't ask for your help.
2) Take care of your own business before you force your services upon others.
3) I have to start pumping again. In fact, I'm pumping while writing this. Does that creep you out?
4) Always buy toilet paper.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Boom Goes the Dynamite
Happy Football Sunday everyone! I hope everyone's team won, which is of course an impossibility but I'm just being courteous because all I really care about is the Falcons winning. And they did. I can only attribute their win...their CRUSHING victory...to my baking skills. I cannot believe that it is a mere coincidence that I baked a Falcon's cake in honor of the first regular season game and my team won.
Here was my inspiration:
And here is my magical creation.
Yeah, I know. I pretty much nailed it. I felt that the "cah cah" addition in the corner really brought the cake to life. Where will you find a cake that makes bird sounds? Anyhoo, I know what you're thinking and YES! I will make a good luck cake for you and your team of choice (as long as they're not playing the Falcons.) Just send me a picture and I will bring your vision to life while ensuring your team certain victory.
Here was my inspiration:
And here is my magical creation.
Yeah, I know. I pretty much nailed it. I felt that the "cah cah" addition in the corner really brought the cake to life. Where will you find a cake that makes bird sounds? Anyhoo, I know what you're thinking and YES! I will make a good luck cake for you and your team of choice (as long as they're not playing the Falcons.) Just send me a picture and I will bring your vision to life while ensuring your team certain victory.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
My Life Just Got a Little Better
So I was on my way to a play date with Jax today when I realized two things: I hadn't gotten any wine and I had told the host that I would bring a bottle (That's right, I go to the kind of play dates with alcohol. What? Got something to say? I didn't think so.) and I was hungry. But I wasn't just, "Oh, I could go for some tacos" hungry, I was "I haven't eaten in days and I'm not above ripping off your arm and tearing it apart" hungry. When I get to that level of hungry, it's not a pretty sight: shit get real. I throw fear of tickets and legal repercussions to the wind, and no obstacle will come between me and chicken tender meal.
Let me take this opportunity to mention that my baby woke up teething. The kind of teething where he won't eat, sleep, or stop whining/crying. He had taken a nap before we left and seemed to be feeling much better, so I was giving the play date the old college try. His hatred for his car seat, however, had reawakened his case of the nasties, so he was screaming during my entire chicken tender quest.
So at this point had resigned myself to be a sub par guest and forgo the wine. As I pulled into the Burger King parking lot, however, the clouds parted and God himself shined down upon the most beautiful sight my weary eyes had seen. Behold my discovery:
That's right; your eyes do not deceive you. That is a drive through liquor store. I no longer had to a) fight with my screaming child as I took him out and put him back in his car seat to get a bottle of wine or b) face judgmental stares as I peruse the shelves with a 6 month old pulling on my face. So after I got my food and situated my passenger's seat into a smorgasbord of chicken, fries, and various condiments, I pull through the liquor store drive through, feeling a bit giddy about the novelty.
A somewhat attractive man comes to the window, and I keep it classy:
Me: Can I have a bottle of your cheapest moscato?
Him: A fifth bottle?
Me: ...
Him: Like a regular sized bottle?
Me: Oh, yeah.
Him: Sprakling?
Me: Yes, please! (Like I said, classy.)
So after he flirts with me a little bit over my screaming son, I debate the caliber of man I'm attracting that hits on me through a liquor drive through window while my son is in the backseat crying. I also wasn't wearing my wedding ring because after my pregnancy, I developed a metal allergy. So maybe he thought I was easy. Especially with some sparkling moscato in me.
So I ride off into the sun set--belly full, wine in hand like a good guest, with pissed off baby in tow.
Let me take this opportunity to mention that my baby woke up teething. The kind of teething where he won't eat, sleep, or stop whining/crying. He had taken a nap before we left and seemed to be feeling much better, so I was giving the play date the old college try. His hatred for his car seat, however, had reawakened his case of the nasties, so he was screaming during my entire chicken tender quest.
So at this point had resigned myself to be a sub par guest and forgo the wine. As I pulled into the Burger King parking lot, however, the clouds parted and God himself shined down upon the most beautiful sight my weary eyes had seen. Behold my discovery:
That's right; your eyes do not deceive you. That is a drive through liquor store. I no longer had to a) fight with my screaming child as I took him out and put him back in his car seat to get a bottle of wine or b) face judgmental stares as I peruse the shelves with a 6 month old pulling on my face. So after I got my food and situated my passenger's seat into a smorgasbord of chicken, fries, and various condiments, I pull through the liquor store drive through, feeling a bit giddy about the novelty.
A somewhat attractive man comes to the window, and I keep it classy:
Me: Can I have a bottle of your cheapest moscato?
Him: A fifth bottle?
Me: ...
Him: Like a regular sized bottle?
Me: Oh, yeah.
Him: Sprakling?
Me: Yes, please! (Like I said, classy.)
So after he flirts with me a little bit over my screaming son, I debate the caliber of man I'm attracting that hits on me through a liquor drive through window while my son is in the backseat crying. I also wasn't wearing my wedding ring because after my pregnancy, I developed a metal allergy. So maybe he thought I was easy. Especially with some sparkling moscato in me.
So I ride off into the sun set--belly full, wine in hand like a good guest, with pissed off baby in tow.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Beyonce--My Personal Hero
This is easily the funniest thing I've ever read. I've read a lot of humorists in my day, and I usually do an internal "huh huh," but I pee myself every time I read this. I mean, don't get me wrong; the lack of kegels doesn't help, but it's pretty damn funny.
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| I'm sorry I wss unclear-- Click the Picture |
Hello Senility, Your Dress is Lovely.
I also realize it's even sadder that the last few grocery lists I've made have resulted in me forgetting which recipes all the food I bought went with, the food going bad, and me and my family ordering pizza. My solution? Blog. That way all I will have a responsibility to my followers followers (both of you), and I have a record of my thought process upon planning this shopping trip.
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| Parmesan Crusted Chicken |
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| French Breakfast Muffin that promise to melt in your mouth and hopefully not on my ass. |
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| Banana Oatmeal Breakfast Cookies |
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| Chicken Broccoli Casserole |
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| Bacon Ranch Chicken Pasta |
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| Bacon Chicken Crescent Ring--First Official Football Sunday of the Season!!! |
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| Spicy Honey Chicken |
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
I Should be Ashamed....
There are some thoughts and actions that pop up in my life everyday that make me stop and think, "Sweet Jesus....What have I become?" To unburden myself I'm releasing them into cyberspace like little retarded doves flying into each other.
*When I have to go to the bathroom, I put my baby in the tub and let him play.
*I'm trying to teach my son how to say "dah dah" so when he wakes up in the middle of the night and says "dah dah," my husband will have no choice but to go and handle it.
*When my baby is naked, I wave his hips back and forth so his little package is flopping around and I say "Magic Mike! Magic Mike!" which makes him giggle in delight.
*I find it's difficult to use the "Being a stay at home mom is just as demanding as your job, if not more! I can't clock out!" argument when my husband comes home and wakes me up from a nap. I plan my napping schedule accordingly.
*I get my child naked just to stop him from crying sometimes.
*If my child is crying and I know he's not hungery, I'll still feed him Gerber's baby junk food to shut him up.
*My boobs used to be a crumb catcher. But now that I'm breast feeding and usally feed him while I'm eating, my baby is my crumb catcher. And my meat catcher...potato salad catcher...coleslaw catcher.....
*When I have to go to the bathroom, I put my baby in the tub and let him play.
*I'm trying to teach my son how to say "dah dah" so when he wakes up in the middle of the night and says "dah dah," my husband will have no choice but to go and handle it.
*When my baby is naked, I wave his hips back and forth so his little package is flopping around and I say "Magic Mike! Magic Mike!" which makes him giggle in delight.
*I find it's difficult to use the "Being a stay at home mom is just as demanding as your job, if not more! I can't clock out!" argument when my husband comes home and wakes me up from a nap. I plan my napping schedule accordingly.
*I get my child naked just to stop him from crying sometimes.
*If my child is crying and I know he's not hungery, I'll still feed him Gerber's baby junk food to shut him up.
*My boobs used to be a crumb catcher. But now that I'm breast feeding and usally feed him while I'm eating, my baby is my crumb catcher. And my meat catcher...potato salad catcher...coleslaw catcher.....
Second-hand Deer Head, a New Camera, and an Unresponsive Husband--My Labor Day Weekend.
Before reading on, you need to know three things about me:
1) My in-laws clean out foreclosed homes
2) I'm a shopaholic and staying at home all day is not helping
3) My husband told me I'm not allowed to talk about him or anything that happens between us in my blog.
Enjoy.
So we went to my in-laws' house for Labor Day. As we were making our way through the garage, I saw a mounted deer head staring at me from the ground. What. The. F. "Yeah we found this in a home. We can't give it away!" my mother-in-law said. Can't imagine why.
"That thing creeps me out. It keeps staring at me," my father-in-law alerted me. Noted.
So about an hour later, after I've randomly popped around the house letting Bubba (the deer) stare at my father-in-law through the windows, we're playing with Jackson on the floor when someone (ahem) gets the idea to put Jackson on the deer head. Like he's riding it. Pretty bad ass, right? I thought so. So after some laughs and questionable positions (as to their safety, not their appropriateness), we did the normal new parent move: CAMERA TIME!!!!
After clicking and reclicking our crappy camera, we realized we were not going to get a good picture. They were all blurry. I tried taking a few other pictures and realized they were all blurry too, regardless of playing with the settings. Aw heck naw. This isn't going to work for this obsessive mother. To the internet to find the best camera our pittance of an income can buy! I will dedicate myself to finding the best camera for the least amount of money. I love a good bargain. It's like a win in the game of capitalism. If I find out someone got something I have for less than what I paid, I vomit in my mouth a little.
Today I posted on Facebook that I need a good camera and I need recommendations pronto. I immediately get a message from my husband: "What did you do to our camera?" A brief history; I am terrible with electronics. I've lost countless phones (due to alcohol), been present for the malfunction of many computers (I refuse to say that I broke them. I was just using then when they stopped working. Coincidence I say, but Basement Bobby and my husband aren't buying it.), and broken one camera (due to a bat flying into me in Africa. At least I'm telling everyone it was bat. Besides, what was I supposed to do? It was kill or be killed, and the camera was a casualty in my plight.) So my husband assumed I broke the camera. I think it's a faulty product.
Regardless I can smell the panic in his message. This should be fun. So I explain to him that I didn't do anything to anything, and then ask for his log in to use his points he earns at work. If he gets good customer reviews, he gets points to purchase products from their little inventory. Well, little isn't appropriate. They have everything. Vacations, tool, baby toys....AND CAMERAS!
He automatically comes back with, "I don't have enough point for a camera." I know this is true, but I also know he's stocking these points away for something for himself. I'm fine with this, he doesn't do much for himself, but I can't resist an opportunity to mess with him. South Africans are like Italians: hot tempered and quick to react. Excellent.
"I know I just want to look." He gave me his log in information. Darn it, no bite. So someone asks me what my price range is in response to my status. "Under $1000," I respond. This should do it. No messages. "What time will you be home?" I ask, poking to see if I'm being ignored."
"I don't know. We're pretty dead." Huh.... this is odd. Maybe he's fine with the $1000 camera idea? Sweet. So this game has lost my interest. I start unpacking a box I got from UPS. My video baby monitor has come! I put a ton of thought, research, and soul into choosing this baby monitor. Then I see a golden opportunity for more antics: "I got the video monitor!!!! Do we have screws?" I message.
"For?" he responds.
"To mount the camera for the baby monitor." Aw yeah. I can see it now: "We're not going to destroy the wall to mount a camera! We already have a perfectly fine baby monitor! We'd have to repaint the wall..." or maybe even, "Do not even THINK about mounting that yourself."
"I'll take care of it when I get home." Seriously? I'm not comfortable with this composed, even-tempered version of my husband. I'm very confused.
On a related note I've realized I have way too much time on my hands so here are my Pinterest goals for the week:
Wish me luck!
1) My in-laws clean out foreclosed homes
2) I'm a shopaholic and staying at home all day is not helping
3) My husband told me I'm not allowed to talk about him or anything that happens between us in my blog.
Enjoy.
So we went to my in-laws' house for Labor Day. As we were making our way through the garage, I saw a mounted deer head staring at me from the ground. What. The. F. "Yeah we found this in a home. We can't give it away!" my mother-in-law said. Can't imagine why.
"That thing creeps me out. It keeps staring at me," my father-in-law alerted me. Noted.
So about an hour later, after I've randomly popped around the house letting Bubba (the deer) stare at my father-in-law through the windows, we're playing with Jackson on the floor when someone (ahem) gets the idea to put Jackson on the deer head. Like he's riding it. Pretty bad ass, right? I thought so. So after some laughs and questionable positions (as to their safety, not their appropriateness), we did the normal new parent move: CAMERA TIME!!!!
After clicking and reclicking our crappy camera, we realized we were not going to get a good picture. They were all blurry. I tried taking a few other pictures and realized they were all blurry too, regardless of playing with the settings. Aw heck naw. This isn't going to work for this obsessive mother. To the internet to find the best camera our pittance of an income can buy! I will dedicate myself to finding the best camera for the least amount of money. I love a good bargain. It's like a win in the game of capitalism. If I find out someone got something I have for less than what I paid, I vomit in my mouth a little.
Today I posted on Facebook that I need a good camera and I need recommendations pronto. I immediately get a message from my husband: "What did you do to our camera?" A brief history; I am terrible with electronics. I've lost countless phones (due to alcohol), been present for the malfunction of many computers (I refuse to say that I broke them. I was just using then when they stopped working. Coincidence I say, but Basement Bobby and my husband aren't buying it.), and broken one camera (due to a bat flying into me in Africa. At least I'm telling everyone it was bat. Besides, what was I supposed to do? It was kill or be killed, and the camera was a casualty in my plight.) So my husband assumed I broke the camera. I think it's a faulty product.
Regardless I can smell the panic in his message. This should be fun. So I explain to him that I didn't do anything to anything, and then ask for his log in to use his points he earns at work. If he gets good customer reviews, he gets points to purchase products from their little inventory. Well, little isn't appropriate. They have everything. Vacations, tool, baby toys....AND CAMERAS!
He automatically comes back with, "I don't have enough point for a camera." I know this is true, but I also know he's stocking these points away for something for himself. I'm fine with this, he doesn't do much for himself, but I can't resist an opportunity to mess with him. South Africans are like Italians: hot tempered and quick to react. Excellent.
"I know I just want to look." He gave me his log in information. Darn it, no bite. So someone asks me what my price range is in response to my status. "Under $1000," I respond. This should do it. No messages. "What time will you be home?" I ask, poking to see if I'm being ignored."
"I don't know. We're pretty dead." Huh.... this is odd. Maybe he's fine with the $1000 camera idea? Sweet. So this game has lost my interest. I start unpacking a box I got from UPS. My video baby monitor has come! I put a ton of thought, research, and soul into choosing this baby monitor. Then I see a golden opportunity for more antics: "I got the video monitor!!!! Do we have screws?" I message.
"For?" he responds.
"To mount the camera for the baby monitor." Aw yeah. I can see it now: "We're not going to destroy the wall to mount a camera! We already have a perfectly fine baby monitor! We'd have to repaint the wall..." or maybe even, "Do not even THINK about mounting that yourself."
"I'll take care of it when I get home." Seriously? I'm not comfortable with this composed, even-tempered version of my husband. I'm very confused.
On a related note I've realized I have way too much time on my hands so here are my Pinterest goals for the week:
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| This will be my endeavor for dinner tonight: sweet potatoes for one. |
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| Making this for my friend, except I'm putting fake pearl strands on it instead of painting them on. But I'll also need to make.... |
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| A homemade bow. Because I can never find exactly what I want. |
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| This is easily the most scary. I have no artistic ability at all. |
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| This is an on-going project. Mine will be a bit different, but same idea. |
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| And I'm between making this (banana oat breakfast cookies)... |
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| And Banana Peanut Butter Oatmeal Squares |
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| And finally...a cheap baby toy with scrap fabric. |
Wish me luck!
*****UPDATE*****
Strange events continued throughout the day with my husband. He came home, went to the store for me, went BACK to the store after dinner when I mentioned craving sweets, bought two different types of sweets I was craving, hung the baby monitor, and took out the trash. I don't really know what's going on. Two logical options: either he's suddenly decided to be the perfect husband and developed overnight this intrinsic knowledge of exactly what I need from him (cookies) or he has a twin that I never knew about who has been lurking in the underbellies of society, came back in his life, killed him, took over his identity and turns out to be a pretty awesome guy. I'm not asking questions. I've seen enough Mob Wives to know to respect the code of silence.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Job Hunting
In today's job market, many job seekers in a variety of fields are screwed. It just so happens, the field I am certified in (education) is one of those fields in my state. I have been looking for a teaching job since December of 2009 to no avail. Part of the problem was I had a full time job that paid far too well for me to cut back at or quit. Also, my husband and I were trying to financially prepare for our future baby, and a teaching job would have been a pay cut. So now I have all the time in the world to throw myself into finding a job that I am passionate about.
I had an interview at a somewhat high risk (ghetto) school earlier this week. The position is part time teaching remedial English. That would be a turn off for many people, but I actually really enjoy teaching this demographic. I don't know, maybe part of me secretly sees myself as the teacher from Freedom Writers (I'm wearing my pearls dammit!) and wants to fight the good fight. So I went to the interview and things went well, other than Basement Bobby asking me if I was trying to go for the slutty teacher look. As I'm reflecting on the possibility that I may get the job I've been fighting for for years I realize...I don't want to work! I had pretty much resigned myself to the idea of staying home with my son until next school year and was starting to get pretty excited about it! I had so many Pinterest projects I wanted to try and fail at! Who is going to make the capes for his first birthday party if I'm working? I know my husband won't! And if he does they will probably be wrong. Or have a giant felt penis on them. A birthday party with no cape is not an option. Same goes for the comic themed cake pops, super hero goodie bags, and super girl tutus for the little girls. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?!?
On a related note, I found a school in my area that is an extension of home schooling, and they even provide tutors to celebrity children. Being the consummate groupy and creepy fan girl that I am, I immediately e-mailed the head of hiring. She responded with the a request for my resume and a list of all the subjects I'm certified to teach and signed the e-mail "thx jen". Hrm. Wait--subjects? As in plural? Are there people in my area that would respond, "Oh, yes. I'm certified in English, Math, Spanish, German, Science, and synchronized swimming." Maybe this is my competition. Maybe that is why I haven't gotten a job.
Oh well. I guess if I don't get this job, I'll spend this school year failing at Pinterest, planning the most fabulous birthday party that the recipient won't even remember, studying German, and taking synchronized swimming classes.
I had an interview at a somewhat high risk (ghetto) school earlier this week. The position is part time teaching remedial English. That would be a turn off for many people, but I actually really enjoy teaching this demographic. I don't know, maybe part of me secretly sees myself as the teacher from Freedom Writers (I'm wearing my pearls dammit!) and wants to fight the good fight. So I went to the interview and things went well, other than Basement Bobby asking me if I was trying to go for the slutty teacher look. As I'm reflecting on the possibility that I may get the job I've been fighting for for years I realize...I don't want to work! I had pretty much resigned myself to the idea of staying home with my son until next school year and was starting to get pretty excited about it! I had so many Pinterest projects I wanted to try and fail at! Who is going to make the capes for his first birthday party if I'm working? I know my husband won't! And if he does they will probably be wrong. Or have a giant felt penis on them. A birthday party with no cape is not an option. Same goes for the comic themed cake pops, super hero goodie bags, and super girl tutus for the little girls. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?!?
On a related note, I found a school in my area that is an extension of home schooling, and they even provide tutors to celebrity children. Being the consummate groupy and creepy fan girl that I am, I immediately e-mailed the head of hiring. She responded with the a request for my resume and a list of all the subjects I'm certified to teach and signed the e-mail "thx jen". Hrm. Wait--subjects? As in plural? Are there people in my area that would respond, "Oh, yes. I'm certified in English, Math, Spanish, German, Science, and synchronized swimming." Maybe this is my competition. Maybe that is why I haven't gotten a job.
Oh well. I guess if I don't get this job, I'll spend this school year failing at Pinterest, planning the most fabulous birthday party that the recipient won't even remember, studying German, and taking synchronized swimming classes.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
We Got the Funk
This commercial is my life in male form. I always said if I had a son, he would be one of these boys. I guess we'll see!
Top 10 Most Useful Baby Items 0-6 Months
Here is a list of all the things I've either been seriously thankful for that I got at the baby shower or had to run out and buy because I realized I just couldn't survive without it. These items are definites for a registry or baby shower.
10) Video Baby Monitor
The reason this is so low on my list is simply because my child just turned six months and I just broke down and ordered one. But with the various stages of sleep training and my highly anxious personality, my lack of one caused many sleepless nights. When I let Jackson cry for the presribed ten minutes when breaking the swaddle, I was convinced he had slipped his leg through the crib slats and broken his leg. Irrational, yes, but I know I'm not the only one. Save yourself some stress and shell out the extra money for peace of mind. I got mine on Ebay for $99.
9) Sleep Sack
A perfect bridge between the swaddled to unswaddled stages, this is also the only approved "blanket" for babies under the age of one. Mine has been invaluable and I even bought a second one that was lighter weight because the first one I bought was definitely a bit hot for summer nights in the south. My only complaint is that the one I ordered has "Back is Best" embroidered on the front along with jungle animals. I was a little irritated that the company felt like I need to be lectured about SIDS safety by a giraffe.
8) Bassinet
I never actually bought a bassinet. I borrowed one from a friend, and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for this one. Although Moms on Call preaches "straight to the crib" from the hospital, I used the one I borrowed for the first six weeks. It was easier to have him right next to me after I let him cry for the prescribed 2-5 minutes rather than trek across the house multiple times a night. Later he got sick a few times, and I had already given the bassinet back. I was up multiple time at night administering Children's Tylenol and snuggles. Ultimately I just brought him in bed with me to provide some sort of comfort so he could get the rest he needed.
7) Hyland's Teething Tablets
I put off getting these because my pediatrician said it was best to use something topical (i.e. Baby Orajel) rather than systemic medications. I gave him teethers (both frozen and regular), let him chew on my fingers, and pretty much let him do whatever he wanted to do. Finally it got to the point where he wouldn't eat. My poor little man as so miserable. All he wanted to do was eat and sleep, and his poor gums wouldn't let him. I finally got some of these tablets, and within ten minutes, he was full and sleeping on my lap. Seeing his little content face made me decide to always have these little saviors on hand. I have a bottle in my diaper bag and medicine cabinet at all times.
6) Doorway Bouncer
My little man, like most little men, is extremely hyper active. It got to where I couldn't just sit him in his Bumbo or Exersaucer to entertain him while I was tending to the house. Then I realized I had gotten this bad mamma jamma. I hooked it up, and he started going crazy. He got a running start and rammed anyone walking by, he jumped all around, and he slammed all the buttons until if I heard Yankee Doodle Dandy one more time, I swore to God I would take my own life. That being said, he started being able to put more weight on his feet and understanding how to walk. I now get an hour every morning with him totally entertained and giddy while I do household tasks.
5) Baby Brezza
So I understand that not all parents make their own baby food, and I am not knocking that at all. With my son's food allergies, I'm perhaps a bit overly anal retentive about what goes in his body. Just ask my in-laws, they'll tell you. My father-in-law tells my regularly. Anyhoo, I realized it's pretty easy to make food for Jax. All you have to do is peel it, chop it, press the button, and BAM! You're super mom.
4) Bumbo
Seriously this thing is awesome. It helps babies learn how to sit up, which is my favorite development so far. It also sits them up so that they can see the world while your hands are full doing something else (always in the same room!) Even though my son is at the super active stage where it's easy for him to roll right out of the Bumbo and start crawling(ish) somewhere else, I still use this for feeding. I don't even have a highchair because with the feeding tray, this does the job at this stage.
3) Boppy
Obviously the Boppy is awesome for nursing and that is my main use for it. It is also great for propping your baby, tummy time, and helping your baby sit. Sometimes my husband even uses it as a pillow. I will say this is one of those things you have to get the name brand. I had the off-brand originally and the middle sunk in. Jax would slowly slump down while feeding and get his head in all sorts of ridiculous positions.
2) Sleep Sheep
As part of the Mom's on Call program, you need a while noise machine. The Sleep Sheep has 4 different options: heartbeat, rain, ocean, and ocean with whales. It automatically shuts off after 45 minutes, which is great for not making your baby dependent on white noise for soothing. We love it so much, we even got the travel Sleep Giraffe that has all sorts of jungle noises.
1) SwaddleMe's
Ok, so realize this looks a little ridiculous, but it is a beautiful sight to see a sleepy little baby burrito in the crib every morning. Many parents say, "Oh, my baby didn't like to be swaddled." Bullshit. Just because they break out doesn't mean they don't like it. My son would struggle and grunt and cry, but once he got to sleep, if his arm got loose, he would raise hell. Breaking the swaddle was so hard, but it was way better to go through that at a latter stage than when he was still a newborn trying to get used to everything else. That being said, I was AWFUL at swaddling. I was so "thrifty," that I swore I would figure out how to swaddle. I was not about to spend $20 on a glorified blanket with Velcro. About a week of sleepless nights had me running to Babies'R'Us, cash in hand.
What could you not live without the first six months? Did I forget something? What can I not live without for months six through twelve?
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