Thursday, June 29, 2006

Old friends

I was reading a few different blogs about books and had to chime in on the subject. (It's books. Of course I'm going to chime in.)

When I was young, the library in my town would sponsor a summer reading contest. I can't remember what the prize was - probably a book - but I do remember inhaling library books at an incredible rate. I'd ride my little blue Schwinn down the hill and get a shiver of anticipation as I walked thru the doors into the cooled hush of the place. I'd carefully peruse the shelves, making sure I didn't take something I'd read already. While I had no problems re-reading a book, you didn't get credit for it for the contest.

Nancy Drews were always a favourite. Easy to read and fun, although I was always waiting for Ned to kiss her and he never did. Hmph. I think I whipped thru the Little House books in a week and a half - I blame Laura Ingalls Wilder for my historical fiction penchant.

These were the books I tucked into the little wicker basket on the front of my bike, keeping a hand protectively on them on the ride home. The ones I'd race outside with, to crawl under my neighbour's grape arbour with a cup of grape Zarex and an apple, brushing away the odd earwig or inch worm that would drop from the leaves, getting completely lost in the words on the page.

I begged for books for my birthday and Christmas and would always get several. I've kept them all these years, in the hopes that one of my kids will want to read them, but now that they're old enough, I find I can't part with them. I did buy them their own copies - I'm not heartless - although they both tend to prefer newer authors. Hopefully O will be as enchanted by some of these as I was, though.

I don't know anyone else who's ever read this, so if you have, speak up. I loved this book. Short sci-fi-ish stories. Not too technical, but endlessly fascinating. The story that stuck in my mind the most was the one about the guy who goes to an All-You-Can-Eat buffet in order to supply his starving planet with food.

I loved this one. I loved any book that dealt with hidden doors, magical wardrobes or being transported back in time. This one fit the bill perfectly. And I still love the name Sarah.

My poor, battered copy of Harriet The Spy. Ever since reading this book, I've wanted to try a chocolate egg cream and have yet to do so. I LOVED this book (as evidenced by the missing front cover and torn off back). I still re-read this book.

I always felt a bit sorry for Pippi Longstocking. I loved her adventures and laughed along with her tales, but she always seemed a bit sad and lonely to me. And I still have no idea what those cookies were that she was always eating. Pfefferneusen?

This one made me want to run away to the Met, too. Desperately. Another one I re-read to this day.

I know it's kind of cliched to like Alice, but I do. The situations were so absurd and funny or just plain weird and kind of creepy that it continuously appealed to me. I liked this one better than Thru The Looking Glass.

It's a little embarassing to admit that I barely remember what this was about, but I remember loving it. Hmmm. Maybe it's time to re-read this one, too.

It's even more embarassing to admit that I stole this from the church library. I was raised a Quaker and we had our Sunday Meetings in an old Victorian house. On the second floor was a library full of donated books. I loved this one so much that I swiped it. I completely identified with Jo, as much as I would have liked to be the saintly Beth or the pretty Amy (who snagged Laurie, the lucky thing), I was much more Jo-like than anything. Meg just got on my nerves.

And finally, the book that started my whole Tudor/Plantagenet obsession. I first read this when I was 12 years old and I still love it. I love the gumshoe detective and I love that they solved (well, depending on your theories about Richard III) the mystery about the Princes in the Tower.

There are so many other books that I loved...Misty of Chincoteague, Rebecca's War, the Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey...the list is almost endless.

Hey, here's one for you. I remember reading a book about a girl who would look into one of those reflecting balls people have in their gardens and she'd get transported back in time. I can't remember if she had epilepsy or the girl she became when transported had epilepsy. Is this ringing a bell with anyone? I'd love to know what it was called - I read it several times, but seem to have lost it over the years.

The baby is sleeping and I can feel Betsy calling my name....

Mold, mildew and mushrooms.

Fucking rain, man. I don't think we've had more than 5 days of sunshine for the entire month of June. May sucked ass, too. It poured yesterday. It's going to pour again today. It may be sunny tomorrow and Saturday, but Sunday will bring thunderstorms again.

I have mushrooms in my back yard - more mushrooms than grass at this point. My tomato plants are going to rot in the garden because it's not a garden so much as it is a mud patch. My cellar, which stinks of mildew, has become a breeding ground for frogs and mosquitoes. The sump pump and dehumidifier are going non-stop, to little avail.

The kids are going nuts. I try to take them out when it's not really raining too hard, but the problem is that is will vomit rain in a matter of seconds. Poor Boo stands there with her arms out by her side and her head down, sputtering and looking pathetic. O gets pissed - plus her pump isn't supposed to get wet. And this isn't normal rain, this is like being in a car wash. Not so great for electronic devices, especially $6,000 electronic devices.

So we're staying in. My floors, as noted in the previous post, are vile. The mop doesn't do shit. It all looks like hell.

And to make things even better, my father and the step-monster are deigning to visit today, which means I have to clean the place because they have one of those houses where you can eat off the floors. My house? Yeah, not such a good idea.

Just what I want to be doing on a humid, rainy morning. Hoovering and mopping and cleaning the house.

Somewhere along the way, I lost a week. I thought I was 33 weeks pregnant as of Tuesday, but I'm 34 weeks. Six weeks. I only have six weeks. Son of a bitch. I'm not ready for this.

Monday, June 26, 2006


That ought to drive up my hit counter.

Does anyone out there know if you can strip linoleum (or vinyl) floors yourself? My kitchen and dining room have these awful vinyl tiles. They're white. Who in their right mind puts down WHITE lino in a kitchen?? They're disgusting. I mop and as soon as the water dries, they look filthy again. My mother suggested I have someone come strip and re-wax them, but I doubt I can afford that. I'm wondering if anyone has done it themselves and if so, how big of a pain in the ass it is. And is it something I can even do while pregnant?

God, I need a rich uncle to kick the bucket and leave me some money. I'm so sick of being broke. I should have been born a Rockefeller....

Bitching About Bloodsugars

O's blood sugars have been thru the fucking ROOF these last few days. It's driving both of us absolutely nuts.

8 a.m. - 196
12 noon - 320
1:30 p.m. - 219
2:45 p.m. - 201
3:30 p.m. - 231
5:45 p.m. - 241
7 p.m. - 224
10:30 p.m. - 321
1 a.m. - 418 (WHAT the FUUUUUUCK?)
2:30 a.m. - 356
6:30 a.m. - 218
8:30 a.m. - 176
9 a.m. - 115 - first in range number in days

This is pretty typical of the last week or so. I'd chalked it up to her getting her period but that's done with and the highs are still hanging around. I upped her 8 - midnight and midnight - 6 a.m. basal rates but I haven't touched her daytime rates yet. Last time I changed basal rates, I was pissed off about highs and did a Rage Basal Change across the board, which sent her blood sugars down the tubes. I swear, she drank about 2 cases of Juicey Juice in four days.

I've injected, changed her site, opened new insulin, done all the things you're supposed to do and none of it is helping. She feels like dried out ass from the highs and I feel like dried out ass from the all night checking.

Last summer, her insulin needs dropped a bit because of all the outdoor playing. This year, it hasn't stopped raining in weeks, so maybe that has something to do with it, but still. She wasn't like this when school was in and she's doing things around the house (she cleaned up the kitchen. Without being asked. I almost fell over.), so it's not like she's sitting on her butt watching tv all day long. I just don't get it. Maybe it's a growth spurt? Maybe the moon is in the wrong phase or the wind isn't blowing just so or I've held my mouth the wrong fucking way. Something's pissing off the diabetes gods. Which, in turn, is pissing me off.

I fucking HATE this disease.

Also, did anyone else in the OC get this? It came yesterday.

We have including a connection to your blog Major Bedhead in our section of connections: PERSONALES, of our blog Diabetes Monitor ( in spanish)

Is possible to have in your blog a connection of courtesy to our blog about diabetes ?

Our link is:
The recognition beyond the sea to our importance you found it in people as

David Mendosa (
Amy Tenderich of 'Diabetes Mine' ( )
Kathleen Weaver of of 'Living With Diabetes' (
Janis Roszler of 'Dear Janis' (
Dr. Alan Flores of 'Diabesidad' ( )
la Dtra. Isabel Echeverry of 'Nutricion Hoy' ( )
Kerri Morrone of 'Six until me' ( ... etc.

. , who even talks back directly contents and holders of our news

We counted on your collaboration?


(sorry, errors due to a clumsy automated translation of necessary Google due to my minimum dominion of the English! )



Recibe un afectuoso saludo, ... y el deseo de que tengas un feliz dia

A L E S * (desde Zaragoza, Spain)

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Rainy day pity party

It didn't take long for me to remember why I don't like staying home all the time. It's the never-ending-ness of it. It's not like work, where you clock in at 8 and leave at 5 and get an hour for lunch.

I'm having a hard time explaining this to TCBIM. He wants to come home from work, maybe putter around the house a bit, fixing this or that, maybe (big maybe) load the dishwasher and then he wants to just veg. He can always find something else to do when it's time to feed Boo or give her a bath or put her to bed. I need to figure out a way to say that I need help. Not much help - I don't want him to do everything every night (well, I do, but even I'm not that delusional), but I would like it if he could just give Boo a bath. It's gotten to the point that she doesn't like him to put her to bed, she just wants me. I don't want to be the only parent, the only one she'll let do things. TCBIM has to be able to do those things, too. It hasn't become too bad yet, but toddlers are stubborn little buggers and it doesn't take much to get them set in their ways.

I can understand that when he comes home, he wants to relax. I get that. He's a plumber. It's hot and muggy and it's hard work. However, I've been working all day, too, chasing around a very active toddler and trying to amuse her and her older sister. I've been doing laundry and dishes and sweeping and vacuuming and making meals and running errands. Then, when he comes home and putters, I make dinner for Boo, give her a bath, put her to bed and then make our dinner. I clean up after dinner. Meanwhile, he's been sitting in front of the tv for an hour or more. There's always so much that needs to be done. O helps, a lot, which is great. But I'd like him to take the initiative and just do things. I don't want to have to ask every single time I need some help. He can see that the rug needs vacuuming or the kitchen needs sweeping - why should I have to point it out to him and ask him to do it? I'm not his mother. I keep saying that to him, but he doesn't get it. He just keeps saying "All you have to do is ask." Thing is, I shouldn't have to ask. Not for simple things like that. Not for mundane, day-to-day chores. And I'll be damned if I'm making up a chore chart. Then I really would feel like his mother.

What I'd really like is a break. Problem is, I don't know where to go or what to do to get that break. I don't want to start volunteering for anything because I'm due in 7 weeks (ack!). I keep thinking about joining the library book group, but can't seem to get organized enough to get down there, get the book, read it and then show up for the meeting. I was thinking about learning how to knit, but again, it's the time to do it. I feel like I don't have time. The days are flying by - it's almost July and I have nothing to show for it.

To his credit, TCBIM keeps telling me to get out and do something. Thing is, I want to do things with him, without the kids, and that never happens. I think we've gone out alone twice in the last 12 months. We have no money anyway, but still. We used to go out all the time. We used to have fun together. And now it seems like we have to have our fun separately because of the kids. It's depressing.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Head's all empty and I don't care

Name that tune.

It is so fucking hot and I am so fucking miserable. It keeps thundering and threatening to rain, but does it? Like fuck it does. *whine*

Right at this very moment, I am letting Boo colour in her book. Me. Someone who holds books sacred. But you know what? It's keeping her quiet. She's not shrieking the house down. She's scribbling all over a Disney Winnie The Pooh book and I'm just FINE with that.

I firmly believe that space aliens have kidnapped my daughter and replaced her with a screaming, shrieking, hellacious termagent. If I didn't believe that then I'd have to accept that my sweet little snuggly baby has become a hellion. And that's what she is - pure, unadulterated hellion. It's unbelievable. I picked a hell of a time to stay home from work.

And now, the dog. We are going to pay for her treatment. TCBIM and I went up there yesterday to discuss all this with them. Because I signed this thing when I went there initially and when I re-read it, it said that I authorized the treatment. So, even though she said she'd call me, I gave the ok for her to treat. It's my own fault for not reading the blurb I signed. But they're letting us pay $25 a month and not charging us interest on that, so it's something. It's not much, but it's better than pay it all up now.

The dog has her back leg strapped up to her body. It's going to be like that for three weeks and it may not work. If it doesn't work, we can either leave it or spend in excess, I'm now being told, of $2000 to get her fixed. Guess I'll have a gimpy dog.

I'm off to melt.

Thursday, June 22, 2006


The damned dog saga continues. I took her to a vet that someone recommended. I had explained our financial dilemma to the woman at the desk and again to the vet when we got there. The vet was very nice and seemed very understanding of the situation. The upshot was that we'd pay for the x-rays and then go from there. We couldn't really tell anything without those, so TCBIM and I talked about it and agreed to the x-rays as a first step.

The vet said she was going to do the x-rays and she would call me and let me know. Well, she DIDN'T call me, she just went ahead and put the dog's leg back in its socket. It took her an hour and the dog was under general anesthesia the whole time. I'd given her $300 because that was going to be roughly the charges for the x-rays. Well, because she went ahead and treated the dog, without my permission, I now have to cough up another $400! Today. And the kicker is that the fucking procedure probably won't work! There's a very high chance that the leg will come out of socket again and then the dog will have to have surgery. We had discussed this before the dog even had one x-ray! That's why I just wanted the x-ray done, so I could decide what we were going to do next. Now I'm out $700 to this damned vet and it's most likely a big waste of money. I don't understand why she did the procedure without calling me first. TCBIM came home and called them, but the vet was already gone. He explained the situation to the woman at the desk, who seemed concerned that the vet hadn't called to ok the procedure. He's going to talk to the office manager this morning.

I'm so angry. It's not that I didn't want the dog treated, it's that I didn't want to PAY for a procedure that multiple vets have told me most likely wouldn't work. Including THIS vet that did the stupid procedure in the first place.

And can I just say? SEVEN fucking HUNDRED dollars? For four x-rays and a manipulation of a socket back into joint? I understand that I'm paying for her expertise and time, but for fuck's sake. Seven hundred dollars? I should have been a fucking vet, like I wanted to back when I was ten.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

The Errant Dog Part III

First of all, Scott, thank you so much for the offer to donate funds for Sadie. It's very kind and generous of you, but I'm going to say no.

Second of all, I'm calling the MSPCA tomorrow to find out if we qualify for assistance to help with her bills. I'm really hoping that we do. I hate to take assistance, but I'll do it if it means I won't have to put the dog down. I thought I really didn't like this dog, but now that the choice is put her down or...nothing, then I'll suck up my pride and take the assistance.

I've been a mess all afternoon, having a major meltdown over this. Not just because it's the dog, but everything. Money problems really suck and we have more than our share right now. I started crying while I was giving Boo her bath and she looked so puzzled. And then she leaned over and wiped my face. So sweet. So heartbreaking.

The Errant Dog Part II

So, the dog has a dislocated hip. At least that's what Skanky Vet Clinic thinks is wrong with her. The vet at Skanky Clinic also said "I do not recommend that you have this taken care of here." Ok then. I'll just be taking my dog elsewhere.

I then called Nice, Clean, Highly Recommended Clinic and they will see her tomorrow. It will cost $300 for x-rays and then they'll tell me how much more it will cost to fix the dislocation. It could be $500, it could be $1200.

The problem is we don't have the money. We barely have the money to get the x-rays done. TCBIM wants to have the dog either put down or give her to a shelter. Both of these ideas make me sick to my stomach, and I honestly don't think a shelter is going to take an injured dog.

I'm taking her NCHR Clinic tomorrow to get the x-rays and then we'll see.

This fucking sucks.

The Errant Dog

This? Is Sadie. Sadie is a Border Collie mixed with Stupid. Lovely dog, pretty, friendly, great with the kids and as dumb as a box of rocks.

Saturday we had a housewarming party. Sadie, of course, got out and bolted, running thru the yard and down the road with a shit-eating grin. A friend of ours showed up on his motorcycle at this point and she started chasing him. He kept going past the house and Sadie ran right out in front of him and he clipped her back leg. He stopped, but she took off. He said she was limping but seemed ok.

We figured she'd come back that night, after everyone had left. That's what she usually does. We called her and walked around the neighbourhood, but we couldn't find her. Sunday morning, when she still hadn't shown up, I drove around looking for her and didn't find her. I didn't find a body either, but that doesn't always mean anything. I called the police and the dog catcher, but they hadn't picked her up.

Yesterday I started calling all the shelters and vets around. No one had seen her. I was starting to think she'd either been taken by someone or had crawled off to die somewhere, that she'd been hurt worse than we thought. Today, I was going to make up posters to put around town, but when I got home from the doctor's, she was waiting by the back door.

She's banged up. I'm taking her in to the vet because I think her back leg may be broken. She's not putting any weight on it and she yelps in pain when she sits or moves funny. This will probably set us back a few hundred dollars. Next time TCBIM says "Oh, just let her run, she'll be fine, she'll come back," I'll wave the vet bill under his nose.

This is why I like cats. Cats don't chase motorcycles. Oscar wouldn't chase anything if his life depended on it. It would be an affront to his dignity. Oscar would starve before chasing down his next meal. I like that in an animal.

Monday, June 19, 2006

The Black Dogs

“I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. - Elizabeth Wurtzel

So, Saturday was our anniversary. TCBIM didn't remember it. I gave him a card, since we can't really afford presents. He hasn't done anything about it - said he was sorry on Sunday, but never even said Happy Anniversary. This goes hand in hand with not getting me anything for Mother's Day or my birthday, which was in November. I think the only reason he remembers Christmas is because of the incessant advertising, otherwise, he'd forget that, too. And it's not that I want lavish gifts, I just want to be acknowledged. I just want him to remember I exist, that I'm alive. I feel, sometimes, like I'm in a soundproof room, screaming and screaming but no one can hear me.

I'm getting very frustrated with him. He's taken procrastination to new heights, heights I never even dreamed of. I do the things that he says he's going to do - whenever he says he'll clean the kitchen, I know it won't happen. When he says he'll do laundry, I know I'll wind up doing it. Stuff like that I can handle. But when he says he'll move the stove into the cellar or haul a bed out of the attic because we promised to give it to someone, well, I can't physically do that right now. And it's pissing me off that he's making ME look like an irresponsible ditz when it's him that can't get his shit together. And then I wonder if it's just me, if I'm the only one feeling this way, if it's because I'm depressed again. Or if he really is being that annoying. I don't enjoy all this second-guessing myself.

I'm just exhausted and he doesn't seem to get it. He rolls his eyes at me when I ask him to do something. I'm 8 months pregnant. I'm pushing 40 years old. I'm fucking TIRED. Physically and mentally tired. And when he rolls his eyes at me, I want to rip his fucking head right off and then boil his skull and use it as a drinking vessel. The amount of rage I feel sometimes is scary.

I'm just really starting to feel like I'm in over my head, in so many ways. I started taking anti-depressants again, but they take a while to kick in and I'm really afraid I'm going to spend the next few weeks snapping at my kids and wanting to just curl into a ball and cry. So far, this staying home lark is sucking ass. I'm trying so hard to hold it together and I'm so afraid I'm going to fail spectacularly.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Blogging In The Moonlight

I have so much to do tomorrow and I should be sleeping, but I can't. I'm too pissed off.

It was supposed to be the ex's weekend with O. She called him because she hadn't heard from him all week and needed to know when he was picking her up. He wanted me to bring her to him. I said no. I had a lawyer draw up a letter when we moved out here (an hour west of him) saying that he would collect her on Fridays and I would pick her up on Sundays. Because I've had to go to his part of the state frequently, he's only had to pick her up here once, in the three plus months we've been here. He went a bit nutty on me when I refused to drive her out there tomorrow, but I said I wasn't going to, that I had too much to do tomorrow to take two hours to get her to him. I said he could get her Saturday morning if that was easier, but I wasn't making the trip out there just for his convenience. He then asked to talk to O.

While on the phone with her, he tried to convince her to skip school tomorrow so he could get her in the morning. She said no. It's her last day of school and she wants to say goodbye to her friends and collect her stuff and all that. He tried to make her feel guilty, but she was adamant about going to school. She then mentioned that she had a soccer game on Saturday morning and if she missed it, she'd get kicked off the team. He got very angry with her because, apparently, they were all going to Maine on Saturday morning. This is the first O and I had heard about this trip.

I got on the phone with him to see if he was going to get her after the game or just wait until Sunday or what he wanted to do. He said "What, she doesn't want to come to Maine?" I said, no, that she never said that, but that if he wasn't going to get her, she was going to invite a friend to the party we're having on Saturday and she needed to ask the girl tomorrow, so we needed to know. When I asked when they were coming back from Maine, he refused to tell me. He said I didn't need to know that. Um, what? You're taking my daughter out of the state, you weren't going to tell me about it and you aren't going to tell me when you'll be back? I don't fucking think so. I don't mind if he takes her to Maine, but I do mind very much not knowing about it and not knowing when he'll have her back. He tried to get me going, tried to throw all kinds of things in my face, but I somehow managed to keep calm and didn't blow up at him. When he wasn't getting anywhere with me, he tried it on O again, trying to browbeat her into skipping school and soccer. Then he told her to forget it, he'd go to Maine alone and that was that. I think she actually hung up on him.

It just infuriates me. She said "Dad, you KNOW how much soccer means to me! I don't want to get kicked off the team," and all he could do was lay a guilt trip on her. She kept trying to say that she wanted to go with him to Maine, but she wanted him to wait until after the game. The game's at 9 a.m., so it's not like it would hold them up that much. And they're going to his sister-in-law's - they don't have reservations anywhere, they don't have plane, train or ferry tickets, they're just going up for a visit. But he refused to listen to her. Said he'd go without her, expecting, I'm sure, for her to call him up, crying and begging him to come get her. I don't think he understands what he's doing to her when he does these things. She cares that she doesn't see him - I'm not going to lie and say she doesn't care - but she gets so mad that she's just as glad not to, at that point. Plus, she has such a bad relationship with her stepmother that it's almost a relief to her when he doesn't get her. She hasn't seen him in 4 weeks and it doesn't seem to be phasing her at all. She doesn't call him, she doesn't talk about him much, I really think he's driven her away.

And part of me is selfishly glad.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

In Which I Go From Topic To Topic

Megan put up a lovely tribute to parents of CWD. Made me get all teary-eyed. Thanks again, Megan.

Today is the first day of my non-working life. Hah. By 8:45, I'd showered, fed and dressed the Boo, changed O's site because it was hurting her, dropped off O at school, dropped off the Boo at daycare (she's almost done with that) and gone to CVS to get prescriptions filled and Tums for me - I am living on Tums these days. Heartburn sucks, man. The only reason I'm home now is because O was supposed to have had a field trip but when I got there to chaperone, she was pale, clammy and feeling pukey, so I brought her home.

The field trip was to see the movie Cars. Now, I want to see this movie and I didn't mind going as chaperone to eleventy-squillion 5th graders (hey, free movie, I'll deal). But the pisser? The thing that's making me shake my fist at the weather gods? It's 70 fucking degrees and SUNNY outside. Slight breeze, not a cloud in the sky, a gorgeous, gorgeous day. Where the fuck was this weather last week, when I was drenched to the armpits, slogging thru the mud at the Granary Burying Ground and being blown down the streets of Boston? Huh? No, gotta save it for the day we're all going to sit inside. Fuckers.

I have to interview someone for an article I'm writing. I've never interviewed anyone in my life. I'm nervous as hell as, as usual, procrastinating like mad about getting it done. It will get done (don't panic, editor-person), but I will be terrified the entire time, just so you know. Terri. Fied.

We are having a housewarming party on Saturday (wanna come?) and I need to clean. I hate cleaning. I wonder what Merry Maids would charge me to come in here and sandblast the place. My sister offered to come over and help, and didn't say she'd charge me for it, either. I know, I had to sit down, too. But she has a bad back, so I don't think she'd be much use. Nice of her, though. Wonder what she wants.

People have been asking about blog templates and where to get them. I got mine from and she was fantastic. I paid and got the template within minutes. When I had problems, she fixed them immediately. I have nothing but good things to say about her. Her designs are cool - she does custom and off-the-rack stuff. Prices vary, of course. Mine was off-the-rack and was $25, which I thought was a good deal. Here's some links to other sites I checked out. So go, browse, be daring. Change is good for you.

Free Sites:

Blog Designers:

Monday, June 12, 2006

Some serious navel-gazing

I'vw had this snippet of lyric stuck in my head for a few weeks. The post under them explains why.

Times when the day is like a play by Sartre,
when it seems a bookburning's in perfect order....

Afternoons will be measured out,
measured out, measured with
Coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot

I rarely expect to think up anything really new or revolutionary, especially when it comes to motherhood/housewife type stuff. I was reading Diary of a Reluctant Housewife tonight and her post pretty much echoes a lot of what I feel.

I’m going to be finishing up work on Wednesday and will be staying at home with the girls from now on. I’ve been trying to find work from home, but haven’t had any luck finding a paying gig. I got a sweet non-paying gig, which could, down the road, turn into something that brings in a bit of money, but for now, I’m gainfully unemployed.

For months, I’ve been saying how much I’m looking forward to this; to spending more time with my girls, to getting things done around the house, to gardening and going for walks and drawing with sidewalk chalk in the driveway and eating popsicles. But now that it’s almost upon me, I’m starting to freak out.

I’m worried that I won’t have the patience or the energy to deal with a very energetic toddler and a often-times moody 11 year-old. I’m worried that I’ll be left staring at 8, 10, 12 hours of day and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with them. I’m worried that I’ll plop them in front of the tv while I go have a meltdown about what I’ve done. I’m REALLY worried that when the new baby gets here, it will only get worse, because then it will be a newborn, a toddler and an often-times moody 11 year-old.

I’m worried that my life will be defined by poopy pants and temper tantrums, by loads of laundry and dirty dishes. That I will cease to be anything more than a stay at home mother, someone to be pitied because she’s let her kids take away her identity.

I’m worried that TCBIM will start to say things like “Well, you’re home all day, doing nothing, why don’t you....” and I will lose it. I’m worried that he’ll start to resent me for not bringing in a paycheck. I’m worried that I’ll start to feel like a whore, wondering if I have to have sex with him tonight so that I can get some grocery money in the morning - all of this happened with my ex-husband, so it’s not like I’m pulling this out of my ass.

The rational part of my brain knows that TCBIM is nothing like my ex-husband, that I am not in the horrible state of mind I was in back then and that I will have a car and friends and a normal town to live in. I won’t be worried about getting evicted - something that happened FIVE times while I was married to my ex.

But the irrational part of my brain has that 1,000 yard stare and is starting to panic and scramble and freak right the fuck out.

The baby is crying...and so it begins.

Hallo. My name is Inigo Montoya

Inigo Montoya

Which Princess Bride Character are You?
this quiz was made by mysti

Ok. That's it for quizzes for now. Promise. This was too good to pass up, though.

It's a Tiki Monkey

So, whaddaya think?

I like it. It has a cool retro-colour, it's different and it has a monkey going nuts on a tiki head. Plus, it makes me think of Eddie Izzard. All in all, a good thing, I think.

Only thing is, I can't figure out how to get the title on top. I hate to play too much because I've already managed to screw it up once. Go, me.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

You can call me Anne

Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?
this quiz was made by Lori Fury

Anna of Cleves got the royal shaft. She came all the way to England to become the fourth wife of Henry VIII. Once married to Anna, he refused to consummate the marriage, and called her the "Flanders Mare". Talk about a burn, considering that by this time, Henry was the fattest man in England and had a rotting syphilis sore on his leg.

Anna was miffed, but she was too sensible to let it ruin her fun. She was given an annulment and a fat yearly allowance, and she threw extravagant parties and dined on delicacies for the rest of her life.

Saturday stuff

Wheyhey, it's raining again. It's only the eleventy-third day in a row. Just LOOK at the mushrooms in my backyard. O was out there last night, catching tiny little frogs. And the mosquitos could carry away a small child. My garden has pretty much rotted in the ground.

I had to chaperone a field trip again. On Wednesday. During a nor'easter. My mind has not fully recovered enough to post about it. It involved mud, rain, hail, gale-force winds and the Freedom Trail. It wasn't pretty. I don't know how I get suckered into these things (oh wait, yes I do, I have a kid with a medical issue) but let me tell you, I do NOT enjoy it. I do it and I'll continue to do it, but I reserve the right to bitch mightily about it.

So, TCBIM started a blog. And I came up with the title. And now I'm pissed because I'm going to start writing something and I want that for my title. So. Do I ask for the title back? Do I use it anyway? Blogs aren't copyrighted, are they? And if I came up with the name in the first place, shouldn't it be mine to use? Listen to me, like my husband is going to sue me for taking the title of his blog.

I want to get a new blog template. I'm sick of the ones available on the site but I don't want to shell out a lot of money for one. However, I know what I want and the freebie/low cost ones just aren't cutting it - at least, not the ones I've seen. So, if anyone has any links to template sites, I'd appreciate it. Also, does anyone know how difficult it is to learn to design templates? Keeping in mind I know nothing about programming/code or any of that. I'm willing to learn, to a degree.

My last day of work is Wednesday. I cannot wait. The commute is kicking my ass - 120 miles a day is not fun. Ever. To celebrate, on Thursday, I'm going to get my hair highlighted. It desperately needs it. I should get a facial or something, too, because everyone keeps telling me I look tired, which, as we all know, is a euphemism for OLD. And I do look old. Or tired. My face is dry, I have huge circles under my eyes and my skin just looks meh. Lotions and potions tend to make it freak out (since I am a delicate, fragile flower. Shut UP.) so I'm a little nervous about it. As well, I probably shouldn't be spending the money, what with not having a paycheck after next Friday.

This is a very random post. I'm feeling more scatterbrained than usual today. And in a few hours, I have to go stand in a soggy soccer field to watch O play. Oh frabjous day.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

God help me

TCBIM started a blog.

Bread and Butter notes

Dear Chick In The Tan Acura,

Merging is good. Merging is something that is often overlooked in this, the land of bad drivers. However, when you merge, kindly turn your head to make sure there isn’t someone already in the lane you want to merge into. It doesn’t take much effort, really, and I would really appreciate not getting hit while going 70 mph down the Mass Pike with a dump truck on my ass.

Thank you.

Dear Theo Epstein,

So, how’s that Bronson Arroyo trade looking today, huh? Beckett lasted, what? An inning and a third last night? Nine baserunners and eight runs scored in that time. It was 12 – 1 by the bottom of the third and who was that guy you brought in to replace Beckett? One of the Bad News Bears? This while the Yankees had three of their best hitters on the DL. You maybe want to work on getting Arroyo back now?

Thank you.

Dear Middle Daughter’s Middle School,

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity, once again, to chaperone a field trip. The Freedom Trail Death March is exactly what I wanted to do tomorrow – I don’t know how you knew. And to do it with a busload of screaming 5th graders? Well, that’s just icing on the cake, isn’t it? I’m sure that tomorrow afternoon, my feet and my ears will also want to write thank you notes.

Thank you.

Dear Youngest Daughter’s Incisors,

Just break thru the gums already. Please. Anything to stop the incessant shrieking and whining and carrying on All. Fucking. Day.

Thank you.


We have two children at home. They both like to be fed every day, multiple times a day. So, yes, we really DO need 20 yoghurts and 2 loaves of bread and, as you put it, “enough paper towels for a small army.” Your constant complaining over every fucking article I put in the trolley is getting old. It’s only been this way for the last six years. You should probably figure it’s going to be like this for the next 20. m’kay? And if you get to buy a 12-pack of beer once or twice a week, then I get to buy Fudgesicles. So Shut. Up.

Thank you.

Friday, June 02, 2006


A pangram is a sentence that contains all letters of the alphabet. One of the most famous one being “The quick brown fox jumps over a lazy dog.” Here is more info about pangrams, but the object of this meme is just to see your handwriting.
Get a piece of paper, then write the sentence “The quick brown fox jumps over a lazy dog.”

Sign it with your first name or your handle (not your signature) and take a picture. Then post this and your picture on your blog!

It is that simple… (Leave a comment here or a trackback once you have posted.) Link back, don’t be shy!

D'oh. I forgot to link back to the person I got this from. Just The Six of Us. My apologies.

How not to be woken up

There are plenty of lovely, easy ways to be woken. Your spouse/partner/person you share your bed and heart with could nibble on your ear and drop kisses down your cheek until you woke up. You could be brought breakfast in bed and allow the tantalizing aroma of coffee and pancakes rouse you from your slumber. If you have a child, you could be woken by them crawling into bed with you for a bit of a snuggle. All of these methods, and more, allow you to be woken gently, easily and with a serious lack of shock to the system.

There are, however, ways of being woken up that should be outlawed. Here is one:
One cat.
On your pillow.
Hoiking up a hair ball.
On your hair.
At 5 a.m.

Kerri? I think I found your new alarm clock. I'll even sell it to you, cheap.

Edit to add:

This is what he looks like now, so gerroff my back about the haircut. If you had that much hair and it was 95F for weeks at a time in the summer, you'd probably be HAPPY to walk around looking like a mutant poodle, too.