No, I haven't started this site up again, but I am at BlogHer this year and handing out business cards to all and sundry. And of course, I realized about two days before I left that I had this old url on the cards. So if your here because I foisted one of my cards on you, you can click over to my new site if you want to read me.
Next year, I will have new cards. Promise.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Monday, February 08, 2010
Gulp
I'm attempting to start a Wordpress blog. Bear with me while I sort this crappe out. God, I suck at change.
A link would help, huh? http://majorbedhead.wordpress.com/
A link would help, huh? http://majorbedhead.wordpress.com/
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
More On Boo
I took Boo to look at a new school today. Well, day care, really, but I'm calling it school because that's what she's used to. She seemed to like the place and was bummed that she couldn't stay. She's going to start there in 2 weeks. She needs it. I need it. I really hope it will help with her behaviour.
Sometimes I think maybe it is all me. When I take her places like that or over to my sister's, she behaves pretty well. She doesn't bounce, she listens to what she's told and she never stamps her feet or sits there in a huff. She was great today at the new school but as soon as we got in the car, she started hitting her sister and yelling at me about something. Honestly, at this point, I just tune it out.
It's maddening and depressing as hell when I let my mind go down that path and believe me, it's a path it goes down a million times a day. What am I doing wrong? I'm sure I'm screwing her up for life somehow, otherwise she wouldn't behave this way, right? If she can control herself at school and at my sister's, why can't she do it when she's with me? I know she's capable of doing it so why can't she do it all the time?
I was thinking about this last night, when I should have been sleeping but was instead waffling back and forth between beating myself up and wondering if maybe she'd always been like this.
And then I remembered this:
She's been doing this since she could stand and jump. So maybe it's not just me. Maybe this is just how she is. In a weird way, I kind of hope so because thinking that I've done something to so screw up my own child is a horrible thought to have.
Sometimes I think maybe it is all me. When I take her places like that or over to my sister's, she behaves pretty well. She doesn't bounce, she listens to what she's told and she never stamps her feet or sits there in a huff. She was great today at the new school but as soon as we got in the car, she started hitting her sister and yelling at me about something. Honestly, at this point, I just tune it out.
It's maddening and depressing as hell when I let my mind go down that path and believe me, it's a path it goes down a million times a day. What am I doing wrong? I'm sure I'm screwing her up for life somehow, otherwise she wouldn't behave this way, right? If she can control herself at school and at my sister's, why can't she do it when she's with me? I know she's capable of doing it so why can't she do it all the time?
I was thinking about this last night, when I should have been sleeping but was instead waffling back and forth between beating myself up and wondering if maybe she'd always been like this.
And then I remembered this:
She's been doing this since she could stand and jump. So maybe it's not just me. Maybe this is just how she is. In a weird way, I kind of hope so because thinking that I've done something to so screw up my own child is a horrible thought to have.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
While I'm Here
I might as well put up a post. This is going to be totally random crappe.
- I slept in this morning. It was lo-o-o-o-o-ovely.
- But upon firing up the laptop, I found I'd been spammed on a bunch of old blog posts. I'm thinking of disabling anonymous comments again. I don't get all that much traffic to this site anymore so I doubt it will keep anyone from leaving a comment.
- I'm wondering if I should bother keeping this up. I don't seem to have much to say any more, unless I'm whinging about something and that gets old. I need to find something to blog about. I wonder if there are blog prompts the way there are writing prompts.
- I have an interview at Whole Paycheck on Wednesday. I don't know which job would be more dangerous for me; that place or a book shop. Of course, if I got the job, I could maybe afford to shop there more frequently. I do love it so. Wanky cheese. Wanky chocolate. And wine. What could be better?
- Boo starts the medication part of the behavioural study she's in on Friday. I'm of two minds about it, to be honest. Sometimes I think all she needs is a full time school program. Other times I think she needs an exorcism. Oy.
- Did I mention I got an iTouch for Christmas? Did I mention that I lo-o-o-o-o-ove it? And that I'm totally addicted to Words With Friends? If you are too, feel free to start a game with me. I think I have about 10 going right now. Hi, my name is Major Bedhead and I'm' a Words With Friends addict. Also? A nerd.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Why You Shouldn't Clean While Naked
Last night I decided I'd had enough and went upstairs to take a shower.
I'd started to get undressed while waiting for the water to heat up but it was taking forever. As I stood there in my holey t-shirt, I realized that the banister in the hall was absolutely filthy, so I rummaged around under my sink looking for some sort of cleaning implement. I found a baggie with a few ancient baby wipes in them. Perfect. No mess, and baby wipes work great on those grubby little finger prints that my children delight in leaving all. over. the. house.
I was scrubbing away, taking great satisfaction in seeing the white paint again, smirking in an "I'll show you, dirt" kind of way when I stood up.
That's when I realized my naked, white ass had been level with the landing window.
The curtainless landing window.
The curtainless landing window that is about 6 feet away from our neighbor's bathroom window.
I'm never leaving my house again.
I'd started to get undressed while waiting for the water to heat up but it was taking forever. As I stood there in my holey t-shirt, I realized that the banister in the hall was absolutely filthy, so I rummaged around under my sink looking for some sort of cleaning implement. I found a baggie with a few ancient baby wipes in them. Perfect. No mess, and baby wipes work great on those grubby little finger prints that my children delight in leaving all. over. the. house.
I was scrubbing away, taking great satisfaction in seeing the white paint again, smirking in an "I'll show you, dirt" kind of way when I stood up.
That's when I realized my naked, white ass had been level with the landing window.
The curtainless landing window.
The curtainless landing window that is about 6 feet away from our neighbor's bathroom window.
I'm never leaving my house again.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Hanging On By A Thread
She doesn't listen.
If I tell her not to do something, she does it as soon as the words leave my mouth.
She touches things she's not supposed to touch, like the computer and the camera and the knives.
She poops in her closet.
She wets her bed every night.
She's defiant. She glares and stomps her feet and screams and shrieks at me.
She's destructive. She rips up books and papers and colors on the walls and herself and her sister. She's cut her sister's hair so many times that The Bug has a pixie cut now. She breaks her toys and her crayons and anything she can get her hands on. I can't leave her alone in a room for 30 seconds or she will destroy things.
I cannot handle her at all.
I'm working with a doctor about this and have enrolled her in a study but oh my holy hell, I am losing my mind with this child. She needs full time school or full time day care or something. Something more than I can give her. It depresses the hell out of me that I can't seem to figure this child out.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Oscar
I got Oscar in early January of 2004. He was adopted from The Baypath Humane Society
I couldn't believe that someone had turned him in. He was a Persian and gorgeous. Being a Persian, he had that smooshed up face, which made him look extremely crabby all the time. He had been named Licken but I christened him Oscar.
Boo loved him.
He didn't feel the same about her, but he was patient and rarely swatted at her, even lately, when she would cart him around, front legs flapping around. He'd just look at me with this resigned expression on his face and meow pathetically.
He liked sleeping in gift bags and paper bags and cardboard boxes.
He was absolutely furious with me when I had to have him shaved due to severe matting. He stalked around the house, glaring at me and shivering as he followed the patches of sun from one spot to another. I laughed at him because, hey, he was funny.
A few weeks after we brought him home, I miscarried. I laid on the floor in my living room, not knowing that I was miscarrying, just knowing that my back was killing me and I couldn't move. He'd curl up next to my head, purring and licking my hand. Two days later, when the OB said there was no heartbeat there, I came home and crawled into bed. Oscar jumped up after me and stayed with me while I cried.
Even though he was a pain in the ass and would pee on the floor rather than the litter box sometimes, I loved that cat. I put him outside on Wednesday night, so he'd pee outside. Normally, he'd go outside for half an hour, tops, but Wednesday, he didn't come back. I called and called. I went outside to see if I could see him somewhere. Finally, around midnight, I put his cat bed on the back porch and left the door ajar for him. I did the same with the front porch door. Thursday morning, no cat. And today, still no cat. I don't think he's coming back. He's at least ten years old and he's skinny under all that hair.
I'm going to miss him. A lot.
I couldn't believe that someone had turned him in. He was a Persian and gorgeous. Being a Persian, he had that smooshed up face, which made him look extremely crabby all the time. He had been named Licken but I christened him Oscar.
Boo loved him.
He didn't feel the same about her, but he was patient and rarely swatted at her, even lately, when she would cart him around, front legs flapping around. He'd just look at me with this resigned expression on his face and meow pathetically.
He liked sleeping in gift bags and paper bags and cardboard boxes.
He was absolutely furious with me when I had to have him shaved due to severe matting. He stalked around the house, glaring at me and shivering as he followed the patches of sun from one spot to another. I laughed at him because, hey, he was funny.
A few weeks after we brought him home, I miscarried. I laid on the floor in my living room, not knowing that I was miscarrying, just knowing that my back was killing me and I couldn't move. He'd curl up next to my head, purring and licking my hand. Two days later, when the OB said there was no heartbeat there, I came home and crawled into bed. Oscar jumped up after me and stayed with me while I cried.
Even though he was a pain in the ass and would pee on the floor rather than the litter box sometimes, I loved that cat. I put him outside on Wednesday night, so he'd pee outside. Normally, he'd go outside for half an hour, tops, but Wednesday, he didn't come back. I called and called. I went outside to see if I could see him somewhere. Finally, around midnight, I put his cat bed on the back porch and left the door ajar for him. I did the same with the front porch door. Thursday morning, no cat. And today, still no cat. I don't think he's coming back. He's at least ten years old and he's skinny under all that hair.
I'm going to miss him. A lot.
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