So Little Sass likes to play this game every night at bedtime. It's called let's make up any excuse I can to not go to go to bed right now. She has been doing it since she first got into a big girl bed. Her range is phenomenal. Her excuses for not sleeping are hilarious. Sometimes it's to get a particular random stuffed animal like "Mommy... I need my purple unicorn" or "Mommy... that Barbie has a dress on and is looking at me" or "Mommy... I can't sleep cause the moon's outside my window". One of my particular favorites was just a couple weeks ago as she complained teary eyed of not being able to find tiger blanky (the little square of a blanket she's had since she was born [pretty much a neccesity]). After I scramble around in her stuffed animal riddled bed looking for it for a few minutes with her princess flashlight, she suggests I check under her pillow with a gaint grin on her face. Yup, totally tricked by a three year old.
This game goes on for about 30 minutes every night making our bedtime routine of brushing teeth, forced potty sit, two stories, and back tickle snuggle last about an hour. I keep my rear toned from the multiple trips back up and down the stairs checking on her or getting whatever it is her little heart so desires. While this game is completely adorable, it also leaves me wondering what I am possibly doing wrong in my bedtiming. Perhaps she just loves spending time with me SO much that she can't stand the thought of sleeping when Mom is downstairs trying to get in some trashy tivo? Or maybe she too has somehow seen the Full House episode with the pony and circus in the living room keeping Stephanie from sleeping? Na, I'm probably just a pushover.
Nonetheless, I will enjoy these times as I know all to well the day will come where she does whatever she can to keep me OUT of her room. I will savor her gems of excuses and gladly offer "just one more" butterfly kiss. And on that note I'm back upstairs as she calls yet again... is it a polka dotted monster in her closet? Some too bright stars perhaps? A rabid monkey goat? Oh the suspense.... and I can't wait to see.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
now serving number me
To catch everyone up to speed since my last post... last week was a rough one. Unfortunately my friend on life support did not make it, cancer wins yet again. The service for him was beautiful and inspiring but it doesn't erase the fact that there is now his 28 year old widow riddled with medical bills through the roof because our nations healthcare system sucks and when you're sick like that you can't work which equals no insurance. So terribly sad. He could have made it had he found a marrow donor, which brings me to my obligatory awareness bit. If you're white with with leukemia, you have a pretty decent chance of finding a donor and surviving. If you're black it gets tougher. If you happen to be a beautiful bi-racial product of our melting pot of a country, you're pretty much screwed like my friend. Please consider registering for marrow donation here, especially if you're bi-racial, you could end up saving a life.
On a much needed lighter note, today was a big day for my family. Firstly, I braved a one piece for the first time in oh, 20 some years and took Little Sass to her very first swim lesson! The little mermaid did awesome (duh! of course she did) and even dunked her head fully under water fearlessly. The whole experience was pretty amazing, especially seeing my supportive husband on the sideline snapping pics and gloating with pride at his little girl. It's going to be a great summer, especially since I'll be able to enjoy pool parties for the first time in 3 years without feeling the panic a mother feels around a pool when their child can't swim yet.
On a second and super big deal note, I finally feel the sense of accomplishment I've hoped for since finishing my undergrad. Coincidentally, both the husband and I received pretty significant raises that go into effect this week. Getting a raise is always good but when both earners get them at the same time, it's even better. Especially when those said raises bring you to where you always hoped to be. Now I'm not going to talk numbers cause that's just tacky but I've always had a certain number in my head that would allow me to feel successful and accomplished. I'm guessing you have a number too cause really if you don't have something to strive for well, what's the point in trying right? Well today that number finally happened, and then some more. After spending our adult lives striving to get there, today we did, and I'm still under thirty to make it that much sweeter. It feels amazing and great and relieving and grown up.
My only regret is that my dad is not around anymore for me to tell him I did it. He knew that number (you see my dad was really a numbers kinda guy [and the only person I know with a degree in mathematics btw]). In fact in his final days and I was trying to let him know he could let go & I'd be OK on my own, we talked how far away I was from that number. Well less than two years later I (we, more appropriately) did it. I earned my number. Where ever his beautiful soul may be, I know he's smiling down at me and gloating with pride. Just like my husband was on the side line this evening. And that makes me feel complete.
On a much needed lighter note, today was a big day for my family. Firstly, I braved a one piece for the first time in oh, 20 some years and took Little Sass to her very first swim lesson! The little mermaid did awesome (duh! of course she did) and even dunked her head fully under water fearlessly. The whole experience was pretty amazing, especially seeing my supportive husband on the sideline snapping pics and gloating with pride at his little girl. It's going to be a great summer, especially since I'll be able to enjoy pool parties for the first time in 3 years without feeling the panic a mother feels around a pool when their child can't swim yet.
On a second and super big deal note, I finally feel the sense of accomplishment I've hoped for since finishing my undergrad. Coincidentally, both the husband and I received pretty significant raises that go into effect this week. Getting a raise is always good but when both earners get them at the same time, it's even better. Especially when those said raises bring you to where you always hoped to be. Now I'm not going to talk numbers cause that's just tacky but I've always had a certain number in my head that would allow me to feel successful and accomplished. I'm guessing you have a number too cause really if you don't have something to strive for well, what's the point in trying right? Well today that number finally happened, and then some more. After spending our adult lives striving to get there, today we did, and I'm still under thirty to make it that much sweeter. It feels amazing and great and relieving and grown up.
My only regret is that my dad is not around anymore for me to tell him I did it. He knew that number (you see my dad was really a numbers kinda guy [and the only person I know with a degree in mathematics btw]). In fact in his final days and I was trying to let him know he could let go & I'd be OK on my own, we talked how far away I was from that number. Well less than two years later I (we, more appropriately) did it. I earned my number. Where ever his beautiful soul may be, I know he's smiling down at me and gloating with pride. Just like my husband was on the side line this evening. And that makes me feel complete.
Friday, March 11, 2011
the last dinosaur
So today has sucked.
A dear family friend is fighting for his life and it's not looking good, in fact it's looking pretty damn bad. Life sustaining machines are at work with a clock ticking, waiting to see if this last effort could possibly turn things around. He's younger than me and I'm under 30 (albeit for less than two months). If I was religious I'd be on my knees preying, instead I'm willing all the positivity left in me his way and cursing the god I don't believe in.
I swear of everything modern medicine has figured out, why can't they figure out cancer? Fuck cancer, seriously. I've already lost two people so far to it this year with two more struggling through it. And I get that the whole the world is already over crowded, and perhaps people aren't meant to live that long, and cancer is possibly just, well, population control. But that doesn't make it suck any less, it's still a horrible, awful, gruesome disease which brings me to the next reason today has been shit: flashbacks.
Flashbacks of my aunt, dying an early yet drawn out death from that cocksucker of a disease. Awful, pathetic images of a person losing all the basic luxuries of life that the rest of us healthy people take for granted. And of course thinking of her makes me think of my dearest grandmother who died the very night before her daughter. My amazing, classy, iconic grandmother who spent the last five years of her life in a hospital bed unable to speak, see, or really do anything. It was a pathetic excuse for a life that was cursed to last far too long (no I'm not saying I'm glad she's dead, I'm saying her final years were awful and did absolutely no justice to the great woman she was). And of course thinking of her makes me think of my dad, my strong, proud, smart as a whip, extraordinary dad. I can't even get into the flashbacks that have been running through my mind all day of him as this font is already blurred as I fight to keep my tears in. I will not let them out. Deep breath.
So yeah, my day has been plagued with flashbacks of horrible scenes I wish I could forget, of people I loved and lost. In fact, much of my life I've been plagued with these types of images and this is really the first time I've told anyone about them (to be fair I have no idea who exactly I'm telling this to or if anyone even reads this blog at all, and I'm not even telling, I'm typing). But yeah, these horror film like scenes have been playing in my mind as long as I can remember. When they start they don't stop no matter how hard I try to will them from my mind. They happen in wake and slumber and don't seem to have any "trigger" that brings them on. I recall one particularly disturbing dream in which a disgruntled employee of my fathers interrupted a nice family picnic and decapitated each of my family members (dog included) one by one while I watched. It was one of those black and white dreams where the only color is the bright red blood. I was six years old. My husband still periodically wakes me from sobbing in my sleep as the nightmares continue to this day.
But back to the point and namesake of this entry. I am the last remaining blood holder of my paternal family, every stinking one of them now sleeps in an urn or six feet under ground. Everyone of them but me that is. They are all extinct, and I am the very last dinosaur.
And after viewing today's apocalyptic images of earthquakes, tsunamis, and now wildfires in Oklahoma, I fear we are all dinosaurs. Carnivorous dinosaurs, eating away at our Earth until it finally gives in and burns or implodes or freezes over. She is angry and she's showing us.
And that's why my day sucked.
A dear family friend is fighting for his life and it's not looking good, in fact it's looking pretty damn bad. Life sustaining machines are at work with a clock ticking, waiting to see if this last effort could possibly turn things around. He's younger than me and I'm under 30 (albeit for less than two months). If I was religious I'd be on my knees preying, instead I'm willing all the positivity left in me his way and cursing the god I don't believe in.
I swear of everything modern medicine has figured out, why can't they figure out cancer? Fuck cancer, seriously. I've already lost two people so far to it this year with two more struggling through it. And I get that the whole the world is already over crowded, and perhaps people aren't meant to live that long, and cancer is possibly just, well, population control. But that doesn't make it suck any less, it's still a horrible, awful, gruesome disease which brings me to the next reason today has been shit: flashbacks.
Flashbacks of my aunt, dying an early yet drawn out death from that cocksucker of a disease. Awful, pathetic images of a person losing all the basic luxuries of life that the rest of us healthy people take for granted. And of course thinking of her makes me think of my dearest grandmother who died the very night before her daughter. My amazing, classy, iconic grandmother who spent the last five years of her life in a hospital bed unable to speak, see, or really do anything. It was a pathetic excuse for a life that was cursed to last far too long (no I'm not saying I'm glad she's dead, I'm saying her final years were awful and did absolutely no justice to the great woman she was). And of course thinking of her makes me think of my dad, my strong, proud, smart as a whip, extraordinary dad. I can't even get into the flashbacks that have been running through my mind all day of him as this font is already blurred as I fight to keep my tears in. I will not let them out. Deep breath.
So yeah, my day has been plagued with flashbacks of horrible scenes I wish I could forget, of people I loved and lost. In fact, much of my life I've been plagued with these types of images and this is really the first time I've told anyone about them (to be fair I have no idea who exactly I'm telling this to or if anyone even reads this blog at all, and I'm not even telling, I'm typing). But yeah, these horror film like scenes have been playing in my mind as long as I can remember. When they start they don't stop no matter how hard I try to will them from my mind. They happen in wake and slumber and don't seem to have any "trigger" that brings them on. I recall one particularly disturbing dream in which a disgruntled employee of my fathers interrupted a nice family picnic and decapitated each of my family members (dog included) one by one while I watched. It was one of those black and white dreams where the only color is the bright red blood. I was six years old. My husband still periodically wakes me from sobbing in my sleep as the nightmares continue to this day.
But back to the point and namesake of this entry. I am the last remaining blood holder of my paternal family, every stinking one of them now sleeps in an urn or six feet under ground. Everyone of them but me that is. They are all extinct, and I am the very last dinosaur.
And after viewing today's apocalyptic images of earthquakes, tsunamis, and now wildfires in Oklahoma, I fear we are all dinosaurs. Carnivorous dinosaurs, eating away at our Earth until it finally gives in and burns or implodes or freezes over. She is angry and she's showing us.
And that's why my day sucked.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
re-naming your baby
So in deciding to keep this blog public, I also decided to keep the my personal details private. Why? Well I feel like all my personal details are already out there, on facebook, for who I approve to see them. Also, being a part of the "corporate world", I know very well that what you say on the internet can get you fired. Why then keep the blog pubic? Well, I like blog browsing and checking out peoples lives across the world who I don't know (I am a psych major), and I figure I'd be just a creepy lurker if I didn't give back to that same community.
Which brings me to my current dilemma, what to call my daughter? I don't want to use her name (which is of course is totally beautiful) but The Daughter just sounds too, well, cold. I thought about calling her by her nickname, but it's a bit awkward. You see her nickname, is kind of one of those names you don't plan for and happens. Like the poor kid from high school everyone call barf cause in the first grade he got sick in the middle of a test, and he's totally hot but just got stuck with this awful name that just well, stuck.
Yeah, hers is that kind of name. My beautiful, golden ringlet haired, blue eyed, princess of a daughter is called Poose. She earned at about two days old. See, she wasn't always so golden haired, it was super dark brown when she was born and she came out with a TON of it, so when my mom came and saw her perfectly swaddled, politically correct or not, she said she looked like a little papoose. It just sort of stuck. Everyone knows, for nicknames, sometimes two syllables is far too many so low and behold, she became our little Poose.
It's just one of those names that's cute, but just for some reason it feels weird saying in public. Too many chances of it getting misheard or used in the wrong context I guess. Take for example my adorable niece, who like most Americans, endearingly added an "y" at the end calling her "Poosey". Um.... OK, yeah, not so cute anymore. Or when I, like a proud and loving parent use possession when referring to her: "My Poose". So yeah, you can gather what I'm getting at in that I need another name for her when it comes to this blog.
I've decided I'll call her Little Sass. One, cause she's just that kinda special girl and it totally suits her. Two, I myself (for rhyming and other sake) have often been called sassy and duh, peoples kids always get called "little" them. And three, I just really like that Tenacious D song.
In case you haven't heard it, check it out.
Little Sass
Saturday, March 5, 2011
so what am i doing here anyway?
I've been tossing that around the last few days, wondering why I even started this blog in the first place. I started it, and feel compelled to keep up it (especially since my first post focused on my notoriety for not finishing things) but why? Seriously, between my two classes, working full time, being a mother, and playing house, I really have enough on my plate already so why add this?
Well, for one, I like to write. Not necessarily the two papers on average I write a week on various psychological theories and topics (yup, I'm totally that girl that analyzes your inner demons) but I like to write out my feelings and vent through the keyboard. I find the gentle tapping of the keys as my fingertips hit them therapeutic. I also think I'll get a good laugh ten years from now when my daughter is a teenager and see how my complaints compare. So yeah, that's why I am doing this.
Now that we've got that out the way... details. To go public or private? What's my theme? Which voice to use? Do I tell all my friends and family to follow me or just let people stumble upon this gem using the nifty "next blog" button on the upper left? Oye, it's it's making me dizzy, but I think I've got it.
The main focus of this blog will be life as a (/n almost) thirty something, not your everyday, girl woman. I'll cover my conquering and successions in the war that is maintaining a home (and a rental property as well to be specific), my failings as a mother when I forget it's silly hat Friday, and my struggles as a wife to keep things exciting and not kill each other after spending a third of our lives together (yes that's right a third, and fuck, I'm getting old). This is NOT going to be a my family went on vacation here, my kid did this, and here is our Christmas photo, kind of keep up with our family blog. Not there there is anything wrong with that kind of blog, many of my friends have them which I quite enjoy reading, but I've tried that before and it bored me.
This is to be a hopefully witty account of what life becomes after you trade in the bar scene for a family, and the purple hair for pesky greys. Maybe I'll pick up some readers who can totally relate to me or learn from my mishaps, or maybe I won't. Either way, I look forward to the ride and hope you do too.
Well, for one, I like to write. Not necessarily the two papers on average I write a week on various psychological theories and topics (yup, I'm totally that girl that analyzes your inner demons) but I like to write out my feelings and vent through the keyboard. I find the gentle tapping of the keys as my fingertips hit them therapeutic. I also think I'll get a good laugh ten years from now when my daughter is a teenager and see how my complaints compare. So yeah, that's why I am doing this.
Now that we've got that out the way... details. To go public or private? What's my theme? Which voice to use? Do I tell all my friends and family to follow me or just let people stumble upon this gem using the nifty "next blog" button on the upper left? Oye, it's it's making me dizzy, but I think I've got it.
The main focus of this blog will be life as a (/n almost) thirty something, not your everyday, girl woman. I'll cover my conquering and successions in the war that is maintaining a home (and a rental property as well to be specific), my failings as a mother when I forget it's silly hat Friday, and my struggles as a wife to keep things exciting and not kill each other after spending a third of our lives together (yes that's right a third, and fuck, I'm getting old). This is NOT going to be a my family went on vacation here, my kid did this, and here is our Christmas photo, kind of keep up with our family blog. Not there there is anything wrong with that kind of blog, many of my friends have them which I quite enjoy reading, but I've tried that before and it bored me.
This is to be a hopefully witty account of what life becomes after you trade in the bar scene for a family, and the purple hair for pesky greys. Maybe I'll pick up some readers who can totally relate to me or learn from my mishaps, or maybe I won't. Either way, I look forward to the ride and hope you do too.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
more codeine infused ramblings
So here I am day three of the muck, and dare I say I feel worse than yesterday. I slept 12 hours last night, well probably more like 10 if you deduct all the coughing spells in which I was half asleep coughing and spitting green shit into a tissue, and I am still tired. In fact, I'm more than tired, I'm absolutely exhausted. Really, this is worse than having a new born baby tired, and the thing of it is I've done nothing but sleep all day. I did manage to unload the dishwasher but had to nap for 2 hours afterward cause it took so much out of me. But enough of my self pity blah blah I have other non important things to discuss.
I feel like today has been such a wasted day, I didn't even get any homework done. Yes, I'm almost thirty and still in school, well if you consider an online masters degree program school. Really, I can't stand it, and mostly because of my incompetent classmates. Seriously, just yesterday I was reading a classmates post and they spelled chaos "kaios", I shit you not, and this happens all the time in my GRADUATE program. Learn to spell check people. Now don't get me wrong I'm sure my writing on here isn't the greatest but this is my blog, which I write for my own enjoyment, and I do not write like this in my virtual classroom. I often wonder if people were that stupid in my bachelors program and I just never knew it. You see, the thing about online school is that everything is right out there for all to see, poor grammar and all. In my bachelors I never saw anyone else's writing samples so it's completely possible they were just as dumb too but I just didn't know it. At least it makes me feel really smart.
So why then if I hate my school so much I am doing it? Well, one reason is that I need the credit hours to get into the counseling certification program so I can work with people more fucked in the head than myself. The other reason is that I promised my dad I would, and breaking a promise to a dead man is just wrong. I was actually supposed to start this degree a while ago but he got sick and I wanted to spend my free time with him opposed to writing papers. So yeah, as cliche as it is, I made a deathbed promise to get this damn degree. A trade of sorts, he supported me and paid for my first degree, and with that degree I'd show him I can support myself and get another. So here I am, only a few classes away from having a masters degree. And as much as I talk it down, it does actually kind of make me feel good about myself that I'm actually going to finish something I started, especially because I'm doing it for my dad. So while I complain and bitch about it, rest assured the job WILL get done. And I'll hang that damned diploma on my office wall to prove it.
I feel like today has been such a wasted day, I didn't even get any homework done. Yes, I'm almost thirty and still in school, well if you consider an online masters degree program school. Really, I can't stand it, and mostly because of my incompetent classmates. Seriously, just yesterday I was reading a classmates post and they spelled chaos "kaios", I shit you not, and this happens all the time in my GRADUATE program. Learn to spell check people. Now don't get me wrong I'm sure my writing on here isn't the greatest but this is my blog, which I write for my own enjoyment, and I do not write like this in my virtual classroom. I often wonder if people were that stupid in my bachelors program and I just never knew it. You see, the thing about online school is that everything is right out there for all to see, poor grammar and all. In my bachelors I never saw anyone else's writing samples so it's completely possible they were just as dumb too but I just didn't know it. At least it makes me feel really smart.
So why then if I hate my school so much I am doing it? Well, one reason is that I need the credit hours to get into the counseling certification program so I can work with people more fucked in the head than myself. The other reason is that I promised my dad I would, and breaking a promise to a dead man is just wrong. I was actually supposed to start this degree a while ago but he got sick and I wanted to spend my free time with him opposed to writing papers. So yeah, as cliche as it is, I made a deathbed promise to get this damn degree. A trade of sorts, he supported me and paid for my first degree, and with that degree I'd show him I can support myself and get another. So here I am, only a few classes away from having a masters degree. And as much as I talk it down, it does actually kind of make me feel good about myself that I'm actually going to finish something I started, especially because I'm doing it for my dad. So while I complain and bitch about it, rest assured the job WILL get done. And I'll hang that damned diploma on my office wall to prove it.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
phlegm in the lung, codeine on the brain
So I'm sitting here quarantined in my bedroom as my husband and daughter have fun time downstairs. It is quiet and it is boring and it's lonely and I hate it. Why quarantined you ask? Cause I go big. Just a normal sinus infection won't do for me, I have to throw in some bronchitis and feverish chills as well. I like to think of my current state as the jazz hands of sickness, minus the sequined gloves.
I can't remember the last time I felt so shitty. Seriously, I have even cried a few times for no apparent good reason other than that I'm a miserable, pitiful, mess. And then there's the fact that my husband does not bode well with a sick wife. What's worse then 5 minute coughing jags and perpetual snot nose? 5 minute coughing jags and perpetual snot nose with no one around to tell you how sorry they feel for you. I'm not sure if it's the discomfort of seeing me so vulnerable, or the fear of germs but this is what happens. Every time. And it sucks.
I get quarantined as to not be around my daughter. Contagious shmagious. And don't go off huffing about how I'm a bad mom and shouldn't want to expose my daughter to my muck, cause I don't. My point is that this 24 hour incubation period kills me, and gets me to thinking; do I need her or does she need me more?
She is like my little symbiotic parasite. Now before you write me off forever, understand that I mean this in the most loving and endearing way possible. Lets looks at the facts. She depends on me for food, habitat, protection, and pretty much could not survive without me, she's only 3 for god's sake. And she is usually attached to my hip. No really, I can't even shower or poop anymore in solitude. And this is my point... I don't even mind. We are the poster child of symbiosis, a mutually beneficial relationship even if parasitic in nature.
Really, my life would suck without her. What did I do before? Who did a shop and sing songs with? Where did I get my hug fix? Whose hair did I braid? I need that girl to feel sane. She completes me. And I know I sound like every other stupid parent out there but really it's true. I too was once the all selfish, boozing and other recreations until the wee hours of the night, party girl. I know what I am missing, and really I couldn't care less. Now hurry up and kick in antibiotics, I wanna play barbies.
I can't remember the last time I felt so shitty. Seriously, I have even cried a few times for no apparent good reason other than that I'm a miserable, pitiful, mess. And then there's the fact that my husband does not bode well with a sick wife. What's worse then 5 minute coughing jags and perpetual snot nose? 5 minute coughing jags and perpetual snot nose with no one around to tell you how sorry they feel for you. I'm not sure if it's the discomfort of seeing me so vulnerable, or the fear of germs but this is what happens. Every time. And it sucks.
I get quarantined as to not be around my daughter. Contagious shmagious. And don't go off huffing about how I'm a bad mom and shouldn't want to expose my daughter to my muck, cause I don't. My point is that this 24 hour incubation period kills me, and gets me to thinking; do I need her or does she need me more?
She is like my little symbiotic parasite. Now before you write me off forever, understand that I mean this in the most loving and endearing way possible. Lets looks at the facts. She depends on me for food, habitat, protection, and pretty much could not survive without me, she's only 3 for god's sake. And she is usually attached to my hip. No really, I can't even shower or poop anymore in solitude. And this is my point... I don't even mind. We are the poster child of symbiosis, a mutually beneficial relationship even if parasitic in nature.
Really, my life would suck without her. What did I do before? Who did a shop and sing songs with? Where did I get my hug fix? Whose hair did I braid? I need that girl to feel sane. She completes me. And I know I sound like every other stupid parent out there but really it's true. I too was once the all selfish, boozing and other recreations until the wee hours of the night, party girl. I know what I am missing, and really I couldn't care less. Now hurry up and kick in antibiotics, I wanna play barbies.
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