Twelve Days & I'm Officially Panicking.

Please standby for a nervous breakdown, in:

5. The nursery isn't ready.
4. My house looks like it vomited on itself.
3. Did I mention the nursery isn't ready?
2. My three year old is sensing imminent and huge changes in his up until now blissful and unchallenged princedom. It's not going well.
1. And yeah, the NURSERY IS NOT FREAKING EVEN STARTED.

So.

I'm kind of going back and forth between acceptance and HUGE, irritable 'I'm 38 and a handful of days pregnant and things aren't just the way I want them and someone MUST PAY' rage.

I know my body is ready to be done being pregnant. I hurt everywhere. I have heartburn so bad that it makes my ear canals burn when I belch (which is all the time). Clothes are uncomfortable and I may start wearing caftans. Mrs. Roper chic...it's the hotness.

Mentally, I'm not ready. For some reason, my surroundings - i.e. my house - have to be completely prepared before I will let myself accept we're bringing another baby home. Logically I know that she's coming home no matter what and will not care if all she has is a bassinet, clean diapers and a boob.

But I care. Mucho.

Tomorrow, I have my second to last OB appointment. Yes, folks, this baby is coming whether I'm ready or not. And the way I'm carrying? I have a sneaking suspicion she may come early. Hold on, little girl. I need you to stay put till May 9. Do not deviate from the plan.

Looky here...mommy and daughter already butting heads. Yikes. Hopefully not a sign of things to come...

Couponing. For Real.

The other day I ran to the grocery store to pick up a few ingredients for a birthday dessert for my husband. His favorite is chocolate mousse. Pretty simple: heavy cream, semisweet chocolate, butter, sugar, eggs.

So I head over to the dairy case and am about to grab a quart of heavy cream off the shelf. Then I looked at the price and nearly pooped myself.

Are you ready for it? EIGHT DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. For heavy cream.

I audibly gasped as I put the quart back on the shelf and reached for the pint.

Seriously, groceries. What is going on?

Okay, so I'm married to an economics major, so I have an idea, but that doesn't make the sticker shock any less, erm, shocking. I mean, between food and gas, I feel like we are bleeding cash.

All I've been hearing about these days is couponing. The show on TLC baffles me. Those people walk out of the store with a thousand dollars worth of groceries for like, thirty bucks.

Part of me would love to try couponing and be successful at it but I have to point out a few things:

- Anyone else notice that these people fill their carts with a bunch of processed food? I spend most of our grocery budget on unprepared food.
- I feel like I'm watching a glorified version of Hoarders. Cause really, who needs 65 bottles of mustard?
- Couponing seems to be a full time job. Honestly, these people are making 5 hour shopping trips, on top of clipping newspapers and printing stuff online and sorting and organizing. Yuck.

So, I have to ask, is couponing a valid option for someone like me, who doesn't do a lot of processed food and is short on tome? Is it worth the effort?

I'm totally curious, but I also have a short attention span. I need to see results, asap.

Anybody have any luck? Advice? Success? Or is it a huge waste of time? Talk to me.

Not to Complain, But...

So I've already gone over the barfing. Which seems to be subsiding (knock wood).

But dude, this pregnancy has been so completely different from my first. Which was mellow and relatively easy.

I think it's a dirty trick. Cause now I have a toddler to chase.

A toddler who likes to run into the bathroom while I'm vomiting and turn the light on and off as fast as he can. Nothing makes barfing more enjoyable than doing it under a strobe.

My first pregnancy, odors bothered me, but not to the point where I'm nearly homicidal over my dogs standing by me (THEY REEK) or where I'm tempted to punch the lady in the grocery store who bathed in White Diamonds.

About a month ago, I went insane and decided I needed to deodorized the carpet in the living room. I used a powder for 'pet odor'. It was described as a 'fresh scent'.

For me, 'fresh scent' brings to mind clean air, fresh laundry, you know, stuff that has a pleasant aroma.

Arm & Hammer's idea of 'fresh' is more like junior high boys locker room...musky and sweaty and foot fungus-y coated in cheap spray deodorant and a touch of Drakkar.

The next week of my life was devoted to getting the 'freshness' out of my carpet. Incessant vacuuming. Then I steam cleaned. Twice.

It's almost gone, but once and a while, it will waft up from places unknown and I want to burn the carpet and all the living room furniture in a big bonfire in the backyard.

So my nose is going crazy. I wonder if I can get my hands on some of that stuff medical examiners smear under their nostrils while performing autopsies?

Just a thought.

Decade

Do you remember where you were on New Years Eve, 1999?

I do. I was back from England on Christmas break. Single. A functional alcoholic...uh, probably. I say that affectionately. It is up for debate how I survived that year, learning to drink like a Brit. Rough.

My girlfriend Christine and I rang in the new millennium together at a house party. And I am straight, but she was truly my girlfriend that night. We gave each other a nice smooch at the stroke of midnight. I mean, there weren't any guys there except for Christine's brother and his friend. And we were not kissing them. There was no tongue, okay? Sheesh. Plus she's pretty cute. See?


And that concludes my college 'experimenting'. Anyhow...

When I look at that picture it boggles my mind that was ten years ago. I look like such a baby. No gray hair. A lot thinner. Apple cheeks. (By the way, Christine looks totally the same. I am glad she is so awesome or I'd have to hate her).

Ten years, a wedding, a baby and much, much more later. Crazy. I can't even imagine what the next ten years will bring.

Not so crazy? My new years celebration this year. I will be surprised if I make it to midnight. Maybe I will celebrate New Years with my east coast friends...and head to bed at 9 PST. That sounds doable.

Happy New Decade everyone!

Aqua Net, Def Leppard & 30 Something Mamas - OH MY.

If I had to pinpoint when I fell in love with Def Leppard, I'd have to go way back. We had a neighbor boy who played drums (he was very cool, in high school, in the band - before I realized marching band wasn't THAT cool). He would practice to Van Halen (not Van Haggar), whom I also love, and Def Leppard. Of course, when I got into junior high and high school, it became clear that Def Leppard was NOT COOL. This was at the height of the grunge movement. So I proclaimed my love for Eddie Vedder, thought Kurt Cobain was a tortured artist, and wore lots of plaid and corduroy (wide wale, naturally). So, my Def Leppard obsession was closeted. I bet if you asked ANY of my friends from high school, they probably had no idea that I rocked out to Pour Some Sugar on Me while I was driving my little blue VW Rabbit. In college, I was going through a particularly bad breakup, and the Def Leppard flame was reignited. Love Bites. That song was set on repeat. Over. And over. Many tears were shed as Joe Elliot cried out: LOVE BITES. LOVE BLEEDS. IT'S BRINGIN' ME TO MY KNEES...

Seeing them in concert has been on my to do list for a long time. And finally, on Saturday night, my dream came true!
As any good hair band fan knows, any concert experience must begin with the gold standard:

We set off to the ampitheathre. It was 85 out and I was DYING in my super tight jeans (but I'm committed). All the windows were down and we were blasting Leppard out the windows. We got a few looks. One guy did take a photo of us with his cell. A lot of people refused to make eye contact with us. Maybe because we appeared crazy? Nah. Here are my three other partners in crime (from left): Stephanie, Tiffiny and Jenn. Yes, Jenn is wearing a bustier and a tutu. How cute is she? Best comment of the night (by a couple of HATERS): 'Rock of Love, much?' Some people have NO sense of humor! Once we were settled in on the lawn, it was group photo time! I don't smoke, but I totally brought a lighter. Here I am practicing. And the skinny jeans? The zippers = AWESOME! Poison opened the concert. They were pretty amazing. It would have been better if Bret Michaels were on the big screen. I wanted to check out his hairpiece. And then, Def Leppard. Oh. My. Physical. Lord. They were incredible. Everything about the show was kick ass. The energy, how great they sound live, THE ONE ARMED DRUMMER. Seriously. That guy is A-FREAKING-MAZING. Next year, we're going big time. As close to the stage as we can get. I'm saving my pennies starting NOW. I am the biggest dork ever, but luckily I have dorky friends too. Love you girls! LET'S GET ROCKED!

Hermit

It's 2:00 pm and I'm holed up in my bedroom.

Thankfully, B has logged me onto his laptop. Otherwise I'd be in here staring at the walls. Or face down with a pillow pulled tightly around my head.

It's day two of house guests and I'm done. D. O. N. E. Too bad they're here through Sunday.

Yes, you heard me. Sunday. As in two days from now.

The boys (okay, two men and an eleven year old) are out in the living room playing Halo. G is yelling in his crib refusing to take a needed nap as the boys are talking WAY TOO LOUDLY in the living room.

The only other female is pregnant and has been taking a nap since 11.

I want a nap. I need one. I'm crabby crabberson.

So here I am. Sequestered by choice. Antisocial much?

Nah, just gearing up for another meal prep, another solo kitchen clean up. A baseball game tonight - which under normal circumstances would be fun, but not so much when you go with someone who gets angry when another person sits in front of them in the stadium.

The nerve, right? Someone else plants their tush in the seat they paid for? Atrocious.

The last time we all went to a game, I was so fed up with the whining (yes, a thirty year old man whining) that I switched seats with him. Yeah, I couldn't see over the 6'4" gentleman in front of me, but it was better than the alternative.

And well, karma happened. No sooner had we switched, the empty seat in front of where I was sitting was taken. By a guy who was at least 6'6". It was deliciously perfect.

All this said, I can't say our house guests are bad people. They're not, they're quite nice, in fact. But three days is long for anyone.

After three days, I'd get sick of myself.

And My OCD Pays Off

Call me crazy (maybe not, because I might really be) but I just had a feeling today. An urgent need to check Toys r' Us just one more time.

I mean, we were in the neighborhood. Really, we were. I got my oil changed today at Sears and it's just across the road.

So on the way home, I told G that he was such a good little boy, Mama was going to get him a present.

Clearly, it's for me, but I'm all about justification right now.

I knew where the empty spot was where the water table had resided. It was still empty. Sigh.

But as I turned with a heavy heart to leave, I spied a stack on boxes on my left.

An entire stack of Arctic Water Tables!! They got a shipment this morning. I snatched that puppy up and marched right up to the checkout.

Now, it's all assembled and in our living room. I can't wait to get it outside with some water and see if G is even interested in it for more than five minutes.

Maybe I'll go test it out (play with it) tonight. That little walrus is calling my name.

My Two Cents and Then I'll Shut Up.

Against all my better judgment, I have this overwhelming need to open my mouth about the newly deemed 'end of days'. By which I mean the Swine Flu. H1N1. Whatever you're calling it.

I should know better than this because this is probably the one subject that will get reaction. Well, this and the Duggars. Everytime I write about them, the Duggar patrol comes out of FREAKING NOWHERE to comment. I'm serious. I think they employ people to Google them 24/7.

SO ANYWAYS. Swine flu. Anybody else sick of hearing about it? Tired of all the Purell being stripped from the shelves? Seeing people on the news wearing masks? Tamiflu being stockpiled in top secret locations (so the crazies won't try to break in and steal it all)? Pigs being slaughtered for no good reason?

Episodes such as this are really telling of how easily we are manipulated by the media. The 'regular flu' killed thousands of people last year - where was all the coverage? It's baffling.

I get that it's scary. That people down in Mexico have died. But let's step back a second - are we taking into account the lack of healthcare in Mexico? Sanitary issues?

Already, reports are coming out indicating that the Swine Flu isn't nearly as bad as first reported. Most cases in the U.S. have been mild. MILD!

Maybe the term 'pandemic' should not be used. I think for some the word itself is just scawwy. Remember SARS? And the Bird Flu? Yes, those were 'pandemics' as well. Pandemics have existed throughout history. People get sick. And they spread it all around. It sucks, but that's just the way things go.

So, boys and girls, wash your hands, cover your mouth when you cough and don't sneeze all over each other. And if you don't feel good, stay home. Isn't that always sound advice?

All this said, I'm not a doctor, and heaven forbid, I could have this all wrong. But for now, I'm not going to become a shut in, or buy out all the masks at Rite Aid, or bathe my child in Purell. Call me crazy.

Pervy!

I was sifting through my nifty little Stat Tracker today and happened upon an IP address from Tulane University. The hit had come through a Google Search. Click here for the search page

Someone at Tulane decided to search 'naked locker room-cam' and ended up on my post about taking my child swimming.

GROSS!

And yet, mildly amusing.

Even more amusing? The fact that if someone searches for NAKED LOCKER ROOM-CAM again, they'll probably end up on this post and be terribly, terribly disappointed.

My Toy Story

When G was around 6 months old, I felt bad because he only had 2 or 3 toys so I went to Babies R Us and picked up a few more.

Well, those 'few more' have spawned, and now we have this:



The toybox has vomited. (And our cat, Boris, is striking quite the pose).

This doesn't even account for all the toys. I packed up a boxful a few days ago and put it in a closet. So they'll be 'new' to G in a few months time.

I was looking at the toys today and realized most of them are from my mother, G's Gigi. She is the queen of consignment stores - so I don't feel AS guilty as she's not spending all her money on new toys.

Seriously, it's getting ridiculous. This morning, I stepped on the Little People's Noah's Ark, my foot slid across the wood floor, and I ended up in the splits.

Which is NOT good as I haven't been able to do the splits since I was 18.

B has instituted a new rule - if Gigi brings new stuff for G, she must also take back an equal amount. So far, this hasn't happened.

Looking at all the hard work we - er, I mean B - did on the living room, it's sad that our new interior decorator is Fisher Price.

I need a piece of furniture for this area. This makes me swoon. Sigh. But cash flow is an issue these days, so I'm keeping my eyes on the CL. That would be Craigslist.

Anybody have any creative solutions they've used to tame the toy takeover?

As if I Needed Confirmation...

that I've lost it, the signing is tomorrow.
I'm going to go start using my handheld planner again.
Clearly, I need it.

What Day Is It?

I was gearing up to write my Tightwad Tuesday post and I realized it's Monday.
Duh.
Should I start freaking out about not knowing the day of the week? I've always been fuzzy on the actual date, but the day of the week? This is not good.
You think with the amount of time I spend online (way too much) I would have some inkling. But then again, do I read the news? Not much. Unless you count Perez Hilton, and he doesn't usually talk too much about what day it is.
Bejeweled isn't much help either. I am still obsessed with that mind numbing game. I literally can't stop. It's quite possible trying to beat my high score will be the end of my sanity. What's left of it, that is.
The good news is that it IS Monday, and if B is able to get out of work fairly early, I get to go to a book signing tonight.
I'm excited to be getting out of the house, natch, but I'm double excited because I'm going to see Heather Armstrong, who writes over at Dooce. She's pretty much my idol as she supports her entire family by writing a blog. WHAT?! I'm totally jealous. I'm turning green.
Wish me luck that I get out of here on time! I'll write all about it should I get to go.
And I'll write all about it if I DON'T. But that won't be a happy post. Not at all.

House Guests

I like to consider myself a fairly social, welcoming and warm person. I enjoy having people over for dinner, coffee, drinks, games - you get the picture.
But for some reason I am not a fan of house guests. As in overnight (or more than one night) guests. Of course this does not apply to my dear friends, who understand I'm not a person who is good at cleaning and appreciate my efforts, and who, you know, help me with the dishes after dinner. Or maybe even help me cook.
I'm talking about house guests who come, enjoy the house I've gone insane cleaning, eat the wonderful food I prepare, let me do the dishes, and leave me on Sunday afternoon with a disheveled house, a tired and overstimulated child, and hardly a stitch of sanity.
You can probably guess where I'm going with this...we're having those kind of guests this weekend. They are very nice people, friends of my husband. And I know it makes my husband very happy to have his friends visit, since most of his close friends do not live close by.
One issue (and I realize I'm totally neurotic) is that I can never get an arrival time nailed down, so I never know whether or not dinner is expected. Both times I've tried to guess I've been wrong - the first time I ordered so much pizza we were eating it for days after, and the second time I had nothing in the house and had to run out for supplies.
Second bone of contention...voice volume with a sleeping child in the house. I don't know how many times I need to tell a grown person shhhhhh before I can hit them? Seriously. Indoor voices.
I am going to try my best to be a gracious and mellow hostess. I am practicing my deep breathing and have a bottle of vodka in my room for sustenance. Wish me luck.

Bejeweled Intervention

I haven't been here for a few days and it's not my fault.
It's Bejewled's fault.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, you're one of the lucky ones. It has taken over my life.
It all started the other day when I was on Facebook and a couple of my friends had status updates about Bejeweled causing them neck strain. I had to check it out. I'm stupid like that.
Bejeweled is a lot like Bubble Breaker or kind of like Tetris. For me, addictive.
I think I've always been a bit obsessive about video games. If something pulls me in, I can play for hours and hours. I had a Sims compulsion for a good part of my early twenties. I had not only the basic game, but also Sims College and then I'd go online and buy extra items to furnish my Sim's abodes. I'd spend an entire Saturday directing my Sims characters about their lives while I sat in my jammies all day. I would accomplish nothing in real life, but my characters would be married, with three kids in a mega mansion by the end of the day.
When I was in seventh or eighth grade, it was Tetris on the Sega Game Gear. It was my little brother's Sega and I would hijack it every time we had a long drive. I could play for hours. I distinctly remember a conversation with my girlfriend Megan about how we'd think about Tetris during homeroom, imagining how different things would fit into each other - such as, would the teachers bald pate fit into a garbage can. Something like that.
So now it's come to this - gaming on Facebook. Facebook is already the biggest time suck EVER. Now, add in the Bejeweled aspect and I'm screwed. Today I was talking out loud to myself. Just one more game. Just one more, maybe I can beat my high score.
This went on for two hours (during naptime).
I played so long last night that I had a headache from clenching my teeth.
Why can't I do these things in moderation - like a normal person?
Somebody help me!

HEEEEEERE'S HEATHER!

Pardon the totally cheesy reference to The Shining. But I have been cooped up in the house for almost five days, save my harried trip to Albertsons last night during which I was under a 20 minute time constraint as the husband wanted to hurry home before the 'storm' hit. Which it did, kind of. We didn't lose power thankfully, which is somewhat of a miracle around here. Homeowners in our neighborhood don't like their tree branches trimmed around power lines, which leads to at least a few lengthy power outages a year.
So, I'm kind of feeling like Jack Torrance about now. The homicidal part, no, but the crazy part, yes. The house is feeling even smaller than usual, the Christmas clutter is expanding exponentially, and stuff is really starting to get to me. Like last night, when we made our one outing in days, I left the sugar cookies I'd slaved over on the counter to cool. Four dozen of them. And when we came home, I had two guilty looking doggies and about four TOTAL cookies left. Okay, I guess at this point I might had been homicidal. Dogicidal, really. I yelled at the dogs and then the husband laughed at me and I burst into tears.
This morning, I put the dogs out because they were driving me nuts and I could smell their breath. Our golden retriever, Carl, came back in with clumps of snow stuck in his wings (you know, that fur that flares out on their legs) and I just KNEW it was going to end up melted all over the house in little puddles. I grabbed the closest pair of scissors and bribed Carl to roll over onto his back with a dog bone. And I went to work. Ten minutes later Carl had a new haircut. I cut off his golden retriever wings. It's not pretty. I will never be a dog groomer. Now I kind of feel guilty and feel like I should just finish off the job with electric clippers. If I'm stuck in this house another day, I can pretty much guarantee that will happen. ( A side note, I do not have photos at this time as my camera has no battery charge, but I will upload one when I find the charger!).
I just looked outside and its snowing again. I can't remember a snow like this since at least 12 years ago. It was the winter after I graduated high school. Why do I remember it so vividly? I got my car stuck in my parents driveway, and then proceeded to put my Dad's truck in the ditch trying to get to work. So if any one's wondering why I'm not a fan of snow, there you go. It's the driving thing.
On a positive note, my son's first Christmas will most likely have snow. That there, folks, is pretty cool and worth the craziness!

They Say the Mind is the First To Go...

I don't know why, but lately I've been talking to myself...or maybe I'm just noticing it more. Sometimes I'll catch myself having a conversation that I thought was just in my head, but I'm actually vocalizing it.
So I wonder, am I just getting old? Or am I regressing to having an imaginary friend? Is this something that inevitably happens? It's so weird.
For a while, I thought I might just be doing it since I wasn't having regular adult conversations. But then I noticed I sometimes do it at work.
The thing that makes me feel a bit better is I have a few co-workers who do the same thing. They cover it pretty well by wearing earpieces so it appears they're on a call. But I know...oh yes, I know.
For me, it's in the category of rocking out in the car. I think most people sing while they're driving, but tone it down as they hit red lights. But as soon as you're moving again, game on.
Still, it's a bit embarrassing. I need to work on that 'inner monologue' thing. Or just buy an earpiece. Then I can be crazy and talk to myself all day long.

Coping...Kind of.

I can't believe how long I've gone without posting.
Actually, I CAN believe it. My motivation level these days is pretty low. I really got to thinking about it the other day and realized that deep down, I kind of feel like I'm doing a half-ass job at everything, but not doing anything really well. And it's got me down.
It's times like these when I'd really love the opportunity to be a stay at home mom. Not that moms that stay at home have infinite amounts of time, but what could I do with those 40+ hours a week I put into my job and commuting?
Some weeks it's all I can do to cook some meals, slog through the laundry and keep the house in some semblance of order. Believe me, none of those things are getting done well.
And getting the maintenance type things done, well what happens to things like playing with my son? This is the part that makes me the most upset. I'm not even doing a good job running the household and even that mediocrity is cutting into me taking care of the most important things.
As you can imagine, the family, the house and my job leave me no time for myself. Which I expected, but I feel like I can't even take care of myself. I'm eating terribly, getting zero exercise and you can imagine what that's doing to my self-esteem. Not good.
I have no answers. I don't know if I should consider hiring someone to come in and clean once a week (or every two weeks). It feels like a cop out. And I don't know if I can justify the money. I do my best to cook and freeze meals, but that only goes so far.
This is a vent, more or less. I'm pretty resourceful so hopefully I'll figure something out. But suggestions are good. And writing this down feels better too. Whew.
Okay, rant over. Back to work.