PMS: a day in the life

I hate when I get like this. Especially that I feel like I have absolutely no motherfucking control over it. My body is so uncomfortable that it just sends my irritability rating through the roof. And any and everyone around me has to suffer then.

It's ridiculous and it's childish, but again, I feel like I can't control it.

I could, actually. I could take some drugs or drink till I pass out or something. Then I'll just sleep it all away but there's too much fucking crap that needs to get done: laundry, dishes, meals, laundry, laundry, "I hungry!", "I wan' milk!", "Mama?"...

I just want to fucking wither away into a corner with something tightly wrapped around my midsection to cease the cramping. I want to sleep eat cry. I want to be left alone. I don't want to hear any fucking thing- no goddamn dogs barking, cats whining, husband snoring, child laughing.

I feel like I'm on edge to doing something really awful.

When I get like this, I envision bad things happening. I think I can understand how women, in particular, do horrendous, god forsaken things to their loved ones. It MUST happen when they're PMSing. If they're not PMSing, then I can't understand.

I'm so fucking tired, so fucking irritable, so fucking angry agitated annoyed hungry sad.

I just want to fucking bleed already.

I just want to fucking bleed so heavily that I bleed through a super plus tampon and onto a pad that I have to wear at all times when I get my period lately.


It's been 30 years since I got my first fucking period and I still cannot control my... mood before I get it.

It's a cruel fucking thing to happen and it's a wonder how there aren't any more women serving murder sentences as a result.

It's these thoughts on these days that make me feel like I'm surely losing my grip on sanity.

Yeah, her smile warms me up and soothes me a bit, but... not enough. Not anymore. Not today.

Because my back hurts so fucking bad and the cramping is making me nauseous despite my hankering for chocolate peanut butter ice cream. In a waffle cone. OMG no. A shake. A thick milk shake. And a bag of potato chips.

What is it going to be like when she starts getting her period, too?

My poor husband.

Fuck him. He's on the couch snoring like I'm not in this mood, like I'm not on the verge of losing my fucking mind. The dryer is about to buzz for the fourth time today and guess who gets to go fold all the shit and put it away? Yeah, the one who's on the verge of stuffing someone into it.

Maybe I should just get out of here for a few minutes.

Maybe I should just go and get that milkshake and potato chips and drugs and alcohol.

I think I need some fucking pads and tampons anyway.

Motherfucking PMS.

(NOTE: this was written yesterday {Sunday} but I didn't hit Publish for some reason. having seen that it wasn't Published, i wasn't going to actually Publish it, but i'm still in a pisser of a mood and have no desire to Publish much else so at least now you know why. not that you care. ALSO: nobody was harmed in the making of this post. FINALLY: i never did get my chocolate peanut butter shake fix, but i did devour a greasy cheeseburger and fries and half a piece of the world's greatest key lime pie before sitting on the toilet for about an hour and shitting like i haven't shat since who knows when... glad you stopped by?? COME AGAIN! AND NEXT TIME BRING MY SHAKE AND CHIPS!)

TILTW: 4/21-4/27

* I'm addicted to the internet. Yesterday, about an hour after getting into work, my computer freaked the F out. Turns out I had a virus. Man, was that embarrassing. And a LONG day without much internet access. I had to actually ... work. *shudder*

* 1-2-3 Magic is awesome. We've implemented some new things into Lovie's bedtime routine as a result of this book and ... so far so good! *love*

* I think I have to low carb again. Ugh. I'm trying so friggin hard to eat better but... I'm just friggin hungry. And I'm pretty sure it's the carbs. I've pretty much cut out all sugar, but I'm still eating some carby foods and DAMMIT WHY CAN'T I JUST LOVE SALADS?!? *fark!*

* Making "to do" lists do work. Posting them on your blog is a great way to try to stick to the list, too. Try it. I composed one back in January- for things I wanted to accomplish before turning 40. Let's see how it's going, shall we (comments from today are in red)?

* finish Lovie's 1 year book (up to 9 months now) and 2 year book

* go down two pant sizes (not even close to this- ugh)

* get new wedding/anniversary bands for our 5 year wedding anniversary in June (we'll have been together 12 years) (this is happening but hasn't yet since it's not June so can't cross off yet)

* start being more active again- walking when i can, taking the stairs (haha. no... hahahahahaha. ugh)

* do something ALONE at least once a month- even if it's running out to Target (this has happened a couple times! and even though i was home alone while the hubs and Lovie were out, it was still ... nice!)

* get out to a dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse with the hubs alone (it's our favorite and we haven't been since days before Lovie's birth)

* take a weekend trip to NYC to visit my BFF/cousin - alone - to celebrate our 40th birthdays (she's 6 months older than me) (should be booking this trip today as a matter of fact- WOOT!)

* start knitting again- and reading more (reading more when i can but that knitting thing? not sure when the hell that will happen)

* start writing more again (this is ongoing here on the blog- though not much fiction)

* and, again, the number one thing to do before turning 40 is get myself healthier (this is ongoing. i've already gotten a physical, gotten a mammogram and i'm trying to eat better.)

WW: the bench

The other day I posted a photo for a challenge. It's one of my favorites lately, but I love this one more (I entered the other one in the challenge cuz the hubs said it was more colorful) because it's more... Lovie. She's so silly and fun and cute and pretty and crazy and TWO!  And plus?? She's NOT WEARING ANY PINK!

Sunshine

“I wanna share da donuts,” she sweetly says from the backseat of the car as we drive out of the city and toward school.

“You did share the donuts,” I reply, trying to keep things positive without saying the word No. “We got some yesterday and you did a great job sharing.”

“NO! I WANNA! SHARE! DA DONUTS!!”

If she wasn’t 2, I probably would’ve pulled the car over and asked her to get out and cool off for a minute. I mean, really? YOU WANNA SHARE DONUTS?! Good for you! Heh. But she’s 2. And this, from everything I hear and read and remember from my nephews and nieces, is par for the course for 2. So instead I drive on- and start to smile as I think about last night:

“She demanded that you sit,” the hubs recounted, as we sat on the couch watching The Voice. He was marveling over our Good Nights with Lovie and how she … demanded that I sit after she conned me into singing some bedtime songs even though she insisted, just a moment prior, that she was going to bed when given the choice between singing and bed.

“Yup,” I said. “She does that a lot lately.”

The demands are coming more and more and it’s a bit hard to digest since they’re coming from a 2 year old. A 2 year old who sincerely is the sweetest little thing in the world. But I stand my ground (usually by ignoring) because I’m much bigger and refuse to live with a tyrant... Especially one that barely comes up to my waist. But really, it’s not that hard to deal with. She’s just expressing herself, I get it. I’d much rather her express herself than to hold it all in and eat it away or take it out on other kids or something. Not only that, but all I have to do is wait a minute and her sweetness prevails. Always does.

“Listen to sue-mic?” she says more softly a minute later.

I turn up the volume on the car radio and she starts singing a couple seconds later... But not to the song on the radio. Instead she starts singing one of the songs I sing to her before she goes to bed at nap or bedtime- if she lets me.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms.
And when I woke dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and cried.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are gray.
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.

My smile gets bigger and tears creep into my eyes as we get closer to school.

“That was beautiful, honey,” I say a moment after she finishes.

"Thank you, Mama."

We never did stop for donuts. And it was no big deal. But her singing our bedtime song, the one I've been singing for nearly 28 months? Huge deal.

Me and my Lovie: snuggling on the couch watching TV before bed.
Yes that's authentic, natural silver hair. And yes, that is a binky her mouth.

Booktasticle Listicle

Books are awesome. Period.

The written word is awesome. Period.

If you have kids, books should be everywhere in your home. Period. Please don't argue with me on this one. Just don't.

Some of Lovie's favorites (that she reads or requests I read):

Bark, George- This book was gifted to us by a woman who works in my department. It's a silly book about a dog named George who moos, meows, quacks, etc instead of barks when his owner asks him to bark. The owner takes George to the vet to get to the bottom of the situation. It's silly, it's repetitive, Lovie loves it.

You're My Little Love Bug- This books was gifted to us by an aunt of mine. It's a board book which is great for little hands, and its tale is sweet and fun to read. There's a heart shaped opening on the last page where you can slide in an image of your little Love Bug. I enjoy reading this one and Lovie does now, too.

Christmastime is Here!- I picked this one up during this past Christmas season to talk about the holiday with Lovie before it came. Lovie took to this one and asked that we read it several times a day. I had to hide it (on top of her bookshelf) after Christmas because I just couldn't take it anymore. It's a Fisher Price flap book and I picked up another one after her obsession with this one- and she adores it just as much. These are MUST haves for toddlers in my opinion.

Potty- I picked this one up during at Target run just a couple months ago when the thought of potty training started to seep into my thoughts. Lovie took to this one right away and loves when we read it and talks about wanting to wear undies all the time, as a result. Too bad the book didn't actually do the training part.

I Love You So...- This book... I just cannot say enough good things about this book. I've written about it before and it's a book that I will be sure to hold on to forever. I bought it the day I found out Lovie was a girl and I cried the first several times I read it to her while she was still baking away. It's not a short book, but the pictures and the flow is nice and easy- and it's just my all time favorite books for my Lovie.

Some of My favorites:

As I Lay Dying- I had to read this one a good 20 years ago in one of my fiction writing classes in college. And I quickly fell in love. There's just so much about it- particularly the way it's written, the way the story is told that always makes me say this is my number 1 favorite book. Ever.

The Help- I love this book. I just really love this book. It makes me smile, it pisses me off, it makes me teary. It's just an all around fantastic read.

Running with Scissors- This is another one that I just absolutely love. It's funny, it's crazy, it's bold, it's sarcastic, it's brave. Love it and love Augusten Burroughs.

Little Bee- Oh boy. This isn't a book I care to ever read again but it's one that will stay with me in a kind of haunting way forever, I'm guessing. Oh the tears shed whilst reading this book.

Room- Thinking of this one, again, moves me. I guess that's what a good book, to/for me, does: it moves me. And if it moves me, if it touches me, it stays with me.

Multicolored

It was cool but sunny yesterday- a perfect day for a long walk/bike ride to the park and back. On the way back, I finally got some pictures of my Lovie on this bench, a favorite of mine in this hectic city; I asked her to climb on it for a minute. She chose the spot, she chose the "poses". Her hair looks awesomely out of control- thanks to her bike helmet- dontcha think?

Linking up with The Paper Mama's Challenge.

TILTW: 4.14-4.20

* It's been a busy week at work. And while the work days have flown by, it's been a long week somehow. I'm just feeling... tired. And older somehow.

* I made an executive decision and moved Lovie's bedtime back up to 7PM instead of the 7:20 it had been the past couple months. She's been a bear getting to sleep lately and I'm confident it's because she's 2 (duh) and because she's overtired. She stalls so much at bedtime, we fall for it, and then by the time she finally settles in to actually go to SLEEP, it's 8:30... at the earliest. Couple that with having to get her up at 5:30 and that's just not enough sleep for *my* 2 year old. So the past several days, I've gotten out of her bedroom by 7:30PM- at the latest (after going in there at 7 instead of 7:20)- and she's been settled down by 8. It may only be a half hour difference but it's definitely giving her more "patience" during the day.

* I'm finding myself growing less and less tolerant with people's lack of being open to other people's opinions lately. Like, I get you have a strong opinion on something, but guess what? Opinions are like assholes and everyone's got one. Just because you got one doesn't mean it's right and doesn't mean you can't be respectful to other opinions. Get the fuck over yourself already.

* Growing up, I always had friends who were older than me. Not sure if that's because I was the baby in the family and got along better with more "mature" folk or what, but I was generally one of the youngest people in my "circle." I'm not sure what the dealio is lately, and why I haven't noticed this before, but the past 10 years or so, I've become one of the oldest in my "circle." Hell I'm even older than my husband. Not sure what or why it is exactly but this just hit me. This week. Yesterday as a matter of fact. And guess what else? I see a significant difference between me and those just 10 years younger than me. WHEN DID I GET SO OLD-LIKE? I'm not even (yet) 40, for crying out loud so why am I feeling so ... different? so ... old?!

the Stick incident

Kids- even toddlers- can be mean. It's unfortunate, but it's life.

Having a baby a toddler who is so smart and incredibly sweet, I want to preserve it all- the kindness, the sweetness, the innocence. I want to bottle it all up into little pills I can empty into my hand and give to her when she needs it. Because. She will need it. We all need it.

We stopped off at the park yesterday and surprisingly, it was pretty empty save for a mom, dad, 4 year old boy, and about 2 year old girl and their baby sibling tucked into an infant carrier. They sat at the entrance to the playground equipment: Mom was working on something in her lap, Dad was helping the Girl with some bubbles, Boy was whining to Mom that he wanted one of them to play with him.

"You have to learn to play by yourself," Mom snapped and Boy went running off toward Lovie and me.

"Can you play?" he asked Lovie, who, in turn, just looked at him smiling. "Do you wanna play with me?" he asked again before turning away from us and quickly zipping away.

Lovie looked at me and smiled and headed toward the big kitty litter box sand box. I took a seat at one of the picnic tables and watched.

A minute later the Boy was back and wanting to play in the sand with Lovie. When Mom caught wind, she barked, "Get out of the sand! I told you not to play in it!" before Dad came over to whisk him away. Lovie just looked at them all like they were from Mars and continued shoveling the sand.

Soon Mom was taking the kids out to the middle of the open grassy area of the park to fly a kite and Lovie tried following.

"I go wit my friends," she told me. 

The family wasn't interested in Lovie and she can't just up and go off anytime she pleases so I got her to start playing back in the playground. A few minutes later the Boy came back asking if we were leaving. After I told him that we weren't, he asked if Lovie wanted to play.

"She does want to play with you but she's not as fast as you are."

"Well how old is she?" he asked. "I'm 4. And I'm going to be 5, then 6, then 7-8-9-10!"

I chuckled and told him that she was 2.

And just like that, the Boy was off running and I tried getting Lovie to follow him but it didn't last long before she lost track of him and found interest in a stick. 

So Lovie was off playing with a stick, minding her own business, while the Boy was off playing by the water fountains when all of a sudden the Girl appeared. I was sitting on a bench watching, but I wasn't very close: The Girl walked right up to Lovie, smacked the stick out of her hand (but never touched Lovie), and yelled, "NO!" along with something else I couldn't make out.

Lovie immediately tucked her chin into her chest and just stood there. Frozen.

The Girl kept glaring at Lovie, even tilting her head to get a more direct, evil, taunting glare.

My heart raced and I, too, froze. Do I swoop in and tell the little brat that there was absolutely no fucking reason to do that? Do I shout from where I am? Do I let Lovie fend for herself?

The Girl didn't actually touch Lovie. I think that's what I was waiting for- a push or something. From the Girl, not Lovie because Lovie just isn't a fighter. At all. 

A year ago, Lovie would've started crying; I have no doubt. And while I wasn't sure what to expect her to do, how she would react, seeing her frozen there like that? Hurt. Bad. And I could feel the tears well in my eyes because my baby was hurting and because I just sat there, allowing it to happen. 

The whole exchange took all of one minute, tops, and soon the Girl took off running back out to both of her kite-flying parents who seemed to forget they had small children in a very open park setting. Lovie just remained frozen. She didn't cry, she didn't get her stick back, she didn't sit down, she didn't look for me. She just stood there. Completely defeated.

Slowly, I made my way over to her and asked if she was OK. She just looked at me and I could see it in her face- the emotional hurt she was feeling.

Lovie's a talker and doesn't have a problem expressing herself normally. But she said nothing about what happened. Nothing. I hate that she just took this "abuse." I don't want her physically pushing back, necessarily, but I do. not. want. her. taking. abuse. from. anyone.

"You're OK, honey," I said. "You want help building a castle?" I asked, placing her bucket nearby.

I wanted to tell her more, but I wasn't sure what else to say: People suck? People are assholes? Not everyone wants to play with you? She's 2. She thinks that everyone is her friend. Yes, some people DO suck. But until I can bottle up her pureness, she doesn't need to come to terms with the reality that people suck just yet.

taken within minutes of Stick incident

So instead, I sat right there by her side as she filled her bucket up with wood chips before running around the playground and making her way to a ladder and slide. And I smiled oh so proudly when she blew past the Girl on the ladder (without pushing or anything) and up the platform then down the slide, all while the Girl tried getting up the ladder.

"How old is she?" the Dad finally asked me.

"She's 2; end of December," I replied keeping my eyes on her feet in case one slipped from the thick metal rung.

"Oh," he said, trying to help his Girl figure out how to climb the ladder on her own.

2.) I thought my child was going to _______, but instead he/she _______.

Memories Captured: In my heart

Sister

Sometimes it deeply saddens me that the relationship I have with my sister is pretty nonexistent. And then when I feel this sadness, I sort of find myself swimming in it.

It shouldn’t be like this. But it is and, really, it kind of always has been.

I have memories of us as children- both before and after our parents’ split when I was 9- but I honestly cannot remember one time when my sister and I got along, when she wasn’t upset with me or picking on me or all-out hating me (“You’re the reason why I don’t like kids!” she screamed to me on more than one occasion growing up. And while she has three of her own {and one grandchild}, she’s been known to admit that she doesn’t like other kids from time to time and believe you me, it shows and kids can sense it.). Instead my memories are ones where she’s always annoyed and bothered with me because she was forced to watch me a lot since she’s 7 years older than me.

As an adult I absolutely can understand where she was coming from back then. It really wasn’t fair that a teenager be made to constantly watch after her younger sibling. I was her sister, not her daughter. But, on the other hand, it wasn’t my fault that my parents chose to not be available; it wasn’t my fault that she was born 7 years before me to a teen mom who wasn’t anywhere ready to be a mom. 

I’ve tried to let all of this go. I’ve written briefly about my past with her before, but for the most part I don’t go there because… well, what’s the point? I can’t change the past and I can’t change people.  It is what is and I really thought I moved on.

But then something happens that brings me back, that smacks me in the face to our reality: we’re sisters who have no relationship. We’re probably less engaged than strangers in the supermarket.

And that’s incredibly sad to me.

Saturday, while visiting my mom and grandmother (Oma), I happened to see my sister for the first time since early January when she showed up near the end of Lovie’s birthday party. And when Lovie noticed my sister walking into the living room where Oma sat, she quickly tucked her chin into her chest and walked away from her and toward me. Lovie avoided my sister the entire time. I’ve never seen her do this to anyone but, as my sister even said, “she don’t know me.”

No, she doesn’t know you! I shouted in my head. And you’re her aunt, for fuck’s sake! But my mouth never opened to speak any words- not even a Hello. I just don’t know what to say around her that wouldn't sound completely dumb or rude.

Fortunately, Oma was very happy to see my sister. And gathered by the envelopes sitting next to my sister at one point during the visit- envelopes with names scribbled in Oma’s shaky handwriting in the corner of them that she gives out at Christmas- she hadn’t been there since some time last year.

Pathetic.

Oma was glowing. She lights up and gets so happy when she sees Lovie, but seeing my sister really was a big surprise to her and she was just glowing, she was so happy.

I wish my sister could see it. I wish she could see how incredibly happy her presence makes Oma. I wish she would notice it and I wish she’d want to make that happen more often.

Before we left, my mom went out to smoke a cigarette and Lovie and I followed her with some sidewalk chalk. Anything to avoid my sister. I just have nothing to say to her and not because I hate her, but because I don’t know what to say to her. Besides, Oma was beaming with my sister by her side and I didn’t want to take that away; I wanted Oma to have some time with my sister since I knew we’d be back to visit Oma in a couple of weeks without my sister there.

When we came in and after we got cleaned up, it was time to get started on the hour and a half drive home. Lovie gave hugs and kisses to my mom and Oma, completely ignoring my sister.

“Go give your auntie a high five,” I told Lovie. She didn’t hesitate because she doesn’t know- and she won’t ever know- my sister. “Awww can you give her a hug and a kiss, too?”

Lovie smiled at me and turned back and ran to my sister and gave her a hug and leaned in for a kiss, which my sister very awkwardly gave her.

‘Awkward.’ That’s the absolute most perfect word to describe the relationship my sister and I have: ‘Awkward’ and ‘Nonexistent.’

It had been months since I’d last seen or spoken to my sister, yet we parted ways on Saturday without saying much of anything to each other.

Sad.

I don’t hate my sister. I don’t necessarily like her but I don’t hate her. She’s my sister. She’s my blood. It would be awesome if things would be different. I would’ve loved to have chosen her to be my maid of honor five years ago when I got married. I would love for her to be guardian to Lovie if something were to happen to the hubs or me. In theory, I would love all that but in reality? Fuck no. I would never leave my Lovie in her hands. Not because I think she’d do to her what she did to me, but because … blood is really the only thing tying us together these days. I’m not proud to admit that, but I’m not sure what to do to change it. I’ve tried and I generally continue to try to have a relationship with her but between my social awkwardness and our strained relationship, I’m not sure what else I can do without any give from her.

Yep, awkward and nonexistent.  And sad.

Celebrity Crushes: the Listicle

Here I go showing my age again with a list of my very first celebrity crushes (that I can recall). I can tell you, hands down, who was the first crush (Nicholas on Eight is Enough) but after that, I'm not certain of the order. And yes, there's even a female on my list (I mean, how could I not include badass Jo from Facts of Life?! She was super cool, drove a motorcycle, didn't wear dresses, and wanted to beat the shit out of snobarrific Blair! What's not to love?):

(is that not an adorable photo of Bryan?!)

TILTW: 4/6-4/13

* It's not something brand new that I learned this week... more like something that's ingrained into me even more: How mother trucking blessed I am. It's not about being perfect, it's not about owning a beautiful home and wearing fancy clothes. Rather, it's about who I am as a person. It's about the love in my heart and around me. It's about my Lovie and the kind of child she is and the kind of person I'm raising her to be. It's about being truly grateful for everything I have, everything I am. EVERY DAY. It's about not letting the negativity that others exude take away from how grateful I am for my life. It's about being present every day. It's about being present, being active in living, being grateful.

* Mammograms really aren't so bad but I really hate how my boobs sweat when not in a bra- that skin on skin contact (I have huge boobs) is not enjoyable. Gross. Someone needs to invent boob deodorant or something.

* For a while now, I've been seeing blog posts about people trying to direct other bloggers to disable the Captcha on their comments. I always kinda rolled my eyes at these posts because I just didn't think it was a big deal...until I discovered the amazing community over at Yeah Write and started reading and wanting to comment on some amazing blogs- some of which have the Captcha enabled. Holy shit is it a pain in the ass to click on the comment link, create a comment, click reply and then be asked to prove I'm not a robot by trying to figure out WTF two blurry, slanted "words" are. Please visit this post and read more about Captcha and disable your Captcha. PLEASE! I used to have my comments open to anybody, even anonymous folk. That's when I got slammed with spam. Once I disabled the anonymous, no more spam. So you CAN have a blog without the Captcha and without spam/robots.

* I had a physical last week and got the results from my blood work yesterday. Everything looks fine except for one thing: I have mild diabetes. I can't say I'm all that surprised, but it still saddens me. And I feel a bit angry, too (mostly at myself). It's a damn good thing I feel so blessed in life EVERY DAY. It's a damn good thing I'm all about about being present, being active in living, being grateful. I may write more about all this at a later date. I'm not brushing this under the rug or something. I'm just digesting it all, I guess.

* Again, this isn't something I learned this week so much as it is something that's been proven: Lovie is such a sweet girl. My husband's reply to this is, "Give her time." Heh. Seriously though, this little chica and her big heart amazes me every single day. Yesterday we stopped at the park again. It was truly a picture perfect day and she asked so why not? She wanted to play in the sand box and it's too hard to keep her out (blech) so play she did. Shortly after, a smaller girl, about 1 (tops), comes over to her and gets right in her face. Lovie just kind of looks at the baby and keeps shoveling some sand. I sat a bit away on a bench watching; the baby's dad stood closer watching (he let the baby do her own thing but was right there to scoop her up when/if needed). The baby reached for the shovel and the dad distracted the baby by throwing a red ball her way. This worked for 10 seconds before she wanted Lovie's shovel again. Lovie just kind of looked at her like WTF and kept shoveling. She didn't push the baby, wasn't mean, didn't shout "NO!" or anything; she just went about her business. The dad scooped the baby up and tried getting her to do something else and Lovie and I started chatting about the sand when the baby came back. "Why don't you let her play with the shovel, too?" I asked Lovie. I didn't tell her, I just asked. Lovie allowed it. "That's great," I said. "Let's see if she can fill your bucket." And the baby did just that (well, she tried). Lovie stood there holding the bucket while the baby played with the shovel until she got bored and played again with her ball and Lovie took the shovel back.  It's not the most awesome thing in the world, no; Lovie's not some gifted sharer, no; but I'm just so proud that she didn't just scream at the kid or shove her like has happened to her so many times in her young life. A few minutes later, some kids Lovie's size showed up and started running around the playground equipment so Lovie followed them, her "friends" as she called them. "You don't want to play in the sand anymore?" I asked. "No, I go play with my friends."

* Please. If you get anything, do anything from this post, please READ THIS. #fuckyouALS

Happy Friday the 13th!!

WW: bike ride, a video

We took her out on Easter Sunday for her first bike ride outdoors. Yesterday, she asked to go back out with her bike and as we walked and as I filmed, it dawned on me: this child truly never stops talking. Heh. I've known this for quite some time (our car rides are very interesting), but looking at this video and reliving the little time we were out there, really proved it.

I'm pretty sure you should be able to make out what she's saying but just in case, I've translated it below (her side of the conversation, not mine):

you stinky Mama

standing in da dirt?

i standing in da dirt.

you standing in da dirt.

hey do you see da tightrope?

i wanna take da bike off

a tightrope? i too small

i wanna flower

i wanna pink one

you do one. you do da pink flower, Mama.

Daddy has a pink flower?

all gonna make flowers

Easter

Easter's never been a big deal to me. Even when I was a kid and I'd get chocolate eggs and bunnies, it still wasn't a big deal and I'm guessing that might because, as a kid, I absolutely hated wearing dresses and being all girly and on Easter, it was expected: we had to dress in our absolute best, go to church, visit with family, and be on our best behavior.

Bo-ring if you ask me.

Easter today isn't much different except now I dress myself any damn way I please; I don't do church; I inhale so much fugly pastel colored chocolates long before Easter so that when Easter finally does come, I can pretend like I'm not interested in the candy; and now there's Lovie...of course.

Thankfully.

This Easter was her 3rd and the best one so far. She was telling me she wanted a bunny all last week and I kept telling her Easter was coming and that maybe she'd get one then.

"OK," she'd reply. "A pink one!"

"We'll see," I told her, lying, and knowing very well that she was getting a little white one.

Saturday night after we got home from a very busy day of root canals (me- joy), lunch out at California Pizza Kitchen, and a visit with the in laws, I reminded her that when she woke the next day, it would be Easter. And the next morning when I got up to pee at 6:45, with the sun casting bright orange light down the hall toward the kitchen, I could hear a squeal from Lovie's room followed by, "Hi Mama!" (she has french doors)

I smiled because it's impossible not to around this kid, opened her door and told her I'd be right back after I went potty (and told the hubs to get his ass up and into the dining room with the camera), and when I got her out of bed and changed her diaper, I asked her if she wanted to see if the Easter Bunny had come.

"Yeah!" she whispered with a smile.

The hubs was positioned with a camera under the dining room window where the morning sun brightly beamed through on to the dining room table and down the hallway toward us.

Lovie's basket sat alone on the dining room table.

It wasn't a big basket and really, it wasn't a basket but rather a bucket. Inside was a bucket of bubbles, a sheet of bunny stickers, a little bunny that chirps when its belly gets pressed, a package of pink peeps, and about a dozen plastic eggs filled with either pastel m&m's or jelly beans.

When we exited her room, Lovie started going toward our bedroom and I told her that I didn't see anything in there and that we should check in the living room (open with the dining room).

She didn't notice the bucket.

She didn't notice her dad snapping photos.

Finally I had to tell her that I saw something on the table.

And my girl? Upon laying her big browns on the basket, she gasped so dramatically as if a double rainbow appeared before her. She was in heaven and wouldn't stop smiling.

And it lasted all day long.

She played with her bunny and carried her bucket around with her all morning while playing and watching TV and helping me clean (she wanted to help). Then she took a bath and a two hour nap and when she woke, my dad had been there for about half an hour and the two of them played together for a bit (he brought her a basket with another bigger bunny) while the hubs and I finished making lunch: Ham, Crash Hot potatoes, Prosciutto wrapped asparagus.

After lunch, we had some Lamb cake (Lovie insisted we sing Happy Birthday because of the cake so we did, and when it came time to say the person's name whose birthday it was, my dad sang "Jesus" and we kind of chuckled because, well, Easter is about Jesus rising from the dead so it's kind of like his birthday again, right?!?) and went outside to enjoy the crazy beautiful day.

Lovie rode her bike and we ended up going all the way to the park and back (after playing for a bit at the park)- a good mile in total. And when we got back, we said goodbye to my dad, heated up a couple meatballs for Lovie (her request), and watched Max and Ruby before retiring for the day.

Easter's never been more beautiful.

How come we stop?!

Lovie and I spend a lot of time together in the car as I take her to and pick her up from school Monday through Friday. The morning commute is normally not too bad- about half an hour long, tops. The afternoon commute is generally longer- about 45-60 minutes. We've been doing this together now for over 2 years and we're both still alive to talk about it! : )

That first year wasn't so enjoyable unless Lovie slept through it. Otherwise there was lots and lots of screaming and crying. Sometimes from her, too. ; )

Now that she's a talker (and oh me oh my what a a talker she is), our car rides are very different. 

10 things that can be overheard during our every day commutes to and from school:

"Sing, Mama!" (when a song comes on that she wants me to sing to.)

"Howcahm we stop, Mama?" (this one I get to hear about 100 times every single day on our way home, especially. I just adore living in the city.)

"Oh wow! Cars go fast!"

"That sound mean someone's in tuhble. It's Kacie, Mama! 'What's da problem, Kacie?'" (Yes. My child recites lines from her favorite TV shows. I swear we don't watch that much TV.)

"Hi stinky garbage truck."

"Anahder school bus, Mama?" (because I can fart out school buses.)

"Mama, we go to da farm? I give milk to da cows."

"Macaroni and Trees?! You can't eat that!" (Another TV show.)

"I wanna {bunny}, Mama. A pink one." (last week she wanted a bunny. Before that it was a bike.)

"Howcahm we stop, Mama?"

TILTW: 3/31-4/6

* Every night after dinner, Lovie says, "I want some milk," and I get her down from her high chair, open the fridge, and she gets the milk out of the fridge and gives it to me. I then fill her cup and give the milk back to her to put away into the fridge. Then she gets my water (a bottle) and says, "Here Mama," while handing it to me as I hand her the sippy of milk. One day last week after she gave me the water I said, "Thanks! Cheers!" and tapped her sippy with my bottle. And ever since that day, she gets so excited to "Cheers" with me. "Cheers!"

* Lovie wants a bunny. A pink bunny. "Easter's coming up," I keep telling her, thinking about the little white bunny I have hidden in the closet to tuck inside her basket. "Okay," she responds. "I wanna go to the farm!"  We really need to get out to the zoo soon so this chica can see some animals.

* The Binky (pacifier). I was planning to have the Binky Fairy come after Lovie turned two... but I couldn't do it. She loves her Binky and Grandmabear sooo much.  And she only has it when she goes to bed.  Still, there are times when she wakes in the middle of the night and whines because she "can't find my binky anywhere." Since she now talks about how she's my big girl (*sniff*), I started telling her that she needs to give her binky to a baby since she's a big girl now, and when she does, we'll take her shopping for a new toy. She now talks about this at least once or twice a day: "I give my binky to baby, Mama. We go to store and I get new dollie." I tell her that that would be really nice of her to give her binky to a baby and that yes, when she does, she gets to pick out anything she wants. I've even tried having her give her binky to one of her baby dolls she currently has but it lasts for about 30 seconds before she wants the binky back. Thing is, we don't know any babies so I'm not sure how to go about doing this. I think I'm going to try bringing a binky to school with us one day and see if she'll leave it for the babies in the Infant room and then take her shopping when I pick her up from school... then hold strong that night when she asks for it, reminding her that she gave it away. I guess.

* I'm not a fan of Easter. I'm just not. Yes I picked up a few things and a bucket to put them in for Lovie to get on Sunday but other than that, I just don't care about it. And I feel like the only mama on the planet not dying eggs. Oh bloody well.

Happy Easter nonetheless!

Wordless Wednesday: The jackpot

i know she's mine so it's to be expected (the way i gush), but still... there are times when i look at her, when i watch her, when i study her and just marvel over how incredibly beautiful she is. my lord does she take my breath away sometimes. and her personality? she's such a sweet, gentle one. she's my mega million dollar jackpot.

I Own This

Not to come across as some expert or some conceited bitch, but I own Mama-hood. Currently at least. ;)

I kind of always knew I would own it, too. Once I came to terms with actually wanting to have a child of my own.

I didn't wonder about much of anything during my pregnancy; I didn't get bothered when people told me to enjoy my sleep while I had the chance before the baby arrived (well I did because I slept like ass during most of my pregnancy and yes, I actually sleep better now thank you very much); I completely understood what everyone was saying when they told me to enjoy it all now because it all goes by super fast.

I knew all of this because I own being a Mama. And I own being a Mama because I fucking rocked at being an Aunt.

Not the same thing, you say? I beg to differ.

When my sister asked me to stay with her one summer between my first and second year in college to help take care of her kids, then 5 and 2, so she could work a ton (and apparently party a lot, too) while her then husband was training out of state, I agreed. I became AuntieMa. They didn't call me that, but fuck if I wasn't their Mama for three long months (to a 20 year old with no kid experience, three months feels like three years when it's just you and the two kids 24/7; to a 39 year old with a 2 year old, three months is n-o-t-h-i-n-g).

When I left, I was never so happy and never so sad. Those kids wore me the fuck out with all their crying and whining and not listening and doing exactly as I said the moment I said it. But as soon as I sat on the plane to return home, I cried- the really ugly cry- for the duration of my 3 hour flight home.

Fuck if I didn't miss the shit out of those two (now 25 and 22).

Then my brother, who came back from the Army and got married and had a kid shortly before I left to stay with my sister, moved nearby where I was living with my own Mama. So once I returned from my sisters, I'd visit my brother and his family all the time, and holy hell was that little boy a ton of fun... Till he started whining and crying and screaming about every little thing. They couldn't take him to restaurants- ever- because of how out of control he was.

And when my brother and his ex split, AuntieMa came to the rescue; I moved in with my brother so he could continue working the 3rd shift job that brought more money home, and I whipped my then 4 year-old nephew into shape straight away by yanking the TV out of his room and forcing him to listen to me by continuing to put him into time out one day.

Yes, one day. Getting used to going to sleep without his crack, aka the TV? That took like a full week and I'm not sure how the hell the cops never came barging in since it sounded like we were murdering the poor kid.

That's all it took for me to gain the respect of this child who, to this day (he'll be 20 very soon), respects me... but not many others (especially his parents).

I lived with that boy for four years and leaving him to finally start my own life... was the hardest, most gut-wrenching thing I went through (until I lost my first pregnancy 8 years later). I loved that little boy with everything that I was but I had to leave, I had to start living for me.

And I did.

And several years later I got a call from his mother that really sealed the deal: I OWN THIS.

I wasn't even a Mama yet.

She called me because my brother had moved to another state (something of which had I known, may have altered my leaving in the first place) without my nephew (not going there right now, eh) and she couldn't control him- my then 15 year-old nephew. He was constantly ditching school, smoking weed, starting trouble, getting caught by the cops, etc. And she had absolutely no control over him. (Never did. Ever.)

So she was calling me for help.

ME. Her ex-sister-in-law. The Aunt.

She wanted to know what she should do. He was threatening suicide whenever she'd try to get him to listen, he was becoming abusive toward her and her home.

So I told her what I would do, what she should've done long before that fucking phone call (I mean, really? You're calling me because your kid is threatening to kill himself. How about calling 1-800-SUICIDE?!): Call the cops and have him institutionalized.

And. Because I OWN THIS. She listened.

(Unfortunately for her and him, she didn't follow through, like always, and took his ass out of the hospital after a week, and the kid is now in no better shape than he was 5 years ago other than knowing not to threaten suicide again.)

The thing is, I did NOT always own this parenting thing.

I really didn't.

I didn't read any books or take any classes (though I've seen my fair share of Supernanny- holla!) to become this awesome; it's just something that's stuck with me over the years. Spending three months with my nephew and niece 20 years ago when I was absolutely clueless helped guide me to Owning This; it was a great place to start (and for sure it was by far the best form of birth control I've ever seen- not that I was in any danger of procreating at that time). And obviously four years living with and helping nurture a little boy didn't hurt my achievement of Owning This either.

But really it's my love for watching and helping a young mind learn and grow that's helped me the most. The kids, they rely on us completely for so long. We kind of owe it to them to Own it. I mean, if you're ready to have a family and purposely set forth to procreate, the least you could do is grasp the reality of what's going to transpire: that a child is going to depend on your every... thing... to survive and just OWN IT.

Own who you are: a Parent.

Own your parenting skills.

I'm not saying everyone should listen to me. And again, I'm not saying I'm some expert. I'm just saying that I OWN THIS. In my life, with my child and nephews and nieces. I OWN THIS parenting thing.

Do you?

What's the point?

Last week I wasn't feeling too hot and that carried over to my motivation for this place; I just didn't really have much to say.

I still don't, really. : /

I mean, of course I do but... I don't know.

I'm in a bit of a slump lately, I guess. I'm in that mood where you wonder why you even bother blogging. I don't do it for money though I'd be more than happy to make some as a result. But I don't, so why keep going?

Why do I keep blogging?

* Free therapy.

* Connecting with others.

* To practice writing, my first true love.

* To gush about Lovie, the love of my life.

* To get a peek into others' lives. (Voyeuristic much?)

* To possibly learn about new things, see things from another perspective.

* To make the day go by faster whilst at work. (Let's be real.)

* To become famous. (You never know, right?)

* So that Lovie can become famous. (I mean have you SEEN this child?)

* Because I can.

Today's topic at Monday Listicles is really Guilty Pleasures, but since I've done that already and have been in a bit of a pickle of a mood regarding my blogging, I'm going this route instead.