Christmas

So this year we did the same thing: Up to J's sister's (and now her 3 kids), children's service (ugh), country club for dinner (The food was good, but at one point I was eating crab and I looked down and realized just how much the crab I was eating looked like a crab and I immediately felt nauseous and lost my appetite. Also, it's difficult to eat while feeding an 11 month old in the high chair next to you bits of cheese and dealing with the 5 year old crawling beneath the table and lifting it every so often, spilling your water and your wine).

Back at the home front we exchanged gifts. MIL again announced how much she "enjoyed every second" of being pregnant over 31 years ago. I reminded her that that is because she was able to drink every night. She said, 'I didn't drink that much. Just a glass or two a day.' I told her I would've killed for a glass or two a day and then stated that I will probably have a bit more than just 1 glass a trimester the next time around. She got all serious and said, 'They don't recommend it.' I then got all serious and asked her why I was expected to live up to higher standards than her. Silence ensued.

The next morning J awoke throwing up. I was annoyed, as I thought he was hung over. Turns out- he wasn't! He had the flu. Monkey was not feeling well either. She could barely lift her head. I asked MIL to hold her while I packed. She then approached me and said, 'She's laying her head on my shoulder. Does she do that to you?'

Is this b*tch for real? What kind of question is this? I'M HER MOTHER! OF COURSE SHE LAYS HER HEAD ON MY SHOULDER. I gave her a confused and annoyed look and responded, 'Yes. Of course.'

I then began frantically searching the house for Monkey's pacifier. Mind you, the house is TRASHED from all the people staying there and the 4 children. I brought 3 paci's, but naturally, they were gone. MIL says, 'You should always bring more than one pacifier. It is the ultimate comfort to a baby.'

Again, is this b*tch for real? I wanted to remind her that she's unable to watch Monk for over 2 hours without calling us for help. Why is she giving me baby advice again? I felt the need to defend myself, which pissed me off even more.

J tells me time and again that it isn't personal- she's just a f*cking idiot. I know this is true. She really means no harm and she would cry her eyes out if I said any of this to her (obviously). But her idiocy grates directly on my nerve-endings. I start out every gathering able to overlook her rude insinuations. By hour 12, I'm spent and ready to pounce. Particularly when she's critiquing my mothering- she who is unable to babysit any of her grandkids.

Ahh, back to the delightful 2.5 hour ride home. So J is puking in the front seat, warning me that he may or may not sh*t his pants (just telling it like it is, folks) while a sick Monkey (we didn't know she was sick yet- that's where it gets fun) is screaming her head off in the back. She's starving. Normally one of us would reach our arm around and hold her bottle for her. But I was driving and J was puking, so that really wasn't an option. I would like to add that this is on a 5 lane highway outside NYC. So it's not exactly a relaxing drive.

I dropped J off at home and headed another hour to my gma's. Once we got there, my mom left bc she was throwing up. Nice.

20 minutes later, Monkey projectile vomits all over me, my grandma's chair and my grandma's carpet.

My sweet uncle cleaned up Monk while I cleaned up me. Then I waited another hour or so to make sure Monk wasn't going to go the whole nine yards on me. I didn't want to drive home while she's puking in the back alone. All was well and we made it home. Home sweet home.

She's puked a few times a day since Saturday. J is better, though.

Summer Camp

Did I ever detail to you my experiences at summer camp?

Some people (like J) went to co-ed summer camps like in the movies where you make out and stuff. I would've loved that, I feel like.

My mom sent me to all girls girlscout camp. It was the WORST.

We slept in tents with wooden platforms. Had latrines. J's co-ed camp had cabins and like real bathrooms (bad ones, but still... not latrines). Showers were cold.

We had to take turns setting the table for dinner (my least favorite chore). And then we all ate together- this awkward sit down meal. After dinner was singing time.

I went THREE YEARS IN A ROW bc I didn't have the gall to break my mom's heart. She kept telling me I loved camp and then naming the friends I went with. I didn't love camp.

The organized fun.

My sore fingers from archery.

Craft time was the antithesis of creative, as you had to follow the instructions of the person in charge of the craft 100%! There was no creativity. It was like following a recipe.

I found a slug on my trunk.

I threw up one morning all over my cabin floor.

I liked rowing, but who wants to swim in a lake? I saw an eel or snake in the water.

I remember this girl named Tabitha. She wore half-shirts. She was loud and she loved camp and the counselors in turn loved her. I did not.

I remember in the morning being in the polar bears club (big mistake). It was FREEZING. Walking through the woods, all wet because it was morning. Having to wear swimcaps- ugh, I forgot about that until now. That was the worst. How dated. Stuffing your long hair under that thin rubber cap. Pieces get stuck and tugged.

What I wouldn't have given for the community pool, tootsie rolls, the snack bar, my real friends. My own bed, going out for ice cream with my friends, the amusement park.

The "trading post" or whatever it was called- only 2 snacks. One was one of those Mr. Peanut bars. I bought a book of camp songs. Songs that I hate!!!

In the camp pictures, I am never smiling a real smile.

Way Behind

Day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 - an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc)
Day 18 - my wedding/future wedding/past wedding

I'm gonna knock out these three.

I'm not too original on the emotional front with regard to songs. Canon in D and Christmas Canon are both super sad to me.

An art piece. The daycare had Monkey place her hands in ink pads and then created turkeys out of her hand-print. It said "My First Thanksgiving." I used to think kid drawings were lame. I mean, they're not good, right? But- shocker- I've transformed. I would save those little hand print turkeys from a burning building.

My wedding. I never dreamed of my wedding as a child. I had trouble conceiving of myself going through the entire process. I didn't spend that much time doing anything for my wedding, much to my mother's dismay. I chose one of the first dresses I tried on because it was on sale and looked nice and I had zero say in my centerpieces- I delegated that to my stepmother. I was just looking forward to the substance- being, the party. That said, I had a few requirements: Red roses (bouquets), black bridesmaid dresses and a bagpiper. Check, check and check. Everything else was traditional. I did not need to have anything that truly represented "us" - being J and I. Mainly because, well, "us" isn't throwing a huge party. J is shy and I'm not really a good party planner because I'm disorganized!! My mom encouraged me to think about what I truly wanted out of the day as- hopefully- this will be my only wedding. When push came to shove, what I ultimately wanted was Joe Wedding. Big dress in a church, limo, etc... Voila. I put my mom to work in making that happen. Having the opportunity to throw me a wedding was very important to her. After being a huge biotch all those years, I figured it was the least I could do.

Above is a pic of me bossing around the bridesmaids. My biggest pet peeve are wedding photos. They detract so much from the day- it's boring! My goal was to have the least amount of time spent on pictures. They still took a long time.

My Dream House

My Dream House.

Let's set a few things straight. MUST include a cleaning lady (free of charge to me). MUST NOT have a mortgage.

Has the basic luxuries that I do not have at this moment: finished basement, screened in back porch, a deck, a front porch and a garage.

I have at the very least- my own sink. While my make-up and toiletries dominate the sink, I can't handle J's grumbling about it.

I obviously would need a walk in closet. The cleaning lady would do laundry and organize my closet too. Because organized closets are not my forte. She'd also handle our junk mail. And walk the dogs.

My current kitchen kicks a$$, but let's face it. I'm American. I want more space, dude.

The car in my dream garage that I drive is a huge SUV. I used to think that energy savers were the way to go, but then I gave birth and did a little research on car safety. Guess what- in a head on collision, the car with the more mass wins. Therefore, I want more mass. OR I want to live in an area without snow and ice. There was some snowfall today and I drove about 4mph home from work. The car behind me was freaking out. But I wasn't planning on dying because some stranger was feeling impatient.

But other than a gas-guzzling SUV, the rest of my house can be as environmentally friendly as they come. Because I do love the environment (so long as I'm not camping in it- unless it's perfect weather and accomodations are decent and it's only for a limited time).

I don't need a formal living room. Just a TV room. I don't even really need a formal dining room. Big bedroms. A dry, finished and warm basement.

Hardwood floors like I have now.

Oh, and new wiring and plumbing. I don't want to have to replace anything in this lifetime.

Lastly, a fenced in yard and a backyard with grass.

Tomorrow is my work holiday party. I predict that I will fall flat on my face. My heels are way too high. I haven't worn them in 1.5 years. Geez, how humiliating would that be? I wouldn't come back from that one.

Back to my Chardonnay- my drink of the night.

Non-Fiction

Okay, I have to make this quick so I can get started on my work for this evening and eat dinner.

Drink of the night: rum/coke.

I feel overwhelmed right now.

My favorite Non-Fiction is obviously David Sedaris. But I also enjoy a good ex-pla*yboy biography. And I'm a sucker for CS Lewis religious stuff when I need a reminder of the trivial nature of my problems.

Pizza is ready.

xoxo

Fiction

All time favorite: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Or Gone with the Wind.

This is hard.

Honorable mention: A short story called A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote.

As a child I was a Babysitter's Club junkie. I read them ALL. I still remember way too much about those girls. Occasionally I will find myself thinking about Claudia, and how she hid candy all around her bedroom. I wonder where she bought the candy. 7-11? How did she remember where she hid it? Why did she hide it anyway? Didn't her parents or grandmother (member Mimi?) want her to eat candy? I think so. I forget these details.

I would write more about how MIL told J that his dad's anti-depressants were having s*exual side effects, so he went off of them. DUDE. If my mom said that to me, I would tell her to never share such information with me again. He is a nice boy and simply said, 'Oh' and then changed the subject. He later confessed, "M? I feel like I was molested today."

Me too.

OCD

I believe the next entry was something I'm OCD about. This has to be quick, as I was blessed with work this weekend.

I'm not OCD really about anything. I'm generally a careless, laid back person who doesn't like when things get too intense. I'm married to someone with a OCD issues. Most of my friends have OCD issues. But not me. I'm not an organization freak. I'm not a clean freak. I'm not a germaphobe. I'm not super anal about being fashionable or being on time. I don't care if the pillows are fluffed or if things get cluttered. I don't need to sit facing the door. I don't believe in superstitions. I don't believe in lucky charms.

My only "OCD" is checking and rechecking that I unplugged the iron and curling iron. Occasionally going back to recheck that I double locked our front door. And this is only because I'm forgetful and careless by nature. And oftetimes, I DO leave both plugged in AND I only single lock the door.

PIC of me

Here I am. I tried to put up an honest pic. Not one where I look hotter than real life and not one where I look sh*ttier in real life. I will probably take this down shortly to protect myself from getting fired or collecting too many enemies.

Since Monk, I've erred on the side of having roots and falling very pale (I have on sunless tanner in the pic above, no doubt). So I am POSITIVE I could find a wretched picture of me from this year. But the truth is, having a newborn - a first born, at that- is a temporary situation. I don't plan on forever being a super pale chick with sloppy make-up and roots. That is my survival look. I spent most of this year worried out of my f*cking mind. And I still find myself- every time that I'm away from Monkey- missing her terribly and wanting to leave wherever I am at to be with her. Even if she is just upstairs sleeping and I am downstairs watching TV. Not that it is BAD to obsess over your kid, but.... it is somewhat crippling.

But this above was taken a few months before I got knocked up at my friend-who-I-made-out-with-that-one-time's Xmas party. I cut her out of the pic. She doesn't know this blog exists.

J was sick that night, which kind of annoyed me because I had to drive myself home, which meant no getting drunk. Boooo.

I'm at work. My drink is tea. But tonight, I'm definitely having a rum and coke.

Day 10- Photo of me over 10 years ago

Voila. That's me- 28 or so years ago. I do not look like that baby at all. I cannot believe how close together my eyes were. Monkey's eyes are wide-set. And her face is rounder. See?

She doesn't look like J did as a baby, either, for the record. Unfortunately for me, everyone says she looks like Good SIL's husband- my BIL. This results in many awkward and uncomfortable jokes around the in-law dinner table.

A photo that I took

I took this with my cell phone and emailed it to myself in August 2005. I was 23.

My head is huge.... but not quite this huge. That little booger is Baby Lou. My darling beagle the first week I brought her home. Thereafter, she ruined my life and the lives of my roommates.

I was on the couch in that apartment I shared with my friend and another girl who was a bonafide drug addict and slut. Member I wrote that she AND her friend had an*al sex on my comforter in the same night? WITH RANDOM DUDES!??

I'm no Puritan. I've had my fair share of random hook ups and meaningless make out sessions. But there's something about random an*al s*ex that totally freaks me out. Who am I kidding- there's something about NON-random an*al s*ex that totally freaks me out.

Anyway, I was never content unless I was working towards a goal. Does this make sense? Since I've had Monkey, that need has completely gone away. When I look back on this picture, all I can remember is how lost I felt at that time. How optionless and trapped I felt by my circumstances and, ahem, my english degree. Chaotic and nomadic. No direction. Moving to a different location each year. Overdrafting my bank account, yet refusing to stop spending money on luxuries like going out to eat/drink, clothes, etc..

Speaking of the devil, my drink of the night WILL BE a glass of chardonnay. I'm too lazy to get it yet, though. Last night I also had a glass of chardonnay whilst watching the season finale of Boardwalk Empire.

Oh! I got a kindle for my bday. My bday was Saturday. I'm the big 2-9. While nothing feels quite as good as turning 19 or 21 (at least in my life), I overall prefer my late 20s to my early 20s (not to dis my early 20s- I've enjoyed it all).

Angry/Sad Photo

A photo that makes me angry or sad. This photo of Zahra Baker makes me really sad and really angry. Her sh*tty parents who have sh*tty friends who took advantage of the vulnerability of this girl- who had even LESS of a chance to fight anyone off because she had a prosthetic leg. Not to go all Nancy Grace on your a$$, but this story haunts me.

Must Complete 2- I'm Late

Okay, 20 of my favorite things:

1. knee socks

2. super thin v-neck t-shirts

3. sweat pants with elastic at the ankles

4. Dior's spray foundation

5. bronzer

6. new underwear

7. a good razor

8. dogs

9. babies

10. baby stuff- literally everything

11. good books

12. trashy books (like Kendra's autobiography)

13. a new favorite song

14. macaroni & cheese

15. ice cream

16. a nice butt

17. wine

18. bedtime

19. morning coffee

20. old friends

Number 7 - a photo that makes me happy:

This one. And "happy" just doesn't do my feelings justice.

Day 5

A bit late

Favorite Quote from my friend J*on from L-w schl.

A former co-worker was dating a dude who went through a phase in which he was having s*x with other men. He was living in Europe at the time. But he was straight. I had some reservations and gave way too much thought this this guy's sexuality and whether my former c-worker was dating a gay man who just plain old didn't want to be gay.

I asked my friend J*on- a totally unrelated party- what he thought.

His response came quick and easy: "Straight dudes don't hook up."

And my favorite quote was born.

Day 4

Book. I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat.

High school fave: A Separate Peace. This will always be my favorite book, I think.

Tomorrow I'm headed to my firm's office in the big[ger] city. I have so much anxiety that it's making me sleepy. I'm really nervous. I have a ton of work to do. They didn't finish pressing my suit at the dry cleaners (WTF?) I'm on edge.

I keep reminding myself that this time tomorrow, I will be home sweet home again.

I will be taking a xanax before the ride.

Speaking of xanax, my older brother has an ex-gf (who is his baby mommy). My family is class through and through. ANYWAY, Baby Mommy has a sister who has a baby daddy. THAT baby daddy was addicted to prescription medication, stole a doctor's prescription pad, wrote himself prescriptions, was caught and is now in prison (as that is a federal offense). Nice, right? The kicker is that he's been addicted for awhile and was watching his young daughter regularly while all f*cked up on medication. And you know he wasn't moderate in his consumption.

Isn't that nuts? My mom told me this gem of a story last night.

The little girl is really cute. She was a guest at our wedding bc she wanted to see her cousin (my dear nephew who is now in 4th grade) as the ring bearer. I love my nephew. He was born my freshman year of college. Holding him for the first time was one of the happiest days of my life. I digress. So this little girl doesn't talk about how her dad's in jail- she's in 3rd grade. I guess the guidance counselor at school spoke w her and she asked if she could write him a letter for Xmas. HOW SAD IS THIS? Ugh. I can't deal. Her mom is a hot, irritating mess, for the record. I've encountered her at my nephew's life things.

I received a text mssg from an unknown number. It said, 'Sorry I haven't gotten back to you. I've been busy. Congrats on your appointment. Best of luck! Love Aunt m'

I've been racking my brain. Why would you congratulate someone about an appointment? Did this intended recipient get an appointment at the region's finest cancer doctor? Why would she need luck? Is this a medical thing? Or did she mean interview? Should I text her back and find out more?

Alright, time to review documents. I'm just procrastinating.
Drink of the night: Chardonnay.

Favorite TV Program

This would be King of Queens. I'm like 10 years late on this one, I recognize. But there's never been a more funny show, in my opinion. Although Roseanne and the Golden Girls are close behind. We all know how much I love my Golden Girls.

Drink of the night:

Went to work really early today, worked really hard. Dodged about a trillion calls bombarding me with more work. Accepted some, declined some (unsure if declining is allowed, but did it anyway). Had din-din w my mom & Monkey and drank a glass of absolutely delicious Chardonnay. Came home, bathed Monkey, fed Monkey, tucked Monkey into bed after an exciting episode of Sesame Street. I'm SO SLEEPY.

We caught 4 mice. FOUR. In our pantry. Member that wedding I was in? Well, my friend hooked me up with candy and cookies to create the party favor ensemble. Careless me tucked the leftovers away in the pantry. On the floor. Almost 3 mos later, we learn that mice have been eating Hershey Kisses like CRAZY. Hershey Kisses with little teeth marks. Little pieces of foil everywhere. The whole 9 yards. I'm wondering if I should call an exterminator. Or if it is possible to catch them all, one by one.

Day 2- Favorite Movie

First thing's first, Drink of the night: Reisling

Favorite Movie:

American Movie.

This recently took the place of Home Alone II.

Tough act to follow.

Didn't you love No Country For Old Men? That's up there.

Alive

I'm doing this puppy:

Day 1 - your favorite song
Day 2 - your favorite movie
Day 3 - your favorite television program
Day 4 - your favorite book
Day 5 - your favorite quote
Day 6 - 20 of my favorite things
Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy
Day 8 - a photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 9 - a photo you took
Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago of you
Day 11 - a photo of you recently
Day 12 - something you are OCD about
Day 13 - a fictional book
Day 14 - a non-fictional book
Day 15 - your dream house
Day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 - an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc)
Day 18 - my wedding/future wedding/past wedding
Day 19 - a talent of yours
Day 20 - a hobby of yours
Day 21 - a recipeDay 22 - a website
Day 23 - a youtube video
Day 24 - where I live
Day 25 - your day, in great detail
Day 26 - your week, in great detail
Day 27 - my worst habit
Day 28 - whats in my handbag/purse
Day 29 - hopes,dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 - a dream for the future

I handed in my wretched project yesterday & had NOTHING to do today at work. Isn't that funny? Or not. Such is a day in the life in my profession. When this happens, I worry while I have work on nights/wkends that I am neglecting friends/family. And when I'm at work and have nothing to do, I worry that I will lose my job. I wonder why I can't have work while I'm at work and then no work when I'm not at work. Or work while I'm at work and then a little bit of work while I'm at home. Because I don't mind working from home. BROKEN RECORD. I know. Have you noticed that there is just no pleasing me?

Enough biotching and to the point.

The reason I'm doing this thing is because I saw it on another blog while wasting time today. And I thought- wtf?

My favorite song. Without question, Amazing Grace. Any version. With music or without. Just music, or just vocals.

Nothing sounds better than Amazing Grace on bagpipes. I wanted the bagpiper to play it at my wedding, but he said it's often played at funerals and might make people feel sad.

Thankful.......

So I felt like I should take the time to jot down a few things for which I am thankful. To be perfectly honest, I had a rough passed few days. And today at 230 as I received an email asking me to do work over the 4 day vacation that I so desperately wanted and hoped for, my heart dropped. I'm so sad and so, so fully of self-pity. I can't think of anything off the top of my head.

But that is ridiculous. I am fortunate. I am officially thankful this Thanksgiving 2010 for the following:

1. The Monkster & J, healthy family & friends. Need I say more?

2. My 2 obnoxious furballs that forgive my every transgression

3. Funny text messages that I am blessed to receive daily

5. Netflix

6. Blogs

7. Colored printers

8. Staples (v. paper clips)

9. My secretary- pretty much my only real human companionship throughout the day

10. Juicy scandals

11. Documentaries about drug users

12. Soft beagle ears

13. The smell of the outside

14. My brain

15. Skylines

16. Employment (begrudgingly I write this)

17. King of Queens

18. Boardwalk Empire

19. Caffeine

20. A home with heat in a pretty neighborhood

21. Kindness

22. Right now

22. youtube

23. pacifiers and baby formula

24. wine/beer/hard liquor in no particular order


On that note, drink of the night: A mixture of pear juice, white grap juice and rum. After I poured the rum, I realized we were out of soda!! URGH!

Tomorrow is T-giving w the in-laws. Wish me luck.

Decorations

Drink of the night: Beer

I put up these bad boys again. Only to find that my dog's appetite for foam berries on a wire vine has increased. I can't have a baby crawling around putting wires in her mouth. So I guess you could say that, thus far, Hannie has single-handedly destroyed Christmas. She's lucky she's as cute as a button. A large, furry button.

Here's a pic of my older brother and I eating Santa's cookies, I think.

In the 80's- and maybe early 90's- I can't recall. My mom used to put up those holiday decorations that were like a mosaic of melted plastic. Member those? I sometimes wonder if they ever existed at all, as they seem to have left the earth entirely. I can't even recall exactly what they formed- a tree? a pumpkin? a snowman? an Easter egg? wtf? Am I losing it?

Then she just stopped.

One year her failure to decorate for holidays (aside from a fall wreath or whatever) other than Christmas really depressed me. I think I was in junior high or high school. So I tried to decorate myself, but I didn't have money or a car so I made them myself with neon paper and some tape. They were terrible.

I decided that I would always decorate the house for holidays- if for no other reason- than for Monkey. I hesitate to make this statement on the tail end of a story about how my mom stopped decorating and it depressed me because she's a good mom and a wonderful grandma, but the truth stands: I wanted her to decorate more for the holidays. She would roll her eyes at this entry.

So this year, I made a point of getting pumpkins and gourds and mums and all that jazz. It looked really pretty and made me feel satisfied. And at Halloween, I made sure those pumpkins were carved. I always make J carve one too. He complains and puts it off for days and then he all of the sudden gets really into it. This year he made an awesome cat. I carved Monkey's name into the other one. Then we set them outside and watched the squirrels go to town on them- using their little paws to dig out the edible stuff from the pumpkin. It was really cute.

I totally understand why my mom didn't decorate other than for Xmas. It felt like a production and it would have been very easy to be like, 'What's the diff, it'll be over in 2 wks anyway.' Moreover, she was probably like, 'My kids are teenagers. I don't have to do that stuff anymore and I'm too busy trying to prevent them from skipping school and smoking cigarettes.'

She failed at both. We all skipped school and we all took up smoking at some point.

So she might as well have decorated.

Reunion Thoughts

I DESPISE how judgmental I am.

So my 10 yr reunion is coming up and my dear friend The Blind decided to create a website for it. People register and then if they fill out their spouse, occupation, etc..

I'm cruising the names of people I barely remember. And I have the audacity to be surprised at what some people endeed up doing.

For example, one kid wrote something about being a motivational speaker. I thought, 'That surprises me.'

I knew him in 4th grade. We were 9 or 10. He professed his love for me on the playground in elementary school. If we spoke after that, I have no recollection.

I feel like I don't have the right to be surprised at anything he ended up doing. I did not know him at all.

But high school tricks you into thinking you knew these people. At least big high schools. Because you see the same people every day.

But I really only actually knew a handful of people.

I know these aren't novel thoughts, but I find myself falling back into the same pattern and I find it limiting. Even though the thoughts I think are not always negative, I feel like they do not make me a better person.

For this reason, I want Monkey to go to a small high school. So at the very least, there are only 100 people she stereotypes, as opposed to 500.

10 months

Today is Monkey's 10 month birthday! She celebrated by drinking 8 oz of formula, eating a delightful apples & cherries combo and passing out while watching a Sesame Street Sing Karaoke special. A glutton before the age of 1. Apple doesn't fall far, folks.... :)

I'm also coming in at almost 9 months of working. Silly as it sounds, this is a huge accomplishment to me. When I first started, I could not envision it lasting a month. I've adapted, but I still do not think that this is the job for me, long term. But for the time being, it works.

The drink of the day so far is the milk in which my Honey Nut Cheerios are swimming. But this evening, it will most certainly be a rum and coke. Last night I had wine and I missed my carbonated go-to.

So I'm on J's computer. Again. And I was looking through the folders and found some pics.

This first pic featuring me with my eyes closed is from law schl. I had just returned from a run and we decided to attempt a family photo- which is always hysterical when a beagle is involved. We were baby-less! I cannot imagine a life without the Monkster. While I definitely would not classify myself as "care-free" as a 1st yr l-aw student has about a million worries, I would classify myself as less vulnerable. But I was a pretty huge psychotic mess that year.

And this second pic above is me and my little brother on either my 5th or 6th birthday. I believe 6th. In my hands is my beloved guinea pig.

I'm Lame

J's at work again late tonight. I seized the day and watched Toy Story 3. Completed the trilogy.

I am crying like someone who is super wasted, but I'm not!

It was SO SAD.

Helpless

It is only when J is gone that I realize how much I depend on him.

He makes me dinner every night while I hold or tend to Monkey. When Monkey's already in bed and my hands are free, he STILL makes dinner because, as he said, 'We have to remain true to our own f*cked up new gender roles.' He does the dishes and makes dinner and sees that Monk always has clean bottles, and he also does all the man stuff in the house. I do most of the cleaning, though.

The sun now sets at, like, 3pm. He's at trial this week and will be working late. Dude, I'm scared!! It's so dark out. At these times I actually rely on my beagle to keep me safe (and our house alarm). The beagle knows that her and I are a team. If one of us hears a noise, we look at each other to confirm and assess. If she's in the other room and I call her (to make sure a burglar hasn't climbed through the window and murdered her), she appears a la Lassie on the landing, ears perked and at attention. The golden is just a big coward who steals all my sh*t.

J's on business in 3 weeks for THREE NIGHTS. I'm calling my mom and having her sleep over for at least 2. The third- I will be sleeping with the lights and TV on. The house alarm will be activated at 530pm.

Okay, I hear the neighbor's dog barking. I have to go recheck all the doors.

Drink of the night: Bacardi and Coke.

As promised....

Here it is! The new furniture.

• A gift from the in-laws (we picked it out, they wrote the check). So while they may be emotionally unsupportive at times, they indeed generously financially supported us in this instance. And I am very grateful. MIL and I are on a clean slate (does this mean my forgiveness can be purchased? Eeks.) Anyway, let's see how long this lasts!
• I opted to forego cushioned chairs. I knew I'd never clean them and I am messy.
• Things are still awkward in the dining room, as a pack 'n' play is set up. We set Monkey here while unloading groceries, etc....

I bet you were all on the edges of your seats. Well, rest easy now.

WOW, I'm bored by this post.

Post 2

I also feel compelled to inform everyone that for the passed 3 weeks I haven't been able to read the comments because I was afraid to directly log onto my blog from work- so I would log only into blogger, post and that's all.

But I just went back now and read the comments (I know, I know, there are only like 3- but they were hilarious and totally made my night). The kicker is that I'm still on my work computer. I suppose I'm just offiially taking my chances. Eeks!!

The New Carpet

Currently Drinking: Bacardi & Coke. As I opened up blogger to begin an entry, I realized I didn't have a drink with me. I set the trusty laptop down & mixed myself a cocktail. I now feel complete.

A few weeks ago, J was lamenting that our living room wasn't "cozy," as we had no carpet. Then he was whining that even if we HAD a carpet, it would be ruined by our dogs' muddy paws. Valid. When we open the backdoor after the dogs have done their business outside, it is like the running of the bulls. The whole house shakes. Mud is everywhere. Everyone within earshot thinks in unison at the general direction of my two 4-legged friends, "CHILL. THE. F*CK. OUT." J, perhaps, the loudest. This morning he told me that after our golden dies, he's refusing to let us get another golden. We'll see about that...

So I unilaterally selected and ordered a rug. A shag rug. J wants cozy? Cozy, he shall receive.

You can imagine my delight as I exited my car this afternoon in the pouring rain with 2 heavy bags, a grumpy baby and no umbrella- in high heels, no less- when I noticed that our new rug was sitting inside our door.

First thing's first. Feed child. Then- Rug time.

I laid it out, realized I hated it, but also realized that it would probably only be around 6 months tops.

My suspicions were confirmed when I let the dogs in and Hannie laid down and started to dig at it.

In the photo below which features the new rug, you may notice a few things:

1. My offspring hanging out in her overpriced jumping machine.

2. My golden relaxing on the floor with her bone.

3. J had too much beer one evening and decided he would subscribe to National Geographic. A magazine is sitting on our "coffee table. " The trunk that J used to take to camp each year as a child.

Tomorrow I will feature our new dining room table.

Ahhh, Parenthood

Currently drinking: despite my slight sore throat (last night I only drank hot tea), I'm drinking a rum & coke. It was a bacardi & coke kinda day.

So it's no secret that work has been kicking my a$$. J's super busy too. Today, though, for the first time, I had to stay late to knock out a project I was working on (NOT for the wh*re. I don't stay late for her). So I asked J to get Monkey, even though he had work to do from home tonight. I left at 6, figuring Monk would be in bed by 7:30 and I'd work from 7:30 until I finished.

But Monk wasn't readily drinking her bottle. Then she refused to take her paci. She wasn't super sleepy by 7pm. All very un-Monkey-like. I knew she had a slight cold and her top teef are coming in so I gave her Tylenol & puffs. I let her wind down by laying next to me as I finished my book on the bed. I was going to let her stay up til 8 and then bed for her. I had to get to work.

En route to her room, she started projectile vomiting all over me- on my feet, all over her PJ's, down my shirt, on my shirt, on my hands, all over the floor. I called for J and took her to the bathroom. While J scrubbed the floors, I washed my feet and gave her her 2nd bath of the night. Clean PJs, some pedialyte & Sesame Street in bed- she fell asleep while laying on me. I intended to start my work for the night 1.5 hours ago. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? At this rate, I won't be seeing the inside of my office (or J won't. Probably me, though. We play the "most likely to get laid off or fired game" and I usually win. Yay me! Haha).

Back when I was "interviewing" pediatricians (I went to one, asked him a few questions and he sounded good by me), he told me he was concerned because I seemed very regimented and having children means to expect the unexpected. I explained to him that I have 2 crazy dogs, one of whom just vomited all over the floor and made me late to see him. I've had some practice, which is true.

When your dog vomits, you clean it up & stick her in an area where she'll do the least damage, cook her chicken and rice and worry and then call the vet if things don't clear up in 24 hours. One time it looked like the beagle was vomiting blood so I shoveled puke in a plastic bag and presented it to the vet as evidence. It's expensive & worrisome. It was good practice. Tonight the beagle puked 2x and J had to clean it up bc he spotted it first. Member how I told you she eats all her poo*p? J came into the room and goes, "The beagle ate a record amount of sh*t today." I responded, "How do you know?" He said, "Because I just got done cleaning it up off our living room floor. She puked up 2 enormous piles." I think she prefers it cold & it got pretty cold here today. D*amn glutton.

I'm finding that a baby is similar (other than the whole eating po*op thing), but more intense (although cheaper if you have health insurance). You miss work, they are more helpless, they throw up more, you contract their illnesses and you worry more (or at least I do, thanks to post-partum anxiety, which I am happy to report is subsiding). And unless they're sleeping, you don't get anything done. It's actually kind of like having a baby beagle. Except a baby beagle pretends its sleeping and then you wake up and find out that while you were sleeping, it escaped from its cage and has been systematically destroying all of your sh*t.

I don't think this made any sense.

SATC

Drink of the evening: Again, a yellowtail.

J made me hide my pumpkin beer from the trick-or-treaters. He's so pure. I could tell he loved handing out candy.

One girl came to the door- she was 17 or 18 maybe? Anyway, this girl goes to J, "Can I take 2 pieces of candy? One for me and one for my son?"

For real? Why the h*ell are you trick-or-treating?

One trick-or-treater came up on our stoop with his mom. When they'd come to the door, we'd just hold out our bowl of candy for them to choose. Anyway, this kid was lik 2 or 3. He reached his entire arm in the bowl and tried to scoop as much as possible into his little sack. Most of it fell out. He walked away. His mom then walked up to the door and reached down- presumably to pick up the candy her kid dumped and put it back in our bowl, right? Dude, she pocketed it! We were handing out mini Snickers - not bars of gold! Or bottled water during a drought. Man, these people are more hard up than I thought.

This was my first experience handing out candy. Last year, as I most likely blogged, I was forced to walk the hill-infested sidewalks of the rich neighborhoods in the suburbs outside NYC with Good SIL and her pack of children whilst 6 months pregnant and sober in the rain. Needless to say, I'm psyched that I got to chill at home, drink my beer and think about how much I'd rather throw up than go to work tomorrow and continue to be screamed at by that whore.

Oh! And I saw SATC 2- FINALLY. As the credits rolled, sadness enveloped my body. I can't believe that I've now seen it and no longer am able to look forward to seeing it. J tried to get all critical: "I find these lines to be unbelievable." "This is so outrageous." But not me. I was just happy to be able to watch them again. Also, did Carrie get a boob job or is it my imagination?

Ha.

Workin' on that project til after 1am last night. Woke up, dropped Monk at daycare & returned to it. 5:15 left to pick up Monk. At 7:00, called my new partner to discuss our status.

She mentioned that biotch came into her office today.

She said she "didn't want to tell her that [I] probably took a break to pick up my daughter at daycare because she wasn't sure how well [the biotch] would take it."

Seriously, dude? What universe do you live in?

When I email her my final product, I'm going to start it off with: "I apologize that this is a little late... I had to pick my daughter up from daycare, feed her dinner, give her a bath and put her to bed."

Conference Call Woes

I'm happy to say that I was assigned a partner in crime to help me sort through the mess that I've been working on since the wee days of October.

And I love her.

She's calm. She's not burnt out and she's an expert in leases. I thought I knew leases (how complex can they be?) UNTIL I spoke with her. She gives me hope that this project will be out of my life by Friday at the latest.

UGGHH. So we had a conference call at 730. I call in to the line, I'm on time, I have my work in front of me, J & baby are upstairs, the dogs each have a bone. I'm all set. I even use our landline (first time I've ever used it) to call in so that my cell phone service wouldn't cut out. While the biotch I'm working for is yammering on about something (to ME, mind you), my finger hits the "Flash" button on the back of the receiver and disconnects.

First of all, do you even remember "Flash" buttons? I didn't! Obviously. And what kind of phone designer would think that placing it on the back of the receiver would be an even remotely good idea. I started to sweat bullets when I saw what happened.

So I immediately called back, re-entered the conference (of 3 people) & the biotch didn't even notice I was gone- UNTIL they announced my re-entry. WOOO-WEEE. She was not happy. But she wasn't happy to begin with (when you have no joy in your life, I suppose this happens. I can personally attest to the fact that she has no joy in her life, as I have been in consistent contact w her a$$ since early October (Lord help me) and she is ALWAYS working). And not begrudgingly. Perhaps she's forgotten the meaning of taking a f*cking break.

Alright, I have to go. This blog entry is depressing me.

Currently drinking: a fine Yellowtail.

Pregnant college roommate: If you are reading this, are you jealous? :) JK

Survey. Remember these?

I am: drinking my nightcap
I think: I should get back to work.
I know: I should get back to work.
I want: someone to train my dogs not to be crazy. Particularly the huge one.
I have: a slightly swollen right tonsil
I wish: I worked part-time
I miss: SATC.
I feel: like foregoing the rest of my work for the evening and reading my book.
I hear: J watching hockey.
I smell: Well, I haven't showered in over 12 hours and my perfume is long gone. I've probably smelled better.
I love: the fact that J - and NOT me- left our new, full carton of milk out on the counter all night long last night and this morning I came down to find a container of warm and probably sour milk.
I always: drink my morning coffee out of a pint glass- half coffee, half milk. My own personal white trash cafe au lait
I am not: good at remembering to get my cloethes dry cleaned.
I believe: that nothing good comes out of junior high school.
I fear: having a 2nd child. What will it be like? Eeks!
I cry: when I think about this documentary I watched where a scientist raised a gorilla for many years and then dropped him off on an island. The man returned to the island after a few years, did this gorilla call and the gorilla appeared. The gorilla introduced him to his female-gorilla friend. The 2 then sat there in silence for awhile, the gorilla's hand pressed lightly against the man. The gorilla didn't want the man to leave, but the man had to go. My heart is broken.
I don't always: wash my face at night
I fight: with J on occasion about how to properly load the dishwasher. He tells me I load it improperly. I tell him I tried. He doesn't believe me. Rinse and repeat.
I never: get the mail.
I listen: to Christmas music en route to work already. I had no spirit last year, but I am compensating heavily this one. I'm putting up the Xmas tree the moment J gives me the go ahead.
I need: to learn how to properly load staples into a stapler without breaking it.
I am happy: that my grandma called me tonight to tell me about her dog's skin allergies.

Secretaries

I have 2 secretaries.

1 secretary for when I'm working with one specific partner. This is the one I love.

Then I have the secretary who is my main secretary. THIS is the one I told you has grandchildren, etc... I was all ready to love her and never ask her to do anything dumb or be a biotch, etc... And for the record, I still really like her. I will always like her. Because I was a secretary once and blah blah blah. Point is: I'm on her side.

She's been on vacation and got back today.

I really really needed her- or someone - last week to help me print out all this sh*t online. And it was fine that I had nobody, although I lamented that fact forever. She got in today at 11. I didn't want to be one of those people who hounded her before she got settled, so I waited til 1 and then emailed, 'K*ren, if you don't have a ton going on for R*bert today, would you mind printing some stuff out for me?' PRINT. Not collate, neatly compile, label, nada. Upload doc, press print.

She said, "Let me get through my 300 emails first and then get back to you.'

I responded, "Of course."

At 3:00 she wrote, "Can I just start it tomorrow?"

By this time I actually already started the printing and was halfway through. I am such a freaking pushover and a sucker. I just responded "No problem."

At 4:30, she was chilling out front bullsh*tting with the receptionist. I was only bummed because at that point it was verified that I'm a huge p*ssy.

Of course I'm not going to say anything to her or anyone else and start a big to-do when I'm so unimportant that the fact that I needed help is like unprecedented. And even if I was important, I'd be like, 'That sucks' and do nothing. But.... the fact that I NEVER ask her for anything- shouldn't that make her all the more helpful when I DO need help? Clearly not. Then I'm all lame and come to vent on my blog.

Oh well. At least I need the hours. :)

By the way- this all results from that biotch I've been working for who is literally the worst.

Sorry for being such a Negative Nancy, as usual. I'm supposed to be Postive Maiden.

The positives:

1. The sh*tty part of Monday is over.

2. I scheduled Monkey's Christmas pictures for Saturday morning. I'm way too excited.

3. While J cooked dinner, I cleaned the floors, which is a huge weight off my chest.

4. I just fnished a delicious beer. I'm so thankful for alcoholic beverages.

"I don't know..."

So it's no secret that I've selling my soul by working with some broad for the passed 3 weeks. She's INSANE. Now, I love the hours, as it's no secret I had no work for, like, ever. But it's really hard to please this chick.

She'll ask me to review "customer contracts."

I begin summarizing key terms and once I'm through contract... 150 out of 300, I'll receive an email that says, 'Oh, also review X term.' So I begin at contract 1 and keep truckin' all the while thinking, 'Yay! My hours will be high this month.' But then that night once I'm through Contract 135, she'll ask me to add yet another term.

And then she will ask me why I haven't gotten through any of the other non-contract documents.

1. I was only assigned customer contracts.

2. I can't even get through assignment numero uno, as you keep changing what you want.

But the real problem is - how do you SAY this? I said, 'Your instructions are unclear and you haven't give me any deadlines.' She responded, 'I was under the impression you were working full steam ahead.' Dude, I've worked until passed midnight every night for the passed 3 weeks. So..... I'm confused.

She's driving me NUUUUUUUUTTTS.

So on Friday, I stopped being nice. She emailed me 18 times telling me she needed to talk to me on the phone and I just never called her bc she was such a biotch over email. She called secretaries in the firm that are not mine, asking them to check where I was. This girl already has a reputation for treating secretaries like trash, so they were not helpful to her. By the time she reached me (she called me directly and I answered), she was heated. Mission accomplished.

The beauty of her lies in the fact that she's only a 2nd year. But because she's published a bunch of boring garbage, she thinks she's a partner. MMMM..... negativo.

So, I'm gonna get back to work now. I'm also going to attempt to set boundaries this week.

Disclaimer: I don't work til Monkey goes to bed. I do have those boundaries.

Shot Gun Wedding

The fall always reminds me of shot gun weddings. I may or may not have written about the one and only shot gun wedding I had the luxury of attending in my day. It was the glorious fall of 2005. The most broke I've ever been.

I bought a dress on sale for $34 to wear to this splended event & it was the first wedding J & I attended together. I was in serious obsession with J at this point (I still am, but - you know how delightful the newness of a relationships is...). Back to the point: It was an okay dress & I borrowed shoes from my friend Jen. The bride we all knew was pregnant & the groom- well, let's just say that the groom, while he has since become Mr. Mature Dad and Husband- a mere 5 months prior he was painfully single- I'm talking strip club, hooking up with undergrad and anything that moves- single. But, I digress, weren't we all? :)

So anyway, this was an exciting wedding. Niether the bride nor the groom told anyone about the pregnancy, but J was in their study group at school & she was regularly throwing up in the bathroom everywhere (school, J's apartment, her apartment, restaurants, etc...) & they were engaged and married within 2 months. The writing was on the wall.

The weather was trash and there was like a 5 hour time difference between the ceremony and reception and J had a mid-term the following Monday, so he studied in between these 2 events. So I guess, all in all, it may have been one of my least favorite weddings ever.

Midway through the reception, the bride's dad stood up and said "We have a special announcement." The room fell eerily silent & I swear- there was a collective gasp. Nervous eyes made eye contact across the tables. J nudged me under the table.

The bride's father continued: "We have a special guest here with us tonight."

ANOTHER gasp- was he going to welcome the fetus to the wedding??!!!!

And then- someone burst through the reception doorway with an inflatable version of her high school's mascot. This was the guest of honor the bride's dad was talking about.

The disappointment in the room was palpable. I swear. Nobody laughed, as we were all recovering from what we thought was going to be a pregnancy announcement at this couple's wedding.

Anyway, they have 3 kids now. J rarely talks to the groom anymore, but I'm dying to know the gender and names of these kids (only out of curiosity- I really really did not know this couple). He attended our wedding (she was at home giving birth) and then they had another baby at the same time that we had Monkey.

My drink at the time was gin & tonic.

Odd Surveys

In college, I participated in a number of creepy surveys and experiments, etc.. for extra cash.

One time I met this old dude at a popular study location on campus. He claimed to have been attempting to dissect popular "hook-up" culture among college-aged students in his thesis. For $25 (and probably the rest of my innocence), I sat there and told him how "hooking up" worked at college parties. A play by play. His questions weren't *that* creepy- I recall a few being like, "Do you exchange numbers? If so, when? Who asks?" I also recall him asking me "I heard about a 'butter face.'" It became clear to me that he was also talking to broke college guys too. When I told J this years later he immediately labeled this old man a f*cking creep and didn't buy the thesis story for one second. He was disgusted w this guy.

Another time I *almost* particpated in some sort of weekend-long gynelogical study for thousands of dollars. Maybe $1K? $3K? I don't remember. I dreamt of the great Xmas gifts I would be able to buy my family with that kind of money. I went to the doctor's office appointment before the study began in a bad area of town. I think my now-pregnant college roomie was with me (she was smart enough to not even consider participating in some weird gynelogical study). What turned me off wasn't the gynelogical aspect of it, but the office was so run down and shabby. And filled with legitimately poor people who were doing this for the money. The doctors didn't appear put together well and I saw a bunch of them smoking cigarettes out front. It felt like a place where fake doctors go to pretend they are doctors and to simultaneously take advantage of poor people. The whole thing felt wrong. So in the doctor's office, I was with a nurse or someone asking me questions before I was to have my first gynelogical exam (before they administer meds that do who-knows-what). I said to her, 'I don't want to do the study anymore.' She leaned in and whispered to me, 'Is it because it's...... gynelogical?' And I just said "Yes," because it would require the least explanation. But what I wanted to say is that there is no way that I want to (a) spend a weekend at this sh*thole (b) allowing your unprofessional doctors out front to shove weird medications up my hoo-ha, (c) while feeling guilt-free about taking advantage of all the TRULY poor people out front. The people that were not in college, did not come from homes where people would kill them for even considering participating in such a study, etc...

Anyway, J's home. Gotta run.

Conspiracy

Some days I am convinced - for real- that there is a conspiracy at work. Them v. Me.

I've always had a tendency to get paranoid about this kind of thing in the workplace.

Back as a young 16 year old waitress, I would sometimes walk in & if I wasn't immediately greeted with a full blown celebration of my arrival, I would think, "Is everyone mad at me? Do they know something I don't? Did I do a poor job of cleaning up the salad dressings last night?"

While I've mostly outgrown this - neediness?- I was struck with it today again for a moment. Upon my return from Monkey's 9 month dr visit, I returned to my office & my secretary was quietly talking to the partner with whom I regularly work.

First thought: "They're talking about me. That is why they are whispering."

WHAT A LOSER!!!! Of course they were not talking about me. I'm not even important enough to be on that particular partner's radar half the time. The odds are much greater that they're banging than that they're co-conspiring against me. Even if that partner did dislike me, he would not discuss it with her. He'd discuss it with HR.

Monkey is in bed, naturally. Her door is open & my a$$hole dogs keep sneaking in to her room: the beagle to lay beneath her crib (which is kind of cute) & the golden to steal her clean clothes that I've so neatly and maternally piled upon her expensive rocker that I've used...oh, I dunno... twice. I used it more while I was pregnant to chat on the phone with my friends- her room gets the best reception in the house. I told J from the beginning that we need a small flat screen & cable for her room in order for us to truly maximize the space. He wasn't convinced.

Never-ending Week

When I'm feeling bad for myself, I wonder, 'Why did you have to go and be a la-wyer? Leave the boring crap to the men!' How's that for feminism?

Do you watch Teen Mom? I was inspired when Catelynn said she wanted to be an ultrasound tech. I feel like, overall, that would be an enjoyable job. I love looking at people's ultrasound pictures (Dear college roommate, if you are reading this, SEND ME ULTRASOUND PICTURES! My college roommate is having a baby boy in February. She was my pregnant date to the wedding a few weekends ago. And she was such a good sport about not being able to drink, etc.. Remember how I whined throughout my entire pregnancy? Ungrateful bas*tard, am I.).

But can you imagine dealing with some pregnant women? Eeks.. I bet they get all mad and complain to your boss that you weren't friendly. Because my 1 u/s tech was NOT friendly. She KNEW we were at the appt to find out what we were having and she meausred every single little bone and whatnot in Monkey's body before spilling the beans and telling us it was a girl. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. She didn't care.

Seeing the baby on u/s was the best. Not as wonderful as holding her chubby body in my arms and allowing her little dagger fingernails scratch my face and pull my hair. But it was good stuff.

40 minutes until I get to see my munchkin.

Tomorrow she turns 9 months. I cannot believe it. If you ask her "Where's mama?" she looks for me (and she does the same for J if you ask where dada is). She already only lets me feed her a bottle old school (with her snuggled in my arms) in the early morning when she's still sleepy and feeling relaxed. She wants to sit up and look around while she drinks now- she holds her own bottle at daycare but becomes furious when I try to get her to hold her own bottle at home. And while she's not crawling yet, she is mobile. She waves "bye" and "hi" and points at everyone. We'll be at the store and there will be a creepy looking man and Monkey flashes him a million dollar smile and points. Or we'll be at a restaurant and Monkey is smiling at people across the room and waving to them. At first they wave back but then they're probably like, 'Dude. Make your kid stop waving at me. This is getting weird.' Despite my attempts to thwart her friendliness (Lord knows where she gets it), she persists.

Anyway, she continues to be the light of my life. A light that, before 9 months ago, I never knew could possibly exist. Love you, Monkey.

I'm done gushing now.

The Pic

That's me in my PJ's- the 2nd from the right with the blonde hair. I thought the black cardigan (that I wear to work) would dress it up a tad. But on second glance, I thought wrong. To my credit, my options were limited. The bride-to-be is the one with the big boobs (actually, everyone in this picture has big boobs except for me), wearing the p*enis tiara.

When I see this picture, all I see is me, wearing my PJs and suffering from a sore throat. I had the WORST sore throat in the world this evening. And I ended up giving it to the bride's sister (who was 19 and therefore unable to buy her own drinks so was sipping everyone else's- and ended up getting super drunk and making out w some old dude. The girl so lovingly refer to as "the Blind" - on the far left- was sweet. She was worried about the 19 year old. I wasn't worried. I figured, "She's 19. Perfect age to be a slut!" When I told the bride that some people were worried about her sister she goes, 'Ugh. We gotta ditch that chick.' Ahh! Clearly, my friends are about as nurturing as I am! :) Except for you, the Blind.

Isn't it funny that I even take the time to block out pictures? JUST IN CASE MIL or a SIL comes across it- so long as there are black dots over my eyes, I can still deny it.....

Bachelorette Party

Before the bachelorette party a few weeks ago, I realized I don't own any "going out" shirts. So I wore my pajama top.

I'll post a picture of it tomorrow. At the time I felt like I was pulling a fast one, but upon seeing the pictures, I realize that the joke was on me.

The bride-to-be has these big old boobs. She's never breastfed- and it shows.

I brought this up with my friend who recently had a baby. I forwarded her a few pictures and pointed out the bride's goods.

She said there is a big difference between "I'm getting married" boobs and boobs that have fed a baby. Hahaha. Ahhh... "I'm getting married" boobs. 2.5 years ago. So close, yet so far away!!

Post 2 of the day

I don't feel like working - Monkey already is asleep for the night. It's 642pm. :(

My blog entries lately have been long as sh*t. So I thought I'd shorten up with some bullet point updates

• I told you about that assistant at work who may or may not think I wanna bang her bc I commented 3x in 5 minutes about how much I loved her perfume? Eeks... well... at first I thought she'd sue me for s*xual harassment, but...now I think she might try to kiss me. She has recently referred to my body as "amazing" (it isn't, I'm just tall and thin. And I wear button downs and dark pants to work every day. Nothing unusual or special) and also called me "so cute" after I noted at an office party that I find something s*exy about Pauly D from Jersey Shore. Then I saw a missed call from her today on my phone. I'm TERRIFIED.
• I'm sitting on the couch in between 2 dogs. Where I belong. :)
• I'm already behind on fall TV. 2 weeks.
• My speech for the wedding is over. Hopefully it met the bride's expectations, as that was my main goal. You really only get one chance (if you're lucky) to stand up in front of a crowd to profess how good of a friend someone has been to you. And that is usually either at their wedding or their funeral. I'm grateful that in this case, I was at a wedding.
• I remember being at my good friend The Blind's graduation party. A band was playing and her dad dedicated a song to her. While I don't remember the song, I will never forget the look on his face when he looked at her as the band said that this song was from her dad and started playing. It was so beautiful. I love my dad to death, but he is very slow to show his soft side, which is unfortunate. Because I know it's there.
• I can't remember what I told you and what I didn't. But surely I told you that my secretary used to be a stripper, wrote a book about it, had a part of it published in the newspaper and then the entire office found out? Well, I now can't stop envisioning her on the pole. And she has this huge chest that I now keep noticing. And I freaking LOVE HER. She's so sweet. I think of all the secretary-attorney relationships at the firm, her and I are the closest now. She is such a huge help to me and I am very grateful. I think she's hotter than the assistant who I accidentally s*xually harassed, but I do not have a girl crush on either of them.

Daycare Woes

This week I find myself extraordinarily (and uncharacteristically) busy at work, which is a nice change of pace, as I cannot believe it's already Friday.

But I wanted to post nonetheless, as I am committed to this thing. Although I'm not sure why.

I accidentally created mayhem at the daycare this week.

My favorite worker (the one who informed me that Monkey's spine seemed off) informed me that the owner's children were hanging out in the infant room, picking up babies WITH their friends. And that 2 times, children were dropped (not Monkey). The owner has 3 children ranging from 6 to about 12.

We pay about a million dollars a month- well, not really. Actually a little over $1K. But we're not paying that much so Monkey's safety is compromised by being treated like a doll by older children. SO J wrote a very no-bullsh*t letter to the owner, informing her that he expected this to stop (totally a turn on. I like a man who puts his foot down).

So he opened up his big mouth at work and told his co-worker who also has her kids at this place. She FLIPPED and told another teacher (although did not reveal the source of info).

This teacher told the owner, who told her husband (also an owner, I suppose). WOO. This did not go over well. Their main goal since this occurred (Monday? Tuesday? I forget) has not been to reassure everyone that this would not happen again, but to find out WHO has been spreading this around- they asked her many times via email that day. If I didn't love the actual teachers that watch over Monkey on a daily basis, I would remove her from this daycare immediately. But I love the parents and I love her actual teachers, etc...

When J's co-worker said she "just heard a rumor" and did not reveal her source of info via email, the owner's husband (a total d*ck), wrote her an email basically threatening to kick her and her kids out of the daycare.

It got ugly. And it's still not over, as they arranged for a meeting this morning. J's co-worker promised she wouldn't reveal her source of information- ughh.. we'll see. J learned his lesson. I keep reassuring the daycare worker via texts that everything will be okay, etc. It's a mess.

And then today when I dropped off Monkey, she was happy as a clam as I set her down to play with her 2 friends. And started dancing with one of the teachers (an older lady that I love). And she waved good-bye to me, happily. And then I called J to tell him I feel like a piece-of-sh*t mother for dropping my kid off all day and that she probably feels more comfortable with Miss R than me. And then we had that conversation All. Over. Again.

Beth

Ya know those people in your life that you were never really tight with, but you enjoyed what small relations you had? I mean, like, the guy who works at 7-11 (I actually do NOT miss the guy at 7-11 at one of my old universities- his name was Gary and he started to take our friendly casual relationship to the next level by asking if I wanted to grab a beer. NOPE. You’re just the 7-11 guy to me and that is all. No offense).

Of course, I miss actually living close to and seeing my real friends.

But the fake ones, you never even end up keeping in touch with. They are gone.

One that I really liked was my old roommate Beth. We never had enough material to really take our friendship prime time, but I enjoyed the 5 brief months we spent as roommates. She definitely had friends, but she marched to the beat of a different drummer. She was not lazy. I was taking post-bacc courses after graduating and she was in her senior year of college. In MY senior year of college, I spent a great deal of time smoking the good stuff with my friends on a couch in a semi-comatose state watching Family Guy reruns and waiting for our food to be delivered. I also went out all the time and studied a lot. The only real “me” time I allotted myself was at the gym upstairs in the building and late night (during the week sometimes), I would sit in front of my laptop and smoke cigarettes while surfing the net. But my internet addiction was not nearly as refined as it has become. Beth didn’t do this stuff. Beth baked cakes. Once she baked a lemon cake with lemon icing. A few weeks later she made rice krispie treats. I barely went to the grocery store, let alone bake stuff. Occasionally I’d try out a new recipe for dinner, but…. I mostly just ordered out. I love how I was “so broke” in college, yet I had full cable & HBO, smoked $8/packs of cigarettes and partied whenever I deemed necessary. At the time, I genuinely felt broke because, well, simply not going out wasn’t an option. Nor was not paying for cable. Or not smoking to save money. I think you get to a point when you have no money and there’s simply no hope that you will ever have money that you just spend whatever you have. If I found a few bucks, I’d walk into the nearest bodega and pick me up a red bull. WHY NOT, eh?

Anyway, back to Beth. She was in ROTC, taught English as a second language in Spain after college for awhile, etc… She would go out sometimes for sure, but it wasn’t a given. She might spend a Fri or Sat night in watching a movie alone. In college I went out every single weekend night without fail. Every one of ‘em. It wasn’t until this period of my life- the “semester” after I graduated, that I realized that staying inside and not getting wasted out of your mind might actually feel relaxing. She also didn’t have a go-to friend like I always had. I always had a group of friends that were up to something (usually no good) or a go-to friend I could call if I wanted to go out (which I did). She was more of a loner. That’s how she ended up with random old me as a roommate during her senior year of college.

We hung out more and more as the semester drew on, and we kept in touch loosely after she moved away. We now haven’t spoken in like 4 years, which is fine because we really wouldn’t have much to say.

But I like her. And I wish she worked down the hall from me or something and we could see each other regularly and have small talk and stuff.

Sometimes this blog feels really self-indulgent. I feel like I should apologize for yammering on about myself so much on here.

I’m going to write my speech RIGHT NOW. I keep forgetting that I have to give it in 2 days.

Speeches, Memories, Babies

This weekend is my best friend's wedding.
I've been thinking about this weekend for a long time- not only because my dear friend is tying the knot, but also because I knew I would have to leave Monkey for it.
I KNOW, I KNOW- I am a broken record.
But I always thought, "Monkey will be 8.5 months when N gets married. I can't imagine having an 8 month old! Maybe it will be easier to leave an 8 month old than I think."
Well, children, not when you suffer from post-partum anxiety disorder.
The bride must've read ma crazy mind bc she called me this morning to let me know Monkey & my mama were invited. But I figured that my mom traveling around the city with my baby was more stressful than my mom remaining in my home with my baby.
Okay, I'm done being dramatic and post-partum-y. For now.

I dreamt about the speech I was going to give last night. Naturally, it was a nightmare. I have no idea what I'm going to say.
I'm going to rack my brain for more memories of our friendship:

1. The first "sleepover" we had, I ate dinner with her parents. We had buckwheat & hungarian goulash. When I was 10, my mom served me things like Hamburger Helper. I had never heard of either buckwheat or hungarian goulash. But I ate 'em. Cuz mama taught me to be polite, if not how to eat healthy.

2. At sleepovers we used to cook things- we made up recipes and stuff. Once I tried to cook something that involved the oven (duh). I think chocolate croissants (from scratch). I think we were 11. Her dad came down to say 'hi' (it was around midnight). While his back was turned, I opened the oven to check on my creation. Black smoke burst forth from the open oven door. I slammed the oven door and waited for him to go back upstairs, beads of sweat forming on my brow. I have no recollection on how this story ended.

3. Her mom took us to the beach. I may have mentioned this story on here before. We met these 2 dudes (1 cute, 1 not so cute). We got in their car with them (a la Natalee Holloway, except we were 14). We went to some complex. There was this community pool that was closed. We hopped the fence and swam in our skivvies. Hours later, we made our way back to the hotel. I told her to tell her mom we were hanging out on the beach. She insisted on telling her mom we were at the pool. I told her that her mom would definitely check the pool and it had been closed for hours. She would not listen to me. We went back to the room. Her mom was PIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEED. I was scared for my life. Needless to say, Nina wasn't allowed to take me to the beach with her the following year.
In retrospect, I think the complex we went to is the same one where the in-laws currently own a home. Don't you love it when life is circular? Sigh.

4. In 5th grade, we had this friend named Elizabeth. Her parents owned a fish store and her house smelled like fish. She was super super tall for our age (10-11). She had a few labs. Her parents *always* gave her lots of money to go to the mall. She bought CDs all the time. We used to have dance-offs to Michael Jackson songs. Thank GOD we did not videotape it.

Monkey spent the afternoon with MIL. MIL decided that she wanted to try to watch Monkey sometimes. We dropped her off at lunch. They went on a walk. She called J frantic, telling him that Monkey just doesn't like her. J explained to her that Monkey is 8 months old- she doesn't know HOW to dislike anyone. He then told her to just let her lay on a blanket on the floor and watch Sesame Street- if she cries, she cries, but she will fall asleep. They key is to RELAX. MIL called back again, frantic, claiming - again- that Monk just doesn't like her. J said, 'I cannot BELIEVE she raised 3 kids. I just cannot believe it.'
Amen.

Funerals

I’m feeling uninspired at the moment. But here’s what I’ve been up to:

Went to a funeral for J’s gma in NYC, stayed overnight at Good SIL’s house. Everyone was on their best behavior. Although to demonstrate how MIL has a tendency to forego using her brain, during the [sober] early evening, I noted my throat hurt and requested hot tea. I received it. MIL goes, ‘hot tea really makes your throat feel better? really?’ She was not being sarcastic.

Perhaps I am wrong and this isn’t common knowledge. If I am correct, though, the only way one does not know this is if they do not reside on planet earth.

To her credit, though (and also to Evil SIL’s credit) everyone was nice. I was nervous, as I thought I had until Thanksgiving to brave the in-laws.

In any event, I love that particular side of J’s extended family. His aunts are so much fun and his cousins couldn’t be cooler. J’s paternal gma was a good one: she raised 4 successful and very strong children in the Bronx with a no bull-sh*t style of mothering. Then returned to teaching once her youngest was in high school. Nothing was more important to her than her Catholicism and she gave everyone h*ell (J & myself included) for living in sin. How can you fault someone who is this concerned with your salvation (or eternal da*mnation) (Note: I am not this forgiving with political figures who are concerned with my salvation. They are just judging me because they think that they are better than me- and if “better” means that they drink less, then d*amnit, they are better). Anyway, she was 90, so she lived a nice, long life. She suffered for the last 2 years so her death was not a surprise. I know that she boiled chicken and was always dressed in her best (a quality which I do not have, but I do admire in others). She was married in St. Patrick's cathedral in NYC. She was 100% irish and she was straightforward, which is a breath of fresh air and very unlike MIL (this is MIL's MIL, in case you hadn't put that together- MIL didn't really like her bc they are so different. MIL is proper and thinks she's better than everyone and expects you to read between the lines of her facial expressions. Nanny was blunt and said what was on her mind.)

At her husband's (J's pop-pop) funeral a few years ago, we were all at this restaurant while they were digging the grave (long story- but basically we arrived for the burial and they dug his grave on the wrong plot, so we all got really drunk at a nearby restaurant). Nanny started to cry during a toast. Her oldest daughter (my favorite of J's aunts) stood up and said, 'Mom, when I went through all my stuff (she meant her divorce and breast cancer), I told you I did not think that I could handle all of the events in my life. And you reminded me that of course I would manage these events- I was a survivor. And that I would come out a stronger person at the end of these trials. And, mom, you taught me to survive because you are a survivor. And you will survive this too.' I will never forget this.

This same aunt gave the eulogy at her mother's funeral. Since I generally do not like displaying emotion in front of crowds, the presence of a special room in the back for people with babies was nice. Monkey and I were able to sit by ourselves in the back. Monkey was WAAY too happy to be sitting with everyone at a funeral. She was squealing and having a grand old time.

In the eulogy J's aunt detailed Nanny's life growing up in NY. And she added that her mother had always been her soundboard- the person she went to with her ups and her downs and for advice and for help. And that 2 days ago, she lost her person. And, as my mother is also my person, it got to me.

The priest naturally discussed that in the journey of life, death is just one of those things that we all must go through. I know this isn't a novel statement by any means, but how terrible is this fact?

At the gravesite, J's dad straight up farted. Nobody heard it but me and I called him out on it later when we were all drunk. He swore that it was so quiet that nobody would have been able to hear it. I was standing about 6 feet away from him. I heard it loud and clear.

Rest in peace, Nanny.

The weekend and yet another illness

This must be quick as I find myself mysteriously busy at work.
I came down with the flu.
Worked from home yesterday as a result.
J did good work taking care of the baby & the house.
But the house was still a mess.
So I took out the trash and cleaned the bathroom at around 330.
Locked myself out of the house.
Luckily I was showered & dressed.
I walked to pick Monkey up from daycare (still violently ill, mind you, but figured since I was home and billed 6 hours, I should pick up the baby- even if just to check off the "cared for baby while I was sick" box on life's nonexistent checklist).
Called J from daycare to tell him I was locked out and to come home.
He asked too many questions like, "HOW? You are going to WALK home?" "Yes." "How?" "With my feet?" Finally, babies were crying and inside I was crying and I said, "I just have to go. Come home asap."
I knew he'd overthink it. He had all these crazy ideas like, "Maybe she stayed at the daycare." Yeah. I hung out at the daycare for 1.5 hours waiting - even though I told you on the phone that I was walking home. He told me he concluded I locked my keys in my car AT the daycare. WTF? I told him I walked to the daycare and I was walking home. Sometimes I wonder if more schooling makes it more difficult to understand simple facts.
I tried (and mostly succeeded) to keep my cool and not get mad at him for something that was ultimately my fault. The paragraph above demonstrates my general mood since the flu (and vicious sore throat in particular) tore through my body.
But then he made me dinner and continued to wait on me. He really is great.
I went to a bachelorette party on Saturday, but went to bed literally 5.5 hours before everyone else. I was already feeling the flu something fierce. But even if I was healthy, I think I probably only would've made it til 3am or so.
The wedding is in 2 weeks. I had the speech in my wallet. I let the bride read it in a drunken moment. Now I have to write a whole new one. GAH.

Alone

I FINALLY saw the doctor for all this post-partum anxiety crap I've been experiencing.

The result: A prescription for a very low dosage of xanax. Like, a really low dosage. He said that he doesn't think I'll need it longer than a few more months until I become myself again.

He said that what I have is very common. It's the realization that you need to stay alive, not just for yourself, but for the old offspring too. While this is true, I also have selfish motives- I want to see her grow up. I tell J regularly that if something happens to me, I do not want him to remarry. Unless its Mother Theresa and they don't have s*x. Or "smush," as my friends on Jersey Shore call it (P.S. Can you believe Sammi wanted to smush Ronnie after he was doing all that creeping? Damn.) I told him I will haunt him. While I do want him to be happy, I don't want him banging other chicks. What can I say? :) I am a dream wife.

He, on the contrary told me that he would want me to remarry. He wants me to "be happy." I told him that just made me feel unloved.

I also got my flu shot.

Dr. Feel Good told me to take a "test" xanax to see if I was one of the un-lucky few who got sleepy from it.

Back in college, I had a depressing night. I cabbed it home from a party early, slightly buzzed, got myself a bagel from the bodega across the street, put on SATC, popped a xanax, and had a glass of wine. I've probably recounted this story before because, frankly, it was one of the most peaceful evenings of my life. That xanax was a hell of a lot stronger than the one I took today. And that is GOOD, as the last thing I need is to raise my baby all f*cked up on pills. Or a drug addiction. Isn't an addiction to my baby and 2 doggies enough for one woman?

The pill I took today didn't make me sleepy or even remotely relaxed. I just felt normal. This was probably because I wasn't anxious to start. Let's just hope that the next time I feel like a crazy woman, it helps.

I'm home alone tonight and the people who live connected to us are gone for the night. I AM ALL ALONE IN THIS BRICK STRUCTURE. I'm freaked out! I saw this show called Celebrity Ghost Stories or something the other night- where celebs tell supposedly true ghost stories from their pasts (duh)- and I've been a total spaz ever since. I'm tempted to watch it now so I get all freaked out and then when J gets home I can accuse him of abandoning me to the batch of ghosts that certainly lives in this creepy room in our basement. This is exactly why I like living in a twin. Their dog is home, though. I wish their enormous dog was with me right now. I keep hinting for them to let me babysit their dog, but they either aren't interested in my dog-sitting services or aren't picking up the hint.

Luckily I rented Toy Story 2 (because I am secretly 8), which is not scary. I wish King of Queens was on right now. That is my favorite show on television.

Alright, I'm signing off. Off to brave this old dark house by myself. Wish me luck.

Crying It Out

J & I were supposed to see a concert this Friday night, but my mom works & his parents refused to watch Monkey. I don't feel bad for myself, as I want nothing more than to chill with Monk, but I do feel bad for J as (1) he realizes more and more how selfish and un-grandparent-like his parents are (particularly compared to my mom who is watching Monkey again tomorrow during the day on her day off) & (2) he really really wants to see this concert. I'm going to ask a girl at the daycare if she'd watch Monkey (she's offered to babysit many times), but I feel weird leaving Monk with her. First of all, we'll be like 30-40 minutes away from our house. We're not just going to dinner. Secondly, what if something goes wrong? I wonder how this situation will end.

In other news, the first night of crying it out (Sunday night) was terrible. She cried for 40 minutes and J & I hovered around the monitor feeling like the worst parents in the world. Her angry and desperate tear stained cheeks. Her sweaty head. Those eyes, pleading with the monitor. I'm having flashbacks. Then last night she fell asleep during her bottle after her bath, we put her in her crib & that was that. No crying. BUT the purpose of crying it out is for them to learn to train themselves to fall asleep. Oh well. Then she woke up at 330am and I brought her in our bed to sleep. Honestly, I don't care. J doesn't really either. She'll probably be 5 years old and sleeping in bed with us.

My mom told me that after my dad left, all 3 of us (ages 1, 3, 5) used to sleep in bed with her. Someone in her life at the time told her that this should really stop. So she locked her bedroom door one night. She said it was awful- the three of us were outside her door just screaming and crying to be let in. She didn't let us in. I teared up when she told me this story and asked her wtf her problem was. How sad! She said she doesn't know and the memory disturbs her to this day- she said she doesn't even know why it wouldn't be good to have us sleep with her. She said her asian friends all sleep with their kids and they end up fine, and she doesn't remember who encouraged her to lay down this sick law. She said the next morning she opened her bedroom door and the 3 of us were sleeping on the floor outside her door.

It sounds like we had some problems, right? To this day I still have a weird attachment to my mom and I miss her all the time. I always assumed it had to do with either my parents' divorce or our dysfunctional relationship. But now I'm thinking it was because she locked me out of her room prematurely (or too late)!

McD's

First and foremost, I cannot wait until it gets cold outside. I cannot deal with the insects. We must having standing water somewhere, but we can't find it. I suspects our gutters.

So last night Monkey decided she didn't want to sleep anywhere but in bed with us. Now, secretly, this is okay with me. But I realize that it is probably not the best thing in general, unless we officially become co-sleepers, which I totally "get" now, but I totally do not want to become.

I wish mosquitoes died after one bite. The mosquitoes that we have are AGGRESSIVE. This m-f'er comes directly at my face to attack. I killed one as it was sucking blood from J's NECK in the car yesterday. My heart filled with joy as I looked at my thumb and saw its guts smeared all over it.

Anyway, Monkey would cry. We'd say to each other, 'Let's let her cry it out... see what happens...' 3 minutes would pass and one of us would crack and dash into her room. Her cries were immediately replaced by smiles as one of us suckers toted her into our room. She'd roll over in our bed and peacefully fall asleep. UNTIL we tried to move her again. Rinse and repeat.

Tonight we're going to let her cry it out.

It is SO much harder than I thought it would be before I knew this little muffin. Before I knew her, I was very much like, 'Well, what does one expect??? You give a baby an inch, it will take a mile. It learns that you come when it cries!' But when it's Monkey in there, crying her heart out (even though she pauses in between screams to listen for the sounds of our footsteps) and I know that I can make all of her suffering go away in an instant- and get to cuddle with her on top of it- it is so freaking hard. J & I take turns being the harda$$. J will be like, 'Look. We have to show her who is boss.' And 2 minutes later he's like, 'We need to get her. This isn't working.' Then I step in and say, 'No. It's only been 2 minutes. We can do it.' And 3 minutes later I am staring at the monitor asking J what is the big deal if she sleeps with us.

Okay, enough of that.

I had McDonald's for breakfast this morning. Did you ever notice that when you want lunch it's still breakfast. But God forbid you plan your morning around an egg mcmuffin and you are rudely informed, 'Sorry, ma'am. We stop serving breakfast at 8am.'

Inlaw History

Right now I'm sort of feeling bad for myself bc I'm too afraid to take my vacation days. I would love to take this afternoon off, but… I actually don't know how. Who do I ask? The HR guy? I'm not even really sure that is his job title.

Maybe I'll leave early today. I think I'm allowed to do that. I miss Monkey. I'm just paranoid (shocker) that the head dude will stroll by and see my empty office. Once I left early but left my lights on so people would think I would be back.

I received a compliment on sharing my in-laws' family secrets. I have another.
J's great-grandma (the one who was cheated on) got pregs w J's grandma before she was married, so her parents sent her to MA to have the baby. Also discovered by Good SIL on ancestry.com. She confronted MIL about it and MIL hesitated before explaining to Good SIL why grandma was born in MA and not the same state as every one of her siblings. MIL explained that there is just simply "no reason" to spread that detail around. Alas, it remains a family secret. CRAZY. Not the secret birth, but the fact that this almost 100 year old secret remains a secret. Ahh, to have been born into wealth & privilege.

My own ancestors came over from Germany like a million years ago and were farmers until recently. In fact, my 2nd cousins still own a dairy farm. How's that for glitz and glam? My dad says things like, 'They have 40 head.' Head of what, dad? 'Cattle.' And he hunts. J married into a lot of things- prestige wasn't one of 'em. His grandma was born in a castle; mine was born in an outhouse…. Well, at least one of them probably was.

My crazy grandma likes to tell people that she's partially African-American. "Why do you think I get so tan in the summer?" She's serious.

J's grandma is senile now. She's in her 90s and in a nearby nursing home. I hear stories, though, that make me like her. She used to have these lavish dinner parties. As a gag in the middle of dinner, she'd put a bra on their little dachsund and release the dog into the crowd of people.