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.