UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015
Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.
So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years, but it's just time to move forward.
You mean I can get a poke any time I wanna? Dec 21, 2005
No, it’s not the latest porn movie hitting the Internet, it’s what my Doc said after I admitted to peeing away hundreds of dollars in pregnancy sticks. After last week’s episode, she demanded I take a blood pregnancy test because, let’s face it, I was whacked and a week late. Also, regardless of how many fake positive or real negative tests I take, I still believe I’m pregnant. Hell, I can be bleeding like a stuck pig and think I’m pregnant. Trust me. Or don’t. Read it for yourself.
Anyway, so she calls with the results telling me, upon my answering the phone, “The answer is no.” [silence] Me, “Hmm. MmmK.” She asks if this is sad news. I think about it. “No,” I say hesitating, “no, not really. I mean we’re not TRYING. Of course, we’re not NOT trying, either, so….” She tells me the details of how pregnancy tests work, very medically and not at all like the images of dancing naked in the woods at night or singing to venus or anything that I’ve done recently to make a test positive (you know, everything short of actually HAVING sex to get pregnant). She says, of course, I can still get pregnant next month, if I want to, and if I ever believe I’m pregnant for more than a few days to call her and she’ll order a blood pregnancy test.
She has no idea who she’s talking to. Poor lady.
I’m sorry, did you just say “COCK” fighting? Dec 20, 2005
When this is the top story, you know it’s a slow news day.
Don’t judge the size of the poo by the stank Dec 19, 2005
You know the ol’ sayings: Don’t judge a book by it’s cover; It’s not what’s outside that matters in a person; Don’t judge the size of the poo by the stink. Oh, haven’t heard that last one? Well you will, especially if you’re ever within, say, ten thousand feet of my daughter.
Her poop is the smelliest shit (literally) I have ever laid olfactory nerves on. (Yes, I said “olfactory nerves”. I took Anatomy in college. Aren’t you impressed? Be impressed! I *r-e-t-a-i-n-e-d something from college! Sure, it’s about how I can smell shit with these super small cillia and stuff, but who cares! That’s money well spent…) Anywho, this kid’s shit is Nah-Stay. Like Bean-Lover’s nah-stay. Or “I have the bird flu” nah-stay. It makes the strong nauseaus. It makes grown men cry. It peels paint.
The most ironic piece of this puzzle is that it’s coming from a very tiny, pretty, dainty ass that squeezes out the tiny, dainty poo. We’re talking about two small round bubbles of “what I ate for breakfast six hours ago.” It’s so tiny, usually, that when I look in her diaper I see nothing. Poo? What poo? Until I lean in to take a wiff and “BLAMO!” I am knocked out cold for six days solid and medics are hovering over me when I come to.“Did you see the size of that shit?” I’d say, dumbfounded. “No, lady. But you must’ve been near some toxic waste land fill or somethin’ judging by the damage to your smellers.”
No, people, that’s my 13 month old’s ass doing that damage. And I admit, I’m a teeny weeny bit proud of her. That’s my girl!
I’m OK, you’re OK and other warm fuzzies this time of year *updated Dec 18, 2005
We’ve had a great weekend. Thank you so much for all your support and love. I luff all of it. Truly, every stinkin’ one of your emails/comments/cards/phone calls (!) mean so much so thank you thank you. I’ve gone back to my regular dosage and, amazingly, things started perking up. In addition, we headed out of town Friday night, saw my best friends in Seattle, and then *I* was blessed with a girl’s night out while Mr “WWE”, to quote Claire, took LB and gave me and my gals free rein of Bellevue. Sometimes, y’all, the man rocks. Last night he rocked his big bad ass and put LB to bed all by himself while mommy went out to Starbucks and the Rock Bottom to partay it up and talk about pubic hair, what men are on “the list” and other important girlie things.
We are currently both surfing free wireless at the Ramada Inn about 62 miles from home because of Portland’s major overaction to “ICE STORM TWO THOUSAND SIX!” Gawd. I swear, if it’s not raining here people don’t know how to drive. Current conditions: sucky with tomorrow’s forcast: ice with more stupid effers on the road. Poor Oma made it to our house this afternoon before the freeway iced over causing the major backup and wheel spinning (weeee) and making poor lil’ old anxious me to yell, “Let’s get a hotel. Look! Free wireless! Let’s just stay there, mmmK?” LB is currently climbing the walls of her pac-n-play thinking this is the best damn adventure a 14 month old can possibly have and Mr. Flinger and I are doing our best to make light of the fact that we just may live here for two days or more. Wish I packed the ice skates for the car this weekend. Damn.
Pictures to come, oh the Pictures! Did I tell you Mr. Flinger actually told me “enough with the Pictures!” Um. Fine. I was just trying to capture beautiful Seattle to get everyone enticed to come to the bloggy moms shindig (which, by the way, I found a fab hotel for fifty one bucks a night with a full kitchen in it and room for a pac-n-play. Viola! Superb, y’all. Seriously.) Now everyone, come to seattle now, ya hear?
In the mean time, look for us on I5 tomorrow. We’ll be traveling home if all goes well. Otherwise, we’ll be hangin’ in the Ramada. Hey, at least there’s free Internet.
**update: Proof we’re a buch of idiots that can’t drive in the snow. Y’all on the east coast, feel free to point and laugh.
< end public service announcment >
If mental disorders are hip, I’m finally “in” Dec 15, 2005
I had a rough day. Really, it started a week ago when my shrink (yes, I have a shrink and yes, I realize how friggin’ hip and soooo ‘two thousands’ that makes me) told me it’s ok, and time, to start reducing my Post Partum Depression medication. “Swell!” I said. I cut my meds by 10mg about a week ago. Then all brain hell cut loose.
Without rehashing my whole day, let’s just say that the following highlights can push a Post Partum Brain Effed woman over the edge:
- Starbucks gets my drink all wrong. I go back. They hand me another drink and I promptly drop the whole thing in the parking lot at Costco. Without having enjoyed even a fourth of it.
- At Costco they tell me they can’t get my Christmas Cards made up. Looks like another year of “happy Valentine’s Day!” cards.
- Ten minutes after arriving home, there is a suprise visit from a realetor wanting to show the house. LB is napping. I have to wake her up for a ten minute “showing” where the people will not buy the house anyway.
- In a last ditch effort to feel better about myself, I go buy some chocolate and cute slippers for LB at Target. The girl doesn’t put them in the bag with the other items and I spend thirty minutes on hold with Target for thirteen dollars of merchandice where I finally give up and call it quits.
Tell me it’s the Celexa. Tell me it’s the hormones. Tell me it’s normal. Tell me it’s just a bad day. Because when I finally gave up and crawled into bed in the dark and bawled, I prayed to the pregnancy stick gods that please, oh please, let there be a baby brewing and please, oh please, let that be why I’m insane. Because at least that way, I can eat poptarts and not feel bad about it and not have to tell people that 10mg can make or break me.
And the winner is…. *updated* Dec 15, 2005
I did the drawing today. Look! I even documented it for y’all.
First I wrote 45 numbers on the paper. Then I cut each number into strips. I had no idea who each number went to, but I knew there were 45 comments and thus, 45 numbers get put in the hat.
Then, here is the drawing itself! (It’s a little anti-climactic, sorry)
And, there ya go! Congrats to Michaela for winning! Y’all stay tuned, though. I’m sure I’ll do this again sometime. Yes, I think I will. Sonner than later. I really loved all the input. Seriously, y’all come out of the walls for input and damnit, I love that about you!!
mommy brain officially costs us over a thousand dollars. Effit. Dec 12, 2005
Remember how I asked y’all about that online bill paying? Well, apparently, I signed us up for some automated deduction of our most expensive bill. Hey! Look at how convenient it is! It’ll pay our mortgage for us. Every month! Oh, I almost peed myself. Thrilling. Joyous. Oh, technology at it’s best!
Well, as we know, I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. I mean, I smashed a perfectly good camera on the freeway, which wasn’t even the first time I left something on the roof of the car. So, why the hell would I think automated bill paying would be a good idea? Seems like it, right? RIGHT?
I just paid our mortgage twice this month. Kick me in the teeth, pull me out to the van by the river, I am a freakin’ tard. Good bye Christmas. Hello ghetto. Now, you’ll be Christmas shopping and I’ll be swiping TP from Nordies. damn.
Real Life Dec 12, 2005
Whatever I was going to post today seems a bit too unnecessary. please go to Starshine’s blog and pray for the mommy on her September message board.
I think we can all too easily put ourselves in her shoes and I know I cried real tears.
The Affair Dec 10, 2005
I’m am one unfaithful wench.
I just cheated on Sconeday.
But damn, if your’e gonna cheat, make it worth it.
Now excuse me, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of my ass enlarging and I might as well get some work done.
As if Dec 10, 2005
You won’t believe this chick I met at the park yesterday. First, she looked unshowered and a little frazzled. Her one year old was pretty cute but wasn’t nearly as decked out as my two year old daughter, Emily. I mean, she wasn’t even wearing a cute baby gap knitted hat! Anyway, she obviously needed to lose a few pounds, unlike me- just six weeks after I having our new daughter, I’m back to my size two. She let her kid run around fairly freely and then started talkign to me! She asked nice things at first. We chatted. Then I pointed out my six week old and her eyes got really big. “WOW!” she said, “Congratulations! They’re not even two years apart. You are brave. I think that’ll happen to us seeing as how we’re currently waiting to see if LB here is going to have a sibling.” I mean, for real, this lady starts in on personal stuff like her vagina and her period and stuff? She doesn’t even DRIVE a Lexus SUV like I do. Weird. Just a weird bitch.