Pooped

My daughter was up last night with yet another mud butt marathon. The good news is that she is otherwise healthy, the bad news is that this shit or should I say shits could continue into next week! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I am surprised that I could write anything beyond my given name. I have found that I can be an eternal optimist when it comes to diapering my children. Speaking of optimist, I am going to drag my ass to the gym today, no matter what! Maybe I will run into treadmill bitch, literally.

You can take the girl out of the city but....

This weekend past was wonderful. We packed up the kids and spent Sunday afternoon in midtown and the decatur area. We drove past our old house, and even ran into an old friend and neighbor. Once you have lived and experienced living in a city, it becomes hard to connect with anything outside of that world. Don't get me wrong, I love my home and it's not that I miss the occasional crack head or the "no name" supermarket around the corner. City living offers more than unique shops or interesting restaurants. It offers the synergy of different classes of people sharing the same space. And that energy is like looking for a hypodermic needle in a hay stack when you are living in suburbia.

the Easter bunny is a saddist

Yesterday I tried to get some writing accomplished, including this blog. Instead I found myself playing LOST triva on facebook. Then I chipped away at my son's Easter candy. He keeps asking me about the whereabouts of his Easter basket's contents, and I have to turn my back as my body spasms from holding in laughter. That Easter bunny is one saddistic prick. I have a bad habit of going overboard on the candy buying for key holidays. But if you could just see the vision of those candies in all their brilliance, bright hues of pink, yellow and blue gleaming as the light hits them in brightly colored baskets. It almost brings a tear to my eye, or was that the sour gummies?

Kickin' like fried chicken

For most of us moms, our mood changes throughout the day. I'll explain...at 7:30am I was doing great. I got up on my own terms, crept downstairs and snuck in a cup of coffee...ALONE! It was one of the greatest 30 seconds of my adult life. At 8:44am I was ready to bite off a piece of anyone's ass if they dare cross me. My carpool was running a little late, and as I breastfed while sitting on the toilet (don't knock it till you've tried it) I began to feel that mommy anxiety. You know the one where you can't believe you are having trouble controlling someone that can't wipe their own bottom. What is it about that very real anxiety at that moment? Someone once asked me (and only once I might add) for a real and very honest answer about motherhood. I could not explain it but instead turned idiot on her and spit out 3 words: love, frustration, and craziness. I felt a little blind-sided mostly because I was on my second glass of wine and because no one who is pregnant really wants to hear the truth. Oh, and did I mention she was expecting?

At this moment, I am doing well. My children are fed, clean and finally asleep with today's adventures behind them and tomorrow's adventures ahead. I hope this also finds you well.

Treadmill bitch

Took my usual trip down to the neighborhood gym. I work hard at fighting gravity into my 30s. The place was standing room only, with one stubborn bitch on the middle treadmill. I have never seen her before and don't know her name, so for arguments sake we will just call her treadmill bitch. The room smelled of BO, an overworked air freshner, and determination. I would have run outside, but I had my baby daughter with me, and she is not crazy about snow flakes up her nose.
My friend "Susan" shot me a desperate look, and I was hoping that treadmill bitch would move to the machine closest to the wall so that my workout pal and I could do some gossiping. Of course, the only good thing to gossip about at this juncture was treadmill bitch. So, we did what any other self respecting woman would do, we yelled around her fat ass. But TB would not budge. Instead, she turned the channel to bitchy women on TV (The View was on) and turned the volume up so that each person's ear drums would quake in the noise. My daughter Sage got in on the action with a little crying. I felt like I was taking crazy pills. My friend "Susan" was more subtle and just took the remote and cranked down the volume.

The moral of the story? That it's important to have friends who have your back.

Ground Hog Day

Much like the movie, I seem to be reliving every morning over and over again. I wake to my daughter's crying around 5:30am. My feet seem to find their way to the floor feeling for the burbur carpet beneath them. Her room is dark except for a cheap plastic night light which at this hour seems to burn a bit too bright. I muster a smile through sleep-deprived blurred vision, and scoop her into my arms. She is warm and snuggly and I find myself unable to be bitter about last night's slumber or lack thereof. The next early riser is my son. His voice rises with a pitch that could only be a child's. By this time, I have had at least one cup of coffee and I clumsily climb the stairs ready to greet him. Apparently, he has been speaking to the "pro-diapers union" and once again has wet his bed. If, I didn't know better, I'd think I was in an elephant house. I launch into my usual routine of stripping off piss saturated pajama pants and the sheets that shared in the smell.
We confer about future union talks, and how we can better use the potty next time.
He is already making plans for his morning, and I smile thinking of how alike we both are. Unlike the movie, I wouldn't change my mornings for the world.

January 21st, 2008

Where we last left off our "hero" was trying to wrangle the usual holiday stress. I got through it with flying colors. We made the trek down to Florida and did a "tour de outlaws" the hubby and my family included. It was a wonderful trip, and we avoided any verbal or physical confrontations. Whew! Here we are in a new year, and I found a new resolution.....going green. Which for some reason, I thought would be easier since I do the usual recycling of household trash. Well, it goes much further than just folding boxes. I went online and found a website, it was a little fanatical but I got the picture. I guess I am just trying not to take up too much space and save it for future generations.

Apparently, others have decided that their resolutions will be losing weight. The gym is now packed at all hours of the day with heavier people panting their way to success. I wish them much of it. I a cheering them on, and wish all of us the best as we struggle with a new year and the strange desire to bring on impending change.
Good change.

Happy Belated New Year!