Okay.
Seriously.
This is so funny
I laughed so hard
the Boyfriend came into the kitchen
to make sure I was okay.
Short explanation:
Some kid is posting
the insanity that his
73 year old father says.
Just Shit My Dad Says
Enjoy.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I Know I Haven't Written
It's because I don't know what to say. I feel frustrated. My brain is tired.
School is totally kicking my ass between reading and writing papers. Someone needs to tell the dumbasses as Rutgers that assigning 500 pages to read a week per class doesn't help you learn. It teaches you to skim and not absorb anything. Idiots.
The Boyfriend. There are moments that I totally love him and couldn't be happier. Then there are the moments of, "Are you f*&%ing kidding me?" More happy moments than bad. But I don't do well with bad stuff. I'm a cut my losses and run kinda of girl. I think he's worth sticking it out for, but who knows.
The Peanut. She rocks. I love her. She makes me happy all the time. Except when she's walking around singing and talking to herself. Or when she starts talking to me about a whole lotta nothing while I'm trying to get my reading done. And she was late talker so I love hearing her voice, seriously I do. But sometimes the signing is just like, really? I know it's all happy and good and creative and fanfreakingtastic, but I miss quiet. Remember those days of sitting quietly? No talking? Of any kind?
It's 2 am. I had to finish a paper and read a bunch of crap and be prepared to ask questions in the morning. Apparently, last week when I missed class there was practically a riot about to break out because this one girl likes to get all aggressive and apparently thinks all white people are the same, whatever that means. Tomorrow class should be fun.
See...isn't it better when I keep my crap to myself? I'm done venting. I'm going to get to bed before I pass out on the couch. I'll try to make my next post more productive and less whiny.
School is totally kicking my ass between reading and writing papers. Someone needs to tell the dumbasses as Rutgers that assigning 500 pages to read a week per class doesn't help you learn. It teaches you to skim and not absorb anything. Idiots.
The Boyfriend. There are moments that I totally love him and couldn't be happier. Then there are the moments of, "Are you f*&%ing kidding me?" More happy moments than bad. But I don't do well with bad stuff. I'm a cut my losses and run kinda of girl. I think he's worth sticking it out for, but who knows.
The Peanut. She rocks. I love her. She makes me happy all the time. Except when she's walking around singing and talking to herself. Or when she starts talking to me about a whole lotta nothing while I'm trying to get my reading done. And she was late talker so I love hearing her voice, seriously I do. But sometimes the signing is just like, really? I know it's all happy and good and creative and fanfreakingtastic, but I miss quiet. Remember those days of sitting quietly? No talking? Of any kind?
It's 2 am. I had to finish a paper and read a bunch of crap and be prepared to ask questions in the morning. Apparently, last week when I missed class there was practically a riot about to break out because this one girl likes to get all aggressive and apparently thinks all white people are the same, whatever that means. Tomorrow class should be fun.
See...isn't it better when I keep my crap to myself? I'm done venting. I'm going to get to bed before I pass out on the couch. I'll try to make my next post more productive and less whiny.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Art Display and Storage Box
Okay...my daughter is an artist. She takes it very seriously, so everything must be saved apparently forever and ever. There's paintings and drawings and collages everywhere. I hang them up all over the place. Then, I saw this today and almost fell over!
It's a box. Like a regular USPS box. Inside out, with a slot for the newest drawing and storage space in the back of it. Ingenious!
I found it first at Apartment Therapy's Ohdeedoh but if you want the full instructions, go to Bloesem Kids site. It was originally posted by Maya*Made whose blog has the loveliest pictures. And if you're not crafty enough to be cool like her, check out her etsy shop.
Wow. That was a lotta linking. But worth it, because this project rocks. I'll post pics of ours...ya know...when I make one during my free time. Sigh. I can't wait for school to be over.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Dear Non Lesbian Co Parent
I realized that my post yesterday gave the Boyfriend a lot of credit for helping me while I was trying to balance school and work and the house and being a mom and having a life.
I also realized that I, much like some other people who will go unmentioned, I neglected to acknowledge all that you do for me. Here are some of the many things I appreciate about you:
1. You watch the Peanut...well the Princess watches her, but you provide the snacks...which has been such a ginormous help to me. And you don't complain that I have to wake you up at an un-Godly hour to do it.
2. You always vacuum the cat hair on the chair I like to sit in and shoo the cats away to ruin their plans to kill me via asthma attack. Let them plot away in the basement, I know you'll keep me safe!
3. You always pour me a drink and bring me snacks while I'm studying...or pretending to study. I won't even mention what we're actually doing on our computers, but that's a lot of fun too. And seriously, what's up with the color difference?
4. You are absolutely, unequivocally more useful than a table or any other piece of furniture. Even if you can't find the binoculars that are probably lost in someones car and not even at the house.
5. You listen to me bitch and whine and never tell me to shut up. Although, I'm sure there are plenty of times you'd like to knock me down the basement stairs with a frying pan just to shut me up.
6. You have such a lovely phone sex operator voice. You really should consider that as a second source of income. You could knock a certain someone down those stairs and never have to worry about how you're going to pay the mortgage.
7. You know more about politics than anyone I know and are always an abundant source of information. Who else would know off the top of their head who to contact about issues with cable?
8. You have some really killer shoes.
9. You have a great ass. Those Hip Hop Abs are really working for you. If I was a lesbian and you were gay, I'd totally do you.
10. You are doing an amazing job at balancing motherhood, wifehood and life while getting very little credit for it, yet you keep on at this crazy pace without complaint. Well, maybe a few complaints, but you deserve to vent.
You rock. I like that you're my new best friend. And you are certainly the best NLCP a girl could ask for. I hope you know how much I appreciate all that you do.
Love,
Me
I also realized that I, much like some other people who will go unmentioned, I neglected to acknowledge all that you do for me. Here are some of the many things I appreciate about you:
1. You watch the Peanut...well the Princess watches her, but you provide the snacks...which has been such a ginormous help to me. And you don't complain that I have to wake you up at an un-Godly hour to do it.
2. You always vacuum the cat hair on the chair I like to sit in and shoo the cats away to ruin their plans to kill me via asthma attack. Let them plot away in the basement, I know you'll keep me safe!
3. You always pour me a drink and bring me snacks while I'm studying...or pretending to study. I won't even mention what we're actually doing on our computers, but that's a lot of fun too. And seriously, what's up with the color difference?
4. You are absolutely, unequivocally more useful than a table or any other piece of furniture. Even if you can't find the binoculars that are probably lost in someones car and not even at the house.
5. You listen to me bitch and whine and never tell me to shut up. Although, I'm sure there are plenty of times you'd like to knock me down the basement stairs with a frying pan just to shut me up.
6. You have such a lovely phone sex operator voice. You really should consider that as a second source of income. You could knock a certain someone down those stairs and never have to worry about how you're going to pay the mortgage.
7. You know more about politics than anyone I know and are always an abundant source of information. Who else would know off the top of their head who to contact about issues with cable?
8. You have some really killer shoes.
9. You have a great ass. Those Hip Hop Abs are really working for you. If I was a lesbian and you were gay, I'd totally do you.
10. You are doing an amazing job at balancing motherhood, wifehood and life while getting very little credit for it, yet you keep on at this crazy pace without complaint. Well, maybe a few complaints, but you deserve to vent.
You rock. I like that you're my new best friend. And you are certainly the best NLCP a girl could ask for. I hope you know how much I appreciate all that you do.
Love,
Me
Friday, October 16, 2009
"Is There a Boy in the House?"
That's my daughter's not-so-subtle way of asking if the Boyfriend is at the house. I'm not sure why she doesn't say his name. She usually asks if she wants to walk around naked or go to the bathroom with the door open. She has to ask now because he's over a lot. I mean, really, a lot.
Normally, a boy at my house all the time would bug me. A lot. I liked living alone. I love living with my daughter. But living with a boy never worked so well for me. They tend to bug me.
I have to say, I don't mind the Boyfriend being over. I actually kinda of like it. He helps out cooking dinner and doing dishes. He plays with the Peanut so I can get my homework done. And by mean play, I mean he plays Barbies and has tea parties. The poor guy is about a minute away from being forced to play dress up. His only request is for a Ken doll.
It's like this nice, happy family kinda thing. We go grocery shopping together. They watch cartoons together. We sit out front and blow bubbles together. It used to be me and the Peanut working together like a team and now he's part of our team. That part kinda freaks me out a bit. But I also kinda like it. It's probably freaking me out more that I'm not totally freaked out that I like him being around.
I told him that it's possible that I'm just so mentally exhausted that his company seems so much more appealing to me. He doesn't care. He said he'll take me any way he can get me. I think I'm going to keep him around for a while.
It's been five months now and I have yet to do more than hold his hand in front of her. Last month, I started letting him sit next to me on the couch. I'm not really sure how to handle that part of it. Dating is much more confusing with a little one around.
Normally, a boy at my house all the time would bug me. A lot. I liked living alone. I love living with my daughter. But living with a boy never worked so well for me. They tend to bug me.
I have to say, I don't mind the Boyfriend being over. I actually kinda of like it. He helps out cooking dinner and doing dishes. He plays with the Peanut so I can get my homework done. And by mean play, I mean he plays Barbies and has tea parties. The poor guy is about a minute away from being forced to play dress up. His only request is for a Ken doll.
It's like this nice, happy family kinda thing. We go grocery shopping together. They watch cartoons together. We sit out front and blow bubbles together. It used to be me and the Peanut working together like a team and now he's part of our team. That part kinda freaks me out a bit. But I also kinda like it. It's probably freaking me out more that I'm not totally freaked out that I like him being around.
I told him that it's possible that I'm just so mentally exhausted that his company seems so much more appealing to me. He doesn't care. He said he'll take me any way he can get me. I think I'm going to keep him around for a while.
It's been five months now and I have yet to do more than hold his hand in front of her. Last month, I started letting him sit next to me on the couch. I'm not really sure how to handle that part of it. Dating is much more confusing with a little one around.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Kismet
I should be doing homework, but instead I want to tell you a quick story that happened the other day.
I was on the train traveling to a meeting for my internship. I was talking to one of my supervisors about the emergency c-section I had with the Peanut. I was, as usual, long winded and probably giving her way more information than she could have ever wanted to hear.
I started talking about how I had the baby blues, possibly postpartum depression, and didn't realize it until after someone said to me, "How are you doing with the baby blues?" My response was I don't have the baby blues...wait maybe I do...
Then I started researching it. Because I'm a freak and I like to do research. That's when I discovered that a lot of women experience some form of PPD when they've had an epidural, especially in conjunction with a c-section because you don't feel like you actually gave birth. You're brain almost registers it as, you went to the hospital and someone just gave you a baby.
Don't you think that's information the hospital would maybe want to fill you in on? Or perhaps, they should have a check up or two after to see if you're showing any signs of PPD. Just a thought.
While I was explaining the disconnect I had with the Peanut after her birth, the train had stalled. Once it started up again, a women seated next to me, pushing a carriage with her granddaughter, started explaining to me that her daughter had a c-section and said she felt the same way.
That her daughter wouldn't pick up the baby or take care of her and the Grandmother thought she was just being a bad parent since the doctor said it wasn't PPD. That she had been very hard on her daughter because of how she was acting. And that her daughter never really showed a connection with her baby until after her baby had gotten sick, then it was as if something clicked inside her head.
That until she had heard me explain this feeling of disconnect, she had never heard anyone else ever talk about it other than her daughter. Then the Grandmother proceeded to tell me how she just text messaged her daughter to apologize for not believing her this whole time.
Talk about being in the right place at the right time.
I was on the train traveling to a meeting for my internship. I was talking to one of my supervisors about the emergency c-section I had with the Peanut. I was, as usual, long winded and probably giving her way more information than she could have ever wanted to hear.
I started talking about how I had the baby blues, possibly postpartum depression, and didn't realize it until after someone said to me, "How are you doing with the baby blues?" My response was I don't have the baby blues...wait maybe I do...
Then I started researching it. Because I'm a freak and I like to do research. That's when I discovered that a lot of women experience some form of PPD when they've had an epidural, especially in conjunction with a c-section because you don't feel like you actually gave birth. You're brain almost registers it as, you went to the hospital and someone just gave you a baby.
Don't you think that's information the hospital would maybe want to fill you in on? Or perhaps, they should have a check up or two after to see if you're showing any signs of PPD. Just a thought.
While I was explaining the disconnect I had with the Peanut after her birth, the train had stalled. Once it started up again, a women seated next to me, pushing a carriage with her granddaughter, started explaining to me that her daughter had a c-section and said she felt the same way.
That her daughter wouldn't pick up the baby or take care of her and the Grandmother thought she was just being a bad parent since the doctor said it wasn't PPD. That she had been very hard on her daughter because of how she was acting. And that her daughter never really showed a connection with her baby until after her baby had gotten sick, then it was as if something clicked inside her head.
That until she had heard me explain this feeling of disconnect, she had never heard anyone else ever talk about it other than her daughter. Then the Grandmother proceeded to tell me how she just text messaged her daughter to apologize for not believing her this whole time.
Talk about being in the right place at the right time.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
What She Said Today
The Peanut put on chapstick and a bead necklace and packed up her purse, then looked at me and said,
"Do I look beautiful? Do I look like a mom?"
I never thought of being a mother as anyone's ideal of beauty, but it was lovely to hear it come from the mouth of my little girl. Totally made my morning.
"Do I look beautiful? Do I look like a mom?"
I never thought of being a mother as anyone's ideal of beauty, but it was lovely to hear it come from the mouth of my little girl. Totally made my morning.
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