Almost one month now
since I quit taking The Pill.
I am healing well.
Gone back pain and ache!
Bye-bye to dragging fatigue…
No more strange crying.
And flat affect is replaced
by more steady joy.
Now I am just sad
because my very best friend’s
on the road again.
Good thing I have my
very own munchkin to keep
me laughing all day.
Still, this lil’ momma
sure is ready to see “her
baby daddy” soon!
I’m a nag.
And it REALLY bothers me.
It’s just that… I have this disgusting moral compass. (*groan*) And this gnawing sense of needing to behave responsibly.
I know, I know, who would have thought it?
I am full of plenty of silly. Alway have been…
…the members of the family I grew up in always acted like complete nutballs. There was encouragement from both the immediate and extended family to act… well… weird.
And the regular family home-life was pretty relaxed and often just downright silly. This was sometimes good: Farts at the dinner table are funny! This was also sometimes bad: Farts at the dinner table are funny!
However, somewhere along the line, my parents must have taught me that you can’t always just be selfish and carefree: Sometimes there are Things That Need To Be Done and in many situations there are Ways We Very Well Should Behave. Shucks, a lot of times there are Circumstances That Should Be Considered Before Acting!
It’s just that the whole “Responsible, Mature Adult” me is, and always has been, battling with the “WhoopDee Dooo! Let’s Have Fun!” me.
- The Responsible, Mature Adult Me:
“Wow, the electric bill is $169 this month. We’re going to have to find some good sales and use coupons on groceries this next few weeks. I was also thinking maybe we should downgrade the cable to save money.”
- The WhoopDee Dooo! Let’s Have Fun! Me:
“AHAHAHAHA…hahahahahaaaaaaaa, SIXTY-NINE! It says, “69!” *rolling on the floor laughing* “Hey, let’s go get tacos!” *walks out of room leaving all lights on*
In relationships, this duplexity has always caused problems for me.
- Responsible Adult:
“Marijuana consumption is unhealthy, and besides, it’s a waste of money and time. Stop being such a loser.”
- Mrs. WhoopDee Dooo!:
“Duuuuude. *puff,pass,coughcough* Heh. Heh. Hehehehe. Did you just say 69? Teeheeeheeeheeeeee… I’m gonna take a nap now. Where are we? And are there any tacos?”
- Responsible Adult:
“Moving from one state to another directly after completing Graduate School (late, I might add, young lady) for LOVE of all things, when you don’t even know if you can find a job there, and you’re going to live (out of wedlock) with a man you met ONLINE, is not only immature, impetuous, and foolish, it’s completely lacking of any degree of responsibility, planning, and preparation! You should be shot for even considering it.”
- Mrs. WhoopDee Dooo!:
“Duuuude. He is so cute and fun. And you sooo love him! And they have GREAT tacos in Texas! I’m tooootally in!”
I have a feeling I’m not the only one that has this battle regularly - the classic picture of the angel and devil sitting on one’s shoulder comes to mind. But I’m the only one inside my own head being annoyed by my own battle.
I feel very trapped by these dueling parts of my personality. The dichotomy of character constantly makes me feel like I’m struggling to decide who I want to be – what’s right? What makes me happy? What makes US happy? What will have the best outcome for our family? What do I just freakin’ FEEL like doing? *pulls on hair*
I feel like I should be going gung-ho in one or the other direction, and quite frankly, at this point in life, I don’t think it’s Mrs. WhoopDee Dooo! The best I can do is continue to maintain both of these combating personalities, as I always have.
BUT. I really, really, really need to feel like I’m not the only one around here who’s making the responsible, adult decisions. Because DAMNIT I don’t want to be Responsible Adult Me, anyway! And then there’s this other (really cute, very small) human being I have to take care of now, and so I really have to be Responsible Adult Me! But, you know, it’s a lot easier to be Responsible Adult when you’re not the only Responsible Adult on your team, dig? So… sometimes… when I’m feeling stressed (bitchy, hormonal, PMS?… just ME?) and all of a sudden I feel that I AM the only one being Responsible Adult. Well…
And also? Naggity-Nag-Nag-NagginHeimer P. Nagenstein.
- Well, then Mrs. WhoopDee Doo! is all:
“Harsh, Lotus, tooootally harsh. Why do you have to get your panties all in a wad? I’ll bet you could have diamonds if you shoved some coal in that ole’ hiney. Plus? Your Dude is sooo not diggin you when you’re like this. Really. Harsh. But, hey! Let’s go get some tacos!”
- But Responsible Adult is all:
“Dear Mrs. WhoopDee Dooo!: You are such an immature peon. Have you even bathed this week? A Taco is the last thing you need, have you seen your REAR lately? Good lord, woman, buy a clue. You just be quiet for a moment. Do you even know how to do that? And sit still, for Pete’s Sake! You could use a hefty dose of Ritalin. I need to have a word with The Husband. He really NEEDS to know about the Things That Need To Be Done … And a thing or two about this and that, such as Ways We Very Well Should Behave… and while I’m at it, I’m going to give him the lecture about Circumstances That Should Be Considered Before Acting.” *puts a gag on Mrs. WhoopDee Dooo! and lets husband have it*
Inevitably, though I believe everything I’ve said, I feel like an ass, and I wonder if my husband likes me less for every time he has to listen to Responsible Adult Me. And, honestly? I just want to be WhoopDee Dooo! Lotus all the time.
Is anyone else tired of being a nag? Hell, let’s go get some tacos.
Especially if you hit it with a nice, fat ass on the upswing.
And, for those of you who came here just for some baby butt, I shall not disappoint.
Here’s one for all you “Bum-Lookers!”
Alli sent out an e-mail requesting the company of Nashville Bloggers for dinner.
And, apparently, none of the excuses I gave her to try and remain a hermit were going to work. I considered telling her that I had contracted leprosy since we last saw one another, but I was kind of thinking that would ruin my chances of ever seeing her again, and I like her, you know? Plus, she might have called my bluff and then I’d have had to rip an arm off or something to prove it, and that’s just going way too far. I mean, the last time I did something like that it was really messy and it took so much bleach to get out the stains in the carpet.
And the poor guy I did it to was just so annoying with the wailing and the crying while I was beating him over the head with his own appendage that I could barely hear myself think.
What? I’m sorry, I just really don’t like solicitors. If I want to buy a vacuum or a revolutionary new cleaning product from the confines of my own home (hermit, aka SAHM) then I’ll do it from the home shopping network or online, while sitting in my pajamas that I haven’t taken off in 4 days, thank you very much.
Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the Nashville Blogger Dinner.
Yeah, so the real reason why I was hedging? I mean, other than the fact that we really were sick this whole past week and I can’t see well enough to judge distances at night?
Well. Because of:
Yup. John’s gone, and we have no babysitter. Well, more to the truth – I refuse that we will ever have a babysitter. Because, you know, I can’t comprehend that someone else could possibly know how to take care of a young child. I mean… as far as I know, I’m the only one that has ever done this whole being a mother and taking care of a kid thing.
Right? Everyone else has no clue how to do that properly.
Maybe it’s more like… anyone I’d trust enough to take care of him… well, I probably like that person quite a bit, and… well. After one night with Screamy McFit-Thrower Shriekenstein they’ll more than likely wish curses on me and plot my death. At the very least, I’m going on the “Do Not Call” list.
Whatever it is, I’m that mother. The one who’s a Paranoid Freakeroonie, and won’t leave her kid with anyone but her husband.
But, hm, Alli was all, “Bring him with you, no one will care, and I will drive you!” So, I crumbled to her loveliness and my need for human interaction of the adult nature.
I committed the sin of bringing the rugrat to the adult dinner! And no one threw their food at me. I was amazed.
Amy gave us a big hug when we got there (and was surprised to see him in pants). Michelle and Malia were lucky to be sitting the farthest from him. Alli let him play with things from her purse, and Meredith actually offered to hold him at one point. (I didn’t allow her to torture herself, though, as he was in Bucking & Trashing Mode.)
And he only screamed twice.
There are certain little quirks that Toddlers have.
For example, sometimes they get very obsessed with everyday, common things.
Braden has been incredibly obsessed with lights for months now. He points at them and talks about them. It’s really actually just one more of the incredibly sappy and cute things he does. “Iiiiight!” he breathlessly coos and smiles.
When he was about 9 months old…
…I taught him how to push a light switch down to turn it off. We did it for awhile, but then we stopped, and since he wasn’t obsessed with lights yet then, he didn’t really care.
But not now. Now he wants to play with the light switches all the time.
But Shorty can’t reach them himself.
bored loving Mommy obliges her annoying sweet son by holding him up by the light switch for freakin’ forever small amounts of time during the day to avoid the Shrill, Agonizing Scream of One Thousand Deaths make him happy.
I thought you would enjoy a boring video of this.
But, damn, loving Mommy is getting old, and damn, loving Mommy’s back can only take holding chubby monster son up to the light switch for so long!
Unfortunately, when Light Switch Time comes to an end, we meet the cousin of Shrill, Agonizing Scream of One Thousand Deaths: Ear-Splitting Shriek of Intense Annoyance.
Marie interviewed me… mind checking it out?
February 10th – February 16th
Today, you are 16 months old.
As I sit here, and your pee dries on my jeans (thanks for that!), I’m amazed that another month has flown by. Somehow I know that it’s never going to stop being like this… eventually it will be years that have flown by and I’ll still be sitting here, even more amazed. Hopefully by then I won’t have your pee stain on my jeans.
This past month, your Daddy and I decided to restrict use of The Paci. The Paci is now only available for nap, bedtime,
and severe teething times/moments of exceptional distress.
There have been a few… outcomes.
The Shriek was actually subsiding a bit, but with removal of The Paci, it has now become The Shrill, Agonizing Scream of One Thousand Deaths. You have practiced and developed it, and now it is fuller, longer, louder and more high pitched than ever. Mariah Carey could be put to shame by you.
I should be proud, I know.
You have learned to remedy your lack of Paci chewing opportunities by fitting your thumb and first 2 fingers into your mouth in the precise areas of your current teething. Resourceful boy! Of course, some moments call for more than just precision. They call for as much hand as you can cram into your facehole.
But the talking. Restricting the use of The Paci has resulted in so much more talking. We have actual conversations with you now! And we even pretend to understand you! But we don’t! Well. Okay. Sometimes we do, like when you yell, “I Said!” while wagging your finger. I have no idea why you do that. It’s certainly not because Daddy and I are always yelling at The Doggie, “I said!” … get in your bed, … sit, … lie down, … stop eating turds. Fine. It’s true. We have the most disobedient doggie in the world!
It’s a good thing he’s cute.
And that you love him.
Another recent favorite is “mum-mum-mum” which means “yummy” or “yum-yum.” You say this to give your opinion of food you are currently eating… as well as to request the food that others are eating. No food is ever not potentially YOUR food.
I’ve noticed that you also say, “mom-mom-mom,” but it is difficult to distinguish from the other, and does not happen as often. Should I be offended? Or should I just strive to be more “yummy?” I guess it doesn’t much matter, since sometimes you actually say, “momma.” Like tonight, when you hugged me, cooed, warmly said, “Mom-mah,” and smiled sweetly at me.
Accordingly, I have added everything you ever wanted to the shopping list for this week.
There is so much more. Isn’t there always?
You have gotten very good at waving, although you still resist doing it right away at times. Other times you can’t wait to wave and say, “hhhiiii!” Even to your Baby Einstein DVDs. Hm.
Of course, you also thoroughly enjoy waving and saying “hhhiiii” to yourself in the mirror. But hey, who can blame you. You’re totally good looking.
When your Daddy goes out the door, you stand watching it, waving, saying, “Bye.” It’s enough to rip my heart right out of my chest, I tell you.
When we’re just hanging out, you still love to read books. Quite often, you do this independently. You go get a book from your bookshelf, then sit down and read (out loud or to yourself).
Lately, you have started bringing me books to read. I can’t tell you how good it feels when I see you select a book, toddle over to me, and sit in my lap with it. I don’t know how I’m going to keep taking this Being Proud thing without passing out from the emotional high.
By the way, you are a pro at using the shape-sorter now! You are very good with the circle and even the star. And I melt a little inside every time you hold up the circle, with an inquisitive look on you face, and ask me, “what?” I say, “Circle!” and you say, “sirsle.” *melt*
When we’re not reading books or playing with toys, you like to do some good old fashioned running around, being loud, and laughing your head off, or dancing. You have added an up and down bootie-shake dance to your usual swaying move. I approve 100%. Of course, your Stomp Dance (complete with bellowing yell) is still in full effect. A new thing, however, is that for your favorite song, Itsy Bitsy Spider, you now do the hand movements. You are simply amazing.
Oh yeah, I need to take a moment to thank you for finally learning how to put your drink cup on the table! It has been a momentous accomplishment!
Sometime this past month, you started doing this all on your own. And even when you drop it to the floor, Daddy or I can ask you to pick it up and put it on the table, and you understand, and follow through. Huge. HUGE. In fact, your Daddy and I nearly pee ourselves every time you do this.
Oh, but, yeah. I also need to take a moment and tell you that the game you’ve been playing this past week, where you picked THAT behavior to be the current thing you’re testing me on? Has been very tiring. Because now you sometimes put the drink cup on the table… and sometimes you throw it down, and when we ask you to put it on the table, you look at it, look at us, and absolutely refuse. There has been a shift from “not understanding” to “willful denial.” Way to keep me on my toes, son! You are the MAN.
Just be aware that I WILL break you.
The sheer increase in your ability to “know what’s going on” is astounding. Daddy and I can’t fool you anymore. We are already having to spell things out to “trick” you. You may not be able to speak our language perfectly, but you certainly understand it. That’s more than you can say for us, isn’t it?
You are constantly exploring the world around you. It’s a treasure to witness your journey; to be there as you soak it all in…
and to laugh with you when you discover a simple amusement.
I have still not allowed anyone to come near your hair with scissors.
I’m not sure when that will happen, really. I love your beautiful, silken hair too much. I fear that it will never be wispy like this again, and I’m too selfish still to let go of that. You are borderline mullety, but I think you’re just cute enough to get away with it.
You are just now getting over your third cold ever.
I remember your first cold. You got it the night before you cut your first teeth.
(Those were the only 2 teeth you had for 2 months!)
I also remember your second cold, when your nose got all plugged up overnight, but you were such a trooper.
This current cold has really dragged on and made you miserable.
It has been a long week of short tempers and screaming fits, with both of us sick together. But I have had so many colds that I have no way of knowing how many. You have only had three.
You have only had 3, little colds.
You are still so small.
Even though you are getting way too big, you are still so small.
I am holding on to that for now.
Today I hand the site over to a kind and talented gentleman, Lou. He’s the first person to Guest Post on Sarcastic Mom! His sentiments are backed up by me, 100%. I thank him for doing such a lovely job here.
Without further ado, Lou’s Post…
Of disparate types, we are
But still related
Binds us as closely as blood
We care and we share
Good times and bad times
Elation and depression
and wayward spouses
Good kids and bad kids
The new ones and the old ones
All of life we share
And so the fortune
Of one is good for us all
When fortune does smile
And fortune has smiled
On one of us who needs it
She now has a home
And so we rejoice
The apartment will be gone
Sandy has a home.
Sandy C. from Momisodes is moving into a new home this weekend. The process started today. Will continue tomorrow. And will culminate on Sunday, when the movers come for ‘the big stuff’. I propose a toast. A World Wide Toast. Sometime during this weekend, raise a glass of your favorite libation (beer, wine, water, soda pop, milk, whatever you think is appropriate and isn’t against your religion) to Sandy and her family, as they take possession of their new home. May they find fair winds forever at their back and the future give them as much as they have given us.
When you have made your toast, come here to this post and leave a comment – name your poison (tell us what you drank) and your wish for their continued good fortune.