I’m sick. AGAIN. But hey, I got one whole week of not being sick, so I should really stop being such a freaking complainer. I mean, one week is over 600, 000 (604,800 to be exact) seconds.
See? Total whiner. I had OVER 600,000 seconds of being Unsick! I would do a victory dance, but I’M SICK AND I’D PROBABLY PASS OUT.
So, the point is, I feel like a dog turd that someone hammered with a mallet and then set on fire in front of Jabba the Hut’s door, and he fell for the gag, so he stomped me out with his slimy tail-thing. A hammered, burnt, slimy shit.
Because I feel so lame, and also because YAY, JOHN IS HOME!!!, there is no way I can sit here writing for very long right now. It’s pathetic how often I feel that sticky, tickling sensation of snot crawling towards my upper lip from my left nostril. And if I keep sitting here typing, I’m just going to keep saying things like that to you, and really, is that what you feel like reading on your Monday? I think not.
So, I want you all to know a couple of things. One is that since the birth of Project Support Beauty in Nature, we’ve been having a lot of fun thinking of ways to green up our lives around here, and we’re pretty proud of it. We’ve been doing new things, and we have plans for more new things as time goes by (some new things cost money, so we’re taking it slow). Your posts on February 11th were so great! Truly inspiring, informative, and insightful.
I’ve decided to do a PSBN post once a month, on the second Monday of the month. I’ll talk about ways we’ve “Gone Green” and give any info I think migh be helpful to others. I’ll also keep you updated on any Clean Up Projects we take on. It will always have a “linky” at the end, and I really hope that you will be inspired to do your own posts, and link up here. (So, see, if you “missed out” last time, you have a chance to get in on the action every month!)
The snot is running again. *slurp*
The other thing I wanted to mention is that Marie suggested I re-post my story about my breastfeeding difficulties with Braden, and Kat suggested I do it as a linked-in thing. I loved both ideas, and so that’s just want I want to do.
I’d like to do two of these sort of things. The first one will be all about Breastfeeding. I’ll tell my story, and I encourage you to do the same. If you don’t feel like telling your story, but you have great tips or information to share, or any kind of breastfeeding antecdotes, you can write a post about those.
I’ll tell you guys when I plan to post, and you can all do the same and link up. That day we can all travel around and visit with one another, sharing our Boobie Stories.
The second one will be about Birth Stories. I love reading about other people’s experiences with delivery. Don’t you? Ever watch that Baby Story show? I was glued to that thing while I was pregnant with Braden. So, again, I’ll let everyone know before I post it, so you can write up yours/repost yours, and link in! We’ll have a big, hormonal, Birth-Story Love Fest! Awww!
Do me a favor: Let me know some stuff. I want to see what kind of interest there is in these things, so tell me which of these you’d be willing to participate in:
Monthly PSBN postings, Breastfeeding Carnival, Birth-Story Carnival.
Okay, that was my long, slightly boring, definitely whiney, Sick Lotus Post.
Please forgive me. Or send chocolates. Whichever you feel more moved to do.
February 17th – February 23rd
(Also, Veronica and her family are moving into their house in 6 days!)
I wasn’t all together sure, so I decided to walk through our (rental) house (that we’re staying in for another year, despite this, ugh.) and look around a bit while mulling the question over.
“Hmmm… what makes our house a home?”
Is it John’s Forever And Ever, Amen Junked-Up Nightstand?
No… that can’t be it.
And yeah, I’ve tried repeatedly to organize it for him, but it generally only stays clean for .52342 seconds. So I stopped trying.
Wait, maybe it’s the pile of dirty clothes!
No, no… hold on, it’s The Pile of CLEAN CLOTHES!
And the rack that relates to it?
Ugh. That can’t be it. It’s not about clothes or even racks.
“Think, Lotus, Think!”
Let’s keep looking…
Is it the Poor Man’s Loveseat?
Or maybe ALL THE FREAKIN’ TOYS!?
(where did they all come from? we never planned this! i think they multiply at night.)
Ack. I think I’m still way off. It’s not the lack of reliable seating or the 8 million and five toys (though I’m beginning to realize why we can’t afford a real loveseat).
Oh, WAIT. I’ve got it!
It’s the highly disobedient dog!
And the URINE SOAKED BELONGINGS!
Why are you shaking your head? I got it all wrong again, huh?
Okay, let me sit down and think about this some more.
This is where Braden crawled for the first time.
And then walked.
It’s where my husband comes off the road and back to his son.
Their first Father’s Day together was in this house.
John and I celebrated loving one another for six years here recently.
And soon, we will celebrate four years of marriage at our tropical getaway! in this house.
It’s our home, because we are here together, building memories.
Here’s to all the family memories you will build into your new home for many years to come, Sandy and Veronica.
Theme for February 23rd, 2008: “Wooden”
Is it just a little creepy that Braden has a wooden (hehehe) toy that looks like a well-known porn star?
Ron Jeremy: by night, he lights your fire, during the day, he puts it out!
Check out the open collar. The moustache.
Nice “hose,” Ron.
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.