This might be insecurity talking. Or it could be pragmatism. I'm really not the best judge of this stuff.

I don't know Martha Stewart personally, but I'd really like to meet her... so I could kick her ass, although, she'd probably be able kill me*. And then bury my body in some sort of decorative way. 

Martha Stewart is not responsible for my insecurites, but I do, for whatever reason, correlate the start of this whole make-everything-look-beautiful-and-perfect-so-that-my-psychological-issues-don't-show phase. But I've really only been around since the mid eighties, so what do I know.  I'm sure she wasn't the first to advocate meticulously planned dinner parties and shoving all your skeletons in a box decorated with flowers that you grew and dried yourself. 

Wow. I have gotten off track here.

Kelan is turning 4!

Raising this kid gets more fun and more complicated by the day.  I like to use Kelan's birthdays as a way to pat myself on the back for having kept him alive one more year**.  I know you'd like to think I'm kidding, but this shit is hard! I'm amazed that any child makes it a day past their first steps. And we're talking about a child who eats crackers that he finds under peoples' couches here. Yesterday, I found him in the kitchen trying to open a bag of crackers. With a steak knife.

Naturally we want to celebrate his birthday, but since when has a homemade cake and a few relatives been a sign that you are a crap mom who doesn't know how to decorate your cupcakes with fondant whatever-the-hell-you-think-your-4-year-old-loves?  I have actually given this a lot of thought this year.  Sean and I just couldn't decide what to do.  Our house is small and a hundred years old and does not lend itself to gatherings any larger than about four people. Which is fine, because I hate hosting- it involves way too much pressure. And more forks and spoons than I own. 

Just now, I was paging through a community publication and I came across an article about planning a special party for your child.  It suggests a theme, four dishes that require intensive labor in order to be "on-theme", and suggests that you make your own birthday hats for everyone- the directions of which are mind boggling, and involve several trips to a craft store no doubt. Not to mention, I'm not even sure what "fringe" is, or where it goes.  Here's the best part.  The article tells you to, I kid you not, construct a photo booth complete with homemade costumes for the kids to wear.***

Now, these aren't bad ideas or anything.  To each his own, and if that's the kind of thing you really enjoy doing, go for it! I'm just the type of person who feels insecure at these types of parties.  I feel uncomfortable eating finger food that so closely resembles the animal it was made to look like.  I usually leave wondering if I don't love my child enough. I didn't plan his party six months in advance! I forgot to have an enlarged photo of him framed for the event! I suck!

In the end, Kelan's party will be at a local pizza place. We will invite some close friends and relatives, and we will probably buy a cake from the store the morning of.  There won't be homemade birthday hats, and there won't be any foods shaped like numbers or animals, but I'm not sure Kelan will care.  I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure all he cares about is the cake, and the fact that he finally gets to be the one opening the presents. I think I'm OK with that. We'll save the "special table with pictures of your child and his many accomplishments!" for when he wins the nobel peace prize.


* She's been to prison. She can probably make some hardcore decoupaged shivs.   
   
** After all, it is about ME.

*** No doubt so that every mom can stand around with their digital camera and take a hundred pics for facebook and twitter. 



P.S. I don't really hate you Martha! Please don't kill me!

Halloween as usual- you know, with knives and cross-dressing and whatnot

          
                                         There were Pumpkins!

 

Kelan carved the crap out of this pumpkin, and he loved every second that he was allowed to wield a sharp object (Which was really only 4, because Sean had eight heart attacks). 





Oh, you were wondering who made that awesome ghost? That was all me.



                                                              And Costumes!!

And I knew I couldn't pick his costume forever, but I didn't know it was going to be such a "process" to settle on something. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that there isn't a lot of difference mood swing-wise between my three-year-old son and a teenage girl.

This is the costume I totally would have stuck him in if I had it my way :



Seriously!! How could that not inspire you to dump your whole bowl of candy in this kid's bag?

And here's the costume that Kelan would have worn if he had gotten his way:

 

Because he's just so sweet and innocent. I think it's safe (and so sad!!) to say, that our respective choices probably had the same percent chance of getting him beat up on Halloween. Because we are equal amounts of "out there", my son and I. Only, he'll probably grow out of it.

So here's what we went with:



Oh yes, he is dancing in this pic. Also, please note the three layers of clothes I made him wear under it. Because WI is cold. And it was daycare's day to deal with the potty breaks. 



Because as long as he stopped pining for that 60 dollar pottery barn witch costume, I didn't care what he wore.   

Screw living vicariously through Kelan. Next year? I think I'll go as Abe Lincoln. Who's having the party?  

And after we brought the guns and booze back to the car, they let us pick some apples.

Because it's fall. And that's what all the cool parents do.

And I wanted to get a posed picture of Kelan but he wasn't game. He just wanted to dance.

And I couldn't justify punishing him for not wanting to pose for a picture. So I just gave up and rage-tickled him.

And even though I had 14 panic attacks, I couldn't stop him from double fisting pesticidey apples.

So Sean threatened to throw him in with this really hairy bull thing. And he finally started bahaving himself.

Except during the hayride when he went and sat next to some random woman and held her hand. But we didn't get pictures of that because I was too busy being mortified. And Sean was too busy laughing.

On second thought, this is exactly what I would expect from someone who shares my genetic make up

I don't even know how to preface this randomness, so I'll just sum it up as "stuff from last week."





Another daycare art project. I was in the middle of telling Kelan how cool it was when I noticed the upper left hand corner. I'm no child psychologist, but this seems worrisome...

Above is the book that Kelan picked out during the last trip to the library. It was most likely just a random pick, but I like to think of it as an enlightened choice.

Also! Kelan has been into fairy tales as of late. I am amazed at how often I have to ad-lib for content, which is hard because I am very anti-censorship, but geez! I was reading "Hansel and Gretel" the other night and I had totally forgotten (or blocked out?) the fact that Hansel and Gretel were actually purposely abandoned in the forest by there parents-- the first idea their parents talked about? killing them off.

Um, content warning?

So, after a couple of years of people telling me that I *needed* to start watching that show "Weeds", I finally caved and checked it out on Netflix. Almost 5 stars! I got through half of the first season.

The result? Mild depression.

It wasn't the show in particular, I'm pretty sure "Weeds" was just the straw that broke this camel's back. Truth is, I'm usually all for dark comedies. I love television and cinema that can subtly (and humorously) point out that life is messy.

I guess, for me, the whole suburban-life-is-effed-up theme is just getting a little tired. American Beauty? Kind of cool. It was a newer concept back then. But now we have a TON of shows that portray affluent suburban life as seedy, scandalous, and even dangerous.

I've been giving this some thought lately, wondering why I had such a negative reaction, and then I took the topic to Sean (Who has been taking in every episode of Breaking Bad that he can get his hands (or would it be eyes?) on. His opinion, "You're giving this way too much thought, It's just entertainment."

Consider me jaded. Or old. Although I prefer disenchanted, by the whole genre. Because when Sean said that, I immediately thought, Forgive me if I'm not "entertained" by the idea of a mother slipping her middle-schooler laxatives because she considers her fat. Or for not understanding the idea of a mother walking in on her fifteen year old having sex with his girlfriend and then sighing, as if she is just mildly bothered. You know, because her son is that precocious type-- the new Hollywood version of witty, adult-kid.

GAG.

So, at the risk of being "uncool," I'm over it. The only thing I find myself thinking about that show is, Why does she need to be a drug dealer to keep up her lifestyle? Geez, I could solve her problem in a week. Sell your McMansion, move, and live within your means? Not great TV, but in my opinion, neither is watching a 30 something year old man have cybersex with a teenager, only to have it laughed off.

So, Two final points to Hollywood.

1) Get over this marijuana obsession. Anyone over the age of 25 that owns and is proud of a bong? Needs to rethink some life choices.

2) Even though the economy sucks, It doesn't make me feel any better to see that it sucks for the poor little rich people too.

This might have come off more angry that I wanted...

Discuss?

Don't become friends with that cigarette, kids - He will cut you.

It's not every day that your husband turns to you and says, "I feel the need to warn you that I might try to strangle you in your sleep."

But that's life these days.

Sean and I are both trying to give up some vices. Because, now that our second child is indefinitely on hold, we figure we will just have to be healthy and live longer... lest there be canes present at any high school graduations.

Sean is trying to stop smoking when he gets stressed, and I'm trying to give up my addiction to refined sugars.

We are trying our best to support each other, but regardless, it's been a bit chaotic 'round here.

Sean is trying that drug Chantix, which apparently has some weird possible side effects*. I am trying to stop my willful ignorance of calorie intake, because, a calorie is NOT a calorie, is not a calorie...or so I'm told. And we are both researching the best ways to get rid of our bad habits.

Which brings me to this:

This is our newest refrigerator art; It sent Kelan's self portrait packing. It's a quitting aid for smokers. This is one of those things that I read, and instantly want to meet the author. The document is entitled, "Your 'friend' the cigarette" and features a list of comparisons between a smoking habit, and a terrible friend.

The comparisons start off innocent,

"How do you feel about a friend that must go everywhere you do?"

Then it gets serious,

"How do you feel about a friend that burns holes in your clothes and has even been known to burn down a house?"

Huh... that's a weird friend...

Then it gets downright scary,

"How do you feel about a friend that carries an arsenal of poisons with him, and every chance he gets, he makes you sick?"

Wow.

And, this is the one that sent me over the edge, into funny visuals and uncontrollable laughter,

"How do you feel about a friend who has been plotting your death since the first time you met?"

Umm. Holy crap. Nicotine is a dick!!!

Every time I walk past this, I giggle to myself. The first thing I thought of was taking a picture of a cigarette somehow wielding a knife next to Sean's pillow when he was sleeping, and hanging that on the refrigerator next to it..but that might send the wrong message regarding my support of his quitting.

Or would it?

*And strangling people in your sleep is not even the weirdest one, by the way.

Boom, smited!

Photographic proof that GOD will smite you if you aren't nice to me...

I am still amused by a conversation I had with my sister ten minutes before we were hit with a huge storm that had trees down on every block in my neighborhood:

Sarah: Is it supposed to rain today?

Me: I'm not sure, the icon on my iPod shows some clouds and a lightening bolt, but usually when I click on it, there is only like a 10% chance of rain, so... who knows.

Sarah: Hmmm

Ten minutes after I hung up the phone, the tornado sirens were going off. I was baffled, but the sky had turned a blackish color all of the sudden. The power went out before I could get any actual weather info and suddenly realized how much I depend on the radar pictures, because I started yearning for just a couple minutes of that super arrogant weatherman who gets off on pointing at pictures of green and red blobs and manically shouts about "rotation" and "wall clouds."

I was sitting in the dark basement wondering how serious the threat of a tornado was and being all bitter that the internet was down when I remembered a conversation that Sean and I had at a hardware store once. I sort of remember Sean pointing down an aisle and saying that we should have some "weather preparedness kit" with a radio and stuff like that, but all I could see when I looked at him was an old man blabbering about needing more cardigans and another charger for his Hoveround so I freaked out and may have told him that weather radios were for pansies.

Next I heard a crash upstairs, and decided that it was either a tree falling on my house or the cats messing around upstairs and shrugged, jamming my earphones in my ears and turning on my latest audiobook-- sort of like how I turn the radio up in my car to drown out all of the weird noises it makes when it's about to die.

Thankfully, there was no major damage. As it turns out, the top of one of the huge trees in our yard had broken off and fallen between our yard and our neighbors (who coincidentally NEVER say hi to me), bringing down a power line and smashing some of their brand new fancy landscaping. The first thing that Sean said when I told him a tree was down was, "Please tell me it fell on your car, did it fall on your car?"

The next two days were a blur of realizing how underrated electricity is, and then being soooo grateful that "an act of GOD" prevented us for having to pay for any damage.

And I guess all that's left to say is, you've been warned...

Vacation...

was awesome and it ended way too soon. August has been a wild month and I vow to officially start to cram in all of the activities that I should have been spreading throughout the summer. Here's to squeezing every last drop of sunshine out of this Wisconsin weather before winter hits and I lose my mind!

Oh!!! And our realtor decided to move across the country, giving us a whole weeks notice. So our house is officially off the market for the time being--you know what that means!! Yep, more time for me to wander aimlessly around office supply stores smelling new erasers and wishing that I had a use for .25 folders. Perhaps Spring?

P.S. This kid LOVES water...

Kelan's cousins on Sean's side-- too cute!

Sort of like that one movie, except without hooker.

Sean is off this week and he's been at a cottage with Kelan and some extended family. I am leaving to join them today. Basically I have been left to my own devices for the past couple days. Before Sean and Kelan left, I pictured my time alone being exciting-- all, Risky Buisness -like (Only, I've never actually seen that movie but for that one scene with the underwear and the dancing) Anyway, reality was much less exciting. Basically my house is cleaner than it was and my head is full of funny quotes from The Office because I watched a couple seasons.

Anyway, I'll update with vacation pics next week. Before I go though, I would like to share one of my favorite Michael Scott quotes. It's from that episode where Michael denounces technology and delivers gift baskets to past clients in order to win them back. Here is what he says after he drives into a lake upon GPS instruction:

"Everyone always wants new things. Everybody likes new inventions, new technology. People will never be replaced by machines. In the end, life and business are about human connections. And computers are about trying to murder you in a lake. And to me, the choice is easy."

Couldn't have said it better myself.



**I just googled Risky Business. It Sounds like his weekend was way more fun than mine and now I'm depressed. Also, I'm totally changing the title of this post.

We're Fancy

This is a conversation that Sean and I had at the dinner table tonight, without any hint of emotion-- it was all very matter of fact.

Sean: There's scotch tape in your hair.

Me: I know, I couldn't find a bobby pin.

Sean: Oh.

What are YOU looking at?

It started with Spider-man.

You know the creepiest thing about a Spider-man action figure? I do. It's eyes are so big that no matter where it is on the floor, it feels like it's always looking at you. I'm serious. It's all fun and games until you have to shower with this:

one morning.

It's all down hill from there. Now we own every "fill-in-the-blank"-man ever made. And I told myself that my child wasn't going to play with the toy weapons or watch the action cartoons, but then reality entered into the picture, as it tends to do. Because trust me, I'm totally that mom at the store who shops the toy aisles and shows him dolls, and puzzles, and animal figurines going, "hey, doesn't this look fun!" It hasn't worked yet. It turns out, preschoolers are people, and they have opinions-- opinions that they like to state passionately. and loudly. and very, very often.

And that's not to say that I give in to his every whim, but I have to draw the line somewhere, or I'll end up being that mom who leaves a list of forbidden toys for playdates... and no one likes that mom.

So, now most of our quality time together is me suggesting we color, or build with the lincoln logs, and then finally resigning to be the bad guy that Iron-man needs to get rid of. Again.

But it's all good. I mean, he's not trying to burn the house down, or out killing small animals, so I figure I can suck it up and take some showers with Spider-man.

Unicorns, leprechauns, and I

I think I might be magical. Before you run off to have me committed, I'm only half serious. I'm actually positive that I'm magical. Perhaps that's not even the right word. What I actually mean by that, is that I have realized that I posses some super-human abilities, specifically that of invisibility. And no, I don't think I'm going too far by saying that (you can make that phone call now if you want).

It started a long time ago, but it's getting worse now. At first it was just a random occurrence, like once in awhile someone would cut in front of me in a line. These days, automatic doors aren't even opening for me. I'm serious, it happens like twice a week where I just stand outside an automatic door and inch closer and closer to it until someone comes from behind me and the doors open. It's like I'm lacking some sort of presence.

The crazy thing is, usually I am the only one who actually IS present. I blame it on the fact that I don't have a cell phone, but that's really only a hopeful guess. The honest truth is, I'm kind of forgettable. Let me give you an example of a near daily occurrence in my life. I am walking into a building behind someone. Said person opens the door, enters the building, and I am then met by a door in my face. Humbling, that.

Another personal favorite of mine is any place that I take Kelan where other children and parents are present. The library is where it's getting kind of sad. The scene I typically walk into is a bunch of kids wandering around aimlessly while a bunch of parents lean up against book shelves texting away, or in worst cases- taking phone calls! It seems like I'm having to say, "um, excuse us please, sorry" to people constantly. When did people just stop looking around? I find that when I sit down to read Kelan a story, I end up reading it to an entire little group of wandering children whose parents are MIA.

Don't even get me started about the grocery store. Sean absolutely refuses to shop with me anymore, and it's not as if I blame him, I wouldn't shop with myself if I didn't have to. The grocery store is like my own personal Bermuda Triangle, the second I walk in there, I am non existent. I end up getting stuck in aisles for ridiculously long periods of time because people just walk in font of me and crouch down to grab what they need, or reach down to switch songs on their mp3 player and walk right into me. I'll stand at the end of an aisle and a continuous line of carts will just keep passing me without letting me go ahead.

A couple days ago, I was grabbing some items, and a woman ahead of me parked her cart in the middle of the aisle. We were the only two in the particular aisle. She looked at me, and then looked at her cart and continued to grab things off the shelf. I edged closer to her cart, but I didn't want to move it myself because it was an awkward situation, what with her standing literally an inch away from it. I panicked and just stopped and pretended to be shopping until she left the aisle. I bought a can of tuna that I didn't need, just so that she didn't think I was crazy, which is so clearly ironic, because she wouldn't have noticed if I was laying down in front of her cart!!!

Invisibility isn't always such a bad thing though, I used to skip classes constantly in school without any repercussions. I never get stopped by those survey people or cell phone salesmen in the mall, and it's reassuring to know that I could probably have a lucrative career in the petty theft business if it was ever necessary.

I've been brainstorming ideas and I'm currently in the market for a bright orange hunting vest if anyone has one. Maybe that's why people are starting to get more and more eccentric. My theory is that Lady Gaga just got sick of freezing in the frozen food section and went nuts one day. It helps me feel less alone.

My five year plan: stay married and try not to screw up the kid I already have...

So, we're getting rid of baby things left and right. Because, let's face it, you can only walk by an empty nursery forty times a day for so long before you start to feel like one of those women in the lifetime movies who end up going crazy and cutting a baby out of someone...

And it's funny, because even though I've never set up a rigid, specific plan for my life, I certainly never imagined being the parent to an only child.

This is probably more information than you need or want, but since the miscarriage last spring, we haven't even been trying for a second child. And, it's not like we're running off to have any permanent "procedures", if you know what I mean.

It's just...complicated. And there are so many variables! I'm beginning to think that the smartest thing to do when having more than one child is just to keep having them before you can stop to think about it. Because once you stop to really think about it, you start thinking things like, "this whole him dressing himself and getting his own breakfast thing sure is nice..." and that leads to fantasies of never having to change a diaper again, and actually sitting down and eating for longer than 10 minutes...you know, crazy things like that.

Not to make it sound like it's just my decision or anything. I mean, Sean would already have two or three kids if it was just up to him, but that's because he's never been in active labor, among other things. So we are handling this like pretty much every other decision we can't finalize...which is, let's just see what happens if we just ignore it.

So little by little the baby things are disappearing. I've totally given up on gaining that weight I was supposed to gain in order to prepare for possibly having hyperemesis gravadarium again (good times), and I'm starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, everything will end up exactly how it was meant to, without planning it down to the second.

Or maybe the world will end in 2012. Problem solved.

200 dollars later.

I'm not sure what has happened, but psychiatry has taken a weird turn. It used to be all chaise lounges and dream analyzing. Now it's all- here's your script, and make sure to note any weird side effects and tell me all about them when I see you again in six months!

I've actually had the pleasure of meeting with a small variety of psychiatrists in my life. Some good, some bad, and some who should have quit before they started. I give them all secret nicknames in my head (actually, I pretty much do this for everyone). The two worst Psychiatrists I've ever had were Dr. Huge Feet and my latest, Dr. Hunt and Peck. Dr. Huge Feet kept telling me that I was too "trim." I'm not sure why he chose that to fixate on, seeing as how I went there with an anxiety issue, but the last appointment I had with him, he handed me a new prescription that would "be okay to take because you are quite trim and could stand to gain a few pounds." I never filled that prescription, and have not entered his office since.

Which brings me to my latest waste of time, Dr. Hunt and Peck. I chose him because he was at the top of the list alphabetically, which, in retrospect may have been a mistake. Now, I've never been to medical school, but there seems to be a pattern in the medical field. It goes something like this:

PRE-APPOINTMENT

1)Patient goes through some scheduling department

2)Patient fills out paperwork and gives it to some sort of "first line" representative

3)At some point, the medical professional skims over paperwork and makes a judgement about the patient before meeting them

APPOINTMENT

4) Patient sits alone (fully clothed if lucky) in a small office while somewhere the medical professional skims the patient's file to remember what the pre-diagnosis was

5) Medical professional meets and talks to the patient (usually the shortest part of the entire process).

6) Medical professional diagnoses patient and offers a solution.

POST APPOINTMENT

7) Some sort of dictation is recorded and sent out to billing or if the patient is lucky, off to an insurance company who will pay as little as possible

8) Patient is broke for several months.


Everyone just accepts this process because it's routine, and even my preschooler can tell you that routine matters. It's comforting to know that once you have your clothes off, you know what will come next.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Dr. Hunt and Peck missed this class in med school; Because here's how he rolls:

PRE APPOINTMENT

1)Spend 10 minutes on the phone with the scheduling department- this is a hassle because usually Dr. Hunt and Peck is booked three months in advance.

APPOINTMENT

1) I sit in a large waiting room filling out a sheet that expects me to rank my feelings of self loathing on a scale of 1-10 and my insomnia on a scale of "does not interfere with daily life" to "does interfere with daily life" with nothing in between. During this time, Dr. Hunt and Peck is doing god knows what, but what I assume is playing Angry Birds on some mobile device.

2) Dr. Hunt and Peck calls my name in the waiting room and seems surprised when I walk over to him (He does not recognise me from one appt. to the next). I am then ushered into a small office.

3) Hunt and Peck begins to read my file in front of me while I sit in silence for about five minutes wondering why he couldn't have done this before, the crappy magazines in the waiting room would have been more enjoyable than staring at the wall and waiting for him to address me.

4) Hunt and Peck starts asking all of the questions that I just answered on the sheet. Even though I'm sure he is a nice man, I'm convinced that he could not care less and am secretly tempted to say something shocking, just for some excitement.

5) Hunt and Peck types his dictation while I am answering. I'm not sure if it is because he has a bad memory or what, but I am forced to watch him type everything with his TWO POINTER FINGERS.

6) Dr. Hunt and Peck looks at me sincerely and asks me very broad questions like "what's going on in your life right now?" I blink very slowly and wonder what the hell he is expecting me to say to him- a man who sees me twice or three times a year. I panic a little bit wondering how my answers will affect my meds. I tell him everything is going well- I'm pretty sure I would say that if both of my legs were on fire or I had planned to leave his office and drive off the nearest bridge.

7)More typing. I sit and wonder how much housework I could have gotten done during this time and question how it is I can trust a man with my psychiatric medical decisions if he hasn't even learned the home keys.

8) I walk out with six months of refills and more "feelings of guilt or unworthiness" than when I walked in.

POST APPOINTMENT

9) Dr. Hunt and Peck goes back to his angry birds until his next client has waited a sufficient amount of time in the big waiting room.

It's like the universe knows when I need something to blog about

I was a hero once.

Fine, so I use the term "hero" loosely.

Back when I lived at "that crazy party house" (as I've heard it referred to) my roommates and I had some pretty wild adventures. One of my favorite (because as mentioned above, I totally saved the day) is the bat story.

Once upon a warm summer evening, I was awoken by a frantic person in my doorway talking about some bird flying in her room. I wish I could say that I jumped out of bed and ran to the spot immediately, but in such a house as this one was, I can't even admit that I was surprised. What was surprising, is that when I finally dragged myself out of bed and saw that there was a bat in my roommate's bedroom (just hanging all upside down, looking at us like, "what?") there was not a guy to be found. But of course on any other given night when they were useless, they could be found crashing on any surface.

And it's also no surprise that there was a bat inside. It's not like our slumlord made sure there were screens anywhere, and people tended to just open windows anyway for some reason (well actually there were many reasons, I mean you need a place to crawl out of to sit on the roof at 2 am obviously).

Anyway, what the hell to do, right? So it's close to four am, and three of us girls just stared at each other spouting out crazy ideas, and I have absolutely no idea what was said, but I imagine it went something like this....

'What are we going to do?'

'I don't know, don't they like, bite and scratch people?'

'Sarah, you do this, you are the animal person'

'Guys! I heard something about using a tennis racket'

'I don't want rabies!!!'

'Wait, what do we do with the tennis racket?'

'Did it just move!? I think it just moved!!!'

That is when Sarah got brave and decided to just go for it. She put us on bat watch and disappeared for awhile. When she came back, it was priceless. In fact, I brought my camera out and took pictures (and if I had a scanner and wasn't lazy I would totally post them here). Anyway, she had on: a winter hat, some one's goggles from a college lab class, a scarf, a sweater, an apron, and winter gloves. How she found all of this so quickly in the middle of summer remains a mystery, but she was brave enough to get a chair and pose for a pic in front of the upside down bat. But just as she was slowly reaching a gloved hand towards it....it started to frantically fly around the room.

And there was screaming. And running.

I think we shut the door and sat outside of it for a good ten minutes, and I'm pretty sure someone actually did grab a tennis racket by the way.

Eventually we peeked in the door. And it had settled down in it's favorite little weird place on the door frame. And I got brave. I don't remember if I put the goggles on, but I did put a glove on and I still can't believe I did this, but I courageously* walked over to the chair, grabbed the bat in my gloved hand, sprinted to the window, and tossed it out. Then there was more screaming.

And we all went to bed the end.

***

I guess I was reminded of this story today, when I woke up at (oddly 4 am) and saw the cats freaking out in Kelan's room when I went to check on him. Then something whizzed by my head.

This time I let Sean be the hero. I made some oatmeal while he wandered in and out of the kitchen every once in awhile bringing random things up with him (a broom, a garbage bag ((which totally made me think of that episode of The Office)), even a pizza box) I think the kicker is that the same kid who wakes up when I am downstairs unloading the dishwasher, slept through all of this commotion.

Anyway. Bat#2 is gone, I'm convinced we all have rabies though.

Send a CDC rep.


*The kind of courage that can only come from a night with domestic canned beer and off-brand vodka

This could be a mistake, but it's not like I have a ton of readers to piss off...

You know how sometimes you taste or smell something and it is so bad or disturbing that you can't help but get everyone around you to do it too? This might be one of those "it's just me" things. Only, I feel the need to trick people into experiencing things, like, "Hey Sean, taste this, it's soooo good!" It sounds all mean when I type it out, but it's not like people would do things If I told them the truth...

Or would they?

I've been watching far too much television since this insomnia started, and lately I've been on a documentary streak. Documentaries are cool because it's like watching reality TV without the guilt...well less of it anyway. Netflix has a lot of titles that are available on instant play. Anyway, of the documentaries I've seen lately, A small list sticks out in my head. I don't know why, but the last three I've seen have all been disturbing, although two of them have been about the death penalty.

I have to say that I'm not overly passionate about a lot of issues. I try not to take extreme views on anything because I hate conflict, there is always grey area, and I think it just opens the door for debates, and debates are positively useless. However, I am pro-choice (not to be confused with pro-abortion), and I do oppose the death penalty.

That said, I found these documentaries disturbing for various reasons and I want you to watch them so I'm not alone in my disturbedness!!

- The Last Word

-My Flesh and Blood (not about the death penalty, but hard to watch)

-Deadline

Let me know what you think!

Yep.This really is my life.

There is a good reason that I am not a nurse. Actually there are several. It turns out that in my old age, I am not very fond of vomit or blood or feces or... touching people. I've heard many parents say, "Oh, it is SO different when it is your child." Um not for this girl. I've yet to pick up a dirty kleenex or change a diaper and feel the love. Mostly, it is just a lot of dry heaving.

I had to take Kelan to the pediatrician this week. Again. Because he has had a sinus infection that keeps coming back. He woke up with a fever and I just made an appointment. It's actually pretty cool not to have a baby anymore. I've learned all of the fun tricks now. Instead of being the "good client" and asking for a nurse, I just call the scheduling department and tell them I want him to be seen. Before, I would always sweetly ask for a nurse who would give me a hundred question quiz before telling me to schedule an appointment (It's the parent/nurse equivilant of that IT department that you have to first go through that asks you if your computer isn't working because you forgot to plug it in or turn it on). Let me tell you, they always do end up telling you to schedule, because they don't want to be the one who gets sued if a kid dies.

So anyway, I took him in and enjoyed the awesomeness that is trying to occupy a three-year-old in a 5 by 5 room. Which, on a side note, is even worse than it was for parents a generation ago, because now they have stopped putting toys anywhere because GERMS! and THE FLU! and DEATH!!!!! Apparently they are all against kids building immunities these days.

Just at about the point where I'm about to sneak out and pretend I was never there, the pediatrician comes in. I really like ours because she is good at acting like everything happens all the time. I swear we could bring him in bleeding out of the ears and she would calmly say, "Ah, yeah, I've seen this a hundred times, my kids had it twice, here's your script!" She looked up his nose and declared that it was a sinus infection.

But just when I was ready to tell her which Walgreens and run away, she totally threw me for a loop, "Does he pee on command?" she asked, "I think I'm going to take a urine sample just in case." Uhhhh. and before I could say "Come again?" a nurse was at the door. She thrust a cup in my hand and says "Ok, we'll just need a small sample, and make sure to and I quote, 'wipe the tip' with an antibacterial wipe beforehand" (she was very cheery about the whole ordeal), and then she just walked away. SHE WALKED AWAY!!!

And once again, I'm starting to research child psychiatrists because I'm sure he is scarred for life by the experience. Actually it wasn't so bad. Once I picked my jaw up off the floor and bribed him with a popsicle, everything was fine. I even made it through that awkward moment standing outside of a bathroom holding urine praying that I don't give it to the wrong nurse. (When will they learn to stick around a bathroom?)

Once again. These are the things they leave out of the "What to Expect" books.

Fun with facebook. and alliteration.

So I've been on Facebook for like five minutes now and clearly it is time that I bother you with my opinions on it. I have a love/hate relationship with FB and I just can't seem to make a commitment to stay or to leave. The problem seems to be that in real life, people are complex and awesome, but then they log in to facebook and suddenly become one-dimensional. There are certain facebook personalities that people take on without even noticing and it can be really hard to deal with if you don't ever get to see their complex little selves in "real life". Here are the top ten I've noticed... and ultimately un-friended in most cases... (because let's face it, if you aren't still [real world] friends with that one kid you played with in preschool, there is probably a good reason).

1) Addicted Amy-I am often worried for this user, because facebook has somehow become their means of relating to the world. If they haven't updated their status 10 times by 9 am, you wonder if you should be contacting local law enforcement because they are probably missing or dead. Usually three things are true about this poster: 1) You'll likely have seen more pictures of random things they see throughout their day than you have of your own family. 2) They should probably start listing things that they "dislike" because their profile would be shorter. 3) If facebook ever dies off, therapy will be necessary.

2) Sunshine, rainbows, and kittens Kristy!!!- This poster loves his/her life, because EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!!! These daily posts will alternately make you homicidal or suicidal as a reader. Most posts will be something along the lines of "A and B happened today, and I am SOOOO [insert adverb and positive feeling]!!! I guess I imagine Kristy writing these posts from a corner of her house, while smiling a huge shaky smile with tears running down her face. I am also convinced she is a cutter.

3) I'm HERE, Hannah- Hannah is Waldo and Carmen Sandiago all in one! She assumes that somehow you have lost her. Her only posts come in the form of that weird facebook feature that lets you know where she is and exactly who she is with (complete with links to their profile pages, just in case you want to super-judge them before you see them). If you pay attention, Hannah will account for her entire day--which really takes the fun out for stalkers I bet. You wonder if she has ever been robbed I mean, is there an easier target???

4) I have the best boyfriend/fiance/husband Betty- Betty is in love!!! Her only updates will be accounts of the latest thing that her perfect significant other did. Betty will make you worry that your relationship is falling apart, after all, your SO is not buying you a dozen roses every week or surprising you with wonderful weekends away! This poster will more often than not have comments on her status by none other than perfect SO, usually to the tune of, "You are SOOO welcome babe!! XOXOXOX" This always makes me feel like a creepy voyeur. I've come to the conclusion that anyone this in love publicly, must be miserable privately.

5) Cryptic Cindy- Cindy updates her status once or twice a day, and you never know anything more about Cindy after you've read them then you did before. Her updates are disturbingly vague. She will inundate your news feed with statements like, "I've been crying all morning...:(" (do note the frowny face icon - Cindy lives for emoticons) or, "So happy about the awesome news I just got!!!" and my personal favorite, "Why me?" These updates are annoying. Part of you wants to give them the attention that they are after and ask, "What is it???" But most of you just moves on to the next post.

6)Bad news Barb- Bad news Barb is the type of person who tells you an anecdote before she says hello when she sees you. I'm convinced that she checks Yahoo news four hundred times a day for the sole purpose of being the first to deliver news about the latest devastating earthquake, shocking hostage situation, or sickening celebrity break up gossip (isn't it just terrible about those poor children!?!). Often, Barb will use someone else's tragedy to remind her of how lucky she is and publicly counts her blessings, which is more distasteful than she realizes.

7)Political Polly- Polly watches CNN (or massive amounts of Fox News, take your pick) and she wants you to know it! She is passionate about the "issues" and needs you to be too. Obviously facebook is the best venue for politics, I mean, where else should you go to let everyone from your boss to your great grandma know exactly what is best for the world/country/state/city/block/neighbors house and why you know it? Here is how I handle Political Polly on facebook: If I agree with her, I don't comment. If I don't agree with her? I don't comment. We learn in "real life" not to discuss politics and religion in mixed company, so why should facebook be so different? (FYI- I don't suggest telling Polly the above advice, after all it is a free country).

8)Religious Reba- It's hard to dislike Reba. I don't mind her, I have no problem with anyone's GOD or anyone talking about him/her, but this facebook personality is worth mentioning. Everyone has that one facebook friend that has scripture for every situation and hardly goes five minutes without praising GOD for everything from getting her to work safely to helping her find the peanut butter in the grocery store. Then again... I do sometimes wonder if she has heard that rule about politics and religion.

9) Workout Wanda- This facebook personality is tricky because there are two subtypes. You have Marathon Miranda, and Chronic dieter Debbie. Somehow, both subtypes manage to spit out the same updates with this template: Today was [either good or bad]! I managed to eat [a,b, and c], and I [input exercise and amount]! The only difference is that Marathon Miranda will be talking about how she stuck to her diet of raw almonds and organic steamed spinach while running 8 miles, and Chronic dieter Debbie will be posting about how she stuck to her diet of seven glasses of water (2 pkgs of crystal light each) and 3 cans of soup. She even took the stairs instead of the elevator at work and parked further away then usual! We all know dieter Debbie. She is that woman in your office that proudly passes on the birthday cake opting instead for 17 of those pre- packaged 100 calorie servings of Oreos.

10)I friend everyone I meet Maggie- The only status updates from Maggie are those, Maggie is now friends with Jane Doe and John Smith ones. Maggie has well over seven hundred "friends" but hardly updates her status. I have deduced a couple of reasons why this is. Either she is trying to keep up with a jumbled mess of seven hundred other peoples' status updates, or she is too busy meeting people on buses and whipping out her iPhone to send them friend requests. I imagine it is probably worth it for her when she logs in on her birthday to see several hundred Happy Birthday Maggie!'s and feels super popular.

Library schmibrary, the hospital is where it's at

So I've been spending a lot of time in hospitals lately. Not as a patient, but as a visitor. Between people having babies and surgeries, I've logged quite a few hours in waiting rooms. And I've been thinking...

What the heck homeless people????

Why spend your time in a dusty library when you could be wandering around hospitals? I mean, sure books are great and everything, but you know what is better? A huge place with lots of roaming space that is basically just available 24 hours a day!

I have given this a lot of thought, and I really can't see a downside (Well besides MRSA I guess, but who says your chances are any smaller at the public library?). It is so easy to be inconspicuous in a hospital. You can basically just wander from waiting room to waiting room watching daytime television and sipping free coffee. FREE! Not to mention there is a better chance of slipping into a random shower without being detected.

Here's the bonus. I'm going to let you in on the hospital's best kept secret- the ICU waiting room. Don't scoff, It's mostly always empty- it turns out people with loved ones in the ICU tend to like to hang out with said loved ones, and if they are in emergency surgery, you get sent to the surgical waiting room (which is subpar as far as waiting rooms go-- I know these things). Anyway, the ICU room? Has tables and games. It has coffee, tea, snacks and a refrigerator. For crying out loud, it has pillows and blankets!

If you're worried about getting caught, don't. I have been lost down many a pointless, endless hallway, hoping to run into someone that can help, but mostly everyone just ignores you, especially the volunteers - who are mostly just high school kids trying to pad their college applications and tend to sigh heavily when you ask for help. And god forbid you annoy them in the midst of an angsty leaning session (or a less angsty but obviously super-important text message).

Anyway, do what you will homeless and weary, but I know where I'll be next time I need a break from being yelled at for getting the wrong kind of popsicles, or not ironing the shirts on time--The front lobby, with a magazine and a coffee--right next to that piano that PLAYS ITSELF.

Conversations with Kelan

It's been a rough week, what with being forced to confront my guilt* of loving my decision to quit the stay at home thing, and with Kelan confronting me about...everything.

Today I woke up and was just emotionally exhausted, but this little conversation with Kelan made my day:

Kelan: (comes and sits on my lap) Since there's no daycare today, can I watch "The Incredible Hulk"?

Me: What? Aren't you a little young for that show? When have you watched that?

Kelan: I'm not too young!! Daddy watched it yesterday at night with me.

Me: Why do you like the incredible hulk?**

Kelan: Because Betty loves him sooo much!


*my go-to emotion.

** I've been rather paraniod about superheros and muscled men in the media ever since I watched that documentary "Bigger, Stronger, Faster" and learned more about body image issues with men and rampant steroid use etc... Seriously, finding things to worry about is so freaking easy.

In which Kelan shows his love for all things taxidermic

I'm a fan of the outdoors. Give me a lake and a fire pit and I'm cool. When I was Kelan's age, vacations were road trips. Every summer my parents would pack us into a bright yellow station wagon and drive us to Montana and Wyoming for a camping trip that was anywhere from 2-6 weeks long. We'd sleep in tents, hike, and swim. My brother and sister and I would "explore" for hours and hours. It was kind of wild. When my parents were sick of us they would tell us to go play, or try to sell us on an adventure. My dad would send us off on elaborate scavenger hunts. I will never forget the hours and hours we wasted trying to find a venus fly trap in the mountains.

Now that I am a parent of a preschooler and have some insight into vacationing with kids, I have come to the conclusion that my parents must have been out of their damn minds to take three small kids on a road trip across the country. I can survive an hour and a half in the car with Kelan before I start praying for temporary deafness.

This past weekend Sean, Kelan, and I took a weekend long trip to an indoor waterpark with my sister and her family. We got back yesterday and as with every vacation since Kelan was born, I am now in need of some sort of sensory deprivation experience. Not that I blame Kelan, he's just a three year old like any other. Instead I blame my parents, for making me think that vacations were meant to be outside, in quiet, not-crowded places, where strangers are fully clothed. Mostly.

Now, I tend to get overstimulated fairly easily. I have a hard time being in new places with a lot of people while also having to perform challenging mental tasks, such as forming sentences or thoughts, and forget about making a decision. I tend to just shut down. If you ever want a funny* example, just ask Sean about our famous nursing bra shopping expedition, or how awesome it is to stand in line next to me at Subway.

Stick with me, I have a point here somewhere.... oh yeah! Enter Wilderness Waterpark Resort. When my sister invited us two or three months ago to come with, I was excited. I knew Kelan would love it! However, in my head it looked something like this:




Except you know... inside.

In real life, it was this:


Times three, because there were three different parks and an Indoor playground attached to an arcade. And to be fair, this picture can not depict the volume of a hundred kids yelling over rushing water.**

Add to all of this: my raging insecurities, a bikini (because I'm a masochist), and a million ways for a kid to drown...and you have me in a constant state of fight or flight. Friday night I made Sean brave the crowds alone because I had "some unpacking to do." Saturday morning, I got courageous, donned my suit and trudged the mile and a half of hotel hallway (I'm not exaggerating, that place is freaking huge) and that's when I walked in and saw this:

for the first time. 30 minutes later, after the Valium (that I promptly ran back up to the room for) kicked in, I was only mildly paralyzed and had some fun with Kelan in the wave pool. And, spoiler alert--nobody drowned.

Hyperbole aside, It was nice to get away from home, and Kelan really did enjoy himself. I hope we haven't set his vacation expectations too high though, because we will go camping sometime soon, and I don't know how to sell sleeping in a tent after the indoor "wilderness" experience.

My favorite pictures of the weekend in which Kelan got up and started dancing next to a stuffed bear in one of the three hundred lobbies:

(and no, we don't tell him to pose, he embarrasses me in public without any guidance, and Sean likes to memorialize anything that embarrasses me)

My favorite moment of the weekend: Kelan having a temper tantrum in the middle of the hotel hallway while wearing nothing but a pull-up (on backwards). He was screaming- "NO DON'T TAKE ME WITH YOU! I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE WATER!!!" Good times.


*Not at all funny


** This picture was taken on Sunday morning-- Mother's day, so it was the least crowded it got.

Preview of my book- Part one, and by the way, is crackhead one word or two?

So I was chatting with another mom at daycare the other day and the topic of house sales came up.

"Did I hear you say you were selling your house?" she asked.

To which I giggled.

"Yeah, for awhile now." I replied

"So are you willing to offer up any tips? My husband and I are looking to downsize." she responded.

I don't remember exactly what I said back, but I do remember laughing out loud, I think I said something along the lines of, "Um, my house has been on the market for three years with no offer in sight... so trust me, you don't want any advice I have to give."

Cut to later that day.

I'm getting ready for a last minute showing by cramming a dirty pan (that had been "soaking") in the oven to hide. Suddenly it dawned on me. I have a ton of advice for this woman! I'm practically an expert on living in a house that's for sale! I should write a book! And use the sales to pay off this house! And move! It wouldn't exactly solve the problem of selling this house, but at least I'd have a place to go when the boys are driving me insane.

So I'm thinking of publishing. The title would be, "What to Expect when you are Expecting to Sell Your Overpriced, 100 Year old House in a Crappy Market". Okay, the title is still in revision.

The book will be short. Probably only two chapters long really. Here is a sneak peek:

Chapter one

Silly you! Don't expect to sell. In fact, drop all of your expectations, problem solved.

Chapter two

If you are still reading, here is a list of tips from a master (me of course)

Picking a Realtor

If you made the mistake of picking a realtor based on something silly like reputation, or even sillier like research, or number of houses they have sold in the past, it's okay. Everyone makes mistakes.

What you want to do, is pick a realtor based on their "signage" - which is a fancy realtor word for crap that sits in your yard. You'll want to make sure that it's attractive. Perhaps even request that they photoshop the picture of them, or ask them to plant some sort of climbing plant at the base. Trust me, this is the most important aspect of picking a realtor, because at the end of the day, that shit's going to sit in your lawn for the next couple years...you might as well not have it be an eyesore.

Navigating annoying questions

Oh, were you not expecting your neighbors, friends, family, and strangers walking by to ask how the sale is going? Daily? It'll mostly be neighbors, and it will seem condescending, because they will laugh when they ask, "How's the sale going, any buyers yet?" or "Why would you want to get rid of such a quaint little house?" Okay this last one might not apply to you. But do be aware that the question they are really asking is, "Why are you selling, did you lose your job? Is it going into foreclosure any day now?"

Also, do expect the entire neighborhood to panic when they see you moving anything larger than a grocery bag in or out of your house. They will all make excuses to casually stroll by your house while you are doing so...like walking their cat, or returning that screwdriver that they swear they borrowed. "Are you moving? Did you sell?" they will ask. You know that they are capable of seeing that there is not "sold" sign, so deduce that the question they are really asking is, "Are you abandoning your property??? WILL THERE BE SQUATTERS??"

Relax. These questions will only be annoying for the first couple of years. Then you will be indifferent. You will want to tactfully maneuver these questions and calmly reassure everyone that everything will be okay. After all, it is your job as a good citizen to make sure the elderly in your neighborhood don't all die of heart attacks.

Or is it? Perhaps you take a different tactic? Call them out right away! Answer their questions in a way that will make them run away and never ask again! Say Mr. Jones panics and strolls by when you are moving something into your car to donate to Goodwill. When he asks you if you sold the house, just calmly and seriously say, "No, no we didn't unfortunately. We are getting desperate. I think our only option is to move out in the middle of the night and leave the key in the door. I'm just so sad that this is happening. I hate to think of all the crackheads that will settle in, but you know, this is happening all over town, there is simply nothing we can do." And then walk away. Feel accomplished.


Stay tuned for part two......

Or perhaps not

And I'm back. Because I have a lot to say. And you jerks never called. But mostly because I just found out that you can print a blog. So maybe when I die my kid(s)(?) can find out how much I complained about them when they were young. OK I'm stopping now.

No seriously though, please keep reading!