Technology Today

Texting, emailing, cell phones, MySpace, Facebook, heck, even Blog pages. What has happened to us? Our world of convenience has started to become quite inconvenient, hasn't it? For the last several months (if not couple of years), I have had to reflect on certain things in my life and what has changed for the better and what has changed for the worse. It all started with the pager. Someone would call your pager number, it would vibrate or make a beeping noise to indicate a call had come through, you would see the number, if you recognized it...you called, if you didn't...you called. You even responded faster if 911 followed the phone number. Then we got the internet with email. Great for business, not so great for personal relationships. It would not matter what the email said, but it could have been taken out of context simply because of too many exclamation points or too many capitals (because we all know that means yelling, right?) The convenience of the email is nice in the sense that it eliminates too much talk if you are trying to avoid that. But again, where is the person's voice behind that message?

Cell phones. What can I say? Convenient? Yes. Handy? Yes. Odd? Yes. There have been many a times that I have needed to contact my husband with an urgent message when I have been away from a telephone, but my cell phone happened to be in my purse. When I was in my car accident, I was able to call 911 within seconds of it happening to insure a quick response to my and my daughter's safety and well being. However, when we all talk on our cell phones throughout the day, aren't we missing out on opportunities when the day comes to an end and you are at home with your spouse that we can sit and have a conversation? What's left to talk about? I have accidently left my phone in my car and Mike has gotten very angry about it because it causes him to worry. He has done the same, and I've wanted to have a heart attack after the fourth call and no answer. It never used to be like that. It used to be (and mind you, I'm talking about ALL of us {I didn't just yell when I wrote "all" in capitals}), that we'd all go off to work, have our lunch break, if we were lucky enough, get a phone call from our spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend, we'd get butterflies in our stomachs, and at the end of the day meet up with that loved one and share what the rest of the day held. By the time we get home now, that loved one has already heard about your day.

Now let's add text messaging. Same rules apply with the email. No emotion behind the message because you were short with your answers, or too much emotion because you used all caps. Worse? You can say whatever you want in a text message and it makes it so you don't actually have to say it to the person, but in your mind, you did. Does that make sense? I'm starting to hate text messaging. Really hated it months ago, but now that I go out with friends and family and out to dinner...out comes the cell phone. Everyone's cell phone. Last night, I was out with friends and we all sat at a table for 10 of us and within minutes, everyone pulled out their cell phones to text message people. Um, what is wrong with simply enjoying the company you are with? Why can't the damn thing be put away? For me, in my life, I've experienced far more harm than good with the cell phone and its malicious text messaging features. There have been more arguments over the use or lack there of, of our cell phones. I'm about ready to go retro and get rid of mine. When life was less convenient, we were forced to have conversations, real conversations, with human beings, not their machines. We all get a little braver, too, don't we? We can say all the wonderful things to each other or even awful things to each other and just hit "send." I really wish some of the things that I have texted Mike, I would have told him in person so that he could see the love in my eyes when I told him how much he meant to me. I wish other people who I told to go fuck themselves would have heard the strength and anger in my voice and saw my knuckles go white. I wish that some of the late night conversations Mike and I have had via texting could have been lying next to each other, face to face, in awe of what we were feeling at that moment. It's too bad that texting can be erased, too. On the other hand, it's good because some texts are not worth seeing ever again.

Finally, MySpace and Facebook. They're gonna get it too. While I, like several others, have a small addiction to going to my MySpace page to update my mood and look at friends' moods and pictures, it has again, become a form of technology to remove the person from the relationship. Again, does that make sense? Instead of calling a friend and ask them how they're doing, we simply look on MySpace and see that they just got out of church and can't wait to see their boyfriend. Sounds like a good day. We also get to see how awful people's lives are on their moods. What do a lot of us do? We either send a comment on their page, email them a message, or we might go as far as sending a text message to see what's up. Can you see why this has all started to bug me? Hasn't it been brought to your own attention how weird we all interact now? We're not as nice to one another. Why? Because technology has taught us to communicate without some of our most vital ways of communicating. Voice inflection, hand gestures, facial expressions. They are so important and yet, seemingly so inconvenient.

While I clearly am complaining in the moment now, do I necessarily see myself getting rid of these devices? Honestly, I don't know. I do use them regularly and am as much to blame as the rest of society, but I'm a person, not a machine, and those I communicate are the same. I want to have the human element back in my life one way or another. If that means getting rid of my MySpace and Facebook, I will. If you want to see pictures of me and my daughter, perhaps I'll mail some off or you can stop by. I don't know. If you want to know how I'm doing, give me a call. Or, sit down with me over coffee or dinner and ask.

Next time you go to the mall, check out all the teens who are texting or are on their cell phones. Do they walk by people and smile at them? Do they ignore one another while sitting together so they can be on their phone? And need I say anything about how certain generations communicate with those that are older. Quite a bit different than what we all grew up with, huh? (But I've already blogged about that)

I won't get rid of my blog, as the purpose it served and serves are to share life experiences and lessons learned. The blog is used on the information highway and that is what I provide. The internet I'm fine with, because it's just a tool that is meant to provide info.

Okay, I sound like an old lady now...but eh, whatever.

Infected in Nasal Canal

About a week ago, Farrah and Mike came down with the flu/cold. I was lucky enough to only catch the cold, though. Lucky. It seemed like everyday at work, people had been asking me if I was still sick. Everyone would comment on how I sounded stuffed up or had a lovely raspy voice. I was constantly asked, "Are you still sick?" Of course, my answer was always no and that my cold was just trying to drain out of my face.

It was, it really was. Unfortunately, I went to bed a couple nights ago and began to wake up every hour in a lot of pain. It felt like I had been punched three times. Once in the right jaw, once in the right cheek bone, and once in the right eye. Sinus infection! I woke up and (here it comes...grossness) blew my nose. Infection confirmed. Green. Reeeeeally green. Not only that, but sooooo much snot. I couldn't stop blowing my nose. There's a lil' added bad news to my lil' infection. I forgot to pay my insurance bill and therefore, do not have insurance. Good news? Found some cephlexin from a past surgery. Self diagnoses + self medication = smart Kathy.

Actually, I will only continue with this for a little bit longer. The pain on the right side creeped its way to the other side of my face. Effin hurts. I might have to buckle down and do the whole walk-in clinic thing. Hopefully, I will just 'will' it away.

Is it good if my teeth hurt?

Sickly

Farrah is sick. It started with a nasty cough and waking up in the morning sounding like she had a big wad of pudding stuck in the back of her throat. It has since progressed. Now she has a little fever and is incredibly fussy. BUT, there is a fun side to this! About 15 minutes ago, she farted. She farted really, really loud. And more than once. She could have easily have been confused with her dad, who too, has amazingly loud farts. She farted about 10 times in a row; long and loud. The funny part following the echoing noise from her butt, was that she looked down at her feet and would take a few steps back to see if she had just shit the floor. Every time she farted, she did this. I, too, expected there to be a massive mess to mop up on the floor, but luckily for both of us, no poop escaped her awesome diapers. When I changed her diaper, there was barely anything in there. I hope I have the camera ready for the next fart session so I can record it and embarrass her later in her life (more than I probably am right now). It may not embarrass her though, she could end up being proud.

History in the Making

I donated money. I stood in line for over 2 hours in the cold, wind, and rain to caucus. I educated friends and family on what I have learned about the current politics. I have sent out emails and I have posted bulletins on MySpace. I have called a complete stranger on the phone and discussed what we can do as democrats to get the word out. I have done my part as an American citizen to help put the man that I wanted into office. Today, November 4th, 2008, I was alive to witness the first African American man in our Nation's history win the 2008 Presidential election. I watched a GREAT man, an inspiring man, a true leader WIN the 2008 Presidential election. I feel nothing but pride for our Country. My daughter is around to see something that is so important, and I love that.

While it has felt like our country has gotten cynical and more and more divided over time in the past 8 years, I truly feel this is a man who can get us on the right track. I feel that this man is going to help all of us become the next "Greatest Generation!" I believe it and I know it. I mailed in my ballot over the weekend and got butterflies when I dropped it off at the post office. I knew what I had done felt important and that maybe, this time, my voice would be heard. Mine was, along with millions of others. I watched the TV show people from all over the US cheering, crying, laughing, hugging, and expressing pure joy over this important victory. I watched people from other countries jump around and shouting with excitement of what our country just achieved. I heard a commentator on CNN say, "With all of our Country's downfalls, we have still been able to show the world how great our nation truly is tonight." Out of ALL the European based countries, ours is the first to elect a black man. THAT is American. This man has blood of a white mother and a Kenyan father running through his veins. THAT is American. This man has lived abroad and experienced different cultures and even diversities in our country. THAT is American. His name is not John, Robert, George, Ronald, or Jimmy...It's Barack Obama. It doesn't get any more American than that!

Never in my life, have I ever felt so passionate about who was to become our next president. Never. I will sleep well tonight knowing that the right man is heading for the White House and he is ready to lead our nation back into greatness where we all want to be and know we can get back to. I am overjoyed that my next president is Barack Obama.

Yes...we...can...

Crash!!!

Tuesday was a decent enough day. I was productive at work and enjoyed a good hard workout with Mike. Mike had to head over to a friends house to check on it while he's out of town and Farrah and I decided to go home. I was just driving down the main road of Smokey Point and was slowly inching up on the railroad tracks to turn left to get home, then CRASH!!! I was hit from behind, and hard. My head had hit my headrest very hard and I hung onto my horn to get anyone's attention as I was unsure of what had just happened. The worst part? Farrah was in the car with me and was whimpering and looked scared to death. I had to of asked her 10 times if she was okay, and I always got a nervous, "uh huh." I immediately called 911 and watched as the person who hit me coasted up the hill and ultimately went into the ditch. I was very confused by this. The dispatcher asked if everyone was okay, I said that I was but was unsure of my little girl since she really couldn't tell me. I called Mike and scared the bejesus out of him, but assured him we were fine. He turned around and headed for us. I then got out of my car to check on Farrah and then looked at the damage. Holy shit. It's pretty bad. I yelled, "Are you f**king kidding me?!!!" The girl who hit me just watched from clear on the other end of the road. Good thing she was far. I was livid.

The police and fire trucks arrived, only they were only attending to the girl who hit me. I was pissed, again. I had called. I had requested the fire trucks and medics to take a look at my kid. I sat there bewildered. Finally, after gesturing my disapproval, a police officer was on his way over. He got my statement, took my driver's license and insurance info, and ultimately called over a fireman to take a look at Farrah. I was told she might end up with some bruising, but she would be okay. Within 20 minutes of the collision, my neck and traps started to tighten up. I asked the officer if that was normal and he said I probably have whiplash. Yay. As I continued to stand there, it continued to get more uncomfortable, and then Farrah started to scream that she needed a diaper and that she was hungry. I was there for a good 45 minutes. Mike finally showed up and the officer told me to go ahead and go home. He had all the info he needed and she had insurance.

The rest of the night I was real spacey and continued to take care of Farrah as usual. Didn't think that I should just not do anything at all. When I finally was ready to go to bed, I was real sore. I iced my back and took 4 ibuprofen. It was hard to sleep, but it was to be expected.

I went to our friend who is a chiropractor for xrays and adjustments. Farrah got checked to. My xrays showed that I was a mess. My neck is straight up and down rather than a nice little curve. All my muscles are inflamed. Ultimately, the fireman was wrong. Farrah did not simply end up getting bruises from her straps. Her whole demeanor changed. She would not leave my side and wouldn't let go of me. Not only that, she has had persistent diarrhea. She is scared and stressed. She has been able to get back into the car without issues, but I believe we both looked scared to death when we looked at each other after the crash that it worried her. It has been sad for me, but she is doing better.

Lastly, the condition of my car. Not pretty. I was driving between 5-10 mph and the gal didn't slow up at all in an area that changed from 50 to 35 mph. Part of the back end of my car has been pushed to the right. I lost a light and part of my bumper is gone. The cop said that she told him she had "a medical emergency". I, on the other had, told the officer that she probably wasn't paying attention, hit me, then passed out when she saw what she hit. My dad and I have a bet going. He said it will probably cost $2500. I laughed at this silly guess. I know it will be no less than $5000. This, hopefully, is easy with the insurance companies.

All in all, Tuesday ended up actually being pretty shitty.

Time For Another Gross One

I have a nose ring. It is new and I love it. However, it is difficult at times to get used to it especially after getting over a nasty little cold. The worst thing that I have discovered with having my nose ring, other than the occasional pushing it into my septum and making my eyes water, is knowing that I have a giant booger up there just dying to get out. It is, of course, my job to remove the booger. I'll blow my nose and nothing happens. I gently move the ring around on the outside to see if maybe it will loosen it up and ultimately jar it loose, but it does not. What other option do I have? The finger. I HAVE to!!! This is a somewhat impossible task. Why, you ask? Because, when you have a cold and you're blowing your nose, or spraying nasal spray up your nose, or taking sudephed to dry out your nose, it makes a type of glue up your nose. Eventually, your snot begins to wrap its way around the nose ring and ultimately dries there. I believe I spent a good 15 minutes with my finger up my nose trying to untangle the mess around the inside of my nose and glued to the ring. I did this while driving, of course, because everyone knows you're invisible in your car. It took a lot of hard work, but there was success at the end of those 15 minutes.

I'm sure, what's left of my cold will be wrapped around and dried out inside my nose in the morning. My finger can hardly wait.


P.S.

Watched the VP debates. I wonder if the Republican party gets embarrassment chills when Palin speaks, or do they plug their ears when she does so it's not so awful. God, I wish I had plugged my ears. Honestly, didn't understand much that came out of her mouth. But, she's pretty. So that's okay.

OMG, What Have I Done

So, I was watching CNN and the Rachel Maddow show was on. During her show, a guy was on talking about a website that tracks who has been Googling your name. Cool, right? Mike and I immediately jumped online on our own computers, curious about any people out there that might be remotely interested in us. When I went to the site, it said there had been 6 women and 4 men who recently had looked me up. One of which was a male, 33. Have no clue. Mike looked up his stalkers and found 12 women and 6 men (if I remember correctly). We were shouting back and forth about our fans and chose to type in our personal info. By doing this, we were hoping that the website would discontinue waving the carrot out in front of our noses and let us know who was searching for us. Nope. $5 a month for a year. What then? Are we sure they are going to share REAL names? Anyway, it also offered a site (reunion.com) to also see if anyone has searched for us. Mind you, this was purely out of curiosity, not personal obsession. Well, this time no one was looking for me. My feelings were hurt. Mike had quite a few from his high school. Lucky. Well, I figured it was a little like MySpace, so I decided to post a photo (a flattering photo, especially if it was going to be high school people looking). Big mistake. Within minutes, some dude commented on my photo, "Yummy." I felt violated. Delete. Delete. Delete. A couple of minutes later, it said 2 other men were checking out my profile (which only said home town and high school). Holy crap, no thanks psychos. Delete!

I am no longer a member of reunion.com. My membership lasted a whole 10 minutes.

I know you want to look to see who is Googling your name, but consider this your warning.


You'll do it anyway.

Dummies.

Being Political is Politically Incorrect. Weird, Huh?

This letter was read on the Air America radio station today. I listen to the station religiously, because I always find the content interesting and quite amusing. Well, this letter, while incredibly long, basically sums up my feelings about McCain-Palin. Again, if you aren't on the same side of the fence as I am, oops. Doesn't mean we can't be friends, right? We can as long as you don't tell me you disagree. ; )

Enjoy the letter:

September 25, 2008

An Open Letter to the Honorable John McCain

By Brian Normoyle

Dear Senator McCain:

As an average, middle-class American, I write with concern because I'm starting to wonder whether or not the McCain-Palin campaign is just a colossal farce that the voters are forced to sit through.

I overlooked the exaggerations, as politicians are prone to, but took issue with the outright lies about Obama's economic plan and Palin's alleged opposition to earmarks and the bridge to nowhere. Then, your lies became evasion: refusing to meet with reporters on your plane or take their questions after rallies, Palin's two softball interviews with the national media and still no press conferences, and the campaign's patent refusal to allow media access to her. Shortly thereafter, you again tried to pull the wool over our eyes contending you've been a pro-regulation populist all along who takes on Big Business maverick-style.

My final indignation was in the third act of this horrible farce I can't bring myself to laugh at: you're "suspending" the campaign to go to Washington and fix this bailout problem. This political gimmick is even more brazen than the rush-to-judgment choice of Sarah Palin--and that's saying a lot. The really juicy part of the joke? You want to postpone the debate scheduled for Friday and even the Vice-Presidential debate next week.

I've had it. Enough! Let's call this exactly what it is: moose-shit.

No, Senator McCain, you do not get an extension on your homework assignment. You can show up to the University of Mississippi, like the all the other kids, and give the presentation you were assigned months ago. I don't care that you're grossly unprepared and I have little sympathy for your apparent inability to defend 25 years of pro-business, anti-regulation policies leading us to where we are today. Like any other person who wants to be President of the United States, you need to be able to handle more than one assignment concurrently and you need to do your homework on time.

Senator, you sold me and America a first-class ticket on your Straight-Talk Express, and I've come to learn that I actually hold a coach-class seat on the No-Talk Express, or as I've named it: Sham-trak. I want off this train and I want answers. I'll even give you the questions in advance so you can study your scripted responses:

1. With Republicans in control of congress for 12 years and Bush at the helm for the last eight, the SEC Chairman and all its commissioners appointed by a Republican, the FRB Chairman appointed by a Republican, and a Republican Treasury Secretary, why do you think we should trust you, a Republican, with our vote?

2. When your economic advisor, Phil Gramm, said our failing economy was all in our head and called struggling Americans "a nation of whiners," what exactly did he mean by that? And since he wrote a law in 1999 repealing restrictions and regulations on the financial sector, how can we be sure you're not beholden to his "expert" economic policy advice?

3. In 2005 you stated "I'm going to be honest, I know a lot less about economics than I do about military and foreign policy issues, I still need to be educated" and said last December that "the issue of economics is not something I've understood as well as I should [but] I've got Greenspan's book." Do you think that instills confidence and hope in the American people about your economic stewardship? Why do you feel uniquely more qualified to handle something you've admitted you know little about?

4. Why do you continue to deny media access to Sarah Palin? Why don't you talk to reporters anymore? Why are you avoiding the debate? Why won't you give us the answers we deserve about the issues facing our nation and our everyday lives?

Here's some advice from an average, middle-class American. Think of it as Straight-Talk 101: when you own 13 cars and can't remember that you also have seven homes; when you want to inflict damage on the few of us who are provided employer-sponsored health insurance by taxing that benefit; when you and your party make it harder for struggling Americans to access bankruptcy courts but you and said party offer to bailout Wall Street with our money; when you want to continue the failed Bush-Republican policies of giving tax breaks to the wealthiest 1% while short-shifting the middle class; when you have all these factors about you pitted against a voter's reason, logic and rational thought-and the emotional response to losing a home, job, and/or life savings--you shouldn't be running from the media and debates, you should hop in the engineer's compartment of your BS-Express and slam full-throttle towards them so that you can explain yourself and give us one, just one reason, why any sentient human being should vote for you.

See you in class on Friday.

Good luck because I think you're gonna need it.

Kind regards,
Brian Normoyle

It's Potty Time, Y'all!!!

Farrah has been wanting to start using the potty. She does not like sitting in a soggy diaper. She does not like sitting in a smelly crappy diaper. She has been giving us signs left and right and has from time to time taken a seat on the toilet and read the book, "Mrs. Wishy-Washy". I feel very guilty because, there were two times where Farrah forewarned me that she was about to blow (poop). Once yesterday and once the day before, she ran up to me and pointed at her rear and said, "Dee!" I felt her diaper and it was perfectly dry. "Oh, you're such a liar! You silly girl. You just want to be with mama." Nope. Not so much. 3-5 minutes later, I was being handed my smelly daughter. She had been telling me that she was about to fill her diaper, and was giving me an opportunity to sit her on the pot and save the land fills. Oops. Don't I feel like an ass.

Well, today, I was told that our daycare friend had space and was inviting Farrah over for nap, lunch, and playtime. Couldn't pass it up. She loves it over there and Jen, the "daycare lady" is a rock star with our girl. Plus, her daughter, Brenna, and Farrah are very good friends. They have fun together, and I love that. I took Farrah over around lunch time. Farrah went right into playing while Jen and I chatted it up. Suddenly, we both looked over and saw that Farrah had her hands down the front of her pants and was pushing down her diaper. I asked her if she needed to go potty. She said, "Noooooooooooo" very sweetly, while shaking her head up and down. Jen and I were on our feet! We grabbed her, Jen got her pants and diaper off, and we got her on the lil' potty. She sat there and lifted one leg, put it down, lifted the other, put it down, sang a bit, danced a bit, and simply hung out on the pot. Jen and I just stood there talking to one another, then suddenly, my head shot in Farrah's direction and I said, "I think I heard something!" "Oh, I keep a little water in there so they can hear if they did something, but it may have just been the water sloshing around."

When Farrah decided she was done playing on the toilet, she was handed the tp, did what she had to do with it, and placed it in the big potty. Jen's way of emptying the lil' potty is to place a paper towel sheet in it and then dump it in the big one. If the paper towel is yellow, that's how you know if your little one did the deed. Our little one did! Farrah went pee in the potty!!! We were so excited and Farrah got all the praise we could throw at her. She washed her hands and got her new DEE put on. I shared the news with Daddy and everyone at work. Had to. Even called Grandma and Poppy to let them know the good news. They were thrilled, considering they had been placing her on that toilet as often as they could, trying to get her to do her thing.

Finally, tonight, we tried using the little kid toilet rather than the one we placed on the big toilet. It's not as intimidating. We let her play with it for a while, and finally decided to walk away and let her do what she wanted to do and try it for herself (no diaper, of course). Well, I was cooking dinner and out came my half naked child making an announcement to us. She was pointing in the direction of the bathroom. So Mommy and Daddy followed Farrah to the bathroom. There we saw the triumphant finale of Farrah's potty time. Her toilet, unfortunately, was empty. However, the carpet around the toilet was not. Neither was the flooring on the way out of the bathroom. While the pee didn't make it where we wanted it to, she still was praised huge. She tried hard and she was wonderful enough to share it with us. She's on her way. What a good girl.

We're so proud of her and can't wait for the next try.

Naughty

My sweet, innocent, bright, loving little girl has recently become...um...horrible. She is as wonderful as she always has been, until you let her know that she is not allowed to do whatever it is she's doing. Like standing on a chair for fear she will inevitably fall off. Or, like reaching up to grab your chocolate milk that you thought was completely out of reach, but you were wrong. She is not a fan when we correct her when she claims that every little thing in the house is hers (like make up, sunglasses, keys, etc) when they are not. Her way of expressing her disapproval is to, of course, voice it...VERY LOUDLY. Not only is she loud, she is super duper whiny. Her whine is awful. It is high pitched and drawn out for a long time. When she is hungry, she says, "I'm Huuuuuuweeee." but she says it as if you told her she needs to clean her bedroom. Picture it in your head as if she is saying, "I don't waaaaaannnt to." You can hear it. Can't you.

She has also become incredibly bossy and demanding. For instance, her favorite thing to shout at us is, "BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!! BAH BAH!!!" Not only is she yelling at us that she wants her bottle, she does it with a horrible scowl on her face. What happened to our precious little girl while we were gone? Can we get her back please? When she makes her scowl, I am quick to run up and spread it out on her face so that she doesn't grow up with frown lines (like what I have). Not attractive. Other than that, she gets a nice raised voice from either or both of her parents to be nice or she will get nothing, while explaining how to ask in a more respectful manner. She knows what to say when I ask, "What do you say?"..."Peeeze." I always let her know how good she is when she asks for things in a nice way, but I also let her know what I will not put up with.

I REFUSE to raise an asshole. There are so many out there, I'd rather my daughter have a few bad feelings about me from time to time, but will walk around being a kind human being to others and respectful to those that are older than her (if they deserve it...I'm not raising an idiot either). We've been dealing with Farrah's terrible twos since she was a little over 1. We have a lot of work on our hands, but that is because little girls are sassy. I also believe them to be a bit more defiant than boys. At least, that has been my experience.

Mind you, she still wants to play with us, hug us, love us, be with us always. She is a great kid and very smart. She loves to be sent to Time Out. She's so weird. But, I think it is because she knows at the end of her time out, she gets to walk up to both of us, say sorry, and get a big loving hug from her mommy and daddy. She always knows at the end of her discipline there is an awesome reward. Loves from us.

Well, I have to go and spank my child, now.

Just kidding.

Pass the Collard Greens, Please.

Mike and I just returned from a trip to see extended family out in Kentucky. We had a wonderful time. Who knew you could do that in Kentucky??? I was going to start this blog with a description of our trip, but decided instead, just to share my experience at the family pot luck...I'll follow up with our actual trip in a later entry.

On Saturday, we had the big family reunion. I had been forewarned by Mike about Southern edicate when eating. You are to only take what you have every intention to eat. Do NOT leave ANYTHING behind on your plate unless you would like to receive a ration of shit from the older people around you. I had been warned because of my tendency to pile food high on my plate, sit down, then suddenly realize that I am not an obese person, but a small woman with a stomach the size of a walnut. So, the family reunion was a potluck, meaning that everyone brought something that THEY like to make. Their favorite southern dish. When Mike and I got in line to fill our plates, I remembered what he told me. I was excited to try different things, because that is just what I do when it comes to food. I grabbed some mashed potatoes, corn, ham, a corn bread roll, and of course, collard greens. The last time I had collard greens, they were cooked in a style that my parents prepared green beans and spinach: with vinegar, bacon, a little sugar, salt, and pepper. Yummy (to me, anyway). Um, that's not how these were prepared. And the corn? It was not your typical sweet corn with just butter. Nope. And what two items did I grab the most of? The corn and the collard greens, of course! I had dug into my ham, and as I ate, I swore I was smelling some sort of rancid fish or garbage. I was horrified that the smell was coming off of my plate. I took a bite of the corn. Ugh. It had been cooked with country ham and country bacon and back fat. Sick. Not a mixture of flavors that agreed with me, so I took big bites of potatoes with every bite of corn. To my horror, yet again, I had realized that when the corn was gone, the potatoes were gone, and the ham was gone, I still was able to smell the garbage-esque fishy smell. Whatever it was, it was still on my plate. I had to go get more potatoes (thank God there were more left). With every bite of collard greens, I took a huge bite of potatoes. I chewed my food like a kid who was given sushi for the first time. You know, real fast chewing while stomping your feet quietly under the table real fast as if you were trying to run away, only you're stuck sitting in your chair while your family eagerly watches with joy that you're eating their food not realizing that at any moment you might just gag and allow your food to come right back up. You know what I'm talking about. We've all been there. Only we were there when we were children, not grown adults. I ate as fast as I could and got those collard greens down so quick. I couldn't wait for them to digest so I could get them out of my body. And then of course, when I finally finished, I was asked by Dan, "What did you think of those collard greens? Pretty good, huh?" Thank god I answered with a polite answer of, "Oh, yes!" because Aunt Thelma who was sitting right next to him was the one who made them. She, eagerly, proceeded to explain how they were made. Wish I didn't know. No worries, I will not be sharing the recipe on this blog. Following that experience, I had one last thing on my plate. The corn bread muffin. I broke it open and took a small bite. That was enough for me. I had already completely tortured myself and took one (or two) for the team by not being wasteful or a complainer. To the trash the hockey puck muffin went. When I went to the trash and looked at everyone else's plate, Mike was right. Mine ended up being the only one with something left on the plate. At that moment, I honestly didn't give a shit.

Later that night, while Mike and I lay in bed, several hours after I had had my meal, I just moaned, "Collard Greens." It's all I could think to say, because that's what my breath smelt like and my mouth tasted like. I suppose I could've simply had said, "Ass." It, too, would've easily had described what was in my body.

Collard Greens + week old saved up country ham juice = disgusting torture.

Ha ha, there's the recipe.

You're welcome.

I Just Have To Speak Up

I apologize in advance (kinda) to any who might disagree with what I'm about to write, but if you read my disclaimer, then it really doesn't matter, does it? So here it is...

Republicans. Sarah Palin. John McCain. Oh my effin' God.

I am an Obama fan. A huge fan, as a matter of fact. I participated in the Caucuses and stood in the wind and rain to do my part and get him to be the Democratic nominee. He is brilliant, he is honest, he is powerful, he is presidential. I have never been so passionate about politics my entire life until now. When I hear him speak, it makes me wonder how anyone, even republicans, can not be moved by his words and the sincerity behind them. And then I watch the GOP convention. Holy Hell, it is so freaking embarrassing to watch, I can barely even look.

I honestly think the republican party must think that our nation is full of a bunch of retards. They nominate a women with little to no experience as the republican nominated VP. Are you kidding me? Is that how they think they're going to pull in the women voters or the people that were devastated that Hillary Clinton didn't get in? I can't have been the only one able to see right through the hypocrisy and the desperation in that choice.

When Palin speaks, I can't help but laugh. Why? Because...who the hell is she? I've NEVER heard of her. Ever. Has anyone? Has anyone even from Alaska heard of her? What an odd choice. The fact that the republican party's biggest gripe about Obama was his "lack of experience" completely is trumped now. Yay for us, but wtf to them? Not that I care, but it kinda makes you feel sorry for some of those people.

There's something that the republican party is now saying: "The Democratic Party is lying to the country about the state of our economy." WH WH WH WHAT?!!! You're kidding me!!! I have never seen such an out of touch group of people my whole life. Do they live in a little tiny box full of cash and constant security while the rest of the country loses their homes, loses their jobs, file for bankruptcy, and sit back frightened about what the future holds for them and their family? Unbelievable. Again, do they think we are a bunch of idiots? So, if the republican party says everything is fine, we should just take their word for it rather than looking at our bank accounts. Okay.

My final rant is this. At the end of the GOP convention, they called for a closing prayer. What? What happened to separation of church and state? It just bothers me. Everyone has the right to have their faith and I think it is important. But does it belong there? Ugh. Whatever. I just really wanted to puke when I watched the GOP convention and was in complete bliss and in awe of the Democratic Convention.

Go Team Dems!!!

Confession

So, um, I'm not sure how to let the world know exactly what I did. I'm a little ashamed and can't even believe that I did this, let alone getting ready to tell my awful secret.

Well, here it is...

I took Farrah to McDonalds!!!!!

I'm so ashamed and fear that now that it has started, she will be one of those children that constantly begs to go there and has a fit if I say no. I've told so many people that I refused to ever allow this food into her body, and yet here I type while she sits next to me in her high chair dipping her greasy french fries in high fructose corn syrup filled ketchup and takes bites of her talon or beak filled chicken McNuggets. What have I done?!!! That's not all! I, too, purchased myself a filet o' fish. It is the only thing I can stomach at that place. At least I didn't order a Coke and go crazy and Super Size it.

Oh!!! Good news! She just said, "All Done!" She ate probably 10 fries and just sucked the ketchup off the nuggets. She must have started to realize it was possible that had she continued, she might bite into a toe or simply get gut rott.

I'm terrible.

Now, excuse me while I dig into my delicious filet o' fish.

August 24, 2008

It was my and Mike's 6th anniversary yesterday.

Lost & Trying to be Found

I'm not in a good place right now. There doesn't seem to be more times that are good over those that are not. That is an unfamiliar environment for me to be in. I am a believer in the law of attraction. There have been many times that I have felt that I have lost complete control over my life for quite sometime because I have forgotten how to make the law of attraction work for me IN MY favor. I have gotten to a place in my mind and in my heart where I focus too much on what I don't want to happen and I get it. It has happened time and time again, and now it feels like it is completely out of control. I know what I want. I know what I need. However, my brain keeps showing me scenerioes of what my life could look like in the next 6 months to a year, and I don't like it. It's not a place I want to be nor is it a place I have ever wanted to be. I need help. I need better guidance. I need to be able to remember how to get back on track so that the things I want will come. The things I desire will appear to me. I don't know how many more pills I can pop to make the sadness and anger go away. It's not me. I had been seeing a therapist for a little while, but he was unfamiliar with the way that I see the world and how much we actually are capable of controlling. Therefore, he was unable to truly help me. He would remind me to stop going to the negative in my mind, but how do you do that? If it pops in my head, is there really a switch to turn it around. If so, please enlighten me as to where mine is. I just don't know what to do.

There's hope, right?

2008 Olympic Gymnist

Today, Farrah did a tumbling act for me. Down the stairs. I had just finished changing her diaper and got up to follow her out and toss it in the garbage, when she decided to bolt. Before I could even yell out her name (mind you she was 4 feet away from me) she was already sitting on the top step and leaning forward. I screamed her name as she went tumbling down the stairs. The first part of the fall was as if she was doing a summer sault and the rest was like she was rolling down a hill on her side. When she stopped at the landing, I was immediately holding her tight. It seemed like no matter how fast I was running down those stairs, I just couldn't get to her fast enough. I checked everything and nothing was broken. She had started to cry, but it was mainly because of how frightened she was. I couldn't let her go, though. It scared the shit out of me and so far all day, it has played in my mind over and over again like a movie. It would've ended on a much better note had she landed with a perfect dismount. No, but glad she didn't land with any broken bones.

Farrah, you'll be carried everywhere you go from now on until you leave high school. I'm not taking anymore chances like that again.

Bloody Nose

Two nights ago was my and Mike's date night. While it started off on a bit of a sour note, we managed to pull through, hit the reset button, and make the best of it. It started off with dinner at a Mexican restaurant. I basically just picked at my single enchilada and barely ate 4 bites. I've been on my antidepressants which have helped make my appetite almost non-existent. They make me a little nauseous and sometimes I get a nice little anxiety attack here and there throughout the day, which, too, make me nauseous. No worries, got my doctor on top of things so it should get better. Anyway, I'm getting a little off subject. A little. The plan for after dinner was to go see Tropic Thunder; something funny to lift our spirits. We walked to the truck and started having second thoughts. Neither of us was in the best of moods, and sitting in a movie that we would enjoy more if we were in a better state of mind, didn't sound as much fun anymore. So now what? Bowling? No. Tattoos? Yes. What? Cool!

So, we drove to the tattoo parlor next to our friend's business. We went in and asked all the questions to ask to get Mike's Tattoo done. He wanted Farrah's initials on his traps and neck. No problem. I, however, was told that the tattoo I wanted, I was not going to be able to get. I want my daughter's full name in cursive, wrapped around my left arm in a type of vine style. Nope. My arms have shrunk and I want to get them back to their normal size. Therefore, I was unable to get it done because when my arms come back my tattoo will look all stretched out and weird. Sooooo, no tat for me.

But, like hell if I was walking out of there empty handed. That's like spending time at the mall and not coming home with a new outfit. I've always wanted my nose pierced, so I figured what better time than now. It took so much time for me to finally do it because the thought of purposefully choosing to have myself stabbed in the face made me a bit faint. Mike was all prepped for his tattoo and finally joined me in the piercing room. I made him stick around and hold my hand because I didn't want to be alone. He held on while the woman stuck a metal bar up my right nostril and BAM! It was done. I was so worked up about the pain, that I almost lost it, but I didn't feel any pain, just pressure. Mike headed back to his tattoo chair while I was cleaned up. When it was all over, I looked in the mirror and was a little disappointed, but only because of the massive dried up blood under the post. I have one month until I can put a cute little diamond in. Can't wait! In the meantime, I do love it. It's fun and it's me.

Mike's tattoo turned out great and he decided to get one more on the inside of his forearm. He was looking at a couple odd pictures to put on that I wasn't sure suited him, so I suggested a dumbbell. The tattoo artist put it together and it turned out awesome. He received many compliments on it. Farrah, however, said, "Owie" when she saw his arm. Owie, was right!

Now, my nose itches because it's healing. I forget I have this new thing up my nose so when I go to scratch it... OUCH!!! I've had to twist it a couple times, too, because it gets turned around inside. I am getting used to it, though. A little scared to show my parents and Grandma. I'll tell them it's fake.

Smokin' Hot

Mike and I live in a community where the houses are pretty close to one another. When you are that close, you tend to know more than you want to know about the neighbors. You know who's fighting (probably us), who's doin' it (probably us), and you always know who's smoking. To our left, we have the couple who sits out on their deck early in the morning smoking, and at times, inside their garage. This is their way to make sure they aren't actually smoking in their house. Unfortunately, they don't realize that the smoke always finds its way into their home. The garage is so bad, when they open it in the morning to let their Cocker out to do her business, the stench is sooooo strong, you think YOU just had a cigarette. To our right, we have the neighbor's daughter who likes to sit out on their patio to have a couple smokes while on the phone or just while in deep thought. The problem that Mike and I have run into lately with both of our neighbors is the fact that it is over 90 degrees. We do not have air conditioning, so we, like so many others, leave our windows open to allow some "fresh" air in.

This is what happens...

"Ugh, it's soooo hot."

"God, I know. It's pretty miserable" --Picture us sprawled out on the couch.

"What the eff?!!! GOD DAMMIT!!!"

We are now running to the windows and slamming them shut. By the time we have reached all our windows that might be in the direction of the stink, it's too late. Our whole main floor is completely engulfed in cigarette smoke. Now we're pissed. Although, this is just an enjoyable habit of theirs, we are having to suffer breathing that crap in. It's unbearable. It sucks, too, because we actually really like our neighbors. But we stop liking them when we feel that they're being incredibly inconsiderate. They don't know that they are either. That's what sucks, because it's not like you can start screaming out your window that it's "95 effin degrees outside and to put out their God Damn cigarettes!!!", or to simply stink up their own house with the smoke. No, can't do that.

I really wish I could, though.

Delete

Why is it that we can't just go to a hypnotherapist to delete unhappy memories in our brains? I struggle from one day to the next with stuff that pops in my head. It stings and it hurts. Can't I have the memory to learn from but remove the heartache? One day I'll be in a fantastic mood and am great to those around me. Another day, sadness rolls in and everyone would be wise to stay clear of me. I know time heals. I just wish it would go faster...

Sorry to be bummer-girl.

Work 'n Stuff

Mike and I had an employee who worked in the daycare that we had considered letting go for a while and finally had the opportunity due to plenty of reasons to, and getting a new employee to cover all of her shifts. The day to do it was this last Monday. Mike pulled her aside (but not in his office, because she would have cornered him and given him a long ugly sob story as to why she should stay) and told her that it was her last day. Very loudly she said, "WHY?!!" What started out to be a somewhat private conversation was now very public. Mike started to explain the reason(s) why and she got louder and angrier. Finally, he told her to get her stuff and get out of our gym. She was no longer allowed (nor anyone in her family) to even step foot in our gyms ever again. It was that awful. She then decided to go to our other gym in Marysville and make a bit of a scene with her mother, sobbing and freaking out, and saying that we didn't even give her a reason. Riiiiight. Apparently, her mother said, "We need to call the police! They have no right to fire you! They can't do that!" What? Fortunately for employers and unfortunately for employees, we can fire you because we hate your haircut or because you have bad breath. That's Washington. But we felt that stealing was a good enough reason. Calling the police...really? Maybe we should.

Well, she has a best friend who also works in the daycare. I was told to be ready for her to quit if we let the other go. I had a back up girl on the back burner just in case. Well, Tuesday the best friend didn't show up for work and within 15 minutes I had all of her shifts covered and everyone is happy with their new schedules. We all win! Tuesday was also payday. Since I didn't want to deal with either of those girls' bullshit, I decided to mail them their checks. I informed a couple of the other employees that kept in contact with them of this. No big deal, right? Apparently, it was. So, that best friend of the bad employee...she called me and left me two nasty messages on my phone. "You had better have my check waiting for me in 2 hours or I'm calling the POLICE! I know my rights! I'm calling the POLICE! You will get in so much trouble with L&I. I'll file a complaint with the POLICE! You're breaking so many laws with our breaks! It's illegal and I'm turning you in! If I don't get my check in two hours, you'll be hearing from my attorney!" Oh...my...God. What a freakin' weirdo. This of course, made me laugh as well as piss me off. Did I fire her? Oh, no I didn't. She quit. Without a word, I might add.

I picked up my phone and called her right back. "Wow, it's pretty brave of you isn't it to leave such ugly messages for me on my voicemail. Let's see how brave you really are. Why don't you come on over here and say all those lovely things to my face. In fact, I'll get Mike over here so you can be sure to tell us both to our faces how you're going to call the POLICE and turn us in to L&I." Her response was, "Oh, I will. I'll come over there and you better have my check ready for me." "Well I won't because I already put it in the mail, so why don't you sit by your mailbox and wait patiently for the mailman to deliver it to you." "Oh, I will. And you better believe that I will also file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau." "Please do. Have fun with that and feel free to call them a hundred times, because we don't give a shit. Have a nice day." It makes me laugh again as I type this. She has an attorney? With the pay we gave her? She must be REALLY good at saving her money. While this was a bit of a thorn in my side yesterday, it was also a WONDERFUL blessing in disguise. I don't like being questioned about decisions I make and I don't like people who just want to complain, rather than giving friendly suggestions. As soon as the whining and complaining begins, my fingers are stuck in my ears.

Finally, today I had to take care of three days worth of deposits for both gyms. That's 6 deposits. That's 6 full days of accounting summaries that I had to go through and make sure was perfect (which none were). That's 6 different times that different people put the deposits together in different ways. This experience made me want to cry. For real. I have never been this frustrated at a job. Our assistant manager took her maternity leave on Tuesday, and I have to do her job as well as mine. That is A LOT of work and A LOT of responsibility. It was a bit overwhelming. However, the good side to it was that we learned that we either need to retrain some people or send them on their merry way. We hope we can simply do some retraining because we really do like our employees. The ones we have now.

Whew! That's it for now. I'm so ready to take on tomorrow with a positive and optimistic outlook!

Oh, Gold's Gym...

Really...I'm Not Stupid

Our assistant manager took off for maternity leave yesterday. That means, not only do I have to do my daily tasks including managing people, I also have to take care of all the "behind the scenes" stuff. Two people's jobs. I started working on some of the stuff that is on Kelly's desk and I thought my brain was going to explode. I had to call her at least 7 times and send several text messages. I was working on our deposits from both gyms for the past couple days. It's not the first time I've done it, but it has been quite a few months. Of course, I ended up having to go through paperwork and money that an idiot put together. By idiot, I mean someone who can't count, who can't put together a contract, who can't calculate taxes correctly, and can't print out the appropriate paperwork. I decided to just throw in the towel for the day and pick up where I left off first thing tomorrow morning. If she hasn't already pushed out her baby, she'll probably get a couple phone calls again. I'll figure it all out soon so people don't think I'm retarded. Stuff that should take me 45 minutes to an hour to do took me 3 and I still didn't finish. I have a lot to learn about what others do around that place. When I do, I know I'll be a more effective manager! This is a great opportunity!

A Little Catch Up

So, I'm going to get you all up to date about our little Farrah. Yes, it has been a while, but holy crap, I've been insanely busy. Or maybe just insane. Farrah is able to communicate, and very well, I might add. She says, "No!" It is extremely helpful when I show her everything in the pantry and refrigerator and she says, "no" to everything until we find what she'll eat. Yes, I give her options. That is just while her dad is dieting. When we get back to normal meals, she won't have much choice. While it might be helpful when trying to find out what she wants to eat or what toy she wants me to grab for the car ride, it's not so much when I ask her to come to me. "NO!" It's not just that she says the word, but she puckers up her lips to touch her nose, and says, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno!" She holds it as if she's winding up an engine. She also says, "Mine!" She does this in the same manor as No. Holds the MMMMMMM and releases with a loud, "MINE!" Unfortunately, I have encouraged the poor behavior by laughing at my child when she does this. I can't help it. It's so hard to turn around and not laugh hard out loud. It's such an event for her when she uses these two words. She also is calling both her dad and I by our parental names. It's very cool. She kisses us holds that MMMM again and says, "Mmmmmuah!" She puckers up too! She hugs us at the knees and sometimes doesn't let go. She has a word for snacks: Go Gee. Where she came up with that, I have no idea. Another fun one is "Ditty" for blanket. She wants her bah bah, baby, and her ditty when it's time to go ni ni.

A cool little trick that my daughter apparently inherited by me was acting. Or should I say faking. She will fake cry like no one else I know (except me). She puts her head down, makes her face, starts to wail like we told her she gets to go to Catholic School, and sometimes throws herself to the floor dramatically. If it doesn't get the response she wants, she'll pick herself up and throw herself down in another part of the room. While she does all of this, she sneakily lifts her head and looks for some sort of concerned look or pity from anyone. Mind you, she has dry eyes. Again, I have reinforced this bad behavior by laughing hysterically when she does this. Can't help it! It's freakin' funny! I will begin to stop laughing soon.

We have had two big mile stones the last two days. For the past few weeks, Farrah has found ways to tell me she needs her diaper changed. I'll ask her, and she'll say yes. She tugs at the front of her pants, at the top of the diaper to try to pull it down. And she says, "M' Dee". (That means diaper) After paying close attention to her behaviors, (including standing in the tub saying, "Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh" and being taken out, having a diaper put on, and 30 seconds pooping in the diaper rather in the tub) I decided to run the bath yesterday and watch to see what she would do. She tugged at her diaper, which was empty, so I put a naked Farrah on the toilet. Nothing. But she did think it was funny. As soon as I put her in the tub, then she peed. Dammit! I grabbed her and tried to get her to finish on the toilet, but to no avail. She was already done. However, last night was Farrah's beginning steps to potty training!!! Yay!

Another mile stone was this evening. Farrah had her first PB&J. Her first sandwich! She loved it. She struggled with eating the peanut butter because she had no idea how much chewing she'd have to do. She got tired from it pretty easily.

My computer is about to die from this long blog so I'll end with one more Farrah Fact. She now does the baby wet noodle. When she doesn't want to go where you take her, she becomes limp. If I'm walking with her and she doesn't want to go there, she goes limp, falls to the ground while I'm still holding her hand, making me look like an abusive mother dragging their child to the grocery store. It's funny how something can go from 20 pounds to 100 in a matter of seconds.

It's fun communicating with our girl and understanding a language only a parent can understand. It's weird, but very cool.

I Hurt

I am sitting in bed typing when I should be lying down. Today was a physically tough day for me that decided to completely land in my back. I had to run several errands which involved me taking Farrah out of the car, carrying her, or walking with her while bent over, and then ultimately picking her back up and placing her in her car seat. I had to go around the Marysville gym picking up weights that people decided to leave on the ground. I had to look up and down for paperwork that was missing in several different file cabinets. At lunch time, I brought Farrah home and cooked her lunch, followed by cooking my own. Then I had to get her off to bed for her nap time. Then it was play time for me and Mike. Then I went back to the gym to work on some stuff followed by working out my legs (squats, lunges, and leg extensions). After that, we needed some things from the grocery store so Farrah and I were off yet again. By the time I reached the store, I felt like I could hardly stand. I was leaning all my weight against the cart and walking in very slow motion. Something that should've taken 30 minutes, took me over an hour. Got home, Mike unloaded the car, we both unpacked everything, he cooked his diet dinner, I fed Farrah and cooked my dinner. It wasn't until 8:40 that I was able to sit with my feet up and eat. Mind you, I had to change a diaper in there and help Mike chase down our child from inevitable danger. I have taken something for the pain which is doing nothing, and now I am wrapping it up to try to sleep. I get to do it all over again tomorrow. Wheeeee!!!

Smack Down

Farrah has been beat up today. Not once, not twice, but 5 times!!! When we arrived at the daycare, her nemesis, Brook, came running with her hands forward and shoved them right into Farrah's face. Fingers landed in eyes and up nostrils. Farrah just looked at me and shook it off like it was no big deal because she is always bewildered by the daycare whenever she arrives. Brook is Farrah's nemesis because she, too, is so damn cute. It's a bit of a "cuteness" power struggle between the two of them. Brook is about 2 months older than Farrah (if that). Later, Farrah was in the aerobics room with the other children playing with balls and learning to do summer saults. When I walked in, the daycare lady had her show me a summer sault. When she was done and lying on her back with a big smile all full of pride from her accomplishment, Brook walked over with a 2 pound weight and dropped it on Farrah's face. This time, the tears were flowing. She was okay and able to shake it off, but Brook got a good scolding for that one. I even tattled to her mother about how mean she is to my kid. Probably about 5 minutes later, another little girl, about 2 years old, decided she wanted to pick Farrah up. By doing so, she put her arm around her throat and proceeded to lift. I ran over immediately saying, "N'n'n'n'n'n'n'no!" We had to explain to the little girl that she wasn't allowed to hold the little ones. UGH!!! After that, about and hour had gone by when I could hear my little girl shrieking from the daycare in my office. I got up to check, and a different daycare gal was holding Farrah (who was sobbing hysterically), handed her over to me and explained that one of the kids in the daycare was kicking a ball around the room and it was kicked into Farrah's face which forced her to fall back and hit her head. Okay, so now I'm just dying over the abuse my daughter has suffered throughout the day, and the day isn't even over yet! It is very difficult to be kind and polite to another child that has hurt yours, but you have to. You have to be kind and gentle depending on the circumstance, especially when the kid is 1, 2, or 3 years old. All of which are learning right from wrong, but unfortunately learning it all over my kids face.

Finally, when I ran into the bank to do the day's deposit, I was pulling Farrah out of her car seat and her head hit the side of the door. This time it was my fault. I was the bully. I felt HORRIBLE! She whined a little and rubbed her head, but went on and simply accepted that this was just the kind of day she was having. Sometimes, that's just what you have to do.

Mommy!

T.V. = "Mommy!"

Blanket = "Mommy!"

Chair = "Mommy!"

Diaper = "Mommy!"

Food = "Mommy!"

Up = "Mommy!"

Bath = "Mommy!"

Daddy = "Mommy!"



You get the idea. I am everything! How cool is that?!! However, it's quite the responsibility, too. Also, on the 18th, Farrah turned 18 months old.

Peace and Quiet

I decided I needed some time to myself and my thoughts and chose to do so by taking a bath. I ran the tub water and poured some bubble bath in. Once in, I tried to just lay there and relax, but to no avail. Popping bubbles are so freakin' loud. It was as if I took a bath in some rice crispies. Can't relax to all that noise. No bubbles next time.

Mother's Day '08

So, I received the best gift from my little girl. She learned how to say "I love you" which actually sounds like "ditto." Weird. However, every time I told her I loved her, she would say, "didd o" so I know that is what she is saying to me. Also, she had completely ignored me pretty much all day on Saturday until right before she went to bed. Completely different on Sunday. She came up to me several times to hug me and also to kiss me. We played together and laughed together. We had breakfast with Mike's mom and Dan and later met up with my family at my parent's house for London Broil. Everything was nice. I put her down with a big hug and a kiss. It was a good day. I love you, Farrah.

Beaches

No, not the movie, however the weekend made me want to cry a bit. We got together with the family in Seabrook (near Ocean Shores) and 30 minutes into our drive there, Farrah decided to start teething. She started to teethe HARD CORE! She had the runny nose, rosy cheeks, horrible fever, severe drooling, and of course, horribly sore gums. It was a miserable trip there and throughout the night. She didn't want anything but to be held by me the entire time we were there (including when I wanted to be asleep). She cried so much and her skin felt like it was on fire. It was awful. The only time that seemed like Farrah pulled out of her funk was when we packed up and walked to the beach. We took so many pictures of Farrah walking in the sand, playing in the sand, and just hanging out with all of us. She collected a bunch of shells and small pieces of drift wood. She had the chance to actually use her shovel and bucket that I got her. She had a good time. Afterwards when we were back at the house, she was her fun little self for a while. It wasn't until it was time to go to bed that all hell broke loose...again. She would hold on so tight to me that she wouldn't let me pull away at all. The tough part is she likes to take up a lot of space when she sleeps with us and we all end up suffering in the end. Needless to say, Mike and I are horribly sleep deprived and our little girl is seeming a bit more like herself for the time being since getting home, but there are no guarantees of what the evening has in store for us. Well, I feel like I'm falling asleep while I type so that means I should stop.

Date Night

Mike and I decided we needed to have some "married" time today, and so we called Grandpa Dan. Grandpa Dan was more than happy to give us some time together so he could watch over Farrah. Once he got here, Mike and I piled into the truck and headed south. We were going to go to our usual spot, the Keg, but at the last minute we went for Anthony's. We chose to have a nice dinner-like lunch. It was great. We even saw a glimpse of a whale out in the water. So cool. Afterwards, we went to see a movie, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. It was so funny. We had a nice time and it's not over yet. Muah, ha ha ha.

Uncomfortable

I am watching Hell's Kitchen right now and it's hard to watch. It's hard for a couple of reasons (that's what she said). The stupid mistakes that the contestants make drive me insane and also the chef telling everyone that they are f**king stupid and telling the guests at the restaurant to get the f**k out makes me a bit uneasy. However, for one reason or another, I would like to eat there. I think it would be kind of fun to have him tell me to get the f**k out while I'm in the middle of eating my dinner. What if I stayed? What if I fully disagreed and enjoyed my dinner. Obviously, I wouldn't have to pay, which would be nice. It's funny to watch people's egos on this show. I'm listening to people praise themselves when they all suck. I have a little bit of empathy for the contestants because my chef instructor was a bit of a douche bag that loved to throw things at us, yell at us, and swear at us, all the while grading us. He could tell you one moment that you are a f**king idiot, but still give you an A. Who's the idiot? Anyway, I'm going to stop typing now because I need to watch the elimination.

My Eyes are Still Bleeding

There is a difference between plumbers crack and plumbers fully exposed ass, right? Because today, I was driving behind the Marysville Gold's Gym near the local Skate Park where I saw a man getting things out of the back of his truck. I saw more than I wanted. The man's full crack was on display for the whole world to see. How do the jeans make it so far down? He, very cool and collectedly pulled his jeans back up over his massive ass like it was no big deal. Like everybody lets their entire butt hang from their pants. Who doesn't?

New Sounds

Farrah has learned how to spit. She does it like this without any pauses in between: pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft...and so on. However, she does laugh in between because of her dad's and my reaction. The other thing she does now is laugh when she farts. What an awesome little girl. Of course, we laugh when she does this which makes her laugh more and realize that this is the beginning of many more funny moments to come. Farts are funny. And now she knows. And knowing is half the battle.

Bastard Zyrtec

I have bad allergies and it is allergy season. They have a previously prescribed drug available over the counter now, Zyrtec. I figured I'd buy it and relieve some of my sneezing, itchy and watery eyes, and stuffed and runny nose. I took it and started to feel better. I could finally breath but I felt like killing everyone. I was incredibly irritable. I was horribly impatient. I felt like I was in a huge hurry but had no where to go. When Mike wanted to just give me a hug my mind was saying, "Really? I don't have time for warm and fuzzy feelings right now." Needless to say, I was quite a bitch. My husband was sweet enough to pretend he didn't notice. How could he not? Yesterday, another woman told me that it does the same thing to her. Oops! I probably shouldn't have encouraged Mike to take it. He had the same awful symptoms that I had. He was as much a bitch as I was. We will no longer be taking this. I'd rather feel like my head is going to explode than feel like I'm going to explode on everyone.

My Grandpa

The holiday of Easter has been bringing on several memories of my Grandpa, John Kochrian. He passed away about 7 years ago and when this time of year comes around, I often think of him. Every year, my cousins and my brothers and I would go to my grandparents' house to decorate the massive amounts of hard boiled eggs my Grandma had slaved over for hours. Considering the fact that I have never really been a huge fan of eggs, I had always wondered what the hell we would do with all of those eggs later. Egg salad? Egg salad sandwiches? Deviled Eggs? Potato salad with eggs? Egg salad? Didn't I already say that? Yes I did and that is because you tend to run out of options after the first two. So, what usually would always start off as being a fun afternoon with the cousins, ultimately ended up becoming work. The whole house would always smell like vinegar. Each of us would get a few of our own coffee cups full of colors. We'd start by putting one egg in at a time in the cups in front of us and eventually use crayons to make special designs that would bleed through the colors when the dying was done. After about 30 minutes of actually putting forth effort into our projects, we'd notice that the tower of undyed egg cartons had barely gone down. We were in for a long day if we didn't start getting to work. So, we'd always have about 12 wonderfully decorated eggs and the rest looked like a graveyard of colors (like the soft drink mix). Once where we would keep one egg in one cup for up to 5 minutes to get a deep rich color, we now had two eggs in one mug and would transfer each egg from one mug to another and then another. It took hours before we finally finished and were now exhausted. Looking back, I suppose it was a trick my parents and grandparents put together to wear us out so that we would pass out for the day early and they could get to work on pulling all their recipes together to use all those hard boiled eggs. Also, to prepare the wonderful things that would await us in the morning.

The part that was my Grandpa's favorite was definitely Easter day. When it was time to start hiding the eggs, Grandpa would send us off to the park for at least an hour. That's right, an hour. Sometimes it would be much longer. Since we didn't have cell phones for our parents to call us and let us know when to come back, they'd leave us there until they were done and someone would drive down to pick us up. To fully understand the complexity of the Easter Egg hunt within my family, you must visualize a little girl (me) who would cry EVERY Easter...from the time she was about 4 until she finally gave up all hope at the age of 13. There is even a photo that my parents have to document the torture that I endured every hunt. When the parents would pick us up from the park and we'd pull into the driveway, all of our peering eyes would look everywhere we could to see if we could spot any to get a head start on everyone else. I'd always spot maybe 2. Did I mention there was a lot of eggs? Yeah, and I could only see 2. When we were released, I knew I was screwed because if I spotted those two, then so did everyone else. And they always did because I'd go to those spots and the eggs were gone. I SUCKED at Easter Egg hunts. I'd be looking around with my empty bag and spot my cousins and brothers with their bags overflowing. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?!!! Well, I have come to the realization that it wasn't entirely my fault.

My Grandpa had a funny, yet cruel way of hiding the eggs. He would often do things as sinaster as digging a hole in the garden, place the egg in the hole, cover the hole with dirt, and then covering that spot enough to make it look like the surrounding area. He also had taken a piece of wood from the wood pile that was perfectly lined up and place an egg towards the back. He would then place the piece of wood back in its spot keeping it flush with the rest of the wood. My Grandpa had always made the eggs most difficult to find worth more than ANY of the other eggs. They were worth $1. Yes, $1. I'm sorry, but if one of us had actually found any of those eggs (which we didn't until YEARS later), you'd think they'd be worth $100. Think of the holes you'd have to dig. Think of the many pieces of wood you would have to pull from the wood pile, one at a time. Nope, $1.

Do you see how mean he could be? Actually, it is something that I fondly look back on and love to tell people about because it brings a smile to their face at how much he clearly enjoyed this holiday. It is one of the things that I miss most about him. My Grandma and I were just talking about it the other night and laughed over our conversation. Even though I'd have a tough time each Easter Egg hunt and would cry every time, overall it was always a great day for all of us, especially my Grandpa. When we would be looking for those eggs, he would walk around wearing a nice pair of slacks, and a short sleeve button up shirt, a sweater (depending on the weather) with his hands in his pockets bending down, letting us know with his smile whether we were close or not. I never ended up walking away empty handed, so I always managed to get some of those smiles in my direction from him. He loved seeing us get excited about finding one of his horribly difficult hidden eggs. And he'd laugh. He'd laugh when we found one of those eggs because he knew how ridiculous it was and yet one of us actually discovered it.

This is Farrah's first year to have an Easter Egg Hunt and it makes me a little sad that she won't get to experience that with my Grandpa, but I have decided that she will experience it with me. It was an important holiday to my Grandma and Grandpa, not for religious reasons, but because of family. I miss him.

Sweet Ride

Today I saw a small family driving around in a white Dodge Caravan. It was a little dirty with some dents here and there. You know, the typical family mini van you see everywhere. Only, this one was special. It had spinners. Doesn't get much cooler than that.

Pot Roast

I made a deliciously wonderful Pot Roast for dinner today. Started preparing it early this morning, and it has been cooking in the crock pot since. Yummy. So, here's the bad part. Mike is sick and Farrah is picky and hasn't had quite the appetite in the past week. I made a grandiose feast for the family and it will only be me enjoying it. Should be plenty of left overs. Mmm, Pot Roast.

Frizzled Onions

Tonight, Mike and I went out for dinner and took Farrah along with us. The last time she came with us, she was awful, but that was because her dad and I thought of everything except to check her diaper. Oops. Well, this go-around, she was okay in the beginning, and then started to shut down about 10 minutes in to us being there. We agreed we'd have to eat quickly as soon as we got our meals. I brought along food for her to eat, but only in vain. She scoffed at the bananas I so carefully cut up for her. She turned her nose up to her bottle of milk. And when we decided to share our bread with her she politely took it, and as if to mock us she would drop pieces of the bread on the floor, one crumb at a time. We were served our dinners and we started in as fast as we could while she pointed at everything on our plates that we couldn't give her. She has 6 teeth so steak was out of the question. Also, I wasn't sure if starting her off on shell fish this young was safe or not. She took some bites of both my mashed potatoes and Mike's baked potato. Once she had enough potatoes, she began a melt down until we decided to hand over a string of frizzled onion which she had been eyeballing throughout dinner. It was what she wanted. She thought it was pasta, and was very pleasantly surprised that it wasn't. One frizzled onion after another. She was in delightful heaven. We were loving the peace and quiet over our wonderful dinner. It wasn't until about 10 frizzled onions in, that I realized what mess I could have on my hands later (not literally...I hope). So far, it's time for bed and I have yet to see them in their second episode. However, only 10 minutes ago I heard her stomach rumble VERY loud. I know what onions do to me, so I can only imagine what's on it's way out of her little body.

Should've Listened to my Gut

I have taken Farrah to the doctor on two separate occasions in the past week and a half. Once for some weird breakout rash she was getting all over her hands, neck, and face. It looked like little puffy white blisters with red all around them. I had also taken her to the doctor on Monday for her first bout with pink eye. When I took her in the first time, no drugs were given, just the suggestion of Benadryl. The second doctor's visit was when they decided she might have some weird viral thing going on. She was finishing up an ugly cough, runny nose, and whatever else would ooze out of her face. However, the doctor had prescribed an antibiotic to deal with the "possibility" that Farrah had a viral issue. She prescribed Zythromax, which is derived from erythromicyn. I had a HORRIBLE reaction to Erythromicyn when I was 17 which gave me an 8 hour vomit/dry heaving episode. I only paused in between heaving to breathe. My parents had to set up a bed next to the toilet. It was awful. Zythromax always gives me a stomach ache on the first day because the first dose is strong. Mike has also had a history with both antibiotics where he, too, threw up. So, when you do the math and figure how genes work, the likeliness of Farrah having a problem with it, looked pretty good. When it was first prescribed, I just thought I would pick up the prescription but see if she could fight off her pink eye on her own. For God's sake, it was pink eye! It did start to go away on Tuesday. And then she woke up Thursday morning with her eyes glued shut again. I finally broke down and decided to go ahead and give her the antibiotics around 3:30. Well, the antibiotic curse began for our little girl around 8:30 at night...right before her bedtime. Barf, barf, barf. I felt so bad for her. Mike ended up shampooing the carpet. It was a good excuse to finally do it. I checked on her several times throughout the night, but nothing. However, first thing in the morning, the stench of vomit hung in her room. Yuck. So, I tossed her in the bath and pulled the vomit chunks out of her hair and let the shampoo sit on her head for a good 5 minutes to get the stink out. Her Grandma Rita and Grandpa Dan stayed with her so I could go to work. She wasn't sick, she just had the same reaction that her dad and I did.

Wow, this was a long one.

Pink Eye

Why is it called Pink Eye? Shouldn't it be called Snotty Green Eye? Because that's what it REAAALLY looks like. My Farrah has Snotty Green Eye. She started to show a slight sign of it last night when I put her to bed when I noticed that her left eye was a little on the pink side. I made sure that I washed my hands and Mike washed his just in case. When she woke up this morning, she looked like she sneezed out of both of her eye balls. Not only were her eyes leaking, but so was her nose. She was, to put it kindly, gross. I didn't want to take her to the doctor, but Mike suggested that I do so I could get a prescription for her. We're both of the belief that time will heal, except if something else will heal it faster. So off to the doctor we went and by the time I got there, she looked like she got socked in the face. Her eyes were sunken and puffy all at the same time. I paid our co-pay and suggested that they quarantine us as there were people everywhere. We ended up getting some eye drops and a prescription for antibiotics, just in case. Hopefully, she'll stop sneezing out of her eye sockets. Did I mention that my right eye is teetering towards goopiness? Actually, it is just a little on the rosy side, and no green stuff. I'm hoping that by O.D-ing on vitamin C, it won't get much worse than that.

Got My Ass Kicked

Farrah has a strange way of showing her affections for people lately. Usually, my little girl will quickly walk up to us and lean her head on us to give hugs, crawl into our laps to cuddle, run up with her mouth wide open planting a big wet kiss on our lips; all the wonderful sweet things you expect from a loving child. Recently, however, she has discovered a different way. A more...violent way of showing her affection. Today is the perfect example of my daughter's way of saying, "Mommy, I love you!" This morning when she woke up, I pulled her into bed with us and she decided she wanted to cuddle with me. To do so, she sat up with her back to me and fell backwards to "cuddle." When she did this, she cracked her head on my right eye. Later, she decided to give me a love tap, which actually means smacking my face and hitting my nose very hard. Finally, the last thing she decided to do to show her never ending love was to, again, turn her back to me and fall backward. This time it was my left cheek bone. Mike jumped up and picked her up from me because he was shocked at how loud the crack was. He said it sounded like a car crash on my face. So, tomorrow, hopefully I won't be walking around looking like somebody did a WWF Smackdown on my face. If I'm walking around with my one year old with two black eyes, I'm not sure if I would be able to explain it without people wanting to take me to a women's shelter. Don't they have PPS (Parent Protective Services)?!! Maybe I should treat her differently so she just "likes" me instead of "loves" me. That way I'll just get a nice pat on the back.

What Did I Sign Up For?

Someone didn't show up for their shift today. So, I had to stay an additional 2 hours at work to cover for her. Not only that, every single person I called to help step in, either didn't call me back or simply wouldn't help out. There was one person who I accept their excuse, because it was real. So, my poor daughter had to stay with me in an empty daycare room waiting for other children to play with. They never showed, but we had to stay open, "just in case." We all got to bed late. Oh, did I mention that I started working at 9 AM? And I finished at 8 PM. Think I'll cut it short tomorrow.

Another Reason Why I Won't Cut It

I know my hair has been long for a long, long time, but I still have no intentions of cutting it off. Mind you, a few days ago I did have it "trimmed" which involved removing about 2 inches. It was more than I wanted, but it is still technically long. In any case, it won't go much shorter than that. Here are my reasons: Other than it being grounds for divorce, it is something that Farrah loves to play with. She tries to brush or comb my hair. She watches me do it and tries to participate. The other night I discovered a game with her. I took my hair and covered my face and asked her, "Where's Mommy?!!" and she pushed my hair aside and burst out laughing. We did this several times until it was time to go to bed. Finally, the best thing that I do with my hair that my little girl loves are the 'lion kisses' she receives from me. She's been getting 'lion kisses' from me since she was born. When she's on her back, my hair falls forward when I'm playing with her and it brushes across her face, tickling her. She closes her eyes and laughs until I steal a real kiss from her. How can I take away Farrah's lion kisses just for change for me? I can't and I won't. So, I will end up being one of those moms when I'm 40-something, who needs a major make over because I haven't changed my look since I was 20 years old. It's sad but I accept my fate. This may end up embarrassing Farrah, but it's something between the two of us that we'll get to share for a while.

Ode to My Electric Blanket

I am always cold. Always. It's called poor circulation. My daughter has it, too. Just feel her hands, feet, and nose. They are the same temperature as mine. Frozen. When it is time to get into bed, I tend to dread it. Mike likes to keep the house about 5 degrees lower than I like it. It's not to save money or energy for the environment, it's just that he is always hot. Mike's body temperature is surface-of-the-sun, hot. When I touch his skin, I can hear a sizzling sound like bacon on a skillet. One night, I remembered that I had an electric blanket stashed in my closet. I grabbed it and decided to throw it on my bed and set it to HIGH. After preparing for the evening, I got into bed and LOVED it. I usually have to wear sweatpants, a heavy shirt, thick socks and toss an extra blanket on my side of the bed in order to tolerate the evening. This was different. This was wonderful. This was going to change the way I slept during the winter forever. Even if it is 19 degrees outside, Mike likes to keep the window open and the fan turned on to keep the air "circulating". Now I can go to bed without having to wear the sweats, socks, and heavy shirt. Go ahead and leave the window wide open and the fan blowing, because my blanket will protect me and keep me warm and content. Thank you electricity.

Oh, Valentine.

You know that Valentine's day is right around the corner when on every corner you see street vendors with their massive gifts for the folks who forgot that the 14th of February means get a card, flowers, or something for your loved one, or else face the horrible consequences. I was driving by one that was near our gym and had passed it a few times before, but I decided to turn and look at what they had while at a stop light. They were selling these huge baskets with a bunch of "stuff" in it all hand wrapped with beautiful red suran wrap. There were also giant stuffed animals. They were huge and just plain silly. When Mike showed up at work today, we were sitting together laughing about these vendors. I was telling him how hilarious some of these things were. There was a giant dog that had a face like Emma (my old dog) with matching paws, but it looked like the manufacturer ran out of fabric and threw on some pink to make it look like it was wearing a lovely sweater. We were rolling, just laughing at the stupid stuff that people will buy each other on this day of Saint Valentine. When Mike and I left work, I stopped off to pick us up a romantic meal from Weinershnitzel. That's right. When I walked through the door with my tired daughter on my shoulder, what should I find staring me in the face? A ridiculously giant cow sitting next to a giant basket, filled with stuff, and wrapped with beautiful red suran wrap. Mike was hiding from me. I thought I was going to die. I had spent a good 10 minutes in Mike's office laughing my ass off about how shitty these things were and come to find out, he apparently didn't agree. He had picked it up a few hours prior to my basket slandering episode. Of course, this made us both laugh so hard. He kept saying, "You were making fun of me!" C'mon, how could I not. Oh, the prizes we found in the basket o' stuff. There's a big fluffy heart with red feathers wrapped around the edges (which I plan to hang from my office door so that people know to leave me alone while I take care of payroll), a box a chocolates with peanut butter filling which Mike told me I shouldn't eat, another stuffed animal, a styrofoam heart, silk & plastic roses which I intend to put in a vase right away at work, and finally the packet of miscellaneous bath and body products which we are both concerned will give us a few nice cases of yeast infections. Oh! I almost forgot the 24 carrot gold chain with the gold heart. I wore it for about an hour before it started to hurt. Mike, honey, I love you so much that if you got me a bag of dirt, I would cherish it. You're wonderful and I thank you for my gifts. Thank you for thinking of me. You're awesome.

A Cool Find

The other night, I made an interesting discovery. The air in Washington has been so dry lately, that my and Mike's lips have been suffering from chapped lips. We were looking everywhere in our bathroom for chap-stick, carmex, anything. We found nothing. However, I did find a little something. I found ointment for chapped nipples. Hmm. I wonder... So, for shits and giggles, I put some of the ointment on my lips. Ahhhh, so soothing. I figured, our nipples are sensitive, so are lips. It is safe for babies to ingest, should be fine for me. I put it on before I went to bed and woke up with perfectly soft lips. Now I keep one of the sample tubes with me in my purse. I think it will take me a lifetime to use the "large" tube in my bathroom drawer.

I also discovered a remedy for SEVERELY dried lips (the type that are peeling off of your face). It was another one by accident. Mike's lips were in horrible shape one night and were in a lot of pain. Out of no where, I told him to put the Neosporin with pain reliever on his lips. The next morning...healed! I should write one of those "heal yourself at home" books.

On another note, I'm watching the Caucuses for Super Tuesday. Go OBAMA!

Why?

Why am I awake? It's soooo early. Farrah woke me up around her usual time at 3:30 in the morning for her diaper change and her bottle of water. After that, it was down hill from there. I ended up staring at the ceiling for at least another hour before deciding to come downstairs, turn on the news, and start typing. I am not tired though. I think it is because my mind is racing about the many things I have to get done for work today. In fact, if I don't get it done today, I'll have to go in tomorrow and finish it. Yikes. I am always excited to go to work because it is fun, but I get overwhelmed with all the different ideas I get to change or improve things. Anyway, this is what I do. I wake up, I think of work, I think of missions that Mike and I are on, and by the time I finally get the thoughts off my mind, I am tired and ready to go back to bed. However, when that happens it is usually time for me to get up anyway. I just get screwed.

Dammit.

Ugggg

I am at home right now while the rest of the family is off to Great Grandma Eve's Birthday party. Last night, the stomach flu that has whipped through the gym landed in my gut. On four separate occasions, I had the joy of violently vomiting into my disgusting toilet. It certainly put a perspective as to how dirty my bathroom was. I believe looking, really looking at my toilet bowl probably helped expedite the process of hurling. Every time I put something on my stomach, I regretted it later. Sometimes your favorite foods can become your enemy. After each episode, my body hurt SO BAD. Every bone, tendon, muscle, and all of my skin hurts. My freakin' cheek bones hurt! So, Farrah and her Dad left to go to the birthday party while I have chosen to hang back so not to be the ass hole that gets everyone sick. I intend to stop typing and pull myself upstairs into my bed and get some much needed rest. I honestly wouldn't mind if the flu moved from my stomach down to my intestines. It would give one end of my body a bit of a break.

No Immunity

I just puked my brains out. Thanks, Farrah.

Puke

Farrah now has a touch of the stomach flu. I went to wake her up this morning to find her in a pile of barf. She stood up, reached for me and started to cry. It was heartbreaking and smelly all at the same time. There is, indeed, a difference between spit up and barf, fo' sho'. I picked her up and bathed her while her Dad put her bedding in the wash. Scrubbing the barf out of her hair was quite the task. Not only was I having to pick out pieces of last night's dinner, I had to massage the shampoo in her hair until I could get the smell out, only that never happened. Her hair was super stinky. Her spirits were up and she was her usual self. I figured she must have eaten something that didn't agree with her. Wrong assumption. She spent time with me at work and was just tired and not hungry. I decided to take her home and pick up some lunch on the way. When we were literally one block from my house when she started to cry. A couple seconds later, "AGGHHHH"! She barfed all over herself while she shed some tears. It was so sad to watch her this way. My car instantly filled up with vomit stench. Mike met me at home and helped clean things up. What a trooper! She was all cleaned up and herself again. I pumped her full of Pedialite and am getting ready to serve her some chicken broth. She doesn't have much of an appetite, but I don't blame her. So, there it is. Farrah has had two stinky days in a row. Don't worry I called the doctor and she'll be just fine.

Turd

I was warned that it could happen. I have been told horror stories time and time again. I don't think they truly prepared me for the event that I was presented with today. Lately, I have been getting up early to get ready for the day and if I'm lucky, Farrah is still asleep when I put that final coat of mascara on. However, there are the days when she is awake with me and decides to hang out in the bathroom with me. So, to help keep her occupied while I put on my make up and do my hair, I let her have some fun in the bath tub. Well, today I was doing my thing and noticed her just standing there. My rule is that she needs to be sitting in the tub. I told her twice to sit and she wouldn't do it and she just stared at me and smiled. So, I picked her up and made her sit in her bubble bath. When I did this, she started to whine. She picked up one of her toys in the bath water to show to me. At least I thought it was a toy. The water was so bubbly I didn't notice what it was until it surfaced. I squealed, "PUT THAT DOWN!!!" which made her start to cry. Now I knew why she was so upset. When I made her sit down in the tub, I was actually making her sit down in what she was trying to avoid in the first place. Her shit. My daughter crapped in the bath. My daughter does not like to be dirty. And unfortunately, my daughter doesn't give many warning signs when she's gotta go. She picked up a giant "Farrah turd" to show me as her way of saying, "Look Mom, the reason I was standing up and ignoring your requests is because you decided to remove my diaper and place me in here approximately 5 minutes too soon. So, here is what happens when I don't have a way to communicate with you that I was prairie dogging. Poop is what happens." I placed her on her towel while I drained the crappy tub. However, while I was trying to take care of that, she wasn't quite done. She's so freakin' quiet!!! I cleaned her up...again. I scoured the tub and started a new bath. She was so tired of bath time by the time she was a clean, she whined and whined until I put her down for her nap. It must have been horribly exhausting for her; pooping and all.

911 Junkie

The last couple of days, I've called the authorities twice. The first time was because a Semi-Truck driver was driving very aggressively on the freeway, making me feel incredibly unsafe. He was tailgating people and leaving only enough room about the size of a bicycle between him and the other car. Should he have to have stopped, he would've driven over the top of the car. Today, I had to call because as I was getting onto the freeway, there was a seagull on the side of the road just sitting there, clearly with a broken leg or wing. It was distracting in so many ways. First, it was just sad because it looked helpless. Second, it seemed like it was just waiting to be hit. And third, it had friends flying above it waiting for something to happen so they could swoop down and eat him. Just a little disturbing. In any case, there I was dialing away. At least I don't call them on Thanksgiving looking for a good stuffing recipe.

Language Arts

Last night I watched a couple Harry Potter movies and made a decision as it pertains to my daughter. British children have the best accents. Therefore, I will be raising my daughter to have a British accent. As I work on this with her, please don't give her a hard time as she might feel weird for not sounding like everyone else, but she'll appreciate it as she gets older. I can just picture her in school when kids come up to her intrigued about where she comes from, but she'll just tell them she's from Arlington, WA. Her first words will be: Mum (for Mommy), Ded (for Daddy), Ello (for Hello or Hi). British Farrah will be sooooo cute.

Tally Ho!

Funk

I am in a funk of a mood. I believe my hormones are toying with me which, ultimately, ends up making the rest of the world suffer. I called my doctor on Monday about my "pills" and mentioned how it can sometimes make me a bit moody (kinda funny, huh?) and I tend to get horrible raging migraines. Well, it has also made my skin look better than it ever has...ever. Because of that, my doctor decided changing my pills was not an option as I have changed so many times, I have probably tried them all at least twice in my life. I have to toughen up when I get my headaches and just keep telling Mike "nothing is wrong" when he asks. I guess if I just stare in the mirror and admire my new skin, the pain pulsating through my head and eyes and my need to want to kick mud in the faces of those I love should dissipate. Mind you, I am not knocking my doctor for suggesting we leave well enough alone, because she has worked with me and my pill situation for 10 years. Enough is enough.

On a side note, I'd like send a shout out to my husband and daughter who always know when I'm not myself and know to give me hugs and kisses at the right time. However, the squeezing of my boob isn't going to get the effect my husband is looking for when I'm in one of these moods. He usually gets the rolling of my eyes or some name calling like, "raper." My boobies should be considered off limits whenever he sees the scowl on my face.