True Tales of a Human Pacifier...

I'm baaaaaaaaaack!

2011-11-27T16:58:00.003-05:00

It's been a long time.

a long, long time.

like...so long that the last time I posted a blog (I blame facebook) my now 18 month old was still jabbing me in the ribs with his feet...

from the inside.

long time.

so long that the last time I posted...we still had wallpaper up.

so long that the last time I posted...I had NO idea what was in store for me with two bebbies and a teenager.

I'll do my best to get you updated ;)

Suki

the miracle of life...sucks.

2010-03-21T21:19:00.002-04:00

yeah, yeah...pregnancy. blessing. blah, blah...miracle of life. woodie hoo hoo...power of a woman.

I hear ya...and to that I have only to say:

THAT'S BOOLSHIT!

I don't care how much a woman prays, hopes, wishes and dreams for a child...if that heffa has the nerve to so much as utter anything remotely similar to "I love being pregnant" ...

(which a largely pregnant woman said to me at the playground the other day, and GOD HELP ME...I couldn't keep myself from throwing a punch. thankfully...my heart wasn't in it and I missed her chin by three inches or so. the standers-by thought I was joking and laughed accordingly. grood. didn't really wanna be the ghetto chic scrapping on the tot lot...but, I would've been had that shot connected.)

there are only two possibilities:

1. she's lying through her fat pregnant teeth

or

2. her experience of pregnany is NOTHING like mine.

I love my babies. I *heart* being a mommy...and I whole-heartedly, 100 hunnred percent HATE being pregnant.

particularly largely pregnant, immobile, sweaty, pukey, pee-y, heartburny, hemorhoidy, fat arm-y pregnant...with work to do.

the physical limitations of pregnancy (depsite the whole miracle of life bit...) are basically...

annoying.

I like to bend. I like to stretch. I like to climb, run, ride, drink the occassional naked juice (sake for the rest of you...or at least those of you who weren't privy to the nekkie texts), soft cheeses and high mother-fucking-fructose corn syrup.

I also like to be able to see the nonny...you know, just in case.

this particular complaining jag stems from two things (actually...I had a really good productive day, by the entire time I was out raking leaves, trimming beds, etc...I could think only one thing "yo! I wanna be able to bend, bitches!" thusly, this blog was formed).

the first: we just bought a house and have lots of work to be done. heavy lifting, chemically laden work and I'm not a big fan of having baby duty (born and unborn) while oqui gets to dig shirtless in the yard.

ok, I'm fine with him digging shirtless in the yard, but I'd like to be doing some digging, as well.

and two...I'm big. very big. bigger than I was with either of the others big...and I've still got two months to go.

neither oqui or I can imagine my frame getting any larger. yet,

it shall.

I'm scurred.

oh, and I feel like my insides are leaking out...through my belly button. it's actually painful to the touch...and I have a toddler who insists on touching it 43 million times a day.

BELLY! BELLY! aye aye, belly! BELLY!

he takes great pleasure in sticking as many fingers as he can in what used to be my belly button (my belly button, proper, has now moved three inches north and two inches...OUT).

and heaven forbid I sneeze.

oh god.

when am I due, again?

wait. that's a stupid question.

nobody knows.

*sigh*

O2

2010-03-16T14:40:00.002-04:00

small fry gave us another scare today...

here's to hoping my unborn son is getting enough oxygen to his lil' dome!

cake decorating for dumb asses

2010-03-15T11:25:00.006-04:00

deprived of any real creative outlet (or, more specifically, the time to attend to the ones I already/used to have)...

I've started taking cake decorating classes. this was probably not a good idea. I'm already frustrated (<----understatement) with the million projects that are floating around in my head but not materializing, and adding another pursuit is probably in bad judgement. but another preggo friend is doing it, its in the evening (ie. daddy'll have to babysit. SCORE!) and since we're both huge, it's not like we can head to a sushi bar, have some cocktails than go scouting for hot guys at the mall or anything...so, despite lacking any passion for this, whatsoever...I agreed to go.

besides, I figured being able to make a really slamming cake would open my hippy gift giving options open. I mean...how many picture frames/cards/name plaques can you get from one person before the charm wears off and they just look cheap?

I've already had two full blown wake me up heart-a-racing cake decorating nightmares.

should a new hobby make you lose sleep? give you the sweats? cause you to curse (more than usual)?

notice the attention to detail...

if not...I'm thinkin' I need to give up on these damn cakes.

however, being a recovering trooper (there once was a day when I considered myself tough)...I decided to give my assignment a whirl and packed up my cake decorating shit (did I mention my bank account got raped in lack-luster pursuit of my cake decorating dreams?) and to head to my mom's house.

my reasoning for going to my mother's house yesterday was twofold:

firstly, oqui needed to paint the woodwork...and no VOC paint wasn't gonna cut it. so to avoid the stank, the Prof and I needed to head out.

the great care with which the icing was applied...

and secondly, I was hoping she'd mind the boy so I could get my cake on.

so.didn't.happen.

four hours in I had nothing but a bowl of batter and some mint and baby poo colored icing.

off to a great start.

then...my mother and her husband split. (not split up...just left) so, I was elbow deep in icing (my lord how i HATE making icing), the Prof hadn't napped all day (ie. he was hella fun to deal with) and she collects antique dishes...which were all readily accessible for the Prof to smash should I take my eyes (or hands) off of him for a second. fun.

in other words...my hands were full/tied and not a damn thing was getting done on my cake. never mind the fact that I lugged 83 pounds of supplies to her house, with her full knowledge that it was to be my cake making day.

siiiiiiiike.

anyway, I managed to at least bake the bitches (her oven is unlevel, btw), put the crumb coat of icing on (for the uninitiated (like me) that means the dirty layer of icing that's supposed to go UNDER your nice clean pretty coat) and loaded up some piping bags with poo-mint.

smooth.

never made it to that nice smooth professional looking what I was going for top coat of icing look.

I gave the fuck up. I was gonna toss the mixer, eat the 8 cups of icing with a spoon: on the spot...and pour a bottle of vegetable oil on the floor as punishment for my mom abandoning me...

then something clicked.

this is hard, I thought. I'm no good at this. (actually "suck balls" is the terminology that comes to mind) therefore...

I CANNOT GIVE UP!

I finished the fucking cake.

so much love went into this bitch...I couldn't fit the fuck.

actually, it wasn't a "fucking" cake...but only because I couldn't fit "FUCK" on it...but in the world of happy-shmappy-housewife cake decorating...I'm pretty sure it'd be viewed like a recently jailed whore.

still deciding whether or not to pursue this particular creative "outlet" or not.

like my mother said (her exact words) "FUCK THAT! I like things that provide the greatest effect with the least amount of effort"

word, mom.

I have so many other creative pursuits that are FORGIVING. you make a little no-no and there are 83 ways to fix it.

with cakes...not so much. you can slave and labor and sweat, white-knuckled, over a spatula and icing bag, be 87% on your game and end up with a cake (after 6 hours of work) that's 13% pure horse shit.

ok. so I don't hate CAKES...just decorating them.

sooo...the jury is still out on this cake bidness...

and my blood sugar is through the fucking roof.

yup. it's like that.

2010-03-12T17:23:00.001-05:00

fuck my to-do list.

just give me enough sleep, a free hand once in a great while and get the fuck outta my face when I'm obviously going to explode...

and things'll be aight.

...if not, somebody's getting punctured.

status...symbol

2010-03-09T13:11:00.002-05:00

I think my doo doo list is supernatural. self-perpetuating. above reproach, reprove or reprieve (mine).

despite my ass-busting efforts, the fucker keeps growing.

work begets work...

thusly, I've decided to eat ice-cream, go for a stroll, take a cake decorating class and let entropy do its merry ol' thang.

to doo-doo

2010-03-08T12:06:00.002-05:00

things that MUST be done. today (...ish):

-bathe. oqui had a dream the other night that I was walking around in hotpants leaking spaghetti from my rear with marathon runner's diarrhea. he was horrified as noodles squirmed out of my ass in public despite his efforts to "cover me up for god's sake!". I think the kind sir doth not appreciate where personal hygiene falls on my daily priority list (hey, these mofos gotta eat and there's but so much time in a day)...so I'm gonna take me a nice warm bath. quickly...before the Prof gets up.

-get outside. I'm tired. I'm lazy. this neighborhood is about as visually appealing as a tenement, but it looks kinda nice outside today...so I think we'll go. shame I can't fit the jogging stroller in the car (wait. I just remembered I don't have my car. duh) or I could try to take the Prof for a stroll over roots, rocks and branches in the woods. the back carrier is OUT OF THE QUESTION at 7 months pregnant, though. shit. I can barely walk as it is. mayhaps another time for the woods.

-solidify my plans for the opah's b-day gift. I'm a hippy gift giver (ie. rarely purchasing anything, but making it, instead) however, he's been sending me "hint" e-mails for things he'd like to see me buy. I've got several things up my sleeve, but am having trouble choosing one. just can't seem to pull the trigger. I guess we'll just see, oqui...

-make SOME progress SOMEHOW on the planning of colors, layout, etc with either the nursery, dining room, living room or the Prof's room. this stuff has to get done before a: I give birth or b: we run out of money to finish it (if we haven't already. I think we might have) If I choose just one furniture arrangement or color scheme...I will be pleased.

-nap. I'm really tired.

things to do this week FOR REALZ THIS TIME:

-organize my craft closet. this means putting up some shelves to get stuff out of boxes. I'm feeling creatively bankrupt, the feng shui up in this piece is seriously blocked by all these boxes, and I desperately want to be able to make some inspired decisions. clearing the clutter should do that...

I hope.

-return my grandfather's totes, ladder, utility knives, etc. if that just so happens to facilitate a nice long visit (my grandparents are HILARIOUS)...all the better.

-(joint effort) pick the dining room color. the SECOND dining room color since the first makes oqui puke. again...decision making + teh suki = epic fail.

-get the risers for the Monkey's bed so all the work oqui put into her room the first two weeks in this house isn't wasted because her mattress is still on the floor. I should probably finish sewing her closet curtains and put together her framed artwork, too. we spent $50 on cool fabrics to frame and they are currently chilling in a nice folded pile...somewhere. this is unaccepable.

-pull up the carpets while oqui isn't here to stop me. we're just stalling (cause it's going to be WICKED expensive to remedy) BUT we both hate it. the color all but destroys the extreme awesomeness of our new spiffy gray living room and...it smells like old lady carpet powder. I'ma just do it, then we'll have to deal.

speaking of dealing:

-finish removing the wallpaper from the entry hallway. I went low (ie. did what i could reach without a step ladder because I'm about as coordinated and graceful as a 3 minute old giraffe) and oqui was supposed to go high. I think I shall FORCE him to go (and/or get) high. whatever works to get this damn paper down.

-install the Prof's new/spare/new baby's car seat. we've already passed the point at which we're able to return it, but I 'spose it'll be nice to know if the bammer fits. it's huge. if you don't want to drive an suv or mini-van...do not have children. I currently drive neither and am having issues.

-SEND THE PACKAGE TO C-LINE!!! I put together some maternity clothes and other goodies for a friend in Texas like, I don't know, two months ago...and have yet to send them. she'll only be pregnant another 9 weeks. I'm dropping the ball on this biotch (the package OBVIOUSLY) big time. it.must.be.done.

but, doooood. I HATE the post office.

-bribe oqui to ship the package.

oh dang. I've done already used up like 93% of naptime and will be hard-pressed to remove the spaghetti from my ass before the Prof wakes up.

see how nothing gets done around here???

because I've over facebooked it...

2010-03-02T18:02:00.002-05:00

I'll put the 83 things I'd like to post there, here...in one convenient, not as creeperish place.

-I've now eaten enough chocolate today to make my heart feel as if its going to explode. my fetus is freaking out and I think I'm going to puke. way to go, suki.

-I still want to murder my child for being an irracible prick today (and the reason I almost killed his baby brother via chocolate). I think I want to murder his sister, father, great-grandmother and 923786 cousins, too. It's like that.

-to gym or not to gym? I may puke. the Prof will very likely make me want to stab him, again, and I'm feeling waaaaaaaaay too fat to put on stretchy pants.

-e-bay can suck it. I remember a day when a "vintage" nursery rhyme book was:

a. actually vintage and NOT from the 1980's
b. less than $43
c. cute

- the nursery can suck it, too. the child will probably be all fucking spazzed out from the amount of chocolate his mother consumed during her (lovely) pregnancy...and will never. ever. sleep. I'll just build him a cage, instead.

- my nutritional status for the day = white-trash, ghetto-fied, pre-packaged, preservative and sodium laden bunch of non-food shit. stress, I hate you.

- my hand hurts. bad. how to climb lugging an extra 20 pounds of (dimpled) ass with a bum thumb?

-my arm hurts too. angry typing, fuck you.

-I want more money.

and finally...

fuck the world.

amen. goodnight. suck a fat one.

buckshot update

2010-03-02T11:01:00.002-05:00

a very quick and completely INcomprehensive update (before the Prof gets his hands on another power tool or permanent marker):

-IT'S A BOY! we found out (finally) last week. small fry has a pecker. we also found out that small fry was measuring VERY small fry. couple of moments of panic (amnio suggested, chromosomal defects mentioned, etc)...then some relaxing and trusting...followed by a few days of low-grade (yet persistent) concern (not gonna lie, despite my efforts to accept and relax I lost alot of sleep)...then finally, a call from the midwife yesterday, who, apparently, had an at-length discussion with the perinatologist, told him he got it ferhoodled, the DATING is wrong and small fry is actually developing-perfectly-normally-average-fry.

grood. now, I can eat chocolate and climb without feeling like the devil.

-I'm finally pregnant. hard to get up off the couch. feeling fatigued and my ass has gigantor dimples in it (NOT something I'm thrilled about, mind yo). too hungry to cut back on calories, too exhausted to exercise. just gonna have to ride this one out and maybe buy bigger pants. not too terribly worried...

its all good as long as I keep my pants on.

-home improvements are moving along at a good steady pace. me and the 'pah created a master schedule/list o' chores and have been steadily knocking things off. we picked AND applied a color to the dining room (which, coincidentally is NOTHING like what we thought we'd get). we've got the living room color picked, and just need to finish banishing the wallpaper from our existence. yeah...it'll be a while.

-climbing again! yay. last week we went 3 times. felt.fucking.awesome. I even got up to climbing an overhung brown (5.9ish), but I think in the last 3 days I've become too pregnant for that. I still wanna keep climbing, but have a feeling I'm going to have to put my ballz back in (ballzout!) and just diddle around a little for relaxation. climbing to remove ass dimples at this stage in the game is ill-advised :(

-the Prof is advancing in leaps and bounds. UNBELIEVABLE the skills he's acquired in the last week or two. he's pushing his crib around the room, saying, "uh oh!" shaking his head no and saying "nuh uh" at me when he's about to do something naughty, saying "no touch!" then touching anyway (getting the theme here?). he's made all sorts of progress...and is more dangerous than ever. he now climbs ONTO the dining room table...where he tends to find sharpies, screwdrivers, drills and other contraband. our toddler proofing efforts are going to be stepped up a notch this weekend.

ie. I'm going to get MYSELF a padded helmet and hope for the best.

-nursery planning has come to a screeching halt. mainly...because I kinda had a feeling it was a girl. so all my super secret-kept to myself plans are no longer appropriate (much like the vintage pink plaid dog I bought). I'll have to regroup and come up with some more pecker-friendly ideas. BUT...since I, apparently, have an extra (lovely) three weeks of pregnancy to prepare (fuck that. I don't wanna gain more weight)...

we should have plenty of time.

-actually, advice needed:

do I make one sleep room that the boys share and then make the spare room a play room???

-or-

do they each get their own sleep/play space?

I see the advantage to having separate sleep space, but really feel like the play space should be shared. we only have four bedrooms...so I don't have a spare there. we do have the spare family room but it is ANTI-child proof. tile floor (with radiant heat, so carpet wouldn't be an energy-efficient choice), fireplace, climbable cabinets...and it's a stairway removed from the kitchen. (only a concern while preparing meals. they'd ruin the place).

the (currently) spare bedroom would make a nice playroom. bright, cheery, soft carpeting, etc. It does have some built-in climbing apparatae (ie. shelves) that I'd probably have to remove, but I could otherwise pad the walls and feel relatively confident skulls weren't being busted.

the small fry will very likely spend the first half a year sleeping in our room, so the sleep sharing room wouldn't need to happen until (hopefully) the lil' booger was a little more consistent and less likely to wake the Prof 83 times a night (I, on the other hand, will definitely still be awoken each night a plenty).

so...yeah. thoughts?

I've never done the two small children thing. I, honestly, have NO idea what the hell I'm doing...

ps. re: the dining room color. it was supposed to be green. honest.

oqui's gonna kill me

2010-02-23T09:27:00.002-05:00

we have been dutifully and begrudgingly scrubbing, scraping, peeling and arm wrestling with what's left of decades old wallpaper in this house for weeks.

it is a source of irritation, sore arms and DUST.

we agree...people who wallpaper have a reserved spot in the little known 10th ring of wallpapers' hell...where they spend eternity covered in glue, chipping fruitlessly at the mess they made while on this planet.

all that being said...

I wanna do this in the nursery:

the back wall (not the best shot) is "wallpapered" in pages from vintage Little Golden Books.

it IS the absolute cutest idea I've seen thus far...and something I've done in the past.

...(wishing I had pictures)...

I papered the wall behind my mother's piano with pages from old music primer's and sheet music she played as a kid. awesome looking, yellowed pages.

in the lil' dutch colonial in Wyo, the ex and I papered his entire studio in crinkled brown craft paper...a kinda psuedo leather look. later, it became the Prof's nursery and I really liked the warmth and comfiness.

soo...oqui's probably going to want me dead, but I'm going to hit GoodWill and the Salvation Army and start collecting old nursery books.

...then do the unthinkable...

BUY wallpaper paste!

muaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha

teh belly (...again)

2010-01-26T15:18:00.003-05:00

all 20-21 weeks.

regretfully, these are mostly crappy self mirror shots, as I think Oqui is still refusing the inevitable.

sprout number 3.

just for shits and giggles...

2010-01-13T10:54:00.003-05:00

I think I'm gonna run the dishwasher o' doom, today.

we settle (or will settle) on the new house in about 3 hours, which means we are FINALLY liberated from this hell-hole!

in case I've never fully relayed the story...here it be:

-tired of paying an exorbitant mortgage that was still in the ex's name...oqui and I decided to do one of several things. buy the house off the ex. no go. the value had dropped such that it would've been a negative equity situation and I don't overpay for ANYTHING...even my own house. sell the house. again, value tanked. no way to sell. hand the keys over to the ex and be about our merry bidness buying a new one. we opted for that.

and oooooh, lawdy! did that turn out to be a disaster!

- went in and out of contract on a whole shite load of properties over the course of several months. inspections. jitters. realizing we're having another sprout and need a hella big house. needless to say...we wasted alot of time, money and probably irreparably damaged our karma. fun.

- ran outta time. the ex had his moving van reserved had nowhere to live in a few days and we had to be outta the house unless he and oqui were gonna spoon for a few weeks. which leads us to....

- the worst decision of our lives. we re-entered an offer on a previously disregarded property (too much work to be done) because we knew the seller would take it, it was big enough and with 20 or 30 grand of work the house would be stellar. from that moment on...we have been so fucked.

- seller takes our offer, but turns out to be ape.shit.fucking.crazy. there is an undisclosed bankruptcy, mental competency issues, the title can't clear, the guy's a general purpose fuck up (not to mention STUPID), and we're a few days away from being homeless when we have to make a decision...

move into dickhead's house and rent until (if?) title clears, buy the piece of shit, spend 2 years fixing it and live happily ever after...

or be homeless?

- we move into dickhead's house. KARMA was in full-force. our movers didn't show up (they actually posted our info - addresses, phone numbers, names, EVERYTHING - on craigslist emploring people to come photograph our belongings. I STILL want them dead), our shit didn't fit in the truck, the garage was soggy when we got here (ie. nowhere to put shit), so on and so on and so on.

fun, fun.

- we are yet hopeful and start busting our asses and wallets trying to get this dump habitable. my 73 year old grandfather came and removed the leaves that this asshole had let sit for YEARS. cousins, nieces, niece's boyfriends, mom, stepdad, friends, friends' friends, and near strangers scrubbed, sanded and painted this heap of hell with us. and then we waited...

waited...waited...for title to clear, settlement to go down and to rip out the DISGUSTING kitchen and bathroom so I wouldn't feel too skeeved to bathe, here.

nothing doing.

- we get pissed. and more pissed...and more pissed. the stove literally blew up in my face. the dishwasher drains into the sink cabinet...oh yeah, the sink is broken - along with every other piece of plumbing in the house, no oil in the tank, faulty wiring, fire hazards, dead limbs hanging over bedrooms...

I want badly to hurt dear chuck-o, our "landlord" of sorts.

- final straw. we sent an addendum ammending our "rental" agreement over to the seller specifying that we are SICK OF HIS BULLSHIT and will absolutely NOT be paying a dime in rent for December (listing our extensive repair expenses for undisclosed bullshit as cause), giving him 12 hours to sign or we're fucking outta here.

- the asshole won't sign it.

-fuck to you, asshole. we terminate the agreement, STILL refuse to pay him a dime in rent, and now he gets to sit on his mortgage for months until a. he clears title (if ever) b. some other bunch of retards agrees to buy this heap. c. hell freezes over.

see? I told you he was dumb.

- we DEMAND our deposit money back and threaten to sue the pants off of him for our expenses. should be an easy case since it is CLEARLY OUTLINED IN OUR CONTRACT that he would be responsible for such expenses.

- his lawyers are assholes, too. our deposit money...still in escrow at the broker's office, somehow gets tangled up as one of his "assets" in a bankrupty procedure.

- we hate everybody...and start calling lawyers.

- meanwhile, we look for other houses. first time out, oqui and I fight like hell. this is getting too stressful. our agent (bless his little heart) is stillll trying to talk oqui into sticking the hell-hole deal out, so....

- I gotta flip my shit on everyone. foot down. no more fucking around. we are motherfucking OUTTA here. they finally listen. all is (somewhat) well...we keep looking.

- enter into contract on another house, but we're definitely "setttling". while it's big, in great shape and extremely well maintained...the school district is sub-par, it is NOT in our gorgeous neighborhood and we've recently come to find its half a mile from a trailer park. oh wells. diversity is good....right.

- we come to find the hella mess with crazy seller is legally holding our shit up.

- we get even angrier. weeks pass. we're still living in filth with 83% of our belongings unpacked, but somehow...I think we're finding peace. I've just stopped thinking about how disgusting the kitchen is (oh, I've also completely stopped cooking), I don't touch the bathroom floor (which no amount of scrubbing will EVER clean)....and we just DEAL.

- still dealing...still dealing. finally we get in touch with the CORRECT lawyer who sets everyone straight, the contract is cleared, the money returned and we are set to settle in just a few hours on the new, much more appropriate...bigger house.

which leads me to the dishwasher o' doom...

it's been pretty rough trying to feed a family of four in a totally inadequate kitchen with almost no working appliances and since its the monkey's job to do the dishes...and the dishwasher leaks like a sieve...

we haven't had a clean dish in weeks.

but since I gotta pack these fuckers one way or another, and I won't be here long enough to enjoy the mold that will undoubtedly thrive under the sink post-dishwasher cycle...

I'ma load that bitch up, throw some towels on the floor and try my damnedest to leave this place in the condidtion we got it...

completely fucked up.

amen. hallelujah. who wants to help us move?

a tiny little piece of social commentary

2010-01-11T17:03:00.003-05:00

I was, today, driving behind the LONGEST short bus I have ever seen.

all of the children on this bus appeared to me to have either:

a. serious developmental delays (bear in mind, I have a degree in developmental psychology)
b. be acting really dumb.

they looked, for all intents and purposes, like wee-tees. if this is just the way kids act these days (ie. drooling, stimming, mouth dangling neanderthals)...I'm scurred.

either way, I blame Coca-Cola and lunchables.

for christine...and my emotional health

2010-01-07T12:03:00.003-05:00

I'm MAD. (duh)

our pediatric practice is full of a bunch of very sweet doctors led by some seriously misguided policies. AND THEIR OFFICE MANAGER IS A BIIIIIITCH!!!!

there is NO ROOM for discussion of alternative medicine. breastfeeding is given minor lipservice as to the method of choice but then off-handed comments like, "don't listen to La Leche League, they're crazy" are made and formula samples are handed out en masse. my sons allergies and intolerances were repeatedly dismissed (now he's having developmental regression. who do I have to FUCKING SHOOT up in this bitch?) and heaven forbid you're hesitant about vaccinations.

I've been treated like a criminal because of my unwillingness to overload my son's immune system with THREE relatively unproven combination vaccinations at once.

fuck you, doc. we've discussed this at length and basically what I'm hearing from you is two-fold:

1. vaccines are safe. it's what I've been told and I'm buying it, wholesale. research? what research? I've been indoctrinated. I question nothing.

2. no, I'm not willing to take personal responsibility for any harm that may befall your child due to our ridiculously overwhelming vaccine schedule.

ok, doc, so you're worthless to me.

actually, they weren't ENTIRELY worthless. they did initially agree to put him on a modified vaccination schedule...spreading them out. THEN when Oqui took the Prof in for the shot...he came home with three bandages on.

how dare you???? we discussed this over and over and over. you knew my hesitations. we came to an agreement. you fucked me over.

I don't take kindly to be dicked around ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU MAY BE RISKING MY CHILD'S DEVELOPMENT.

fuck you.
fuck you.
fuck you.

did I mention...FUCK YOU?!?!?!

now, here's the best part...I'm not even decrying vaccines as a definite devil. my view point is this...

I don't know.

it's like the greenhouse effect. you choose what you believe, but in all honesty, doing an internet search, reading articles and studies is very likely going to lead you right back to your original belief. it's so contradictory...and science being "science" is inherently skewed. (DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON RESEARCH METHODS!!! for my senior honor's thesis in college I tried to debunk the theory of the normal curve (and thereby all statistical analyses based on it) but noone would sign off as my advisor. shocker)...

that being said, I now know I've been going about this all wrong. I'm been trying to relate to pediatricians as scientists ie. people searching for information, when actually...they're just practitioners.

muh bad. you're so busy prescribing antibiotics and shooting kids in the thigh that you forgot to think about the basis for all the treatment decisions you make.

diagnosis is easy. all you have to do is remember what symptom goes with what...

actually DISCOVERING disease/developmental info/treatment standards/etc is hard.

sorry, I thought you might like to try.

so, end result is this. I'm not comfortable subjecting a child with a history of digestive disorders, possible seizures and now speech regression to round after round of immuno-stress.

yeah, he COULD get meningitis...but he could also end up on the autism spectrum, with developmental delays or with a mommy in prison for shanking his doctor.

I'll take my chances with nature instead of the pharmaceutical industry.

but thanks for your concern...

fags.

resolve

2010-01-04T13:47:00.002-05:00

I don't normally do resolutions. I think I stopped that particularly annoying habit somewhere around my 16th or 17th year at which point I realized:

hey, it's kinda ghey to only focus on self-improvement for the first 3-6 (depending on your motivation level) weeks of the year and let the rest go to pot.

my resolutions usually come about (in one way, SHAPE, or form) round about the time it gets too warm for pants.

I take one look at my (perpetually) chubby white thighs and start thinking fitness. I usually drop 5 or 10 pounds with the warmer weather, increase my general activity level (it's easier to climb withOUT ice) and go about my merry business until the dark starts creeping back in before my climbing partner gets off of work...then general malaise inevitably seeps in.

such it is.

HOWEVER, since I seem to be stuck in a general state of malaise for the last year and half or so...I gotta switch some shit up.

pregnancy and breastfeeding (particularly both at the same time) have REALLY sapped my energy and cramped my damn style. without climbing, riding, skiing and general romping about on a consistent basis...

I have turned into one downright ornery and nasty BIOTCH.

in my defense, however...I WAS looking at this providing undivided attention to a small child thing as a relatively temporary situation. The Prof is getting older, I was starting to get excited about school, job, training, etc...ie. getting some "me" time, again...

when, lo and behold, our dumbasses got knocked up, again.

plan B. I see now that I have GOT to find a way to "stabilize my mood" without the full commitment to going ballzout that I used to be able to give it.

in other words...at 32 years of age...I must learn to juggle.

so juggle, I will (well, at least I'll TRY once I stop hacking up a lung).

thusly and therefore, I've decided to make some life-changing, sanity-saving (recovering?) resolutions:

1. I will make The Prof's food BEFORE he wakes up as often as possible. the lil bastard is unbearable when hungry, and he's obviously STARVED the moment he awakes. sooo...to avoiding wanting to puncture his dome...momma's gonna freeze some veggies, stock up on frozen waffles and stick some food in the lil shit's mouth the second he gets up. buys me some "thinking time" and def improve our relationship (can you tell I just fought my way through lunch with the little ingrate?)

2. step away from the devil's box. the happiest years of my life were those WITHOUT cable. other than the toddler music channel and the nursery rhyme videos...I can totally live without it. it is pointless, time consuming and makes me hate my life (guilt, guilt, guilt). I'm gonna craigslist some kid videos (COMPLETELY NECESSARY DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME!!!) and tell comcast to suck one. oqui will very likely have an anneurism, but his lazy ass hasn't taken the trash out in 10 days...so as far as I'm concerned, he has no acceptable argument here.

3. do something creative....nuff said.

4. do something physical. last weekend we hit the climbing gym and, not gonna lie here, my harness HURT. I know some women climb until they're 8cm dilated...but I'm obviously not that chick. with my history of early contractions, bleeding and generally being a pussy while I'm pregnant, I'm gonna need something a little more appropriate. I hate yoga...so I'm still ISO my perfect exercise. I used to walk a good 2 hours a day (the Prof, fortunately for me, LOVED his stroller) which was great for shedding the last 5 or so baby pounds...but didn't do shite for the now non-existant back muscles. since I haven't so much as walked around the block in 4 months (did I mention how much I HATE being pregnant?)...a little stroll to the park in the witch's tit cold is definitely a start...unfulfilling...but it'll be a start. I'm also, for some strange reason, feeling the tap dance vibe...but don't hold your breath on that one.

5. do something educational. I want to learn a new skill. I'm thinking lampwork (ie. flame and glass sculpting) or maybe the ukulele. whatever it is...I want it to be novel and fun.

6. do something productive. job, maybe? I know that's aiming high. I didn't sleep more than 45 minutes straight after the Prof was born and I can't imagine my odds improving with TWO leeches to contend with, but...optimistically speaking...I can at least prep and plan for an EVENTUAL return to the work force. perhaps research real estate? do some computer classwork? work on honing my resume lies? either way...I'm too sexy to spend the rest of my days knee deep in baby poo...so I'll at the very least do some serious thinking about my options.

7. start a garden. no excuses. I come from farmer stock. there is no reason on this planet I should not be planting, tending, harvesting and canning my own food. I intend to cut my trips to the grocery store in half. I'll regret this come august when I refuse to leave the house for anything other than a midnight stroll to the freezer section of the supermarket...but, it shall be done, nonetheless. I'll just have to weed by candlelight.

8. regain my personal sense of style. the fact that my entire wardrobe is "functional" is no longer acceptable. there will be stripes, possibly glitter and some pink shoes.

9. more campfires, sunsets and gurgling mountain brooks. ahhh. that's the stuff.

10. do at least one thing (good book, warm bath, red toe nails, etc)...one single, solitary, special thing for myself every single damn day.

no point in letting the sprouts COMPLETELY suck my soul out, right?

11. take more pictures. this baby is wicked cute. just in case he grows up fugly...I should document the cutitude now. just saying.

besides...nothing funnier than looking back on the drunken saki pics (hotdog, anyone) oqui and I used to take. *meow*

12. start living up to at least 10 or 11% of my potential. I'm wicked smart, yo.

and finally...

13. find some motivation to do a few of the things (big and small) that I dream. this will probably involve caffeine...and I'm ok with that.

I'll keep y'all posted on how well this actually goes.

-account inactive-

2009-12-30T12:45:00.001-05:00

my mom read my blog last night. she said it was "funny."

I vaguely remember being funny...

I shall try to blog again, someday...maybe even today.

...but, after a nap.

a lonnnnnnng nap.

...and maybe a quick trip to the ER.

...and some mashed potatoes with yellow gravy.

...maybe then I'll blog.

I'd like mine with a side of anti-emetic, please

2009-11-26T11:22:00.000-05:00

Happy Pukesgiving!

big strong men and a moving van

2009-11-23T11:49:00.002-05:00

foot down.

we're not buying this house. should the heavens open up, angels drift forth and hand me an incredibly large sum of cash to be used only for the purchase of this property...

I'd say no.

TOO.MUCH.WORK.

I've had the shit (and vomit) kicked out of me for the last two...or more, I can't remember...months and DO NOT FEEL like ripping out a kitchen, replacing a bathroom, putting in a new furnace or having the trees trimmed.

oqui's got a bum shoulder, so whatever work we might've thought to do ourselves and save some money....so not gonna happen. hiring people to do the work would put us so far over our (imaginary) budget that we might as well just declare bankruptcy now.

so....today we go a'looking. we've got a short list. 6 properties. 4 school districts. prices all over the place...

one of them...will be our new home.

we're gonna lose a little chunk of money walking on this deal, but...

I don't give a hairless rat's hiney.

this place is bad news....has been from the start and we are OUTTA HE'RHE!

...oqui hates my guts over it (as does our realtor)...

but he'll just have to deal.

mercy!

2009-11-19T21:17:00.002-05:00

I've had enough of the pukes.

sweet jesus a'mighty,

enough, already.

pllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllease stop.

pretty please.

thought

2009-11-18T12:50:00.001-05:00

I should really take down that preggo pic...

lest I continue to get knocked up.

(thinking ahead, I am)

guilt

2009-11-17T13:40:00.002-05:00

don't I feel like an asshole?

worse, still...don't I feel tremendously, heart-wrenchingly guilty?
yup. sure do.

we found out last week that I was pregnant with twins, but one died.

died...right about the time I wrote my hateful, selfish "do not want" blog. I KNOW I was overwhelmed; physically, emotionally, mentally...and now I know why.

but I also know that I was so reluctant and hesitant to accept my fate that I forced the little soul right out of one of my babies.

now, I'm not feeling self-indulgent and whiney, here. despite many people's attempts to convince me otherwise...I know what I did. I'm taking responsibility.

I didn't have enough. I couldn't handle being pregnant with two, nursing another, being sick, being scared, etc...and that bothers me. if I were a bit stronger. a bit more capable...a bit...sturdier, maybe both would have survived.

I've come to a place of acceptance (and pain) and am doing my best to make peace with the baby that I know felt unloved and unwanted.

I have a feeling it'll take years.

on the other hand...I'm wondering why the baby that's left chose to stay...and doing my best to think positively.

after the Prof's amazing birth (notice I didn't mention anything about the pregnancy being amazing? yeah, I still hate that part)...I was very confident that my body could handle this.

no prob. a little sickness, some hormonal upheavals, fatigue and some stretching...I got this.

now...now, I gotta admit I'm actually a little scared.

something went terribly wrong with one of my babies...

what do I have to do to protect the other?

better

2009-11-02T12:17:00.003-05:00

pregnancy does not directly equate to a feeling of impending death, doom and despair, today.

I'll take it.

*knocking furiously on wood that I don't get all nastified sick, again. cause seriously....I really fucking hate that*

return to sender

2009-10-28T13:53:00.003-04:00

do not want.

I don't want to be pregnant. in fact...(keeping it real here)...I don't want another baby.

do.not.want.

not at all.

call me selfish. call me careless. call me completely fucked...but that's how I feel.

I've already got a baby and he requires a good dose of attention and care...and frankly, that's about all I've got in me.

I want just a smidge of my life back. I'm not talking cocktails, tailgating, and my figure. all completely meaningless, pointless and not of my concern.

my desires are way less superficial and much more basic.

I want sleep. strength. health and exercise.

I want to climb. I want to ride...and I want to be able to nap after doing so.

I haven't slept through the night in 16 months. its driving me absolutely fucking crazy (obvious much?).

I am tired. I'm weak. I'm dizzy and I'm nauseated enough to consider killing myself and this embryo.

don't want.

(un?)fortunately, I'm of the moral fiber that abortion isn't even close to being an option. I'm BY NO MEANS a conservative, christian or even particularly judgemental...

but I can't do it.

wish I could. (REALLY wish I could)

can't do it.

my body can't take much more of this. I don't do pregnant well. I'm sickly, drained, bedraggled and ill.

I look like I'm dying. not exaggerating that. oqui actually apologized to me the other day for killing me...slowly...via pregnancy.

I FEEL LIKE I'M DYING.

the newborn days and nursing were no better for me. I couldn't eat like a real person for a year. always fatigued. always exhausted. trouble breathing.

I'm convinced I've digested portions of my heart, lungs and liver.

I'm not strong enough to do this, again. honestly...my body (and mind) have had enough.

I've been a parent my entire adult life. even before the technical start of "adulthood."

I want a break.
I need a break.

I DON'T need another baby....and there's nothing I can do about it.

unpossible

2009-10-21T16:53:00.003-04:00

we are supposed to settle on the new house in 8 days.

ummm...no.

long story (INCREDIBLY LONG STORY) short:

-dude filed for bankruptcy 3 years ago and didn't disclose it. awesome. now the court must be involved to approve the sale, but first...

-dude has to be declared mentally competent to enter into a contract/undergo bankrupty proceedings/wipe his own ass, etc.

yes. he was declared incompetent 11 (ELEVEN FUCKING) years ago, had the deed to his home (the one we're trying to buy) transferred to his grandfather, had it transferred back when he got married WITHOUT REVERSING THE INCOMPETENCE RULING, and now the title to the home is completely fucked.

we MUST settle on this (or any other) home before November 30 in order to get the 8 grand tax credit.

so not gonna happen.

I'm livid, concerned and more nauseous than ever.

honest to god WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO LIVE???

my ex-husband is coming back for this house in 8 days...

sure hope he likes having roomies.

penis poisoning

2009-10-14T22:10:00.001-04:00

I'm pregnant.

but too sick to talk about it in any detail.

when I stop wishing for death, I'll elaborate.

until that time...ladies, do what you can to avoid penis poisoning.

Professor Formula Breath

2009-10-03T09:46:00.002-04:00

taking itty bittle minor steps to start weaning the Prof...

including that nasty rotting flesh formula.

he has taken (and by taken I mean he's SMITTEN with) to a cup with a straw, so I've been trying to sneak the occassional ounce or so of horse piss (ie. formula) into his wooby cup...appropriately diluted with juice, pedialyte or motor oil...you know, to improve the taste.

so far...I've gotten about 6 ounces in him. total. in 11 months.

we're obviously gonna have to take this slowly...

in non-formula weaning news; oqui got him to sleep last night without my help. hell...I wasn't even here.

the kid went to sleep without nursing, slept the entire night (who IS he???) and I woke up feeling like my chest was going to explode.

fun. fun. fun.

but...it must be done, at least to some extent.

I need the rest...

stilllll sleepy.

2009-09-25T19:03:00.001-04:00

not as sick, but definitely TIRED TIRED TIRED.

probably just as much from my lingering swine/plague/flu/cold as from the fact that the Prof has been...shall we say...not sleeping well?

he's cutting a tooth. (never thought I'd be so proud of a little toofer, but he's about 5 months overdue and I was starting to worry. PARTICULARLY because its a symptom of celiac, but I REALLY digress....)

he stood unassisted this week. well....danced, actually. he's definitely mine. he digs throw back jams and old school hip hop.

he said, clear as a bell, "sissy." The Monkey was THRILLED.

and he finally took to the binky...about 11 months late, but if it keeps his little teething gums happy, I'm game. he's actually more interested in playing a little game of self-fetch with it...but it keeps in happy in his playpen...which HE.ABSOLUTELY.LOVES.

amen. I can pee, again.

oh, yeah...

he humps everything, too. (balls deep)

oqui finally conceeded that a DNA test isn't necessary...

the boy is his.

stillllllllllllllllllllllll sick.

2009-09-14T21:55:00.001-04:00

cough. gag. choke. sweat.

anyone brave enough to break the quarantine is welcome to come smack me over the head with a golf club.

kthnx.

sick.

2009-09-12T12:38:00.001-04:00

dying.

help.

I got two words for ya

2009-09-10T14:54:00.004-04:00

rumney was a gigantic bust.

oh what a disastrous web we weave if we attempt to....can't think of a rhyming word...recreate.

t'was (yet another) trip from hell.

the baby busted out a 102 and A HALF degree fever thursday JUST prior to our departure time, putting our long awaited trip in grave jeopardy.

sweet.

fever broke the next morning (so we thought) so we put our narrow white asses in the car, met monica and got to driving...

for ten fucking hours.

the kid kept spiking a fever, we kept stopping and sticking stuff up his ass...all the while wondering why we were stupid enough to attempt this. we finally rolled into the farm around 10, 11ish...set up camp (a very long and complicated process in the dark. believe you me). finally ended up in the awesome but extremely dusty 150+ year old farmhouse that makes me sneeze and tried like hell to sleep.

no go. the fever spiked again. the kid and I couldn't breathe. we could HEAR but not participate in the full moon campfire shenanigans and life was generally miserable until sunrise.

wait. it gets better.

we set an alarm to get up early for the farm breakfast. I was promised gluten free, dairy free, (et cetera. you guys know the list) eggs, sausage and potatoes...and was pretty excited about it.

nope. the farm was overrun with french canadian sausage stealing motherfuckers (I HATE french canadian sausage stealing mother fuckers!~!!!!) who ate up all the food before we got there.

I've never been more upset about a $10 plate of over cooked cold eggs and greasy kale in my life.

we lounged around trying to recover our sensibilities and hit the crag in the early afternoon.

BLISS! rumney rock is the best on the east coast (possibly in the whole entire universe) and we thoroughly and whole-heartedly enjoyed ourselves, five minutes at a time while we managed to squeeze in three whole routes amidst the prof's constant and incessant protestation.

he finally fell asleep JUST prior to be tossed off the cliff...then monica's phone rang.

her boyfriend's grandfather took a turn for the worse and we needed to get home.

fuck me.

now, I did not at all intend to write this blog to bash our climbing buddy (which is why I waited several days to even attempt it)...but I'm gonna have to put some facts out there to really convey this entire picture.

he was sick before she left. she was asked not to leave. she chose to leave anyway knowing full well he was on his last leg.

soooo...we reluctantly (after THREE routes) headed to the farm to shower up, pack up, get fed and get on the road, again.

fuck.in.a.

on the way home, I got even more frustrated with her as she didn't help kick in for gas, didn't share in the driving and always got in the front seat.

'scuse me!?!?!

girl, I heart ya...but we're never taking a road trip together again lest I find it difficult to supress the urge to strangle ya.

separate cars, girlfriend.

separate cars.

loser!

2009-09-03T12:04:00.001-04:00

wow.

checking out some of the girls in my old sorority on facebook.

they all seem to be doing really well. even the ones who stay home with kids are always standing in front of expensive kitchen cabinets or driving luxury cars.

I totally fucked something up.

who's a loser???

--------> THIS GIRL <----------

gotta admit

2009-09-03T11:13:00.002-04:00

I'm a little apprehensive about the trip with the baby.

he was awesome at the gunks...miserable at the new (so miserable, in fact, that we rarely even reference the details of those 3 days of hell in our lives).

he's still hit or miss with the sleeping thing, so its anybody's guess how he'll handle 5 nights away from home...3 in a tent 2 in the car.

it's cool that we'll have a 3rd driver, though. this is vital to our survival.

we almost die on the way home from every climbing trip b/c the kid kept us up and we're exhaustified.

I am going to protect monica's sleep like a wet baby bird...so as she can stay awake and get us home alive.

aside from the whole sleep thing, I'm pretty cool with the possible eating arrangements. the farm is fully capable of providing organic, gluten free, dairy free, soy free, nut free, flavor free (I hope not) meals. we can also pack our own food cook on the camp stove, or even use the kitchen in the hostel.

haven't decided yet. to cheap out and get the full experience trying to boil water on an ultralite??? or to suck it up, pay $10 a meal and eat eggs, sausage and potatoes (that someone else cooked) for 4 days???

either way...unlike most climbing trips, I get the distinct impression I'm gonna come home from this one FATTER.

another fact worthy of note:

monica climbs like a beast. she's solid on 11's and V5's and hits the occassional 12 and V6.

doood...I'm lucky to pull down a hard 10...

on top rope.

it'll be interesting to see whether watching her shred the shit outta the shist (I have NO idea how to spell that) is gonna push me to pull harder...or convince me to sit and watch.

I'm guessing (as with all things) it'll boil down to how much sleep I'm getting...and how annoying the baby is.

yeah...9's it is.

oh. it don't get no better than this.

2009-09-02T22:23:00.001-04:00

10-Day Forecast for Rumney, NH
Forecast Conditions
High °FLow °F

TonightSep 2
Clear
N/A49°
0%

ThuSep 3
Sunny
79°52°
0%

79°F
FriSep 4
Partly Cloudy
78°53°
10%

78°F
SatSep 5
Partly Cloudy
74°47°
0%

74°F
SunSep 6
Sunny
71°50°
0%

71°F
MonSep 7
Partly Cloudy
73°51°
20%

on my way to new jerseyshire...

2009-09-02T11:34:00.002-04:00

we are taking both children adventuring.

9 or so hour drive to New Hampshire to camp on the farm.

it's gonna be cold.

The Prof is still sometimes a butthead...

but Rumney has a collection of over 100 sport routes we can reasonably climb (we lead like sissy baby chickens), the stars in new england are...well...stellar, and campfires rock my socks.

I must to go buy a coat for the kid.

high road (aka faking it)

2009-09-01T14:39:00.003-04:00

perhaps its because its no longer melt your skin hot outside?
maybe its because I had some tremendous cathartic insight? (I didn't, but I'm not opposed to pretending)
could it be because I'm finally relaxed and seeking inner quiet (I'm not gonna so far as to say peace...cause, let's face it...I'm a mean violent sumnabitch)?

either way. whatever reason...I'm taking the high road.

(except with my neighbors. I still hate those cunts.)

I will stay calm in the face of conflict. I will remain patient and focused.

I.will.not.be.drug.into.the.petty.annoying.retarded.assinine.pointless.self-serving.fucking.dramas.

ie. I'm gonna fake it.

I want to be hap-hap-happy-go-motherfucking-lucky and if those in my presence and sphere aint jumping aboard the obliviously happy reetee ship...

then I shall set sail without them.

how many tards does it take to sail a fake ship?

I am DONE (capitol D, capitol O, capitol N, capitol E) done with energy sapping, joy destroying, immature dra.ma.

save the drama for....

actually, I don't really give a fuck who you save it for, just get the fuck outta my face with it.

I will be goddamn fucking happy no matter what.

put that in your pipe and smoke on it, grumpy-ass bitches.

cooling off

2009-08-31T10:03:00.002-04:00

I'd like to give a shout out to 70 degree weather, hoodies, long pants and chilly nights.

thank ya, jesus!!! fall doth come(th).

speaking of jesus...oqui and I have been batting around the idea of adding a little faith to our lives. we've recently come to the long overdue conclusion that we're cranky, kermudgeon, rat-fink bastards and prolly need to change our outlook(s) a bit.

enter the jesus peeps. these motherfuckers are always so goddamn (no offense to my jesus peeps) fucking happy.

happy. happy. disgustingly, sickeningly happy.

I want in.

problem is...neither one of us even remotely believes in jesus. in fact, oqui is openly antagonistic about the concept and I'm afeared that should he set foot in a place of worship, he'd instantly combust.

I, myself, am mostly agnostic with a heavy side of atheism. I TRIED to believe. trust in suki...there was a time in my life in which I actively sought faith. I went to mosques, chapels, mass, temples...

I even went so far as to join a rite of christian initiation for adult's class (not just for the tuition discount at catholic school, either) during which I told a little ol' nun that I prayed for faith. BEGGED for belief. asked for the faith of Job (you know, the guy who kept get his ass handed to him by god but refused to denouce him)....

and nothing. I asked the lil' ol' nun...how can that be? doth not god hear and answer our prayers.

she resorted to honesty with me. she started with, "I don't know" and followed up with the advice that if I really wanted to believe...I had to stop trying to do so intellectually and just take the leap.

she was sweet. she also told me that she didn't believe every word in the catechism (ie. that unbaptised babies go to hell) and that you have to pick and choose your religious battles...

which led me to the muslims.

islam is a great way to become a die-hard, complete and total hypocrite. the scriptual expectations are set so incredibly high that noone (NOONE) can live up to them...and thusly get very good at rationalizing their transgressions.

the catholics, are also good at this from what I hear.

so, oqui and I are half seriously considering heading to church for at least the social benefits...all the while keeping eyes peeled for a non-religious alternative. (from what I remember of my preacher's kid days...church goers aren't always the happy mofos they appear to be. has something changed since I last dared to do the wafer?)

I suppose if we go to church, get strung up for being blasphemous interlopers and have nowhere else to turn...

we can always try yoga, or find a good drug dealer.

no talky talky

2009-08-25T17:15:00.003-04:00

facebook v. the blog.

facebook is winning...but only marginally. I have little energy for either.

there are tons of things I'd like to get down for the sake of posterity (not posterior. while my ass isn't particularly large just now...I am working on it with the remains of that damn cake)...but would feel a lil cheesy just bullet pointing this bitch.

wait. what was I gonna bullet point, anyway?

see. no talky. no typey.

I should just go do some push ups and a carmen elektra strip tease workout.

riiiiiiiiiiiight.

workout.

things of import late (I thing I did some remembering while trying to stave off the mental picture of me in a carmen elektra outfit jiggling my shiznizzle):

-still house hunting. still shooting blanks. I hate ugly houses. most houses are incredibly fucking ugly (particularly in our "comfortable" price range). somebody build a bitch a tent.

-had a "family meeting" at our home rock climbing gym yesterday. the arcade/restaurant/nightclub (with shitty dj)/bar next door has been squeezing them out. finally refused to renew the lease. I cried thinking that place may no longer be. it changed my life...twice.

first, it got me healthy, again. physically active. mentally focused (again...ha!). secondly...its where I met oqui. without that place I wouldn't have the 'pah, wouldn't have the Prof and...well, as tired and trying as it is...I can't imagine my life without either of them.

the gym, however, is merely relocating. buying up the other gym in town. yes...a town this small did have TWO rock gyms. the owner led us all on, made me bawl like a baby.

he said: as of september we're closing our doors. this place will no longer exist.
he paused. I cried.
he then said: as for the other gym in town...I know you guys are gonna probably go there. I know you need a place to climb. I don't want you to think I'd be upset if you go there...in fact, we're hoping you do...

he paused.
then said: cause we're the new owners.

mother fucker!

I went over and hugged him...and whispered in his ear...asshole.

either way, it was pretty emotional for me. ever since we got the call saturday about the meeting I was dreading the news that they would close. its a special place for me...

and now, I guess I'll have to man up and climb that fucking flake route at the other gym.

damn it.

-the Prof is sleeping through the night again (knocking furiously on wood)...so why am I more tired today than I can ever remember being before? must to continue to investigate this whole "sleep" thing. will report new findings.

-had a mini class reunion. almost everyone is fat...and looks WAAAAY older than I do. I was astounded by the titties these ladies were packing and couldn't help but laugh at the little bittles I had poking outta my dress.

ahhh...to be rock climbing thin....and entirely boobless.

I wore my brand spanking new cowboy boots (I was BY FAR the whitest motherfucker in there)...and tore up the dance floor.

damn. I still got it. I can dance for a white girl.

oqui had a problem with my particular style, turned up the drama notch, pitched himself a fit, and subsequently got himself the cold shoulder and stink eye all night.

he must grow up in regards to these things. there will only be so many "can I get a ride home with you? oqui's being a cock" episodes before I just go solo...all the time. he has been informed of such and I'm hoping he acts accordingly.

he better act accordingly.

-the monkey starts school again, soon. in years of yore this was a vodka drinking, tear inducing time of year for me. I missed her when she went back.

now...she's kind of a pain in the ass and I'm not as sad to see her go...but I will miss her. she's got jokes and a wicked dirty sense of humor.

as long as she doesn't drop an f' bomb....she and I can have fun.

hope she focues, does well this year and doesn't frustrate us beyond all comprehension.

...I'd really hate to have to homeschool her annoying ass.

-did I mention I hate ugly houses? yeah. we're having a hella time. wish I could drink more vodka.

which leads me to...

-I can't drink vodka. nursing, dancing, climbing and not sleeping are all adding up to be just a bit more than my body can handle when you throw in two vodka tonics. I was hurting saturday after the reunion EVEN THOUGH I stuck to my two (one and a half really) drinks and drank four glasses of water while still there.

saturday was no good for me.

I guess I'll just have to take up crack or meth.

mmmm....meth whore with a carmen elektra booty and brand spanking new cowboy boots.

yup. that'll work.

uuuuugh.

2009-08-20T23:34:00.001-04:00

I don't feel so good.

harness caused wicked tummy pain.

bloated. headache. neck sore.

momma needs a nap.

...wish me luck.

down with cake

2009-08-20T10:12:00.001-04:00

or stuffed with it, anyway.

I've gained 5 pounds.

niiiice.

gluten free dairy free soy free nut free circle o' joy

2009-08-19T15:08:00.002-04:00

I'm in (dare I say it?) a good mood.

the Prof slept well last night...and the night before. only waking once per night. amazing what only slightly broken sleep does for the mind.

good stuff. can't wait to sleep through the night again.

oqui surprised me with a yummy allergen carrot cake at the gym last night. he orchestrated a little get together con cakes (mine...and then a regular (and not $3000) one for everyone else). there were plates with animal faces. "awesome! I think mine's an ass!" and a handful of climbing friends to say happy birthday.

he managed to plan the not so short trip to the super secret special allergen free dessert caterer with the "dropping off documents for a project" cover story. I'm fairly easy to fool these days, so he got away with that with nothing more than a "can you do it at lunch time? hey. that's near trader joe's...maybe I should come, too" and an "OK. drive carefully." nothing like the days of baby shower planning when he couldn't so much as poo without me hovering outside the door listening for secret communicae. ahhhh...those were the days.

peggy got me a gift card for the health food store. that was really thoughtful. she's a good friend. that along with my birthday check from my mom (when did THIS tradition start???? I'm game), a card and gift from my grandparents and neighbor, oqui's always tear inducing cards (I always get one from him and one from the booger), my brand spanking new cowboy boots and a nice dinner with...VODKA!!!

I'm a happy girl.

a happy girl with brand spanking new cowboy boots and a rather large totally safe listed carrot cake in the fridge.

can you say sugar rush?

I'm also happy that we're getting out of this house. not.a.single.second.of.regret.or.remorse.

nope.

ready to go.

we've seen every single house in this district in our price range, and only really want one. of course, we're fighting with the listing agent on that one, cause he's an over-pricing d-bag who's holding out for a doctor or nurse to buy the property on what he wants to maintain as a very exclusive street.

I'm not convinced that oqui's hispanic last name doesn't have something to do with his unwillingness to deal.

so we're gonna beat his homo butt senseless, go down for a hate crime and find our beautiful new digs in separate federal pens.

other than the whole potential for incarceration...and not getting the house we want...

I'm glad we're moving forward with a home and a life of our own.

refreshing.

it also doesn't hurt that I'm hoping to squeeze in an extremely low budget kitchen remodel wherever we land and have been religiously poring over my decorating magazines...

feeling creative.

yup. refreshing.

trial (by poo) and error

2009-08-17T14:29:00.003-04:00

this child...this beautiful, precious, adorable little child...can be infuriating.

last night (or should I say the butt crack of dawn?) he decided he didn't want to sleep any more. not at all. happy as a clam as long as he was attended and...

awake.

hell, no, buddy. mommy's running on about 3.75 hours of sleep and since I don't exactly WANT to go psycho...you best go back to bed.

nothing doing.

I tried. oqui tried. I tried. oqui tried. the prof ripped his diaper off in the crib...oqui went back for his turn at trying to put the baby's lights out (ooooh! if only it were as easy as a switch!!!)...

didn't realize the prof was bare bummed, and got a shot of whizz in the grill.

I heard only, "WHAT THE FUCK!" over the monitor. it was late (or early). we were both tired, but it struck me as wrong that yelling, cursing and banging be involved in the back to bed ritual.

I told oqui as much...in my very tired, not so nice, middle of the night (or extremely early morning) way.

then a few hours later I ate a whole shitload of crow when I proceeded to (despite my efforts to control myself) punch the shit out of the attic door...

twice.

infuriating.

so, I vented my ire, went into his room for the 24o038479182730245th time hoping that I was devoid and rid of excess frustration and found myself unable to approach him with patience. there is a limit...and I suppose after nine months, I reached mine this morning (oqui, on the other hand, reaches his daily...a trait I would like to also have an off switch).

I finally gave up/gave in and brought him to bed with me. I'm not particularly adverse to him spending some nap time in our room, but this morning I was sooooooooo tired and sooooooo frustrated...it took a good long while and a few zillion deep breaths to find the place of tolerance necessary to put up with him climbing all over my face and head butting me.

I did a whole lot of thinking whilst he thrashed about fighting sleep.

firstly...why the fuck was he fighting sleep? yeah, it makes me mad. yeah, its annoying...but more importantly, what's the cause? and how do I fix it? this kid has been sleeping like a champ (I, quite obviously, have not)...and all of a sudden sleep is the enemy even when exhausted.

this strikes me as being a problem much bigger than my own puny frustrations. unfortunately, since the Prof has not yet acquired a working knowledge of the english language...this one's gonna remain a mystery to me.

awesome. fixing a problem with an unknown cause...like making gluten free cupcakes. yeah, you can TRY it...but it never turns out right, and leaves a yicky taste in your mouth.

then, I did some thinking about selflessness and sacrifice. it seems to be my running theme. I've been a mother my entire adult life...and have always ALWAYS always...put my needs second to one (or both of) my children.

its not difficult. it doesn't require thought. its innate and just happens.

oqui has more difficulty with it. firstly, he was an only child. an only child with an emotionally manipulative, immature and overly sweet, guilt bearing mother.

oqui...was the center of that woman's universe for way too many years. she was a single mom who worked two jobs to put him into a private school that...once again, created the illusion that he was, indeed, the center of the universe.

he didn't have to share toys...a room...a car...his mother. it was all him, all the time...and I often boil with rage towards his mother for leaving me with her legacy.

now, don't get the impression that I'm taking the blame for his actions from him. I'm not. nor am I really condemning him, here. I'm just stating my understanding of the situation.

I have more practice with the selfless thing.

oqui's an awesome dad. he's loving, involved, playful, concerned, helpful...all the things a mother needs from her partner to get through the rough days with a completely dependent lil' leech around...

but he also has another side. the child side. the side that never left the egocentric stage. the part that sometimes has trouble putting other people first...particularly when tired, in need of and wanting attention itself. the part that speaks louder than reason...and is much quicker on the draw. the part...that lacks self control.

its a hard thing to learn if you don't have to do it...and even harder to learn on the fly when you suddenly do.

and boy do we.

it occurred to me that in raising this child I try to dig deep into myself for the best little bits. the bits I want him to incorporate into his personality...take with him down the road. the parts I'd be proud to see him emulate.

its alot of introspection. self-analysis. sacrifice and giving.

and it takes a damn high toll.

but what else are we to do when he whines while he eats? refuses to sleep. insists on pulling hair, breaking glasses, touching outlets???

respond with frustration, impatience and anger?

as much as that may be what I feel...instead I smile and sing. laugh and cajole...

sometimes, seething on the inside that this little other continues to punk me.

but I chose to bring HIM here. I invited a soul that needed love and affection into my life. I asked for one who needed what I felt we have to offer...

never knowing how much he would trully push us.

willful. stubborn. fits.

my cousin is visiting with her baby, three months older than the prof. her baby listens. he defies in a way that you expect from an infant...

then draws the line.

he's never pitched a fit, while mine tosses his head, arches his back and bangs his head on the floor at the slightest provocation.

my baby waited until the last possible developmentally appropriate second to smile socially.

a booger from day one.

a rebel and a brute.

but what potential I see in him...amazing possibilities.

do the sheep and lambs rule the world?

my little lion, if handled properly now (and btw...any suggestions on how to properly handle him now would be greatly appreciated!)...could do such amazing things.

I've always known willful children are difficult to raise, but fun to watch grow...

but...

damn. we're tired. we're running low on reserves...and being tested in ways that no mountain bike or rock climb could ever do.

we're being forced to grow up, ourselves...

in order to raise him.

The Professor v. The Tooth

2009-08-14T10:39:00.002-04:00

the tooth is winning. the baby (and therefore the mommy, as well) is getting his lilly white ass handed to him by a pearly white.

I've never seen an angrier baby.

sometimes its funny (seriously...ever see a 9 month old make a fist and curse the heavens?)...mostly its frustrating and heartbreaking.

doing our best to keep him moving and distracted...

but OH LAWDY, LAWDY...momma needs some sleep.

in other news. I'm old(er) today.

half a dozen people have told me how skinny I am in the last week (yes. I'm NOT FAT, but I wouldn't go so far as to throw the word "skinny" out there), but noone has seemed to mention my horrendous haircut, pale pallid skin, giant under eye circles and greenish undertones. oh yeah...and I think I'm getting shingles (ok, maybe its herpes, but either way...I think I need an orange and a glass of whole milk).

apparently you "look good" if you aren't overweight. looking old (which I finally do)...doesn't count when you weigh a bucktwenty. nice

I want a brownie sundae. its muh birfday. I should be able to have one.

NOT.

my bestest friend since fourth grade may very well be one of the bravest people on the planet. she's an MIT educated environmental engineer, high powered black american business consultant with a six figure income...

and she quit it all to open a decor store.

the grand opening of SukIo is tomorrow. she's dedicating it to my birthday.

I <3 her and must to go to DC to support her creative endeavors.

maybe when I get some sleep (one of these months)...I make some snazzy stuff for her to sell.

mosaic picture frames?
hand braided wall hangings?
sugar cookies?

ok. that's a little ambitious for the sukester...I'll put it on my list to e-mail her weekly encouragements and baby pics.

my neighbor (this is a wee bit disjointed, can you tell the baby's crying?) gave me a sparkly panda bear birthday card and a gift card. she's the sweetest. I'm almost sad to be moving away from her...granted it won't be far, but we typically give each other a call "gonna be outside to walk in 10 minutes. you in?"

we'll still hang...it'll just take more planning and motivation.

on second thought, she's got a 10 week old and I'm arm wrestling the prof...

I'll prolly see her again in 12 years.

my other neighbors are d-bags. I've "made up" with all of them, cleared the air and psuedo patched it up...but that's as far as I go.

the renters were going to cut down the owner's plants. we felt bad for the lil old lady who planted them at least a decade ago and offered to save some. the owners got mad, the renters threw us under the bus, the cops showed up, the owner's daughter got in oqui's face...I almost went to jail for assault.

but...I got to tell the renters today that selling us out when THEY failed to ask permission was (and I quote) "a dick move."

felt good to get off my chest...and now I don't give a shit what they do.

all I know is their dogs bark all fucking day, escape at least once a week and I'm always putting them back in the house so they don't die on the road.

score one for moving away.

(the baby is still crying. doooood STOP fighting the nap, yo)

have I mentioned that we didn't even get a counter offer for the house we're looking to buy?!>?!?!

very upsetting. I love that little house...but not enough to overpay for it.

so, chances are we're a'house hunting, again. (<-----teh suck)

but I'm feeling like everything happens for a reason...

and the reason, OBVIOUSLY, is that the bathroom was too damned small!

adoption day.

2009-08-12T11:54:00.001-04:00

this lil mofo has been working my last nerve like its his full-time job.

he must go.

I'll be reviewing bids in 24 hours.

come one, come all...come get this kid.

...brat.

boy, oh boy!

2009-08-07T10:21:00.001-04:00

I sure am glad nobody reads this...

that way I can go ahead and post nudie pics.

cutest baby on the innerwebs

2009-08-05T15:47:00.005-04:00

oh-niner

2009-07-30T10:53:00.002-04:00

I hereby deem 2009 the year of the baby arms.

I haven't had full use of mine own two arms since last november (and even then I couldn't exactly use my legs the way they were supposed to work).

I've always got a baby in them.

sometimes it gets a little frustrating...a wee bit overwhelming to watch my old life not so slowly and not too terribly quietly wither away...but I've made (mostly) peace with it.

climbing, riding and travelling are all fun...but I've been there, done that, and will get back to it.

his baby year is almost over. so fast. sooooo so so soso fast. it pretty much deserves my undivided attention.

and...that's what it gets.

my house is a dumphole. I look like shiznizzle and I'm so far out of "shape" it's almost comical.

people used to call me muskles.

haaaaaaaaaaaaahahahaha.

no.

the only time my calm gets rattled is when I worry if I may never get "it" all back. if I'm never fully suki-like, again. if I permanently lose my mosquito-like climbing style. if I throw up on a bike...but can't keep riding. if I'm never quite as sassy (in a good way....and not this sleep deprived semi-psychotic shit) again.

oqui assures me that it'll come back, but...

my arms are chubby. this doesn't sound like a big deal to many, I'm sure...but its kinda devastating to me to have a little chicken gobbler going on and not have the time/energy/inclination to go sweat it off.

not to mention pull-ups. I used to bang out 20 pull-ups with 20 pounds on my back. I was supa strong.

I'm not so sure I can do even one single pull up these days.

tragic.

I used to have abs. slightly used, somewhat damaged post (first) baby abs...

but six, seven or eight of them always available to run my hand over in times of self doubt (whoa! I'm not sure I can climb that. *rubs hand over tummy* relax...you've got ABS)

so, my plan is to stay calm. focus on the immediate goal (keeping the kid from bashing his head or falling off a cliff). stay POSITIVE about future prospects...

and sleep when able.

I wouldn't be surprised if I get a little softer before I firm up, again...

but I WILL get my muskles back.

eventually.

to oq with love

2009-07-28T12:02:00.002-04:00

dear oqui,

if you ever (ever ever ever ever) wake me up at 4:30 in the morning again because you're hot, I will shave your entire body, rub you with a savory spice mixture, shove a rod up your ass and out your mouth...

and roast you in the yard.

I was up THE ENTIRE MORNING after your lil' announcement of your uncomfortable body temperature.

I did NOT sleep through your fifteen alarms. I did NOT sleep through you kicking the child's toys around. I did NOT sleep through your shower, the ironing board creaking or the dogs licking their asses.

I really didn't sleep at all.

in the future, if you should happen to find yourself being a little too warm at night ( I WONDER WHAT THAT'S LIKE???) I'll thank you to very quietly extricate yourself from the room (without spilling your water or bitching audibly), take your skinny ass downstairs...

and adjust the fucking thermostat...

silently.

Thanks for your cooperation in this matter.

All my love,
Teh Suki

prescription

2009-07-27T16:04:00.002-04:00

talked to a counselor/therapist (what's the difference) today.

I think I've got the right chica for the job. she breastfed twins, was so exhausted she could hardly move and knows precisely where I'm coming from.

I rambled about miscellaneous and random stuff and once cried about my dying tree outback.

she ended it with, "you need sleep. you MUST sleep."

my lame ass reply was, "I'm trying."

and that I am. things don't get this out of hand for me without an effort to control them...I just can't seem to find or regain a rhythm that let's me relax enough to REST.

but...when I got home, I was totally anihilated so I asked the monkey to take the prof for a walk while I snoozed.

it was short and sweet...and now I'm worried like hell for my children, but I napped for the first time in...

don't know. long time.

I had some chili (deemed gluten free by the manufacturer's "safe" list). gonna have a little more chili...

then maybe another couple o' minutes o' nap.

not too bad, I must say.

not too bad.

exhaustion, thy name is suki

2009-07-25T12:34:00.002-04:00

fuckingfuck damn shit fuck cock ass fuck bitch whore slut fuck.

I'm tired.

the baby went complete retard last night and DID NOT SLEEP at all. we took turns hating him all night long.

at least four hours of screaming put a major dent on my "rest up" plan.

I'm toast. I feel like I'm walking through wet cement. I suddently want to start murdering shit, again.

not sleeping is not helping.

what I want to do right now = nap.
what I DON'T want to do right now = climb.

so, what are we doing, you ask??? going climbing.

fucking brilliant. the last time we hiked out to the quarry, I was destroyed before we got to the crag, fell on my first lead of the day (a 7 or 8)...tried a 10, got my ass handed to me in a bad way...and barely made it back out to the car...

only to be so far beyond exhaustion the whole next week that I was near psychosis.

why am I going, then, you ask?

duty. oqui "needs" to get out of the house (obviously more than I "need" to rest)...so I'm reluctantly (extremely reluctantly) sucking it up and taking one for the team. we met as climbers, and since he isn't the one actually feeling like his life is being sucked from his body on a regular basis...I can see how he doesn't quite understand where I'm at.

when they say that physical activity and exercise are good for depression...that's for people who actually get to sleep at night.

for me...

exhaustion piled on top of fatigue...

is just a fucking nightmare.

PPD FTL!

2009-07-24T12:48:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure why it's taken me so long to realize it...but I'm thinking I've got some pretty wicked post-partum depression going on.

I should've put my finger on it sooner. it happend when the monkey was about the same age. it got sooooo bad. soooo sooo bad. in hindsight, I'm pretty sure its why her father and I split up, in fact. but...I don't remember much about those days. I don't remember starting solid foods, her learning to crawl, when she first sat up, her first tooth...nothing. all blotted out of existence by my zombified state.

this time, it isn't so bad. I'm having "stability issues" (but if you read this blog, you already know that)...but I certainly don't want to off myself (not that I did then, either...that would've required too much enthusiasm) or have bad thoughts about the Prof. I'm happy with my baby...just kinda defeated about everything else.

but feeling better already knowing that I don't hate oqui, our relationship isn't doomed...I'm just dealing with some pretty nasty hormonal upheavals and need to sit tight and try to relax.

oqui and I have both done some reading on it. I really like the one book I'm reading that suggests that is entirely an ENDOCRINE issue NOT a mental health issue.

word, dawg. I'm not fucked in the head...just screwed in the hormones.

everything just seems to have slammed me at once. the eating. the vitamin deficiencies. the fatigue. the prof learning to crawl and forgetting how to sleep. the return of the hated auntie. nursing hormones. stress...

not a pretty combo, but certainly not the end of the world.

when I called the midwives to ask their suggestion I got REALLY angry (this is a frequent occurrence) at her reply.

me: I don't know why I didn't see it sooner.
her: yeah, we've been suspecting depression with you since early in your pregnancy.

thanks a million, bitch. in one breath you tell me to seek IMMEDIATE help and in the next you tell me that this has (in your opinion) been affecting me for over a year.

not gonna lie, I feel a little betrayed. did she have so little faith in my ability to deal to even broach the subject with me? just wrote me off as a bitch and left me out to dry.

so uncool...but on the flipside, I had an amazing delivery, am super bonded with the baby and he's doing REALLY well, so who gives a crap.

I won't take anti-depressants. not my style. even it comes down to the need for hormones...I'll go as far as progesterone. it won't affect the Prof while I'm nursing. no estrogen. no thyroid hormone...not until he's done nursing...

which, as far as I can tell...

is never.

's cool though. my boobs are gigantic (for me).

sooo sleepy

2009-07-21T13:51:00.002-04:00

whaaaaaat is up with me?

last night I feel like I finally got some (albeit interrupted, but) decent sleep. woke up feeling pretty durn good...well, the fourth time I woke up I felt ok. 4am, 5:30am, and 7:30am were a slightly different story.

I got up, did some chores, had a little sunflower seed butter on a rice cake (yes, I'm still eating reetee food), played with the Prof, was thinking how wonderful it is to see the world through well-rested eyes...

then hit a frickin wall.

sooooo sleepy, again. suddenly, my arms were too heavy to lift, the baby was just waaay too far away to chase and it was really incredibly and intensely hot in the house.

something's up. could be my diet. could be the drain and strain of nursing. could be summer. could be the blahs...

but it definitely feels like something physical. thyroid, maybe? the bad-ass return of big girl hormones? I think my stankbutt attitude is definitely a result of the physical fatigue...moreso than a cause.

so, again I say...whatup?

I'm just too tired to be accommodating. normally, oqui and I would go climb or ride off an argument, but these days he mentions a bike or a rope and I'm like...bitch, please. I'd have to stand up to do that.

I suppose a dietician and a gp are in order...

but...I don't feel like looking up the numbers.

blue's clues

2009-07-20T10:40:00.002-04:00

I said to the dogs, "behave! we're only going to be RIGHT NEXT DOOR. in fact, RIGHT OUTSIDE THIS WINDOW. don't do anything dumb...I can sense your energies."

gave them both dirty looks then left them there, uncrated, to stop in on the neighbors' barbeque.

an hour later...we came home to blue's clues.

the lil' son of a bitch had torn apart not one, but TWO pens (I'm convinced he ate the disposable first, and having not gotten the desired effect (of ink all over the house) dug through drawers, bookbags and attaches until he found a fountain).

living room rug- destroyed.
guest room carpet- stained.
master bedroom carpet- equally stained (yet strategically so, so as to set-up the innocent dog who usually sleeps there).

pawprints EVERYWHERE. (you gotta find the next pawprint. that's the second clue. then you put it in your notebook, cause they're whose clues? blue's clues)

oqui found the first trail leading into our bedroom and called down, "IT WAS COOKIE!" I asked him if she had any ink on her and found it strange that he replied no.

hmmm...pawprints abound, but no ink on the dog??? (then you find the last pawprint. that's our third clue. (blue's clues. blue's clues))

as oqui scrubbed his way through the house, I fed the baby (I ALWAYS feed the baby. feed the baby. feed the baby. nurse the baby. feed the baby. nurse the baby, etc).

he came downstairs (just loudly enough to wake the then sleeping baby) with a dog under his arm and an incriminatingly blue paw held high. (sit down in your thinking chair and think. think. thiiiiiink.)

suspect apprehended. (when you use your mind. take a step at a time. you can do...anything. that you wanna do)

he was tossed in the bathtub with no regard for his debilitating fear of it (he had it coming) and given the scrubbing of his life. and more scrubbing...and scrubbing, scrubbing...

long story short: the dog came somewhat clean, as did the hardwood. the rugs are toast (which certainly won't help me sell this house) and the dogs are goners.

but...it really was kinda funny.

if you don't have anything nice to say...

2009-07-18T12:32:00.004-04:00

say nothing at all.

hence my lack of blogging for the last week and a half or so.

I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I really don't like the way things are panning out.

I'm scared this isn't going to get better...

and, unfortunately, I'm almost at the point of not giving a fuck.

it's getting dangerous. I know it is because I don't even feel like talking about it, anymore. my rantings, ventings and ravings are my outlet. when I don't care enough to do that...

well, its nearing the point of not caring at all. the emotional shut-off valve.

if my words aren't being heard. my requests going unanswered. my pleas and concerns temporarily placated, but not resolved...eventually I'm going to stop trying.

we've entered the days of long walks...alone. phones on vibrate. lacking eye contact.

there's a pattern. one I'm not fond of. it's bad. I say I'm hurt. there's sympathy. its better. its bad again.

frankly, I'm getting tired of it. last night I told him (again) that I DO NOT ENJOY conflict. it IS NOT a release for me. I DON'T DO make-up sex...or make-up anything else, for that matter.

being impolite doesn't make me feel better about myself the next day. "having it out" only makes me not want to have "it" at all.

he doesn't believe me when I say he goes looking for trouble. that when he's frustrated he picks on me until the inevitable fight occurs...then he feels better.

I don't.

he better start believing me. he needs to listen.

I told him I'm not in the business of trying to change people. the choice is his how he wants to behave...but then the choice is mine whether or not I'm willing to live my life that way.

I've done the drama thing. sometimes by my choosing (bad relationship that lasted way too long) and for 15 years NOT of my choosing. I grew up in a household where the so-called adults had little or no emotional control. fits were common. displaced anger. unhealthy communication. I spent the first half of my life wishing I could leave.

I'm a big girl, now. If I have to...

I'll leave.

moving sale

2009-07-08T21:36:00.002-04:00

I'm getting rid of everything I'm not currently wearing or sitting on.

consider it a ritual cleansing.

I'm gonna blow the craigslist server.

EVERYDAMNTHING is going.

goinggoinggoinggoinggoing...going.

if you are in need of a particular item...chances are I have two or three in my basement, attic or shed.

place your requests.

everything goes.

end of the line

2009-07-06T16:05:00.002-04:00

well, folks...

that's it. we are officially and completely out of money. in fact, we're so out of money we're in the red. way red. super mega galactic red. we're so red its black and blue.

we gave it a good run and tried like hell to hang on to this house, but we're at the end of the line.

I'm not sure whether it'll be sold, foreclosed, bartered, traded or nuked...but I'm done pissing my kids' futures away on a mortgage that yields me absolutely NOTHING in equity.

the neighborhood is gorgeous and the schools are awesome...but when my daughter needs $2,000 worth of textbooks her first semester of college (god knows...by then they might cost more)...

I'll be damned if she has to borrow to buy them.

looking at apartments. reducing expenses. going to school.

making this future thing happen.

climbing like monkies

2009-07-06T09:56:00.002-04:00

I'm proud of my daughter.

she led her friend on a pretty fast-paced hike (including two hanging wire water traverses)...

to the crag.

she then reached the top of every climb we put her on...and asked to do it, again. (this had NOTHING to do with the ice cream bribery, I'm sure).

she hiked on out with a pack and a climbing rope on her back with an air of confidence I'm not used to seeing in her.

it was cool to see my kid handle herself with such self-assurance...

even cooler to see her climbing and carrying a rope.

...there is hope for her yet.

karmic bitch slap

2009-07-02T16:28:00.002-04:00

I need to realign my energies.

the universe is getting back at me.

for me...it tends to manifest itself in physical, more specifically, mechanical ways.

the volvo is in a bad way. after having the timing belt and water pump replaced less than a month ago, the something or other cam, hydraulic, exhaust crank whatchamajigger in close proximity to said belt, is now blown, as well.

blown on the way to west virginny, but I'm soooo not ready to talk about that disastrous fiasco, yet. maybe never.

on the way to pick up the dying grocery getter...a stone cracked oqui's windshield...

right in my face.

I saw it coming about 45 seconds before it happened. I knew.

I also know where this is heading. If I don't correct my cosmic swirl...this could get bad. really bad.

times of transition and indecision tend to bring about this energy for me.

I'm done trying to figure out the signs...I'm just gonna (very calmly) look inside, figure out what I WANT and project a positive future. I know how powerful my mind is. I delivered a baby in less than 3 hours with literally NO PAIN.

full moon is next tuesday. I can reign this in...I just have to relax.

wrong move

2009-07-02T00:39:00.002-04:00

what was supposed to be a quick drink and a song or two has turned into six hours at a concert with the boys...

while I'm at home with the baby...

when our relationship is at an extremely fragile juncture...

when we JUST HAD this fight three days ago...

when I'm feeling a bit insecure about this whole gig and he knows it...

bad move.

there's no way in hell I'm marrying someone so hell bent on acting like a bachelor.

I am soooo not the wait at home with the baby while her man parties type.

I'm half tempted to be gone before he gets home...only thing stopping me (in this as in all things) is the sleeping baby.

I'm over the arguing bit. I'm done with drama. I'm not gonna fight.

it was just a really bad fucking move.

2009-07-01T10:59:00.001-04:00

wedding's off.

better that way.

give it a whirl

2009-06-25T11:55:00.002-04:00

we're going to west virginny to "climb" this weekend.

taking both kids.

packing all my barely edible rice products.

hoping to avoid any and all contact with bees...

and gonna pretend I remember how to climb.

gonna be exhausting beyond all comprehension. next monday should be interesting...to say the least.

in the meantime I MUST start making invites and get a good start on the web-site.

time's a'wastin'

vegetable tray.

2009-06-23T13:43:00.001-04:00

first course:

holy shit

2009-06-23T13:37:00.002-04:00

people REALLY get into this whole wedding planning shit. so not my deal. I intentionally picked a date less than two months out so I can get it done, over with and look at the pictures when I'm feeling the need for a wedding fix.

seriously, I don't do details, and I'm not so good with stress (I function really well, but at the expense of the heads and necks of those around me)

there are about 40 bajillion bridal blogs out there.

women obsessed. its like they haven't gotten over the childhood wish to be princesses, fairies and daddy's little girl and are now acting it out on their poor fiance's.

lame.

fortunately for me...my mother is one of them and is doing all the legwork for this here shindig.

all I have to do is open my email several times a day and say yay or nay.

...we're getting alot of nays.

...and we're broke.

oh yeah. I still have a baby, am still getting ready for school, still hate my dogs and still want nothing more than to be rid of this house.

.

2009-06-23T00:13:00.000-04:00

oh man.

fuck this.

...vegas, again.

I'm cheap, I know it. I like to show it...

2009-06-22T14:18:00.002-04:00

called about the dream venue...cried, sighed, sobbed and begged.

got 25% off and some free rental equipment.

I have two months to plan and execute the perfect wedding for about 100 guests with a miniscule budget.

good thing I'm a crafty bitch.

I'm on it.

seek and ye shall find

2009-06-21T21:48:00.002-04:00

found a bigger barn.

love it.loveit. love. it.

can't afford it.

...thinking vegas.

toast

2009-06-20T00:33:00.002-04:00

no alcohol. no partying past sundown. nowhere to put my ginormous family.

actually, my family will fit just fine...as long as oqui's family doesn't come.

they don't really need to come. I don't like them anyway. and after all:

ITSMYWEDDINGMYWEDDINGMYWEDDINGMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE

so, theres my audition for bridezillas.

think I get the part?

really though...this planning thing SUCKS!

we're at the paring down of the guest list stage, and even after placing friends and relatives into three tiers and hacking off the bottom one...

his family's still there.

psych. I axed them and he doesn't know it yet.

...I need a bigger barn.

wedding. what? what?

2009-06-18T13:56:00.002-04:00

finally getting down to the business of planning a wedding.

whoa...

just, whoa.

looking at a fall ceremony. stone barn (oqui wants wood, but oqui aint paying an extra 6 grand, so he'll take what he gets and like it). blue grass band. fireplace. oranges, browns, golds...I think I'm getting close.

going to visit a venue tomorrow.

lets pray it doesn't suck.

the Prof is having a well-baby visit today...5 and 1/2 months late. I'm just not that interested in getting any more vaccinations right now (or ever) and don't feel like being pressured, but I am curious to see how his growth is...so I'm gonna pony up and arm wrestle the pediatrician.

hopefully, they don't ever-so-politely ask me to find another doctor.

he's been god awful cranky and sick for a few days, so I'm guessing his weight is not gonna wow them. "Mrs. Professor's mother, we really think you should consider formula...blah, blah, blah."

bite me, doc.

bite me.

octocock and the 2 inch penis

2009-06-17T13:27:00.004-04:00

floating in a sealed change jar on my dining room table is...

octocock.

yes, my daughter killed her goldfish by putting a lid on its jar and YES...she named it octocock.

she SAYS its a mixture of octopus and peacock...I think she's just fascinated with cheesy sex humor and was looking for an excuse to say the word cock.

either way...octocock smells like dead fish.

as for that 2 inch penis...

my neighbor's little boy came home from the NICU this week (he was born at 39 weeks weighing just over 4lbs) so we went on over to visit.

I happened to be standing nearby when she changed his diaper when I saw it...

HIS GIGANTIC HORSE COCK!!!

this baby is still less than 5 pounds and when she unloosed the restraints of his nappy, his monster johnson came unfolding out, rolled off the changing table, skipped across the nursery, high fived his dad, and smacked bryson in the face.

this thing is huge.

...my poor baby :(

I was inclined to think my boy was doing alright in the toolshed, but now I'm hoping he doesn't develop a complex based on the sheer girth of this 9 day old's gigantic dinger.

not to mention...

how am I supposed to look his dad in the eye (and not the package) now????

trust

2009-06-10T11:56:00.002-04:00

we got a late night text last night:

not feeling gud. cn u cm get me?

turns out, The Monkey was being pressured into sneaking out of a friend's house to hang with some (albeit hot but) creepy dudes in an unsavory neighborhood. she didn't like the sound of it and bailed.

my kid is awesome.

as a reward for telling us the truth and making the right call...she got to make a midnight visit to a nearby (male but totally not creepy) friend's house to play video games. of course, I made her take the dogs, a stungun and showed her some quick whoopass techniques.

if she thinks she's safe and can handle her surroundings...I'm starting to trust her judgement.

now...if I could only get her to clean her room.

return to sender

2009-06-08T21:47:00.001-04:00

Dear Mommy,

Give me the spoon. I can do it myself.

Love,
Teh Prof

-------

Dear Professor,

You missed.

Love,
The Floor

-------

Dear Floor,

Don't worry. We've got your back.

Love,
The dogs

--------

To whom it may concern,

How the hell did I get wrapped up in this mess???

Fuck you all,
The Rest of the House

2 cameras

2009-06-08T10:41:00.002-04:00

13 hours of driving.
1 father - estranged for 33 years.
1 brother - didn't know he had him until a few weeks ago.
several weeks in the making...

4 pictures. all of them of the Prof trying to steal the car.

we're prolly gonna regret the lack of pictures later.

overall the road trip a la bebbe' to meet the "fam" went really well. no tears, no punches thrown and lots of playing with the baby. the only minor freak out was mine (shocker, I know)...when overwhelmed with a dozen psuedo-relatives pawing up my child...next to a table of food I couldn't touch.

time out. reload. much better.

we saw some of the less savory parts of rhode island (most of it), stayed in an uber fancy hotel (house keeping. you wan' me fluff you pillow?), stopped in Newport on the way home and pretty much had a good weekend away.

nobody fell asleep at the wheel and the Prof cried less than an hour total over the course of 4 days...40 minutes of which occurred at one shot when we tried to get him to sleep in a playpen in the hotel.

he's an awesome baby. already back on normal schedule and napping happily away whilst I unpack and unwind.

oqui's brother and wife are great. climbers, mountain bikers, skiers, ice climbers, mountaineers. live in new mexico.

guess who's checking flights already?

we managed to squeeze a little climbing into the trip. once at an uptight, super soft indoor gym (I was throwing down 10's like it was my full time job) and once outside in the mosquito breeding grounds of Lincoln Woods. there was a creepy photog guy there snapping shots...if I find anything good on his website (ie. a picture in which my ass looks stellar)...I'll post it up.

so in the course of one weekend we managed to gain a brother and sister in law (and their psuedo stepdaughter who is the baby whisperer), a father and step-mother...and about 43 quasi siblings.

not too shabby...

just a little loud.

my baby's cuter than yours is

2009-06-03T14:50:00.006-04:00

pre-pea

post-pea

pea shooter

*zoink*

he LOVES tags. tags, tags, tags. he's a tag seeking missile.

I could've saved a bundle at the "tags only" store

first baseball game. iron pigs and Paw Sox. he was AWESOME

feets.

wh, wh...what...what'cha got there, dad?

now, look what you made me do!

2009-06-03T14:38:00.003-04:00

don't let a bitch get bored...

at least not with "spike glue" on hand.

that ISN'T the middle finger. I was making the metal sign...swear.

(PS. I totally used to be photogenic.)

he made a funny

2009-06-01T14:45:00.001-04:00

yesterday that monkey offered to watch the Prof while oqui and I went grocery shopping.

oqui said, "NO WAY!!! We need him as a buffer so we don't kill each other."

so very true...

and pretty funny.

no siree bob.

2009-05-30T23:07:00.002-04:00

we are totally not getting along.

nope. nuh uh. no way, no how.

surprisingly, its really not as fun as it might sound.

I'm over blaming it on "baby days"...that's a cop out. The kid is cute and we should be enjoying this...together. Instead, we're bitching, moaning, whining and nagging (and by "we" obviously I mean him). there are some core attitude and character issues here. discrepancies. disconnects. conflicts.

the true culprit must be identified and anihilated...

cause, quite frankly, this shit is getting old.

the boss o' me

2009-05-28T17:03:00.002-04:00

oqui wants me to get a part-time job.

yessir!

I'ma gemme a job, make us some money and laugh OUT LOUD when I come home from work at night to find oqui sprawled on the floor and drooling with the Prof's foot (and/or pee) in his eye.

he has no idea what he's in for. every time I leave him with the baby for a 45 minute run to the grocery store he gives me 'tude for three days following. (by "he" I actually mean the older of the two brats...this time)

I'm bored. I'd LURRRRVE to get my ass outta this house and off boob duty for a few hours a week, but the man has been forewarned...

if he gives me attitude or starts exercising his "moods"...

I'ma cut his face off.

out on a limb

2009-05-28T15:07:00.003-04:00

would it be too much to ask for another set of arms?

I'd settle for an extra foot and two more thumbs.

anything. please.

the kid is driving me fruity.

skillz

2009-05-27T16:02:00.002-04:00

we have recently acquired the ability to roll onto our tummy within 3.25 seconds of being put down to nap or sleep regardless of any measure mommy takes to prevent it (and I don't want this to get out, but I'm pretty sure I heard whisperings of duct tape and extension cords)...

we have NOT, however, acquired the consistent ability to roll back onto our back,

nor have we gained the necessary patience or skill to remain asleep on said tummy.

in other words...we're fukt.

puke, scream, whine

2009-05-18T21:46:00.001-04:00

well. that was short lived.

I am hereby (re)relegated to turkey and rice.

...but it sho was fun.

helloooooooo! out there

2009-05-18T13:17:00.002-04:00

I should really post more. I get the feeling noone is actually reading, but I told myself I'd chronicle the prof's days (at the very least) in my blog.

he's cool. he's really really cool.

he smiles and jibber jabbers and flirts and grabs things and laughs when he farts and all that good stuff.

recently he rediscovered his fingers and toes. they twirl, spin, clench, open, grab and apparently are really tasty.

it's wicked cute.

he's really big into his body right now. he twists and bends and curls and stretches. he's not doing anything too much like crawling but he's approximating a pretty good squirm.

so fast. growing so fast.

he still screams bloody murder and gets hysterical when I leave him with my grandmother and he happens upon hungry. oqui thinks I should try to work a little bit. I think oqui's nuts. not going to school in the fall...probably not going this summer, either.

hungry babies are sad babies. I don't want to leave my baby with someone else to get hungry.

speaking of hungry...can I just say amen, hallelujah and holy shit?

yes. holy shit.

I've stumbled upon digestive enzymes and the ability to eat almost anything in eensy weensy quantities.

chickpeas? yup.
chocolate? yup.
cheesestick? ok...that was pushing it and we had some puke and green poo over it...but I'm still feeling pretty spiffy about this morning's sunflower seed butter experiment.

I ate chinese food and my child didn't die.

woot.

we bailed out on the rendezvous. 20 hours of travel 4 nights in a tent and upwards of 40% chances of rain each day.

no thank you.

I got the report that there were other babies there and I felt like a total chickenshit. but...oh well. I'm a somewhat well-rested chickenshit who took a shower or two this weekend.

I don't reek of hippy and my kid is still on a somewhat normal sleep schedule.

win-win.

I'm feeling a wee lil bit inspired (oqui likes to call these days "AC" for after chocolate. it's trully the nectar of the gods). I've got a giant painting project. gonna snazz up some cheapy craigslist furniture and deck out a playroom...

then I'll finish my mother's day photo frames, resew the curtains I mismeasured and screwed royally, maybe (just maybe) clean out my craft cabinet and potentially make some...

pretty stuff.

I'm not getting too carried away here...just being optimistic.

so far I've "wasted" 72 minutes of precious nap painting time...eating, peeing, blogging and oqui'ing (I really do love that he comes home to see us for lunch every single day)...

must to focus.

must to create.

all clear, but still a lil foggy

2009-05-05T19:41:00.003-04:00

the prof's eeg was normal. the nurse said, "it isn't seizures...it's prolly just -his way-"

HAHAHAHAHA

so my child isn't epileptic...just a spazz. I could've called that one without 26 electrodes and 45 minutes of blood curdling screams. it runs in the blood...my 13 year old caught it, too (more on that when I'm not disgusted with her grades and choice in boys).

right now the prof is screaming his ever loving head off. he's REALLY not feeling well...at all.

been having boo boo belly for 3 days, now. it's getting old...for all of us.

he wants to eat food SOOOO badly. he mouths and drools whenever I eat and gnaws on his hand after he's done nursing. he's totally not satisfied with just milk, and is starting to balk at rice cereal.

the kid aint dumb. he wants tater tots. I just wonder when (if ever) he'll be able to eat like a normal child/human. if he has celiac's disease...gluten is a no-no forevah. forevah-evah? forevah.

damn.

what will he smear all over his face at his first birthday??? organic applesauce and rice cereal?

fun.
yum.

meanwhile, I want to eat taquitos and rice and beans like nobody's fucking business, but I'll have to settle for rice milk, watermelon and the occassional Puffin.

I'm getting sick of Puffins.

I'm getting sick of chicken...and turkey...meat in general, really. If I could eat beans, nuts and seeds you'd be reading the true tales of an involuntary vegan (I do so love me some dairy) and I'd be exchanging recipes with long-haired folks (men and women alike) who smell ever so faintly of aging volkswagen bus and patchouli.

I want a cookie. a real cookie.

then I want to take a bath in chocolate.

real.dark.chocolate.

fuck. now I'm hungry...and horny.

QoD

2009-04-30T22:34:00.002-04:00

this was the question of the day yesterday, posed by my 13 year old daughter:

What would your ideal life be?

me: this one...with a little more money.

I think she might've been slightly disappointed that I didn't say something like astronaut or supermodel, and frankly, I'm a bit surprised that I didn't mention naps or brownie sundaes.

the moral of the story? I'm exhausted and drained...

but pretty much loving my life.

in other news:

-babies do NOT like having 26 electrodes attached to their scalps for brain wave monitoring. he cried so hard during the set up we started to think he'd never trust us again...then he smiled and fell asleep. regardless of what the neurologist says his EEG shows...at least we know he still loves us.

-got the jogging stroller (that we've been researching for weeks) and immediately realized he's a bit wobbly for it. ordered padding and strap covers rush delivery...only to realize the forecast calls for rain for the next 4 days. prolly coulda saved that extra coin for my brownie sundae in a few months.

-hurt my back. hurt my thumb worse. I've got ibuprofen and ace bandages...just glad to be climbing again.

-I don't love my dogs any more. not at all. somebody please take them. soon. thanks.

the "s" word

2009-04-24T17:36:00.001-04:00

yesterday the Prof had three of what were very likely seizures.

he's scheduled for an EEG on tuesday.

I think he's fine. I feel he's fine. I BELIEVE he's fine...

but it still scared me shitless and left me crying hours later.

protecting babies is busy work.

cold french fries

2009-04-21T18:01:00.002-04:00

do you feed a hungry man on the street?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers if he's with a large group of wanna be hippies with nothing better to do than taunt the police?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers if he's with a large group of wanna be hippies with nothing better to do than taunt the police and obviously has the money to get high and drunk?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers if he's with a large group of wanna be hippies with nothing better to do than taunt the police and obviously has the money to get high and drunk and has done so recently?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers if he's with a large group of wanna be hippies with nothing better to do than taunt the police and obviously has the money to get high and drunk and has done so recently who yells at your daughter and your friends?

do you feed a hungry man on the street who doesn't quite ask, but moreso demands your leftovers if he's with a large group of wanna be hippies taunting the police and obviously has the money to get high and drunk and has done so recently who yells at your daughter and your friends and then goes on to make rather loud assumptions about your political affiliation?

or do you promise to plaster him on the building front with your second hand volvo if he ever threatens your people, again?

I did neither...and I'm actually a bit disappointed in myself. first, I was a bit upset with myself for not just giving the d-bag the food. I mean...if a dood is hungry enough to (angrily) beg for our leftovers in front of his posse...he's prolly pretty hungry.

but something about him rubbed oqui the wrong way and he told the monkey not to give him the food. I didn't understand his motivation at the time, but I trust him so backed him up. three seconds later I felt guilty.

then I talked with the 'pah and the kid about it (separately, cause the convos had decidedly different tones) and got more and more angry every time I thought about it.

this motherfucker punked me. he threatened my family and called out my kid on the street and I didn't fucking stab him. never mind the initial guilt about ignoring a hungry man (oqui was right. he's the wrong kind of hippy)...now I'd like a redo so I can cut this bitch.

so now here I am...thinking I'm all sorts of tough, and I froze. I couldn't decide in the moment how I really felt about the situation and just...walked away.

turning the other cheek isn't exactly my forte and I kinda feel like a lil bitch for having let it happen.

if that particular mallrat sans mall happens to be in our path the next time we go to the Gunks (oh, yeah...we took the prof on his first climbing trip, btw. and besides the cold fry dood, it went FABULOUSLY)...I'm prolly gonna have to be bailed outta jail.

teh suki will not be made the bitch twice.

...bitch

2009-04-17T10:20:00.004-04:00

I am coming up on just about 8 months without a full night's sleep and a year and some change of my body being completely whacked out and not my own.

first it was the pea sized pregnant bladder and the cold as ice toilet seat...now its the waking up, feeding diapering and strangling of one incredibly stubborn infant several times a night.

I'm coming apart at the seams in every possible meaning (literal or colloquial).

this aint working.

my brain is fried. I'm trying to study for an examination in a few weeks and can't get beyond the first sentence in every paragraph. gonna take a cruise on the fail ship on this one, I'm sure.

my body is toast. sooooooo weak. so so so so weak. no likey. I'm used to being able to compensate for, uhhh...'not so great' technique with brute strength. when you weigh 120 and can do 20 pull-ups with 20 pounds on your back...usually a little thing like shitty footwork doesn't throw you off too much. not these days. I don't have the heart to even attempt a pull-up, let along a sketchy over-hung climb.

it hurts. it hurts bad.

now my daily walks are starting to kick my ass. how can a lazy stroll around the hood pushing a carriage at a pregnant woman's pace (my neighbor and walking partner is 7 months) totally obliterate me? I'm starting to avoid the tiny lil "hill" up the avenue back to my house. going around 4 blocks so I don't get winded and/or collapse?

weak sauce.

yesterday I nearly hit the deck at the grocery store (why's it always the grocery store???). I forgot to eat every 23 minutes and realized while pushing the cart that it was the only thing holding me up. I was shaking, had trouble focusing my eyes and realized after about 25 minutes that I was walking up and down each aisle going, "nope. can't eat that. can't eat this. can't eat that, either. nope....can't...nope. you're killing mommy. mommy's gonna die. can't eat...sleep...nope, nope..."

at that point it finally clicked. no. you CAN'T eat that...so pay for what you've got in your basket and get your nearly hallucinating ass home to have some rice and turkey...bitch.

the problem I'm having with all this...is that I can't push through. it doesn't work. when I get to the push point and give myself a shove...I've got nothing (NOTHING) in the tanks. it's "unnerving" (aka really pisses me off) that my physical and mental states are so far beyond my control that I can't knuckle down and make something happen.

14 months of draining the reserves.

I'm beat. I need sleep. I need more foods. I need a glass of milk and an english muffin with peanut butter.

nursing is seriously fucking me up. i'm over it. emotionally, physically, psychologically...OVER IT. unfortunately the prof is not, and since I'm not in the business of creating intentional psychological scars for innocent and unsuspecting babies...I'm gonna have to suck it up (or let him suck me dry) just a little while longer. (at least I tell myself its only a little while...but in reality...it'll feel like an eternity)

HOWEVER I am taking a hardline with him on the one thing I can. I KNOW he's capable of sleeping 8 hour stretches...so the next time (probably tonight) that he decides to wake up every hour and a half...

I'm not having it.

I've got one word for him:

Ferberize...bitch.

(ok. that's two...but bitch isn't particularly substantive, and was really just an afterthought. I don't usually call the boy bitch...although...I often think it.)

the gravity game

2009-04-14T11:17:00.002-04:00

there was a time in my life when the term "gravity game" could have meant any number of things OTHER than "fetch, mommy, fetch!"

perhaps a 40 foot upside down, bash your shoulders against the rocks whipper? maybe a "discussion" with the ground just beyond an overly large log? perhaps even a reference to the difficulty with which one stays upright after one too many cosmos?

but these days, it definitely means that the Prof is figuring out physics...and his mother.

just for fun, I'm gonna wait until he's got this whole dropping thing thoroughly figured out...then tie a helium balloon to his ankle.

take that, brand new baby brain!

in other news, the holidays were mostly hilarious. my mother dredged up a lifetime of resentment and drama for which I was undeniably thankful. hearing my mother refer to her own mother as a self-serving, selfish, self-centered whore loving bitch who hates her own grandchildren and is now trying to steal my mothers...worked wonders for breaking up the monotony of oqui's mother's three day visit.

I kinda like the woman, but she WAS in my house, WAS breathing my air, WAS taking up my space and most definitely WAS blow drying her hair at 8 o'clock saturday morning. having ample reason to take a little solo walk to talk to my own crazy ass mother was refreshing.

this isn't a suprise, though. crazy usually is funny.

as usual, holidays or any other social eating is really annoying to me. I got to watch people actually put gravy on gramma's turkey from the crypt, while I had to choke (literally) it down dry. butter on the potatoes? no.

cake, cookies, rice krispie treats, danish, corn, milk, the delicious, fabulous wonder (cause I made it) fruit dip? no. no. no. no. no.

the food thing is starting to be a major point of contention in this house. I really don't know how much longer I can keep eating like this. I'm weak, tired and indescribably grumpy whenever I smell something yummy.

the prof is thriving, though. rashes gone. weight gaining. strong as an ox.

before I know it, he'll be dousing his own turkey in gravy and enjoying the fruit dip.

the lighter side of tired

2009-04-06T14:40:00.002-04:00

so, yeah...I'm still tired.

but, at least I'm happy (as long as the lights are on and there's no boogeymen, vampires, werewolves, or other night critters meandering about in my brain).

the sunshine is an amazing thing (I'm tired). It's like the prof and I have emerged from our psuedo-hibernation, are venturing outta the cave and playing with butterflies for the first time.

it's fun...but I'm tired.

today is rainy, and I'm actually thankful for that...if it were sunny, I'd be compelled to take one of our two hour afternoon walks, go climbing tonight and just dig myself deeper into an energy deficit. the fact that its soggy gives me ample excuse to stay in my night shirt (minus the ghost voices, creepy feeling and general scared shitlessness of the actual night).

the sun has melted a few pounds off of me and I can almost see the return of some muscle going on...

perhaps that's why I'm so tired? (nope. I'm going with boogeymen on that one)

maybe I'll take a little nap, sweep the cobwebs outta the corners (highly unlikely, that involves moving about in a controlled fashion), burn a candle or two and throw some sea salt on the thresholds so I can SLEEP without vicious nightmares.

I like my brain. I'd like to leave it intact for a few more years or so. besides, last time I got too scared to go pee in the middle of the night I sold the house only 6 months after buying it.

since the market isn't exactly such that this bitch can be sold...I'm gonna have to find a way to put a lid on the creepies.

out of curiousity...am I making any sense?

nope?

figures...I'm really tired.

dear diary,

2009-04-06T14:36:00.002-04:00

today I'm tired. yesterday I was tired. tomorrow, I'll most likely be tired.

it's only partially the prof's fault. he does the waking up part, but I'm just incapable of the falling back asleep bit. I'm given this some thought...kinda. the brain is in energy conservation mode...and have come to the conclusion that I'm just too tired to sleep.

every night my dreams get scarier and scarier...and I'm now afraid to leave the bedroom alone in the middle of the night. 31 and a half with night terrors. this is gonna get bad.

I foresee a psychotic breakdown in the near future...

lets hope its a happy one.

Teh (tired) Suki

more good news...

2009-04-01T23:14:00.002-04:00

psych.

I'm in an abysmal mood.

the prof lost half a pound in the last 5 days (babies are NOT supposed to lose weight btw), he's covered in two separate rashes and we're no closer to resolving his "feeding issues."

in fact, we've just created issues between us in regards to it.

awesome.

I don't know a damn thing about money or taxes other than we missed the boat on assuming this mortgage without paying a shitload of settlement fees by a mere 4 months.

again...awesome.

I still can't eat ice cream, it rained today, my daughter has a pot smoking boyfriend and my boobs hurt.

I'm ready to pack my shit and hit the bricks. let someone else dig out of this god awful mess...

momma needs a tan.

flip me over. I'm done on this side.

2009-03-26T10:23:00.002-04:00

10pm last night: ready for bed. realized the grocery getter needs to be dropped off for (overdue) inspection. awesome.

10:10: look for the monkey to see if she can babysit the prof while we go. find her passed out on the couch. dead asleep.

10:12: get dressed. pack up the prof. not HATING my life, but certainly not LOVING it, either.

10:30: back from dropping off the car. monkey still asleep on couch. me: you need to go downstairs now. her: mmmmfffapahf me: come on. time to go to bed. her: I KNOOOOOW! (with a teenage attitude)

10:30: me: if you don't get your narrow ass off of this couch and down to bed I'm going to rip your face off and eat it in front of your friends! don't you DARE give me an attitude, girlfriend. I'll end you.

10:31: the monkey goes downstairs. I go upstairs to feed the prof and put him to bed.

10:32: my nipples are in excruciating pain. I hate the world and I'm seriously considering joining Al Queda so I can kill shit.

10:45: hear the monkey's music BLARING through three stories of house. proceed to go down there and threaten her life. find music source 6 inches from her head and her...still fast asleep. I hate her just a little.

10:50: sit on couch to relax before bed. eat bowl of rice cereal with rice milk. I hate rice.

11:00ish: Oqui is ready for bed. we go up. he's asleep before I finish peeing.

11:30: still trying to sleep. awesome.

11:50ish: fall asleep.

2:45am: prof wakes up. go in to feed him. remember that I'm in excruciating pain. make mental note to join the irish republican army, too.

3:30ish: back in bed. trying to fall asleep.

4:00: sleeping...until oqui starts yelling in his sleep. add to mental list that joining an ground combat unit of the american armed forces seems like a splendid idea.

4:30: oqui yelling in sleep

5:00: oqui yelling in sleep

5:14, 5:27, 5:32: oqui yelling in sleep

5:45: prof wakes up again. I hate my life.

6:15: done feeding the prof (nipples on fire), ready for sleep. prof reminds me (with an audible fart) that he has yet to figure out the whole toilet thing.

6:20: done changing the prof. REALLY ready for sleep. prof decides he'd rather hold conversation with his toes. great.

6:50: still playing with his toes.

6:57: I've had enough of this shit. unceremoniously plop the prof in the crib and decide its daddy's turn.

6:58: tell daddy its his turn. get attitude.

7:00: fuck it. I'm going back to sleep, let them figure it out for themselves.

7:03: oqui's alarm goes off for the 15th time in the last hour. I'm so beyond angry at this point, I decide it best to feign sleep lest I land myself in the slam for manslaughter.

7:20: oqui returns from his shower to start opening and slamming drawers and closets, banging the iron and ironing board around and just generally not giving a fuck that I've been up for almost two hours.

7:21-7:58: I seethe and fume.

8:00ish: I fall asleep, again.

8:45: phone rings.

8:46: phone beeps for voicemail.

9:14: phone rings again. I answer with every intent of ascertaining the caller's location so that when I wake up...I can go and kill them.

9:15: find out the grocery getter needs tires. me: didn't I get them last year? him: I dunno. me: whatever, just put the fucking things on.

9:15 and 40 seconds: hang up on him.

9:20: still not back to sleep. send oqui text. car needs tires. $550. ready tomorrow.

9:21: phone rings. oqui: bitch, bitch, bitch. moan. seethe. roar. me: I'm sleeping. oqui: check the file for tire receipts! I'm not buying more tires! blah, blah, blah. me: I'm still sleeping. oqui: bitch, bitch, bitch.

9:23: get out of bed (extremely angrified) to check file. no receipt OF COURSE because its in the fucking car.

9:25: baby wakes up from me digging in the files.

9:30: text to oqui. the exact wording escapes me, but it definitely conveyed the fact that I pretty much hate his ever loving guts, despise my life and want, very badly, to murder something...oh yeah...and that the receipt wasn't in the file.

10:44: exhausted...with those floaty thingies on the periphery of my vision. hungry...still hating rice. still in excruciating, mind numbing pain. seriously considering packing a couple of pairs of clean undies and some contact solution and disappearing for a few days...or as long as it takes to get a little sleep...

and possibly some fucking respect for what I'm doing around here.

how long, exactly, does "never gonna happen" take?

2009-03-25T21:30:00.001-04:00

I am sincerely hoping that these things:

work.

the prof can tolerate eggs!!!!

2009-03-11T15:58:00.001-04:00

I'm not at all deterred by the fact that I can't.

that is all.

no modest mouse for a suki

2009-03-09T15:58:00.003-04:00

the child...is seriously in love with the tata.

no bottles. no cups. no straws. no break.

oqui and the monday night old schoolers (including another Sukey, so I guess my title should've been "no modest mouse for THIS suki) are going to see modest mouse on saturday...and I can't go.

not that I want to go, I actually despise the music, but I'd like to be ABLE to go...

but unless the venue has a "mother's room" for pumping and we suddenly find a lactating babysitter...I'm shit outta luck.

in other news:

I'm currently on the fit diet. actually...that's the f-it diet.

fuck it.

I'm eating anything I want (as long as it doesn't contain gluten, dairy, nuts, soy or berries)...and seeing what shakes out.

so far, not too bad. we've had a few green poos and a bit of crying, but the Prof has also slept 8 hours straight the last two nights.

did I mention that I also lost 5 pounds? I hit the new mother lotto. I'm a bajillionaire.

apparently, all it took was a few (previously suspect) vegetables in my diet.

who'da thunk it?

vegetables make you healthy...and don't actually kill you (or your baby) instantly.

*le gasp*

giving this alot of thought

2009-03-04T14:38:00.003-05:00

I can't seem to figure out what is actually making the Prof sick.

my list of inedibles is ridiculously long, even for this with ridiculously long lists of inedibles.

OBVIOUSLY I'm doing something wrong.

the concept is simple; eliminate all things from your diet that make the baby sick...

then, add things back in one at a time, figuring out what is tolerable and what isn't.

I've been going for two months...or more. who can tell time in turkey and rice?...and have only been able to successfully reintroduce a few things. so many variables.

this is hard.

It took me alot of time to figure out my vitamins, now we're figuring out his meds, and all of a sudden there's a skin rash that makes me think my dogs need a one way ticket to get-the-fuck-out-of-heres-ville.

I do think I might be onto something with gluten, though. alot of our prior failed experiments may've "failed" because of me being an idiot about gluten...apparently, its in EVERYTHING. now I know...kinda, and I'll try those, again.

I also found today that some babies (despite the pediatrician's most sincere assurance to the contrary) have reactions to their vitamins. breastfed babies are supposed to have a supplement for those vitamins that don't pass through the milk. what's a suki supposed to do about that???

so all in all I'm completely flabbergasted, still want ice cream and ate some canned corn to see what happens.

wish us luck.

my momma and the $85 mystery seed

2009-03-02T15:26:00.004-05:00

I love my mom. she made me a super-special-stop-starving-and-barfing-on-gross-food-meal on saturday.

she spent thursday and friday researching and shopping and all day saturday cooking.

I felt human again...all on seven ingredients.

the menu included:
-organic gluten free roasted whole turkey (can you say leftovers?)
-mashed sweet potatoes with olive oil and sea salt
-baked apples and pears

and the piece de resistance...super yummy rice pudding.

it was like christmas (during which I couldn't eat any yummies), new years (during which I couldn't drink), valentine's day (no chocolate for me) and christmas again (what does a suki want? the gift of food) all rolled, baked, wrapped and stirred into one.

I think I gained five pounds and I don't give a surly rat's ass.

I just finished up my left-over turkey and will be done with the rice pudding in....(counting) three and a half bites.

how good to have a belly full on something that doesn't taste like horse piss.

amen, mother....

amen.

as for that mystery seed...apparently it snuck its way into our dishwasher's filter, causing Cap'n Ass Crack to come on out and "git 'er done."

$85 later he pulled up his pants (thank god) and produced the offending nougat. we can not for the life of us identify it.

I'm hoping it's of this planet and not some sort of pod thingy...

and that Cap'n 'Crack doesn't have to visit us, again, for a while.

it's rather unnerving when he knows my appliances so well that his first statement upon opening the cabinet is, "oh. I see you got a new garbage disposal."

fuck. me.

2009-02-26T17:24:00.002-05:00

I haven't had a vegetable since sunday. before that it was a month.

I'm weak, tired, miserable and FUCKING HUNGRY.

the kid is not much better off.

we switched his meds, which, besides tasting like horse piss and being majorly traumatic to administer, don't start working for almost two weeks. so that's one possible reason he's sick as shit.

the others include:
-he's incapable of eating or tolerating ANYTHING
-he's sick in a transient fashion. (like his father)
-he's still reacting to my rogue vegetable experiment
-his reflux is peaking

either way. this blows and quite frankly...

I'm feeling rather persecuted.

2009-02-25T22:53:00.001-05:00

!!!!!I WANT FOOD NOWWWWWW!!!!!!

ok. so, uhm...yeah

2009-02-25T14:29:00.002-05:00

just got a call about teaching GED classes at night.

two hours per class, two classes per week. the hourly rate is reasonable...

but, but, but...

can I actually commit to leaving my house, the Prof and more importantly MY PAJAMAS twice a week?

yeah. I can. even though oqui obviously has a very low opinion of the work (you need to write a resume for that? they're GED classes...who cares? etc)...I think its kind of noble.

I'm realistic about the fact that a GED isn't going to get someone their dream job, but if you've been trying and CAN'T pass that test...imagine how important a goal it is for you.

I hope that the classes are small and that I can help each personally individually...

or at least try.

porta-baby

2009-02-23T14:43:00.004-05:00

the Prof had a busy weekend (and subsequently...so did we).

we went shopping friday night.
saw the cranial sacral therapist saturday morning.
went to a cocktail party saturday night.
and went to the climbing gym and grocery shopping on sunday.

he did really well until that last bit. there are limits to his patience and tolerance...and it appears that he just isn't going to tolerate a climbing gym.

ha! figures...that's the one place I want to hit most often.

I'm weak and found climbing waaaaaaaaay harder than I remember. harder than I can even imagine remembering. harder than when I first started, even.

I'm chalking it up to nursing hormones, lack o' sleep and an awful diet.

I hereby give myself one whole year to regain my former strength. I initially gave myself 4 months (2 of them recovery and 2 to start whooping ass, again)...but it just aint working out that way.

the Prof says no. I have no choice but to oblige. it's not entirely his fault, though. I'm incapable of focusing on more than one major life "thing" at a time...and since baby comes first, training and "going hard" will have to go later.

I can't focus on pushing the envelope when my boobs are leaking and the baby's whining. when I climbed before, I put my whole entire being into it. I climbed until I ached...and I did it frequently (funny that I was still just average at it any way, huh?). I was happy when it was a lifestyle for me, but I'm not feeling it so much as an afterthought...hence the year.

I figure in a year, he'll be slightly less demanding of my energies and I can finally take a day here and there to go get bloodied up. I used to define my life through climbing. I didn't go to school because it would cut into my climbing time. I wouldn't commit to family functions because if the weather was good I was going to be out of town. I was happy with those trips being my central focus.

I miss it, but its worth the sacrifice (at least at this very moment, while he's napping)...

but I'm not gonna lie...I feel a little empty without pursuing a physical passion (not sex, you fiends). martial arts, skiing, figure skating, climbing, and to a lesser extent, riding have all played major roles in my physical and emotional well-being in the past. not having a life sport is kind of a drag.

I could take some lame ass kickboxing classes or join a faggy gym...but fitness alone isn't what I'm trying to get out of this. I always found "hitting the gym" a poor excuse for "honing my skills." I want to train for the sake of getting better at something, attaining a physical goal...

not just to tighten up my ass and loosen up my jeans.

so, I guess I'll just have to keep eating rice and turkey, being pudgier than I'm comfortable and wait out the winter...and the baby.

I can always get back into those 3's, and more importantly, get my muskles back, later.

...who knows, maybe the lil' booger will LOOOOOVE going to the crags?

multi-blog

2009-02-20T14:16:00.002-05:00

many an update to make...so little desire to be sassy (not because I'm in a bad mood, quite the opposite. I'm in a pretty durn good mood and want to run some errands).

the Prof saw the GI doc this week. mixed feelings there. she wants to "scope him." both ends. he would need to be sedated for this, and I'm not particularly cozy with that. the whole procedure is aimed at confirming that he suffers from food allergies.

duh, bitch. you don't need to knock my kid out and stick something up his ass to verify that one...

but she insists that she does. I was adamantly opposed. now I'm kind of on the fence. her most convincing argument is that he doesn't look like an allergic baby. he's thriving, and they're usually scrawny and sickly.

score one for my god-awful diet.

instead of scheduling a medical procedure, I've scheduled him for cranial sacral therapy and some energy work. let's see where some wise old women can get us, first.

in other news:

-I got clipless pedals and cleats. now all I need are some shoes that don't make me want to stab myself, either because they hurt like the dickens, they're ugly as sin or they cost 3 million dollars.

yes, those high-end cycling shoes are very impressive, but I'll be lucky to get out once a week for the next 10 or 12 years of my life and $300 (on clearance) isn't in my galaxy...let alone my price range.

do you have anything in a Ked or Bobo?

-I've gained 5 pounds eating nothing but rice, turkey and apple sauce. I'm going to shoot somebody if this trend continues...

-we went out to eat last night. I spent 30 minutes with the kitchen manager trying to figure out what I might be able to eat that wouldn't send the Prof into seizures and ended up with a salad with vinegar and oil, sliced turkey breast, plain baked potato and some bacon bits.

no sooner did I get the last bite of food in my mouth then I felt deathly ill. my body has forgotten how to eat food.

as oqui said last night...as we introduce foods to the Prof, we'll be reintroducing them to me.

mmmmm...beef baby food.

- the Prof is sleeping fairly well, again.

I'd like to thank the inclined crib wedge, air vent sleep positioner, wear a blanket sleeper and oqui's white noise machine.

5 hours a stretch. yes, please and thank you kindly.

- I've been watching the food network like its my job. I should probably quit.