The Return of Mr. BoJangles.

I am the poster child for someone who should probably be medicated...either that or I just have extremely bad karma. I haven't decided yet.
Alone. That one word means so much to me right now. I feel alone. I fear alone. I see people on the streets alone, and wonder if that will be me in fifteen, twenty or forty years. I wonder if I will have someone to come home to, someone to cook for, someone to hug me, or someone to sit around and say nothing with.
Last night I was faced with an issue I thought I had dealt with. Mr. BoJangles reared his ugly face via my horrible discovery of his feces on my linen shelf (which sits four feet off of the ground), on my high hallway closets, the floors of both closets, the floor of MY closet, the shelf of MY closet....You get the picture. I'm convinced that my SECOND STORY apartment is infested. The odd thing about this whole ordeal is there are no signs of Mr. BoJangles in the kitchen.
For those of you that personally know me, you know I'm not a neat freak...To my defense, I don't leave food around my house, more particularly in my closets.
Dealing with something like this is such a damn headache. Especially when you are alone in the matter. I stayed up until almost 2am de-cluttering my floors and clearing out areas of my closets.
Did I mention that I have had traps laid out since the last time Mr. BoJangles showed himself to me? Peanut butter baited traps. Talk about a sneaky asshole of a mouse. The least he could do was get himself trapped BEFORE shatting all over my closets, sheets, shoes, carpeting and life.
Instead of freaking out and leaning on someone (aka, the guy downstairs), I decided I could handle myself. I prepared myself for just about every dropping that was flung my way. I looked in boxes and behind boxes without shaking or fear. But damn, what I wouldn't have given for my (non-existent) husband to be by my side.
I have been told since the day I found out I was preggo with little man that I should just ask if I needed help. I think people just say that to make themselves feel better about life. I have made attempts to ask people for help, and, if I can get them to actually answer my phone call, they usually politely decline my request. This morning, I attempted to reach out to my mother. Her response to me telling her that I couldn't conquer the enormous task of defeating Mr. BoJangles alone, while watching a 2yo, was saying "You need to buck up!" All I wanted to shout at her was "FUCK YOU!" but I refrained. I did, however, snap back at her saying that I wasn't telling her this to receive tough love from her. Tough love is and was the last thing I needed at this particular moment in my life. I needed a someone I could lean on. I needed my mom. Instead, I must have accidentally dialed the number of the lady who thinks it's too difficult to dog sit a 10 month old puppy AND hang out with her grandson who happens to LOVE dogs at the same time, and makes it a weekly habit of getting drunk to the point of slurring and blacking out on a weekly basis. (wow...I'm on a roll right now!)
I also have notified the lovely management company of my apartment. I was trying to maintain a certain level of sanity while leaving them a voicemail this morning, and in doing so, forgot to leave a return phone number. Since I knew I wouldn't be able to count on them to look my number up in their database, I made a follow up all around the lunch hour. The lady I spoke with was ridiculous. I almost feel like she was attempting to blame ME for the fact that my apartment building was infested with Mr. BoJangles. That didn't bode well with me, but I managed to bite my tongue while silently telling myself "what goes around comes around you nasty whore." When I asked her if I would get reimbursed for picking up traps of my own, she acted like I had just asked her to solve a nuclear physicist equation. She then reiterated that the on site maintenance dude would be in my apartment and would be setting more traps....I swear, if he puts more of the stupid traps that DID NOT WORK in my apartment so help me god my head might just explode.
My emotions came to a roaring head at about 8:45 this morning. I had been sitting at work trying to plot out my next move in this situation, and then came the tears. My soul really really really wanted to start ugly crying. It was begging me to release all of my nasty frustrations...but I just couldn't do it. Instead of the full on ugly cry, about a dozen or so tears streamed down my face. Nobody knew it happened, except for me, now you, and the paper towel I used in a horrible attempt to prevent myself from looking like a raccoon. (Note to self: if I ever start ugly crying in public again, make way to a bathroom to double check I don't have mascara around my ENTIRE EYE...thanks!)
So much for a nice weekend. So much for a girls night out. So much for sleep. So much for keeping makeup on my face in an orderly fashion. Kiss my ass Mr. BoJangles.

Thoughts

I really love how vibrant the trees appear on overcast days. The brilliant hues take my breath away almost every.single.time.

So is me.

I walk with an air of confidence. I have lived through many hard times throughout my life. My confidence is not meant to intimidate others. Plain and simple, I am proud of how much I have grown. I still have a lot more growing to do, but I sure have come a long way. I will not hide my confidence to make others feel more comfortable. If this is seen as a vice, then so be it. Take a moment to walk a mile in my shoes...maybe you too will walk with a bit more pep in your step.
This may come off as conceited...but I feel I am the furthest thing from.
I rarely ever give myself a pat on the back. For some uncanny reason, as I was taking my usual ANTM stroll...I felt a strong urge to tell the interweb. So, if I haven't bored you to blindness, that is my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Random Gabbing

Today, I discovered something that made me smile. I went downstairs to pick up lunch from the deli. The men who work there are all very nice. I think most, if not all, come from a South American country (I only point this out because of slight cultural differences I have noticed). Most speak English as a second language. Most also flirt with me when I order my lunch. I know they flirt with just about every woman that walks in the door, but whenever I order, they focus on me. Sometime they ask me my name, sometimes the ask if I speak Spanish. It is extremely innocent flirting, and it almost always makes me smile. I know attention like this has the potential to freak some women out, but not this mama. I find it flattering that they take the time to pay attention...I am almost certain it is just part of their culture. It's nice to know I can almost always count on them to make me smile.

**********

I've been thinking a lot about censorship lately. The thoughts started running through my head after a good friend of mine asked me a few questions about little-man's father. In a nutshell, I know that words can be twisted against a person. Since little-man's father is currently not in my life (nor do I ever want to see his drugged out face again..can ya sense a bit of rage mixed with a dash of hostility? Yeah, thought so..) I started wondering if my words would/could ever be used against me in a court of law. I try to remain fairly anonymous, and aside from posting VERY FEW pics, the only people who know me are a handful of close friends who I've told about my blog. I tend to be fairly sarcastic, and a bit melodramatic in my writing (who isn't?! that's the beauty of the blog, right??) but I know and have heard of people who have had their entries misconstrued by legal entities, and I have the smallest amount of fear that it could happen to me to.
So, what's a single mama to do? Do I stop posting about little-man altogether? I have relied so much on venting some of my thoughts, frustrations and opinions via my posts..and it has relieved me of so much of my frustrations of single parenthood. It's not fair that I should have to censor myself due to the smallest possibility that my words could be used against me....Do I have any sort of protection to prevent such a thing from happening? I guess I am a bit clueless on this topic...Maybe someone out there who reads this can help me out...? I'm at a point where I am expecting the worst possible answer, but still hoping for the best.

Are you single?

Are you single?
Are you straight?
Are you working?
Kiss.
This is the dating philosophy of Denise from P.S. I love you. I saw this movie for the first time last weekend. I actually really enjoyed it. I laughed a bit, but mostly ugly cried through the roller coaster of emotions it sent me on.
I really admire the balls that Denise had. She defended her opening questions she posed to men by telling her friends she feels she deserves a great man, and that he's out there...somewhere.
I know I don't live in the movies, but I do hope and dream that I will whimsically be swept off of my feet. I still hold onto hope that sooner or later, I will meet Him. He will be fantastic, accepting, humorous, and open. He will enjoy spending time with me, and cherish small talk. He will be happy to see my face in the morning. He will love me, and I will love him. He will (for lack of a better phrase) complete me. And yes, we WILL live happily ever after.
Maybe you think my expectations are too high. I don't agree. I know this is what I want, and this is what I deserve. I will continue to hope.

Ode To Artificial Swedeners

Two great people were getting ready to embark on the move of a lifetime. They were moving to Sweden for a couple of years, and some friends of mine organized a surprise party for them.
The party went off without a glitch. Everyone who showed up managed to surprise both of them to tears. It was great.
Drinks were flowing. Swedish fish and Swedish meatballs were consumed. Laughs were had....and then the karaoke machine was started.
Almost my entire softball team was in attendance..and of COURSE we had to go up and sing a song together. One of my drunken teammates decided that Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville would be a fantastic song choice for 12 mostly drunk people to sing along to...the only problem with our group singing idea was we only had one small monitor to read off of.
Me, being the inebriated genius I am, decided to take it upon myself to shout out catch phrases to cue people about the next line. I was being silly..but we were all laughing so I didn't see any harm in the matter. Let's face it..almost everyone over the age of 25 knows the words to margaritaville..they might not have it memorized..but they have some sort of idea about how the tune goes...So, right before the song line I would "WHAT DID YA STEP ON?" and the line that followed was "Stepped on a pop tart"...ya get it yet?? Good!
So, towards the end of the song, I read ahead and made the fabulously drunk decision of shouting out at the top of my lungs "WHO DID YA BLOW" hoping it would cue my fellow teammates to sing "Blew out my flip flop"...yeah...I fell on the ground laughing at my verbal blooper. It was definitely a moment where I spoke BEFORE I thought about what I was actually saying...
On my drive home from lunch today, Margaritaville was played on the radio. I started giggling thinking about my verbal blooper way back three months ago..and Just couldn't resist rehashing the entire incident. This song was a classic before the going away party..but now it holds a spot just a little bit closer to my heart.

The Perfect Shoes.

Senior year of high school is supposed to be care free. It is supposed to be a year of cherishing friendships that will dwindle with the start of college. It is supposed to be about feeling as if you own the town. Your parents (most likely) loosen the reigns. Curfew is extended. You can go to a casino (legally). It is supposed to be "the time of your life." It was anything but for me.
It was about a month before Senior year was to start. Captains practices for volleyball had been going on for about two weeks, and tryouts for varsity were just around the corner. I had been bugging my parents to take me out to get new shoes. I wanted to make the most of my senior season. Since my parents were fairly unresponsive to my requests for new shoes, I took it upon myself to go out and find the perfect pair.
I ventured to the mall, and that is where I met him. He was working at the shoe store. I had never been extremely aware of the opposite sex. I was always too busy to notice. Ever since I can remember, my parents allowed me to participate in any sporting activity I could manage to fit into my cramped schedule. In fact, the first boy crush I remember having dissipated the second my parents decided to move to a new city...which also allowed me to shift my focus from that particular boy, to school and sports.
I will never forget the way He looked at me. The way our eyes just gazed at each other. He made my tummy flip, and it was an amazing feeling. I wouldn't tell my parents about Him, but I would definitely tell them that I found the perfect shoes.
The next day, my dad approached me and asked if I wanted to go and buy my volleyball shoes. I was taken aback, especially because I could hardly get either of my parents to talk with me about buying shoes, let alone volunteer their time to take me out.
I will never forget the ride to the shoe store. My dad had suggested we go to a store clear across town. I tried talking him into going to the mall where He was working, but I was unsuccessful, so across town we went. We made some small talk during the ride, but mostly sat in silence. We were exiting off of the highway, and my dad blurted out "Your brother found mom at home kissing another man." I was shocked. His true ulterior motive was revealed. My father didn't care about my shoes, he was trying to figure out a way to break the news to me that my parents were getting divorced, and that my mom had been unfaithful to my father.
My shoes obsession quickly disappeared, and I was filled with hurt, frustration and rage. How could she do that to my family, was all I could repeat in my head. I failed to recall all of the shouting matches my parents had been having. I failed to remember the last time my parents laughed together. The dysfunctional normalcy of my family would never be the same again.
I didn't tell a single person at volleyball about my family frustrations. I was lucky that I made the team, and, although my coach probably never knew, volleyball was the closest thing to normalcy I had in my life at that moment.
He actually called me as well. So many things were running through my head, and He was exactly what I needed to keep my focus off of my dissolving family life. He was 19, I was only 17. My parents would not have approved, but they were too busy discussing their divorce to notice.

I am MOMMY BLOGGER..Hear me ROAR! :-)

Since delving myself into the blogging world, I feel I have grown in more ways that I could imagine. I have read some amazing posts written by writers I wish I was half as talented as. I have received so much advice and support through others' words...I have thrown comments out there, and received feedback from people that have surprised me (mostly because I don't think my writing is worth the feedback, but that's just my lack-o-self esteem talking [which is a whole different topic...]).
Last night, I started thinking about what kind of blogger I would be labeled as (just for kicks..). I think I fall into the blogger cattegory of: Mommy Blogger who is in denial that she's a Mommy Blogger.
I think I am in denial for a few reasons. First of all, I feel like the stereotype of a mommy blogger is a responsible adult. Call me crazy...Although I might SEEM like a "responsible adult" I still don't know if I've fully transitioned into the grown up world. I know other mom's who seem so much more put together than I am. Not to mention, most of the mom's I know are married and live in a house with or without a picket fence. Even though I feel like I have a lot to learn in the "adult world", being a mommy actually does feel extremely natural to me. I feel like the title of "mommy" has always been part of my identity, which is why I think I struggle with people not being able to see me for me. I have always LOVED children, I have been a babysitter since I was 10 (no lie, and it was a three month old..which, now having a child of my own I don't think I would have EVER left little man with a 10yo when he was 3months!!). The most rewarding paying job I've ever had was working in as an aide in the infant room of a daycare...the pay was minimum wage, but I would've worked there for free because I loved it so much. I have never truly looked as little man's role in my life (or the role of any child in my life) as a "job" nor do I think I ever will.
I am also a huge stickler for trying to maintain a bit of independence from the label of "mom". To me, the "mom" title is attached to someone who is overbearing (which I probably am), doesn't go with the flow (which I do), stays home on the weekends (which I sometimes do) and..I'm gonna say it...to me, a mom means old. I am going out on a limb here, but when I think of a "mom" I think of my mom...not me. I think of a woman (who, although she has issues) I completely respect...but she's "old" as in "an all grown up adult." I also think I have issues labeling myself as a "mom" because I am still single, and most boys have an issue even contemplating dating a mama (me) let alone take a minute to get to know a mama (me). Besides, when you introduce yourself, do you say "Hi, I'm a mom" or do you say "Hi, I'm Miz." You use your name, not your roll in life.
I think it is time for me to own the mommy blogger label. Looking back at my posts, the majority are about little man. They were written because I, the mama, needed to release my joys, frustrations, fears, and sometimes anger. I am not good at bottling things up, so to save my relationships with some of the people in my life, I have made an honest crack at writing these thoughts and opinions out...and I love it. Almost ALL of my writing is free writing, and after almost every post I have to go back in and make spelling/editing corrections.

Sweet Moments

Little man is constantly cracking me up lately.
He has an uncanny enthusiasm for "gabage tucks" (which are almost always dump trucks..but he hasn't quite been able to remember that yet...) is hilarious! He is normally a quiet kid...even when we are on walks and he spouts something off to me I almost always have to ask him to repeat himself while I bend forward for a closer listen. I try and tell him to speak up, but I don't think he's completely figured out how to control the VOLUME of his VOICE. I am alright with that...it's just the way he does things... But the second he sees something that he feels like he has discovered, he lets out a loud bellow so EVERYONE knows that HE found it. I chuckle just about every time it happens...even if it's the fifth time in less than five minutes :)
This morning, on my way to drop him off at "school", I busted him singing "choo choo, choo choo." So, like any silly mom such as myself would do, I started singing this semi-annoying/fun choo choo song I had picked up from watching toons with him. The second he knew what I was doing he shouted "NOOO CHOO CHOO MAMA!" I still can't decide if he said/shouted this at me because he wasn't in the mood to listen to mama; mama sucks at singing; or a combination of the two. Either way, his baby-tude was pretty funny...especially at 7am this morning!!
The morning after the lotion incident I had set little man up to watch some toons while mama finished getting ready for work. When I walked back to our living room to put his shoes on, I realized he had discovered ANOTHER BOTTLE OF LOTION. This time, instead of eating it, he had globbed it on his face. He looked up at me and said "Pretty Mama!" with a big toddler grin on his face. Instead of getting frustrated, I laughed..and helped him rub it in, reassuring him that "Yes, honey..you are very pretty."
It's moments like these that really make being a parent sweet.

Life

Where to begin?
I'll start out by asking if Baby Lotion is poisoness. Wierd question, right? It's not so wierd if you have a sneaky toddler who you busted with the bottle of lotion to his mouth, sucking it down like it was sweet and delicious, when he was SUPPOSED to be in bed sleepigng.
I have began to dabble in searching online personal ads again. About six months ago I was very intent on finding a special someone in my life, then I had an awakening and realized I don't need anyone, therefore, I stopped looking. Now I have arrived at the thought of wanting a relationship unlike any that I currently have. A person who I can share silly moments with, who expects me to share these moments with him, and not look at these silly happenings as burdens. A person who I can call at a moments notice, and can make me smile and feel better without saying a word. I don't think this is something I straight out need, but it's something I want. It's very selfish, I know.
I did a bit of self reflecting yesterday before I started reading the personals. I could go on and on about how my feelings have been a little bruised in terms of dating, but I will spare you. Instead, I will proclaim my dating independence. As of yesterday, I am going to find love on my own. If a friend just so happens to set me up, then great, but I am no longer depending on it happening. I am willing to take risks, and will do my best to enjoy the ride.

See ya in a year...

I fought the urge and temptation to go straight home and continue on my scrap booking mission last night. Instead, I traveled across town to my mom's house. Last night was Navy's last night in town. As much as he can frustrate me, I am really going to miss him. I know being oversea's is probably the best thing for him right now, but I am a bit concerned with how he is going to handle saying goodbye to his little girl today. They have been spending just about every day together, and she has been clinging to him like cheese on rice. She is so sensitive...I just hope she doesn't hold this against him for too long.
The evening began with a surf'n turf meal of steak and king crab legs. They were delicious. The night was rounded off by grandma getting completely wasted. I really had to bite my tongue around her last night. She always has a hard time saying goodbye, and in this instance, she "called in sick" to work and started drinking heavily at 4pm. She was doing shots of hot 100...pretty mature for an almost 50yo wouldn't ya say? I haven't been too interested in drinking lately. I don't know why, but I think seeing Grandma act the way she did last night has something to do with it.
The lowest point of the "drunken grandma experience" was when she started discussing the smoking habbits of her older brother (who is extremely overweight and diagnosed with COPD). She was rambling about how he told her he was going to quit smoking, but she was so irritated because he only quit for three days. I looked at her and asked her how many days she's gone without smoking in the past twenty years, to which she replied "Sometimes I don't smoke when I'm at work" which did not answer my question at all...She is so ignorant it kills me sometimes. I really had to bite my tongue, because I was EXTREMELY tempted to tell her that she is not invisible, and that in nine years when she reaches her brothers current age, the chances of her having COPD and a "death rattle" are very likely since she has been smoking a pack a day for over twenty years...but I didn't. I kept my mouth shut for a change. Sometimes I wonder how long I can bottle these feelings up. I wonder if I'll be able to keep my mouth shut when the day comes that her smoking catches up to her. I wonder if I'll let out a big I told ya so....I guess only time will tell.

Pandora's Box

Thanks to a night with my girl friends, I am in a lot of trouble. Last Friday, a bunch of girls got together for a fun filled girls night of being crafty...aka, scrap booking! I have never got into scrap booking before. I thought it looked extremely tedious (which it is) but I also never thought I had anything to "scrap book" about...Then I had little man.
Aside from writing small snipets about little man on here, I really didn't have a baby book complied for him (I am a horrible mother, yes...but we already knew that!). When he was a few months old, I wrote him about a half dozen "letters" which I was planning on giving to him when he was 18 (or something super cheesy like that..hehehe) but for whatever reason, I couldn't keep up with the letters. I also started a photo album..but it's not very fun to browse through because it is JUST pictures...no words, no fun colored back drops, and no stickers.
I never realized how enormous the scrap booking market was...until I became hooked. I actually will admit I went shopping for supplies three times over the weekend...even sitting here, all I want to do is make a quick run to the store for some stickers for this page, or a fancy tool for that page... My only way of justifying my purchases are simple: I'm not spending my evenings at a bar, spending money on a product I can only enjoy for a night...no, I am investing my money on organizing memories I have made with my little man (that sounds good, right?). I will definitely have to tighten my spending reigns, but since I went a bit crazy last weekend, I think I will survive with the tools and supplies that I have waiting for me to use at home.
Do you have a crafty vice that has a habit of consuming your thoughts and dollars? (Keep it clean peeps :p )

Short'n Sweet

The view from my desk is amazing this morning. Over the past few days, the trees have started to grow new baby leaves. The sun holds the perfect angle in the sky to paint a glowing picture of pointalism. Art, this morning, is all around me, peaking its head at me through my office window. The glow of the freshly sprouted baby leaves is a brilliant green. It is finally spring. I couldn't be happier.

Life's Little Pleasures

Today, I am relishing in options. I COULD post more whiny garbage about my life, but instead, I am choosing higher ground. I am going to let you in on a few silly things little man has done that has just made me crack up.
After his bath last night, we were cuddling on the couch watching the last few minutes of Idol. This seems to be one of little man's favorite shows, and if he's going to sit still for a few minutes to settle down at night, I'm all for it. A couple of silly things happened in the fifteen minutes we were sitting together.
When David Archuletta was finished singing, little man let out a "wow, good!" and then proceeded to clap with the rest of the AI audience. Either he is starting to formulate his own opinions, or he is becoming a zombie to television like most of America. Either way, it was DARN cute! During a commercial break, out of NOWHERE little man started singing "jingle bells"! My jaw dropped to the floor and I could not help but laugh at him. When I asked him where he learned that song he replied "Santa Claus"....yeah, he definitely has a great imagination.
He has also adapted this really funny high pitched giggle. He uses this giggle in an attempt to distract me. For example, this morning when I was getting him ready, he started giggling and giving me oggly eyes when I went to put his socks on. Yes, sometimes it tickles when someone else puts your socks on, but he was giggling before I even touched his tiny feet. I would rather have him laughing than crying though!!
Little man has also been ADAMANT about doing things himself. Things that are far beyond his years like tying his own shoes. It's really cute, and my "mommy patience" has definitely kicked into overdrive. Our normal time allotment has doubled itself, but it's alright because it's really amazing to see him actually working things out and being successful at life's small challenges. He now can put on his own footie pj's (with only the SMALLEST amount of direction...). At jambo time, he looks at me and says "I do it, mama." When he has his jambo's on he has the biggest grin on his face and is gleaming with pride. I love seeing him conquer new things...its sweet simplicity is a heart warming reminder that my baby is growing up.

Third Time is a Charm

So...I still feel like pooh. I left work this morning to go to urgent care to get checked out. Time seemed to stand still while I was waiting for the visit to culminate. I tested negative (for the second time) for strep...but the urgent care doctor thought since I had recent exposure he would treat me for strep and also make me stay home from work for another day. He also did something that I thought was totally out of the blue and prescribed a few vicodin (for my severe throat/head pain that almost had me in tears). I am not one for prescription pain killers, but I am at a point of desperation to make this illness vacate asap. I took one at the noon hour, and slept an extremely peaceful and heavy four hours. Hopefully a few sessions of deep "therapeutic sleep" will do this mama some good. Hopefully, the next time I check in I will be able to report a clean bill of health!

Twitter This.

I have jumped on a couple of internet bandwagons over the last year. First, myspace to keep in touch with Navy. Second, Facebook because I thought it was a really cool concept. Third, I started this blog. I have heard so much buzz about "Twitter" but I refuse to even check it out. The last thing this mama needs is yet another internet distration/addiction looming in the shadows, taunting me to sign on and "twit" (or whatever the bunk it's called). Instead of caving in, I have decided to use my blog as my own personal twitter :) (aren't I just the most non creative little genious EVAH!!)
I made it to work this morning, but I feel like royal pooh. My throat aches every time I attempt to swallow, and my head has had a constant naggin headache for over 24 hours. As much as I want to break down and cry, I have to stay positive and get through today...technically, there are only eight more hours to go! I'm.almost.there!
I hope everyone had a fantabulous Monday morning!! :)

Mom's Day

My throat is a mess. I went to the clinic on saturday morning, and they told me I didn't have strep (the fast test came back negative, so they sent the "sample" out for a 24 hour test). I will officially find out by late monday or tuesday if I have strep or not...BOO TO THEM! The minute clinic practitioner did tell me that if my symptoms got any worse I should immediately go to urgent care. I consistently ran a fever of 101 to 103 until Sunday morning. When I woke up on Mom's day, my throat was still throbbing.
Little man did me a favor on mom's day by not coming into my room until 7am. He crawled into bed and cuddled in for an hour. It was a very nice morning. At around 8, he creeped out of bed and roamed around for another hour, and at 9, he crawled back into my bed, laid down next to me and said in the cutest toddler voice "WAKE UP MAMA!" It would have been the cutest thing I've ever heard, if it wasn't for his nasty garlic breath! How does a toddler acquire nasty garlic breath you ask? Two things. First, grandma allowed him to have some of her "magic chicken noodle soup" which contains about six cloves of garlic. Second, I was cursed with "when I have a sliver of garlic I will permeate it through my skin for a week" gene, which I obviously passed onto little man...poor guy!
We stopped at the store and picked up a hanging flower basket for grandma. The rest of the day was spent at her house, lounging, relaxing and eating. It was nice, for the most part. I have a few issues to write about, but since it's mom's day, I will attempt to stay mostly positive.
To end on a positive note, grandma made her famous strata, which tastes delicious even when your throat is nasty, swollen and in extreme pain!
I would also like to thank everyone who wished me a happy mom's day. You are very sweet, and instead of making up excuses as to why I don't deserve your kindness, I will instead just simply say thank you...It really means a lot to me :)

I caught it.

I.Am.Sick.
I was woken up around 2am with a burning fever, and I tried to ignore, but it just wouldn't go away. I hobbled to the kitchen and took a couple of advil...The advil started working around 4:30. Needless to say, I am on my way to the clinic, and BURR I'm COLD!

Ick.

I am so thankful that tomorrow is the last day of the working week. Hopefully the upcoming weekend will yield a couple of stress-free and healthy days.
Earlier today, I had planned a trip to the grocery store to pick up a few staples for my house. I had to stay home from work due to complications beyond my control because little man could not attend daycare. We found a decent spot in the slightly busy parking lot, but as I was taking little man out of his car seat I noticed something that alarmed me. He had hives covering both of his hands, and running up both of his arms.
I made my best attempt to not freak out in front of him, but my insides were churning and all I wanted to do was start to cry. Will this little guy EVER GET BETTER?! We walked into the grocery store, and I immediately dialed the doctor. I spoke to a nurse while calmly pacing the isles of the grocery store. She recommended I bring him in to get him checked out sooner than later. I picked up non perishables, and we were headed to the Urgent Care.
The waiting room was a lot busier than I had expected. It took the triage nurse about a half an hour to even see little man, but once his name was called, it was only about fifteen minutes before the doctor came and saw him. Did I mention we had forgotten his blankie at home?? Yeah, that was a HUGE oops on my behalf!
The doctor came to the official conclusion (which I had already come to in my own head) that little man was, indeed, allergic to penicillin. I am extremely thankful that his reaction was not more severe. When we made it home, I gave him a small amount of benedryl, and we both laid down for a well deserved nap.
Tonight, his rash has still not fully disappeared. I am hoping by morning the tiny hives will be gone. Since they still need to treat the S word, they put him on a different antibiotic...so I guess he will be under a close watch by me for the next couple of days.
I'm tired. It has been a long day, and a very long week.

Stuck in a Rut

I am cursed with "The Girl Next Door" syndrome. I really wish I could embrace this...but I just can't. I am the female buddy, much like the neighbor girl from when you were growing up. The girl who was always seen as just a friend, never more, and rarely less. I don't know how or why I have fallen into this category, but it is where I reside...and I want out. I am sick of just being a friend...I want to rekindle my flirty spark. I want to resonate an attractive personality that screams "Let's be MORE than just friends." This is easier said than done...especially since I am clueless.
Navy received every personable gene you could possible imagine in my family. He is the type of person who you could stick in a room full of strangers, and within ten minutes every person would walk out of the room knowing who Navy was, and absolutely love him.
My softball team is a perfect example of how likable Navy is. The second Navy arrived home, I immediately thought it would be awesome if he would come and play softball with me. I gambled that the team would embrace him as a newcomer, especially since Navy was only in town for a few weeks...He has fit in like he has been on this team from day one. In a way, his social abilities remind me SLIGHTLY of my own prior to having little man. I was extremely carefree, and loved to go out and have a great time. The one large factor that sets us apart is his charisma. You can tell that people enjoy talking with him, and that people genuinely enjoy his company. I wish I was liked by that.
Lately, I have also felt like I have turned into a bitchy, cynical grump. I could sit here and type out endless excuses, but the truth is, I need to drop my anal-ness. I need to figure out a way to shed every ounce of negativity that is hiding inside my body. I don't know how I am going to go about doing this, but I know for certain that it needs to be done.

The Dreaded Five Letter S Word

It all began two nights ago. My poor little man came stumbling in, cheeks blazing red, and completely discombobulated. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't diagnose him....I couldn't make him feel better, and I really did feel horrible. I did what most parents of a toddler who wakes up with a fever do, I administered some Motrin, and prayed that his fever would be gone by morning.
The next day, he still woke up feverish...I am a stubborn mommy, and was still trying to wait his illness out, so I dosed him with some more Motrin, and dropped him off at daycare (hoping he would make it through the day, and that this ailment had passed).
At lunch time, I received the call.
His teacher broke the bad news to me. Little man had another temperature of 103 and was NOT doing well. I raced out of work, worried what this nasty fever actually meant. I couldn't get to his daycare fast enough..I ignored almost every speed limit sign there was to ignore..and when I arrived at daycare, little man was passed out sleeping. He looked so sweet and innocent. He looked like my little baby. I picked him up and the second his eyes opened he let out a "mommy!" It melted my heart. I told him "mommy's here sweety," and we were on our way home. The entire afternoon he had a fever...At one point, he actually pushed me away, declared "MOVE MAMA! GO AWAY!" I was dumbfounded, but at the same time, it was pretty cute! A few minutes after I was told to leave, he came hobbling up to me, and wanted to cuddle. The kid was still burning up, and ended up snuggling in and going taking a nap in my arms. I has spoken with his new clinic, and they did not want to see him until his fever had lasted longer than 72 hours. This left me a bit uneasy.
This morning, I decided to give the good ol' minute clinic a try. We were third in line to see the Nurse Practitioner. It was totally our luck that the patients being seen were friends of the practitioner....a five minute appointment took about 25 minutes. I was a bit peeved. The two people in front of us were in and out in a flash, and then it was our turn. She checked his ears, and noticed a LITTLE redness in one...and then she decided to check his throat. When he opened his mouth for her she gasped and said "Oh Dear!" I kid you not, she acted as if she had just seen something horrible. She looked at me and said "I think he has Strep..." For the second time in two days, my heart sank. $75 dollars later we were on our way to G-ma's house.
We were a few blocks away when my phone rang. It was Ramona, from the minute clinic. Apparently, Ramona had miscalculated little mans penicillin dose...so she asked if I wouldn't mind returning to get his medicine relabeled with the correct dosage. I literally wanted to reach through my phone and b-slap her. The clinic was completely out of my way, but I obliged, and now have the correct label on his medicine bottle. I hope this is the one and only time that the five letter S word is used in my house. I hope I don't catch this terribly catchy bug. And thank GOD it's not worse!!

Good Night Hoping For a Pleasant Tomorrow

Good nights seem to always be overshadowed by an ailment of some sort. I was about to crawl into bed after a nice conversation with a new friend of mine, when my poor little man literally stumbled into my room, with cheeks blazing red. When I picked him up he literally felt like he was on fire. I turned to him and asked "What is going on with you sweety?" in which I received an "uuh." His temperature read 103. My heart sank for him. I don't know what kind of bug he caught this time, but all I know is medicine was administered and he settled back into his bed.
Around 1am he came and crawled into bed with me...but I must have been snoring or something, because shortly after he sneaked out of my bed, and I found him sleeping soundly in his own bed this morning! I felt horrible for dragging him out of bed to get ready for school this morning. His fever had mostly broke, but was still sitting a few decimals above normal, so another dose of meds insued.
He is such a trooper some days. He didn't put up a huge fight to get out of the door. I think he is going to take after his mama in terms of school..I am very thankful for that!

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Tonight was the little man's first attempt at riding a two wheel bike!! It had training wheels, and its small frame was completely adorable. I managed to snap some pictures of the ordeal. Since I'm lazy, hopefully I'll post the pics within the next week!!

Sleepy Hollow

This always happens to me....the second I lay down to go to sleep I think of something that might actually be slightly interesting to write about. Tonight, instead of making an empty promise to myself that "I'll remember this thought for tomorrow..." I decided to get up and write.
I am interested in peoples' opinions about children sleeping with their parents. (**As I was typing this, I was interrupted by little man screaming "Owie, mama!!" Needless to say, I went into his room, he was SUPER clingy, and I allowed him to come sleep with me for the night...)
Since little man was three weeks old, I was a firm believer in sleeping him in allowing him to cuddle during the day, but was strict about him sleeping in his crib at night. I can count on my left hand the number of times I allowed him to sleep next to me at night, and those times were only because he was very sick and it was the only way either of us were going to get any sleep.
My life hasn't been the same since I introduced the toddler bed to him a few months ago. He started a nasty pattern of waking up sometime during the early morning hours (usually somewhere between 3 and 5), walking into my room, and since I am USUALLY in the midst of a dead sleep, I pick him up, and lay him down between myself and the wall. Is this unacceptable behavior on my part? How long will it take for me to rid him of this behavior? Can I break this horrible habbit of his? If I can break the habbit, how do I go about doing so without depriving myself of sleep, resulting in me going absolutely crazy!! (Since, let's face it...It's ALWAYS ABOUT ME! ;) ) I will sadly admit, since going to the toddler bed, I can only count on my hand the number of times he has woken up in his own bed in the last three months. What's a mom to do?!

Semi-Optimistic Meh

I am still on an optimistic path, albeit a semi-fake one....but at least I'm trying, right?
This weekend was mostly spent alone. I am tempted to write out the monotonous details but instead I am just going make this short and semi-sweet*.
Today (Sunday) I caught an excellent Twins game on television, and after the twinkies victorious pummel over Detroit, I took little man to the park for a while...The park was a huge eye opener for me. I have been taking him to this park since his days of barely being able to walk. This year, he is so courageous. He climbs, slides and holds his own with the other kids. I was so proud of him this afternoon. Even though he seems fairly confident exploring, I couldn't bring myself to leave his side...after all, he's still only two, and the other kids could have easily (accidentally) knocked him off of the equipment....So I guess I get the Overprotective Mother Of The Day Award! :)
Back to my fake optimism. I am finding myself being irritated with my life situation. I think I am subconsciously taking it out on the people around me...mainly my family and close friends. I am not proud of myself or my actions...and all I have felt like doing is packing up the bare necessities of my life and moving to a new city in a new state. (don't worry, I am not going to do this...I am just confessing about a nagging urge). Running away rarely ever solves problems, this I understand. Unfortunately I am finding myself at a dead end..and I have run out of options or ideas as to how I can resolve my current "issues." Maybe the only resolution is to come to terms with the fact that there is no resolution to my issues, but I just don't feel like conceding yet...I'm still holding onto hope.
In other, more exciting news...I'm gearing up for a telephone first date with a lawyer...(you know who you are, and I'm going to give you a big "I TOLD YOU SO" that I was going to tell all of my friends about you..hehe) ;)
Friends...did I mention that he's a LAWYER? :D
I hope everyone had a fantastic weekend...and I hope the nice weather is here to stay for a few months!!

*If this was short and sweet...just imagine what the lengthy post I originally wrote was like..you guessed it! Loooong and boring!!! You're Welcome :)

It's a New Day.

Rainy spring days make sunny ones all the more enjoyable. This morning I struggled to get out of bed. The pelting of the rain drops were extremely soothing to my soul. After yesterday, a day of depressing pitiful thoughts, and an evening filled with tears, I am ready to start off today with a clean slate. I know it will take many baby steps to attain a healthy lifestyle that will be both conducive to myself, and little man, but I am ready. This morning, I started off the morning with a small cup of coffee (instead of the jumbo cup..one point for me!!). I also measured out the amount of sugar and cream, and the coffee still tasted delicioso! As for the rest of my day, I am going to attempt to stay away from any and all soda's. I will also attempt to drink water the rest of the day. If I can continue to adapt these small steps, I think I will be off to a great start.

Well..I've been procrastinating at work for an hour and a half. Despite the lousy weather I am actually in a great mood. Time for me to clean up my desk. I hope everybody is having a great Friday, and has a nice and relaxing weekend!!

Now it's time to think think think!**

I have been pondering and brainstorming about how and what I can do to change my life around. I am so upset about my current state that it is taking anything and everything to hold back the tears, and put on a non-self-conscious smile at work. I have a good feeling I am going to break down in tears the second I get to my car...
SOOO, in order to combat my obese-ness, I am going to publicly pledge to do the following:
Cut down on television time - Since I'm not a huge re-run fan, I stopped watching a lot of television during the writers strike...and since the strike is over, I am going to make a plan to not watch more than 5 television shows per week.
Cut down on alcohol consumption - I really have been drinking a lot lately. Going out on the weekends has truly been soaring my caloric intake to new heights!! From this point on, I pledge to limit myself to one light beer, or one glass of dark red wine per social outing. This will prove to be difficult and challenging on a few upcoming occasions, but I WILL SURVIVE!
Really make an honest effort to hit up the fitness center or go for a walk during my lunch hour - I have been really BAD about doing this over the past month. I don't know what caused my lack of motivation...but I strongly feel that I can start this up again, and be successful!
Spend more quality time outside with Little Man - Yes, it sucks that we don't live in a house with a fenced in yard...but that will not prevent me from getting my chunk in gear and going to the park. It's only a short walk away...and kids little man's age NEVER get sick of the swings!!
Get to sleep at an early hour - If I make an honest effort to cut television out of my evening schedule, then I should have NO PROBLEM being in bed and sleeping by 9:15.
Attempt to restart the workout dvd's I purchased around the holidays- If I make an honest effort to get to bed early, I should have NO PROBLEM waking up a half hour earlier, and running through a ten minute dvd. I think it will also help me get more immediate results if I am dedicating two separate times during my day to exercise.
Stick to my pledge - I can really use all of the help and support on this as I can get. I am begging and pleading for support (imagine the most desperate voice in the world..and that is me right now!). Since I don't have a man to focus on (other than little man of course) I should be able to do this without my hand being held. Unfortunately, this is not the case for me. Not only do I need someone holding my hand, but in a lot of ways I need someone pulling me by the hair on my head (OK, I'm not THAT stubborn...you get the idea though...)


**Does anyone know where the title of this post comes from?? You should if you're a parent of a toddler!!!

BICH (this post doesn't deserve the T)

All I want to do is cry, write about crying, then cry some more. I feel like an ass-clown for feeling this way, especially because I know things could be worse, but feelings are feelings.

This morning, I was greeted with the fourth day of diarrhea diapers from little man. He apparently has the "poop water but is not feverish" bug that just won't seem to go away. It is also making his diaper changes quite unpleasant for both parties.

When I arrived at work this morning I went straight across the office to a company sponsored health fair where I received a health assessment. The only reason I signed up was to receive the company incentive of $100.00 (a single mom would NEVER pass up a virtually free hundo). The assessment entailed recording my weight, height and drawing some blood to test for cholesterol and miscellaneous things. When I stepped on the scale my stomach churned. I should NOT have looked at the number. I haven't worked out in a little over a month. I don't know who stole my motivation, but it is gone and I am left puzzled, and weighing just about as much as I did when I was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT! I've tried "getting healthy." I've tried formulating a health plan..but all seem damn impossible for this chunky mama to adhere to. I am honestly at a loss right now. I feel like I received a certificate of defeat. I don't know how, if ever, I will be in shape again, and happy with my physical appearance. I just don't know.

Coming back to work from taking a day off is always a little stressful. This morning, via email, I was greeted with a message from my super nice boss that also had me a little down. I don't know if I had "pms-brain" on Tuesday, but APPARENTLY I had forgotten to switch our main telephone lines over to our night voicemail system. This frustrates and worries me for a couple of reasons. First, I JUST KNOW I put the phones on our night line before I left. I am such a darn perfectionist, and our switchboard is so freaking old, and I really do believe in my heart that they were switched over, and that there is a short circuit. There have also been a few mornings where I have been greeted by telephones that were not switched over. Although my gut initially has been twisted at the sight of the phones not being switched over, I really do know that I had put them on our night service. I attempted to talk with my boss about it this morning, but she was pretty wrapped up in our health fair, so I will have to readdress this with her at a later date and time. I kind of have the impression that she doesn't believe me...and I just don't know how I can convince her that I am competent enough to do my simple job, and it's the phones that are short circuiting, not me.

**********

On a more positive note, little man has officially proved to me that he knows how to count. We were about to leave the house to go to the park, and I heard him say "One, Two" so I followed up with an elated "THREE" and then he showed me up with a "FOUR FIVE SIX"!!! It completely caught me off guard, seeing as he usually had been repeating "one, two, one."