Professional Gremlin Wrangler

Depression: What Can I Say?

2011-12-15T08:54:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I did a post on my depression but this one has been a long time coming. As I continue to struggle to find answers and support for myself (and as anyone who has ever experienced depression before knows - finding the motivation to help yourself is an effort in and of itself!) I've encountered some great, awesome, helpful people and then...some who are not so helpful. I found myself wondering - what DO you say to a friend or family member who wants to talk to you about their depression? Here's my handy guide. I'd love to hear feedback from others - what helps you and what doesn't?

Things Not To Say:
1. Just look on the bright side - you have a lot to be thankful for. No shit. Really? Of course intellectually I know that I have a lot to be thankful for but depression isn't about intellectualizing - if I could talk myself out of my feelings, I would have done so a long time ago, so why not just give me a second helping of guilt by reminding me that in addition to feeling like crap, I'm ALSO not being grateful for what I have?

2. You're making yourself this way - if you just tried harder/did x differently/thought differently/believed in Jesus then it would get better. This is a fairly ignorant point of view in that it assumes the person is completely in control of the way that they feel. You know who feels the worst about my depression? I DO. If I could press a button or snap my fingers or even saw off a limb in the promise that this would disappear, I would do it in a heartbeat. It's not about mind over matter.

3. Are you sure you're able to work/parent /have more children in the state you're in? Are you me? Are you my husband? Do you have deep, intimate and personal knowledge of our lives and decision making capabilities? No? Then shut the f*ck up and stop assuming that I'm incapable of making informed decisions simply because I struggle with depression.

4. I totally know how you feel - Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Regardless I've never felt helped or commiserated with when someone told this to me. Chances are unless you've lived my exact life, you can't possibly know exactly how I feel. Maybe you're going through or have gone through something similar - in which case - let's chat!

5. How does your husband put up with you? This person was lucky I didn't punch them in the face. So there's that.

6. If you don't stop you're going to mess up your child/children - I had a psychiatrist tell me this. I'm serious. Wow. That was the last time I ever saw or spoke to her; went out and found a post partum depression SPECIALIST. Not all psychs are created equal - some of them are downright awful people with no capacity to empathize with others. It boggles the mind how they ended up in their current career, but always remember - you HAVE choices. Just because they have a Ph.D at the end of their name doesn't mean they know YOU better than YOU do!

7. Hang in there! K, thanks. I'll keep that in mind.

Things To Say:

1. How can I help?
2. I'm there for you - here is my telephone number/email/etc and I'm available to talk if you need me.
3. I don't know how you're feeling but I'm sorry that you're feeling that way because I care about you.
4. You're doing a good job by seeking help/trying hard/expressing your thoughts or feelings
5. What you're feeling is not wrong/bad/crazy
6. Your family and friends love and value you
7. You are a worthwhile person and you are not defined by your diagnosis

In Which My Car and I Get Into an Argument

2011-10-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

It has been no small secret how much I love my truck. Besides it's stylish reliability I even wrote a blog post singing "his" (Ridgy) praises. However, Ridgy and I had a bit of a falling out last week - here's the story.

The day started badly - this is always an omen of things to come. A late alarm, scrambling out of the house and then returning three separate times because I had forgotten critical items - jetting back and froth, baby on hip, in the pouring rain. I dropped Allie off at daycare and decided to stop for one of those nasty canned Starbucks drinks because when you're at my advanced level of caffeine addiction, you don't really care where and in what form you get it. Having procured my coffee, I returned to the truck and turned the key, to which Ridgy replied CLICKCLICKCLICK. Click? Cars don't go click, they go vroom, then they speedily and safely take me to work - THATS WHAT CARS DO. What is this CLICK business?

I run through a list of possibilities, and given my extraordinarily limited knowledge of cars I decide that I probably turned the key for too long while starting it and flooded the (engine?) with gasoline. Having a vague memory of being told this can happen, I sat back for 20 minutes, checking twitter and waiting for the extra gasoline to go back to....wherever it's supposed to go. Turning the key again I hear the ominous CLICKCLICKCLICK as the gauges on the display go crazy, jittering back and forth alarmingly. Why. What did I do? I try my last resort - the approach I take basically anytime something mechanical which I don't understand malfunctions - I turn it off and turn it back on once again with similar results. *insert loud stream of profanity*. Panicked, I tweeted an emergency call for help from any twitter friends in the area, then called Matt, at this point I am incoherent with panic.

Matt: Hello?
Me: THE CAR IS BROKEN
Matt: Broken? Did you get in an accident?
Me: NO IT GOES CLICKCLICK AND THE (can't recall the word 'gauges at this point) NEEDLES GO CRAZY EVERYWHERE AND IM AT WALGREENS
Matt: I have no idea what you're talking about but are you stuck?!
Me: YES!
Matt: Ok, I'm on my way.

Turns out, it was a dead battery. Oh Ridgy, what did I do to upset you? A 4 year old car shouldn't be having these problems. I know I've been neglecting you recently, what with a toddler that rides in you now but I DO try to clean you the best I can and I KNOW THERES A GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH BEHIND THE BACK SEAT but I am doing my best, okay?

Anyway, Matt drives me to work, promising to pick me up at 4:30pm since I am now without a vehicle. My job, I should point out, is in pretty much the most vile part of Allentown you can imagine. A part of Allentown that a girl who grew up in New York City feels uncomfortable walking around in. As luck would have it, work wrapped up early that day. Too early. An hour and 1/2 too early. And I have no car. You know what, I tell myself, with completely disingenuous bravado, I'm a New fuckin' Yorker - I can walk anywhere I damn well want. So I make it a few blocks down to Subway where I kill 45 minutes eating a flatbread sandwich I didn't really want very, very, very slowly. A few blocks later, I park myself on a bench in a visible spot in front of the court house and text Matt as to where I am, partially so he can find me and partially so he can tell the police the last place I was ever seen. And I sit.

Now, I know I'm not a youngster anymore - at 28 I've certainly noticed the number of catcalls I get on a daily basis have decreased significantly but sitting, alone, on an f'ing park bench I imagined I might get a FEW advances, right? Single lady? Alone? After a few meagre "hey baby''s from out of car windows I see a man approaching me - making a beeline for me actually. (1) I am vaguely flattered/relieved (2) I am intimidated. "Hey" he says. "Hi" I reply back to him. "You have shit on your pants." "Excuse me?" "Your pants, you're sitting in bird shit and it's all over your pants." he says, and walks off. "Thanks" I mutter. Thanks a lot self-esteem ruining bird shit police.

I was eventually picked up and driven home, although this remains one of the strangest days I've had in quite some time. Oh, and Ridgy and I are back on good terms, mostly.

My Week in Google Searches

2011-10-04T12:25:00.000-07:00

Best Intervention Episodes
Bath salt addiction is it real?
Dogs can't eat Jello
The Duck Song
How do you make mint jelly?
I'm confused about crocheting
Online eye tests
Phonics song
Right here waiting for you richard marx
What does SMH mean?

My First Day

2011-10-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

I'm filing this story under "these things could only happen to me" because there's really no other way to classify the absurdity of today's events. To summarize, a container of peanut butter saved not only my job, but also, potentially my life and most certainly my pride. But let's backtrack a bit, so I can explain the inane series of events that led up to this moment.

I started the day running - getting myself and Allie ready for our collective "first days" - hers at daycare, mine at work. In all the scrambling, on the drive, I realize I've forgotten to take my medication. I shrug it off, as it's happened before with no consequence more severe than a little headache. After dropping Allie off at daycare I decide to drown my growing migraine with a cup of coffee and a Fiber One bar. I spend some time in the parking lot gathering myself, during which time I send this tweet:

Angel__Bee Michele

Nothing says professionalism like finding peanut butter in your work bag.

Flash forward to noon....

No, I didn't pack my lunch, in fact, I wasn't aware that (1) everyone packs their lunches in this office and (2) the office itself is in a part of Allentown so vile that nobody even dares to venture any further than the parking lot, so getting food "somewhere" is out of the question. I go out to the car, drink some Red Bull and eat 1/2 a container of breath mints. Flash forward to 2pm.

It begins. The morning of stress combined with the lack of medication, combined with the caffeine and fiber, combined with a stomach full of mints hits me like a brick wall covered in spikes and smeared with Ebola virus. "There is no pain, you are receeding, a distant ship's smoke on the horizon" - I start to get cold sweats, to the point that I feel sweat dripping down my back, neck and temples. My hands are cold and clammy. "You are only coming through in waves." My eyes start to see stars and my ears are muffled so I can barely hear what my training instructor is saying. "Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying." I am smiling and nodding the best I can, at this point, - be cool, maintain the appearance of normalcy. Smile. Nod. Yes, I do understand how I have to date and sign this paper. No I don't think I might be dying at this very moment.

In my confused state I try to assess my options. I am sitting at a training for my new job as an ADDICTION COUNSELOR inside a drug & alcohol facility. Randomly fainting and/or vomiting would probably be looked on suspiciously here. Could I excuse myself to the bathroom? Could I even make it to the bathroom? I pardoned myself and careened down the hallway to the ladies room where I locked the door and lay on the cold, disgusting laminate floor, breathing in & out erratically. I just want to go to sleep. How long could I lie here before they found me, I wondered? I needed something to eat. NOW. Wiping off my face in the mirror I remembered - THE PEANUT BUTTER - with shaking hands I tore open the container and squeezed it into my mouth, remembering in 1 horrific moment the day I had acquired it, roughly 1 year ago. I swallowed and drank some water from the sink, disgusted with myself but begging for mercy. Within moments the ringing in my ears began to subside and I started to feel normal. I splashed some more water on my face and returned to the meeting room.

And that's the story of how I almost passed out / potentially had a panic attack on my first day back at work.

Follow a Follower Giveaway!

2011-10-01T12:20:00.000-07:00

I've never done a giveaway before, in fact, this isn't even a 100% serious giveaway but here we go...

As many of you know, I have recently taken up crocheting. While I spend most of my time working on this scarf, I also like to dabble in what I call Michele's Yarn Abominations. What is it? You may be asking yourself? Well, good reader, that's part of the fun of a patented Yarn Abomination. Nobody quite knows. Is it a trapezoid? A tiny, albeit useless handbag? A pony? Are you squinting really hard - did you try squinting? Anyway, here's the deal-io. Go to my twitter account and follow a random person that I follow. Then, leave me a comment on my blog telling me who you chose to follow and anything else you'd like to add. Requests are welcome, however, I can't gaurantee they will be fulfilled. Such is the nature of a Michele's Yarn Abomination. Then I will choose a LUCKY commenter to receive their Abomination! You can even choose the color of the yarn. That's just how much I love you guys.

And while I don't actually expect a single person to follow through with this, I promise I will continue making my little Abominations because it's good, clean fun, damn it!

Favorite Favorites/ Ridiculous Retweets

2011-10-01T10:05:00.000-07:00

hot_spunk Justin Boner

I'm getting pretty good at putting deodorant on. I hardly ever get it in my eyes anymore.

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

Papa Murphy's was founded on the idea of making pizza like no one else. So they cover it in turnips, ball bearings and 7-Up.

That_Biz Biz

THAT DOESN'T GO IN YOUR NOSE!

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

Facebook to scrap the 'Poke' and replace with with 'the long, uncomfortable hug.'

Jason_maybe Jason

Ever had a mullet? Killed a deer with your bare hands? Slept with your sister? NASCAR has exciting job opportunities for you!

exlibris Little Big

I really think parenting would be a lot easier if we were all given interns.

FilthyRichmond Jocelyn

Zoloft's sad little blob character is no match for Abilify's bug-eyed black hole of gnawing existential despair.

AngryBieber Justin

"I push-a broom across your face, I dip your penis into this place, I touch mars and I'll finger cars." -Anthony Kiedis, I'm assuming.

L8enough Alex Iwashyna

My son: Do you want to see 'butt in the air'? Me: Maybe?

kkilimnik Kelly

One day I'm going to revolutionize the fashion world with dog hair covered clothes. One day.

snotandboogers Tina

Waiting for my mom to show up is like waiting for Godot

HwnInPA Jason

My new phrase for the day: Catastrophic Gastrointestinal Distress Read into it as you will.

TristinaWright Tristina

The dog is not cleaning up the thrown mango. Fail living vacuum. Fail.

unxpctdblessing Lauren Hale

It'd be easier to find a unicorn than it is to get a Virginia driver's license.

nicthacker Nic Thacker

LOL GUYS WHY ISN'T THERE A DISLIKE BUTTON ON FACEBOOK BECAUSE I DISLIKE SO MANY THINGS

bumlaser Nick Beatty

HANDEGG is upon us. The Giants or whatever of New York against the kitten-murdering Eagles of Philingdelphia.

MeganShpettit Megan Shpettit

Your girlfriend has a phone app that amasses all the stupid things you've said so she has ammunition for the next fight.

KatyShuroo Kate

Where would we be without our old friend, the potato, eh?

nick_hubert Mr Nick

Ikea was busy. I only managed 2 fights but won both of them. I bought a highchair.

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

All the people who die in Jason Statham films? He really kills them.

exlibris Little Big

Licking melted brie off my shirt. #baller

FozziesRevenge Nate Lopez

EEE YAA AAAAYYEE OHHH, EEE YAA AAAAYYEE OHHH! ZOMBIEEE ZOMBIEEE ZOMBEE EE EE........ you're welcome

holdthypiece Tony

Made a Wile E Coyote "HELP!" sign. When the satellite hits me I'll be found with just one arm visible, still clutching my sign.

CElston Christopher Elston

I don't want to brag, but I really dominated a group of seven year old girls on the soccer field yesterday.

MeganBoley Megan Boley

Immediately drank coffee after puke. Body was like "that's better! If you are going to chug something at 6am, better be coffee, idiot."

MeganBoley Megan Boley

There is a little boy wearing a pirate hook and peeing in the park.

kblumenau Kurt Blumenau

by Angel__Bee

@MakeMommyCoffee Porta-johns, dog poop and "Twilight": All your posts tonight are about s--t.

Ch8rming This Charming Man

by Angel__Bee

Shia LaBeouf is what happens when you name your child from a random rack of Scrabble tiles.

TwoAdults TwoAdults

by Angel__Bee

I willing to bet that the Michelin Man and the Stay Puft Marshmallow guy are related.

ProfessorSnack ProfessorSnack

by Angel__Bee

May your chores today be endless and fraught with difficulty. Happy Labor Day.

IvanBrett Ivan Brett

by Angel__Bee

Bitten by a radioactive Spider-Man, it's Spider-Man-Man!

LauraSparling Laura Sparling

by Angel__Bee

Birthday Fairy - Please deliver Ewan McGregor to me in a couple of weeks. I've been asking for him for seventeen years now. Love, Laura X

Athenabee Nadja

by Angel__Bee

If I could have a super power it would be the Vulcan Death Grip and I'd use the shit out of it.

LVwithLove LVwithLove

by Angel__Bee

Guinness World Record for "most bobble heads bobbling at once" broken today!!!! #earthquake

FozziesRevenge Nate Lopez

by Angel__Bee

HOW HAVE WE NOT PERFECTED PRINTER TECHNOLOGY YET?????

joraamn Bob Austin

by Angel__Bee

RIP Richard Simmons. He's not dead or anything, I just hope he sleeps well tonight.

Pickers & Ignorers

2011-09-19T15:52:00.000-07:00

Imagine you're a teenager again. It's the night before something BIG - a school presentation, a date, whatever - and you realize you're getting a huge, giant, unsightly pimple. Are you a picker or an ignorer?

Tonight, as I was getting ready to slip into my post baby-bedtime bath, I looked in the mirror and had this very experience. Granted I'm not a teenager, in fact at 28 I still get the occasional pimple (which is ridiculous and irritating but that's a whole different story) and I don't have anywhere particularly important to be tomorrow, but the fact remained - I am getting a big, giant, unsightly pimple on my chin. I stared at my reflection for a while and started to poke and prod at it, despite a lifetime of warnings to the contrary. There is something on my face that I have no control over - I must interfere, I must force my influence into the mix in the vain hope I can make the unwanted situation better somehow.

And that's when I had one of those bathroom revelations - you know you've had them before, usually they happen very early in the morning in the shower when the synapses in your brain are firing weakly and all out of sorts. There are two kinds of people in this world - either you're a picker, or you're an ignorer. Does the way we approach a pimple say something much deeper about our problem solving skills in general?

I'm a picker. I pick at my skin, I pick at my nails, I pick at things in general when they don't go my way. I pick at my brain when there is a problem I can't resolve to the point of sleep deprivation and sickening stress, I pick at my self esteem on such a regular basis and for so many years It's developed deep layers of scar tissue. Pickers attack problems head-on, sometimes without thinking through possible negative consequences. Pickers know they're going to cause themselves pain, in fact, their picking may actually make things infinitely worse, but it's worth the risk because pickers can't just do NOTHING about a problem.

Then, there are ignorers. I know ignorers well. When confronted with a pimple, ignorers do just that. They ignore it. Maybe it will go away, maybe I can hide it somehow. Let's just not think about this right now. I don't have time for this. Ignorers have trouble coping when their plans are thrown off course and their immediate knee-jerk response is: this isn't happening. Well, like a pimple, the problem will eventually grow bigger and more difficult to ignore. Eventually it will get to the point where everyone else around you sees it too. Maybe if left for too long the problem will get worse from your inattention to it. But for ignorers, inaction is far preferable to admitting that something is wrong.

So that's my bathroom psychology for the night - pickers and ignorers. Which one are you? Is there a category somewhere in between? Maybe the "go to a dermatologist and get some cream so this doesn't happen again" category of people who are excellent future planners?

The Red Dragon: A Post About Elmo

2011-09-13T09:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to the bright, clear sun of a cloudless September day streaming through the windows - a morning full of limitless possibilities. From the baby monitor on the bedside table, I could hear the gentle rustling that indicated Allie was about to wake up. She rustled, she threw off the blankets and sat up. What magical, innocent things go through the mind of a sleepy toddler, I wondered briefly, until ... "ELMO!" she barked through the monitor - her first word of the day. You guys, my precious daughter has been infected by the Cult of Elmo and she's in deep.

I can't pinpoint exactly when it all started, but somewhere within the last 4 months or so, Allie drank the red Kool Aid. The interesting thing about the Elmo phenomenon is that he's almost completely inescapable. Wherever we go Allie spots him on something - a cereal box, diapers, kids plates, a display. "EHMO!" she points excitedly - she smiles at him - Hi Red Furry Overlord!

Then, Matt and I made a critical rookie parenting mistake - we discovered that Netflix and Youtube have streaming episodes of Elmo & Elmo's songs from Sesame Street. Then, we SHOWED THEM TO HER on our laptops. Now, no laptop is safe. Whenever one of us is holding a laptop Allie scrambles over with lighting speed, her chubby finger outstretched, her big blue eyes staring intently "EHMO! EHMO!" she demands. Play Elmo on the Shiny Elmo Box. Do it now! Do it or I'll cry like you broke my soul.

It's not even just Elmo - it's Elmo and his whole creepy entourage. Dorothy the fish who (sorry kids) has probably been replaced at least 50 times already. Sometimes I like to imagine a haunted graveyard on an Indian burial ground in the back lot of the Sesame Studios peppered with tiny Dorothy headstones. Dorothies 1- 49. I honestly can't bring myself to say much about Mr. Noodle simply because he scares the bejesus out of me in a deep, visceral way that makes my inner child cower in the fetal position and cry "SCARY CLOWN!!!" Mr Noodle is impossibly dumb - and this is, apparently, hilarious to children. NO Mr. Noodle! THATS not how you put on your shoes! Poor, helplessly incapable Mr. Noodle. Then when they call scene he goes backstage and secretly drinks all the bottles of mouthwash in everyone's dressing rooms, goes home to his studio apartment and watches QVC until 3 in the morning. Poor, sad, terrifying Mr. Noodle.*

*disclaimer: I'm sure whoever Mr. Noodle actually is, is a very nice man. In fact - here's a Wiki page about him disproving my initial impressions http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._Noodle I also like to imagine unspeakable things about the Wiggles, which simply can't be written down here.

Annnnnyway....

The Elmo Phenomenon has one potentially endearing quality in that it seems to unite parents everywhere. Whenever I post on my Twitter account about Allie and her passionate love for Elmo I always get an enormous amount of responses to the tune of: "OMG I hate his stupid red face" or "I would rather have unmedicated dental surgery than watch 1 more episode of Elmo's World" or "His squeaky voice gave me PTSD from which I have yet to recover." Yes, Elmo unites parents everywhere in a universal hatred that we can all relate to. Elmo is an often discussed villan at the playgroup we attend.

Eventually, I assume, Allie will grow out of her Elmo phase and maybe one day, in the very distant future, I will look back with a nostalgic fondness for that little red monster & the ardent love my tiny daughter had for him when she was a baby. That is, if I ever get that damn song out of my head

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_Rvz4eaH0o

Internet Searches From the Edge of Madness

2011-09-07T16:21:00.001-07:00

Another installment in my "what bizarre things have I been Googling" series. And here we go...

A: Apple crumble topping; Airport Road Urgent Care Center;

B: Butt joint spackle; Butt spackle; Bechamel; Bird Tattoo; Bryan Cransten

C: Candy legos; Conjunctivitis

D: Downeaster Alexa lyrics; Dehumidifier; Do you cook lasagna noodles?

E: Elmo; Eponymous; Earnest Hemmingway

F: Flying sparrow; Ferrous; Funny toddler Halloween costumes

G: Gummy bear song; Garden Gnome costume; Geo Prism

H: How long can you keep Ricotta frozen?; Hand drawing a hand; Human/animal hybrids

I: Itchy eyes; ICarly

J: Jessie's Girl Lyrics

K: Kashi; Knobels

L: (???) Nothing!

M: Malm ikea chair; Musikfest

N: Names that sound like Laura

O: Oriental Trading Company; Owl tattoo

P: Puffy swollen eyelid; Palmer Mall; Personalized Spongebob Pajamas; Putty

Q: Queen Bicycle Race

R: Rick Springfield; Roasting tomatoes; ROFLCOPTOR; Robert Pattinson

S: Songs about Elmo; Self winding spaghetti fork; Sock monkey Halloween costume

T: Twinkle Twinkle; Toddler costume

U: Uncanny valley

V: (???) Nothing.

W: What is in Sudafed?; What is a stye?

X: Nada

Y: Yuengling

Z: Nothin'

The Cycle of Sickness

2011-09-07T09:11:00.000-07:00

We might as well be coloring with vials of Ebola

We are sick again, although, I can't say I didn't see this coming. Parents of small children are probably all too familiar with the Cycle of Sickness that occurs within families - ours goes a little something like this:

Step 1: I get the brilliant, well-intentioned idea of taking Allie somewhere "fun." Because she's a toddler, Allie's idea of fun generally centers around the basic principes of running, touching things & sticking them in her mouth. So, where better to take a running, stuff-licking child than a big public place, with lots of other running, stuff-licking children, right? So last weekend we set out for the Crayola factory, where Allie and her two toddler friends Asher & Zion spent a whole afternoon running and licking things that hundreds of thousands of other small children touched and licked. I have two distinct memories of wrestling crayons out of Allie's mouth which she had retrieved from a giant, grimy trough of crayons which a table of small children were using to color pictures.

Step 2: A few days goes by. I pat myself on the back that "look, she didn't get sick THIS TIME!" The universe throws it's cruel head back and laughs maniacally, fully aware of what is about to occur.

Step 3: Allie wakes up in the middle of the night. I know lots of kids wake up at night at her age, but Allie - who clearly got the 'dead to the world' sleeping gene from her father, NEVER wakes up. We are blessed (BLESSED!) that she is a 12 hour a night, sound sleeper. But about 3 days after her Running & Licking Things Adventure, she wakes up at midnight or around that hour, crying in her sleep. We investigate and find either (a) a fever (b) a runny nose (c) diarrhea (d) something even more unpleasant. Myself or my husband puts her back to sleep and returns, wild eyed with fear, to bed and whispers nervously to the other the DREADED phrase: "I think she's getting sick"

Step 4: Sickness. Sniffling, vomiting, crying, whining, sadness abounds. Within a few days, things begin to improve when.....

Step 5: I wake up one morning feeling "off" - I chalk it up to allergies, dehydration, ANYTHING. I am not getting sick. NOT SICK. Cannot happen. Full denial. By the end of the day I'm hacking, sneezing, fever-ing, etc. I call Matt at work and he brings home some cold medication and I spend the next week in a haze of pseudoephedrine and Advil, going through the motions of daily life wheeeennnn

Step 6: My husband develops a headache, or sore throat. Defeated, there is no need for denial. We know what's happening. I load him up on cold medications and he trudges off to work. Sometimes his cold develops into a full blown "man cold" - notoriously more virulent and crippling than your standard virus, and for some reason the only known cure is 24 hours on the couch watching Star Trek reruns.

And thus completes the Cycle of Sickness. You know what sounds fun for next weekend, though? The Please Touch (and lick) Museum! (begin cycle again)

Turns Out, Irene Is Kind Of A B*tch

2011-09-06T07:49:00.000-07:00

Man Cave Movie Screen, pre-hurricane

So, last week we had a hurricane. I'll admit, at first I was very excited, as it was my very first hurricane. I dutifully collected "emergency supplies" (short list: flashlights, water, air card, & lots & lots of goldfish crackers) and stocked up on non-perishable foods. Because of Matt's job, we already knew in advance that I would be weathering (heh) the storm alone - just me, Allie and the dog.

Saturday night was terrifying - I've never experienced a storm that woke me up throughout the night with it's loudness and force. Winds battered our house, slammed trees and rain pelted against the windows all night into the morning. Matt left for work at 5am, and I was relieved that we had - so far - not lost power (my biggest concern). When I came downstairs, on Sunday morning, I surveyed for any damage. The willow tree in the backyard lost a big branch, the patio furniture had been flung off the deck, over the 4ft railing, and into the yard. Otherwise, everything else was intact and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Around 1pm, Allie started pointing at the basement door, "bahsmen!" she demanded. The finished basement serves as a combination of playroom for Allie and movie room/man cave for Matt. Over the last year, Matt has been transforming the basement into a little oasis for himself, complete with pool and air hockey table, movie posters, projector and huge movie screen. On Saturday we had completed the "movie" area with two couches for lounging.

(Male readers, lovers of basements and owners of mancaves may want to skip the next paragraph to avoid mental trauma)

I picked Allie up and started down the basement stairs. The musty air is what hit me first - it was incredibly humid. Unusual. Upon reaching the bottom stair my bare foot hit water. No. No no no no. To my horror, I was staring at 8 inches of water evenly covering the entire basement floor - it looked serene, like a big indoor lake. I quickly brought Allie upstairs and then went down to survey the damage for myself. Matt's laptop, which he'd left on the floor from watching movies the night before, lay calmly in it's place, completely and totally submerged like a fishtank ornament.

A stream of unimaginable profanity exploded out of me. I called Matt at work, and he phoned our insurance company. I took to Twitter: "OH MY GOD MY (fudgecicle) BASEMENT IS COMPLETELY (fudging) FLOODED. WHAT THE (fudge) DO I DO?!?!"*

*language has been altered slightly

I did the only other thing I could think of - grabbed the camera and tried to snap a few pictures of Lake Basement and posted them on Facebook.

I realize that despite the flooded basement, we escaped the hurricane with minimal damage, compared to some others in our area. We still had a roof, and a home and an infrastructure and most of all POWER. We never lost electricity throughout the whole event which meant, mostly, that I could take my rage out on the internet, rather than in other, more destructive, ways.

The day after the hurricane, I started seeing the unavoidable articles, tweets, Facebook posts about how the storm was "all hype." Clearly, these were written by people whose neighborhoods were not as effected as ours & others were. Yes. It was all hype. My basement is filled with gallons and gallons of hype, so much that I might have to hire a hype abatement specialist to make sure all that hype hasn't leeched into the walls. Hype took PA residents out of power for an entire week, hype destroyed homes and flooded entire towns. Damn that hype! Storm preparedness, it seems, is a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" sort of scenario - if it's not talked about enough or downplayed, if emergency preparedness doesn't happen in advance, people end up getting hurt or worse. But if you talk about it TOO much in advance and the media & local officials try to get people prepared and the storm isn't apocalyptic, well then everyone's angry about that too. Humans are fickle.

As for us, we are proud to say there are no longer gallons of hype in the basement, however, the damage is fairly extensive. New floors, new walls. My husband is mourning the loss of his mancave and my heart breaks a little every time Allie asks to go play in the "bahsmen" and I have to tell her "no." However, allwill be restored eventually and I've learned that hurricanes are serious business, no matter how well prepared you think you are.

Cranky Mommy's Top 5 Most Hated Toys

2011-08-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

Normally, I love and am grateful for the fact that we are able to provide our daughter with decent, educational toys. I realize that some children are not as lucky. However, today I am cranky because while I was making dinner, Allie opened both toy chests, removed their contents just for giggles and now my living room looks like this.

So I humbly present to you, my Top 5 Most Hated Toys

(1) Flashcards:

It seems like such a great idea - IN THEORY - to give a 1 year old two boxes of animal & colors flashcards. Gotta start young preparing for school, otherwise how can she expect to get into a good preschool....or college? The very fate of her intellectual future hangs in the balance! Time to start panicking. Reality: 40 flashcards cover the floors of my house like a brightly colored paper-y carpet. Allie spends 90% of her time enjoying how they look as she takes them out of the box; then I put them in the box; then she takes them out of the box - see a pattern? The remaining 10% of the time she actually looks at the cards and says animal & color names, which makes me feel OBLIGATED to keep them around because - see - she's LEARNING!

(2) Toy Electric Guitars:

Aw, a baby rockstar - adorable, yes? What budding Eric Clapton would be complete without her tiny, annoying, repetitive-song playing plastic guitar, eh? Despite the fact that Allie loves pressing the buttons and hearing the songs play (one of her guitars plays a rather jazzy rendition of Police classic "Message in a Bottle") I have secret fantasies of going all Pete Townsend or Jimi Hendrix on these little monstrosities and burying the remains in the backyard.

(3) Toy Laptops

Oh, isn't it funny? Toddlers - they're just like little people, eh? And what modern little denizen could go a single day without her FULLY FUNCTIONAL TOY LAPTOP. Yes, that's right. While I plug away on my partially broken 5 year old Acer, my 1 year old's pink toy laptop receives ACTUAL email, and tells her when it posts a "new blog entry" - I wish I were making this up. Allie, can I borrow your laptop when you inevitably break mine from pounding on the keyboard? It probably loads internet pages faster and reads PDF files. Thanks.

(4) Toy Cell Phones:

See Toy Laptops, only WITH RINGTONES! My 1 year old doesn't need to make phone calls to Elmo, Abby or Big Bird. What could they possibly have to talk about? Oh hi, i'm a 40 year old beloved imaginary TV character - oh, really? I'm 1 and I only say 20 words. K, talk to you later!

(5) Stacking blocks:

Only parenting veterans know the excruciating pain of stepping on one of these little mothers in your bare feet in the middle of the night. But don't worry - there are only 20 of them. And half of them are missing and/or presumed to be somewhere in the dog's lower intestine.

My Favorite Favorites

2011-08-10T04:49:00.000-07:00

holdthypiece Tony

With one stroke of my clumsy fat fingers, I just turned all superheroes into superherpes. Sorry about that.

tristina_wright Tristina

stephen brought me a nutter butter blizzard. i just fell in love with him all over again.

stateiamin Erin

I really think Trader Joe's should hire Ted just for saying, "Ahoy, Hiring Manager," in his cover letter.

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

Facebook use may lead to psychological disorders in teens. They think they are more popular than they really are. And that they can farm.

IvanBrett Ivan Brett

A MAN JUST STOLE THE NUTMEG! A MAN JUST STOLE THE NUTMEG (from this generic branded coffee establishment)! IT WAS THERE AND THEN HE TOOK IT!

exlibris Little Big

You know what? I could probably get more done in a day, too, if I had a baby jaguar by my side. Quit rubbing it in, Diego.

ProfessorSnack ProfessorSnack

MTV is like a lot of 30 year olds in that it's doing something completely different than it had hoped to be doing.

kneeleigh Neely

Most of Miley Cyrus' tattoos look like she got them in prison...

letmepeeinpeace KrisSmith

Me: "Stop putting the water in your mouth." My kid: "Why?" Me: "Some people pee in the pool." My kid: "I'm one of those people."

kellyloveszoey Kelly

CSI person is here taking pics and looking for fingerprints. She did not hear me ask if she found any semen. Probably a good thing.

exlibris Little Big

HOLY HELL WE HAVE JUST ACHIEVED NAPPAGE THANK THE SWEET BABY PICARD JESUS WITH A MONOCLE

xzqx Anne

On my way to work this morning, I saw a man standing by the road, forlornly holding a canister vacuum.

WerewolfMike M.T. Murphy

Our lil monster found a spider in the garage yesterday and named him Steve. I call him "aaahhhhhhhh." #dadfail

lotsOspermies Pamela Gold

Wanna know what I fucking hate? When baseball players point to the sky and like thank God for their hit like God made it happen.

KatyShuroo Kate

Going to shops. "I get ready on own" announces 2yo Smallboy, returning bedecked in flowery bunting and carrying a bun wrapper "in case cake"

ProfessorSnack ProfessorSnack

I imagine Mark Twain's eyebrows were hair nurseries that fostered hairlings until they were strong enough to survive in his mustache.

Athenabee Nadja

Oh like *you've* never spilled beer on your kid's beanie babies.

TwoAdults TwoAdults

Ezra just shouted at a bird, "HEY! DON'T YOU TAKE MY LUNCH!" I've taught him well.

LauraSparling Laura Sparling

Our toaster is naff. I reckon I'd get better toast results by asking one of the guinea pigs to fart on a slice of bread.

That_Biz Biz

@exlibris @michelevgreen @tristina_wright @thegrumbles let's not act like we didn't already think Steve does a couple bumps between clues.

kneeleigh Neely

Had some coffee. I no longer dislike my husband. #HappyFathersDayNow!

LVwithLove LVwithLove

I wonder what my brain is doing with the space I used to memorize phone numbers with.

willoffendyou Will O'Fend

There ain't no party like a 5 year old party 'cause a 5 year old party has cake. I fucking love cake.

tristina_wright Tristina

@michelevgreen @Pinkdaisy1123 DO IT NOW! SAY MAP NOW! NOW NOW NOOOOWW! And then, "WHAT DID MAP TELL YOU? I CAN'T HEAR OVER MY OWN YELLING!"

Athenabee Nadja

Justin Bieber hair makes me want to start a riot.

MeganBoley Megan Boley

Oh, Fage yogurt. You are my little gentleman. I'll take you to foggy London town, cause you're my gentleman.

JennyJohnsonHi5 Jenny Johnson

"YOU GET A CUP OF COFFEE! YOU GET a cup of coff.. *sobbing* everybody gets a cup *softly weeping* of coffee." - Oprah this morning

sucittaM MJ

I bet after hours at the grocery store they take the rubber bands off the lobster's claws and shit gets insane.

thegrumbles jamie

putting all your pants in the dryer is the same as sentencing yourself to a week of poor self esteem.

L8enough Alex Iwashyna

I wonder how many homicides coffee has prevented?

kneeleigh Neely

@michelevgreen "you mean I'm gonna have a pet pola bear?" "symbolically..." "Like, at my house?!" "symbolically..." "I'm gonna need a pool!"

goodbadfamily Margaret Awesome

Awesome part of breast feeding is all the baby nail scratches all over my boobs. I look like I'm smuggling cats in my bra.

briemarisa1977 Brie L

"But this is a GOOD Vin Diesel movie", the Husband says in all sincerity.

TheNerdyDad Matthew Green

I'm always into the latest technology. To hear more about me check out my myspace page.

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

They call it Applebee's signature sauce because it's made from pen ink.

MrWordsWorth Mark Campbell

Lady Gaga bit the head off a Barbie doll. Somewhere, Ozzy Osbourne shakes his head & reaches for another ferret to eat.

I love you all so much I could hug you - virtually, that is. Thanks to @tristina_wright for the brilliant idea.

"So what did YOU do today?"

2011-08-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

Don't let her cuteness deceive you

Most days, when my husband gets home from work - he tells me about his day. Fun or funny things that may have happened, what he had for lunch, etc. This leads, inevitably, to the question "So, tell me about YOUR day?" And I never have anything particularly poignant to say. How do you sum up the day of a stay at home mom in a few interesting sentences? Well, rather than sell him short, I've decided to log my morning so far - here's the rundown:

6am: Husband leaves for work
6:30am: Baby starts ominous squeaking/shuffling routine that indicates she's getting ready to wake up. Sigh. Squeak. Shuffle. Rinse & repeat.
6:45am: Baby begins talking in her crib. Dada? MONKEY! (indecipherable gibberish) Baba! Hi!
7am: Suppressing tears, I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth/wash my face and get Allie from her crib.

Me (brightly): "Hi Allie, good morning!"
Allie: Suddenly inexplicably silent, despite having jib-jabbered me awake for the last 30 minutes
Me: "Do you want me to pick you up?" (holds out arms)
Allie: "WHALE!" (there are animals on her crib sheet)
Me: "....yes."

(Pick up Allie and bring her downstairs)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8AM: The Milk Debacle:

Me: "Do you want yogurt or milk?"
Allie: "Baba"
(we are weaning her off bottles and onto using sippy cups exclusively)
Me: "You want milk, okay!"
And I give her milk in sippy cup
Allie (taking a few sips): "BABA"
Me: (exaggerated excitement) "Yeah! That's baba milk in your sippy!"
Allie hurls the cup at me and stalks off

(20 minutes later)

Allie starts pulling at my pants and gesturing at the fridge
Me: "Do you want yogurt?"
Allie: "Yogurt"
We eat yogurt
Allie: "Baba"
I hand her the sippy cup, she slaps it away dramatically with remarkable dexterity
20 additional minutes of hysterical screaming later I give up and bring her milk in the bottle
Allie drinks for 4 sips and throws the bottle on the floor.
Me (not friendly anymore): FINE! I go to the fridge, fill a sippy with new milk, put some crackers next to it on the coffee table and walk away.

.....20 minutes goes by

Allie begins tugging on me again
Me: "Are you thirsty?"
Allie: "Thirsty!"

I survey the room, which now contains two sippy cups and 1 bottle all FILLED with drinkable liquid....and my brain explodes

END SCENE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
10am: The UPS Man

Allie is now asleep, taking her only nap of the day. This nap is very important to me. VERY IMPORTANT. It is my chance to get every personal and household chore done in a frenzied 2 hour period while she sleeps.

10:45am - I hear a low growl coming from the family room - the UPS man has appeared on the front porch and the dog is 1 millisecond from exploding into a barking frenzy. WOOF! WOOFWOOFWOOF!! WOOF WOOF WOO --- it is at this point that I leap into action and with ninja-like reflexes I tackle our 90lb lab to the floor and clamp both my hands over his snout. I wish I could say I was exaggerating but I am not. MRPH! MRPHHH! muffled barks continue to bubble out of him as we lock eyes on the family room floor. Silently, my eyes tell him to SHUT THE F&$% UP or he will be spending the rest of the day in the garage. Silently, his eyes tell me "YOU HAZ SNACKS FOR ME?! Snout holding = snacks for Logan game?!" No. It does not. The UPS man leaves and slowly I release my grip. Allie is still asleep & I breathe a sigh of relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, that's been my day so far. I wish I could say any of this was out of the ordinary but it's not. Because there IS no "ordinary" in the life of a stay at home toddler parent!

Policy or Parenting? Validate my Anger, Or Don't

2011-07-30T18:23:00.000-07:00

This Saturday my husband, brother in law and I took a tour of a local PA brewery, and maybe I shouldn't have brought Allie along.

I reviewed the website before we left, which promised a 30 minute walking tour, with no restrictions other than the need to wear closed toed shoes. I packed Allie into her umbrella stroller (the most portable stroller we own) and we set off for the tour. Upon walking through the door we heard "No. Oh no. No strollers are allowed on the tour." Literally. The first words out of our "host's" mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry" I apologized, and began unbuckling Allie and all of her gear, squelching my desire to inform her that this restriction wasn't listed on her website. Never mind. She probably doesn't have anything to do with the website. No stroller, no problem. Allie could walk, or we could hold her. We stowed the stroller away and continued to the waiting area.

There we were greeted by our tour guide who would be taking us through the brewery. We formed a line and walked in after her, my husband carrying Allie who was silent, smiling and looking around. It was a this point that the tour guide pulled him and I aside. "You know, if she starts acting up, screaming or making noise, you're going to need to take her out. There are a lot of people here who want to actually hear the information." I was speechless, simmering in anger - but why?

This tour guide had, in my mind, assessed us and summed us up to be Rude People. The type of people who would blithely stand by and make an entire group of 30 tour-goers suffer while their child ran, screamed and disrupted the experience for everyone else. OF COURSE I would take Allie out if she became disruptive, but why did I need her to tell me something I already knew? To say I felt unwelcome on the tour was an understatement from that point on. Anytime Allie even so much as breathed loudly I wondered "is this it? She's watching us for signs of disruption...do I need to take her out NOW or could I allow her another babble before we ran for the exits?"

Whenever we take our toddler to public places where other people are attempting to enjoy themselves I am ALWAYS prepared to make a fast break - to me, that's one of the core tenants of toddler ownership. Toddlers are loud, toddlers cry and have tantrums, all things which other people find to be irritating and disruptive. I get it - I totally do. When we take Allie out to a restaurant, I am prepared to take her out at any sign of a tantrum but does the hostess tell every family with a child "Just do you know, if he/she cries, you have to get out?" Hell no! So what was this woman's deal? Did I even have a right to be mad - technically she was just voicing out loud something I AGREED with and would have done anyway.

My husband didn't understand my frustration. "She probably does 30 tours a day, and sees this situation play out over and over - the kids run around, make noise and people don't enjoy themselves - she was just trying to avoid a bad situation." Also fair enough.

So what do you think - parents? Was this tour guide totally justified voicing her "loud child" policy to us, or do you think it was unnecessary rudeness?

Technical Difficulties: Critical User Error

2011-07-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'll admit it. I've been neglecting the blog. It's a little embarrassing to realize that my last entry was from over a month ago, but it's even more embarrassing that I have to sadly recount how I single-handedly broke my blog.

The story of stupidity and woe all started, strangely enough, with Google +.

I was as giddy as a caffeinated schoolgirl the day Google finally "invited" me to become one of it's elite new Google + users. Like a race horse, I virtually sprinted out of the gate, filling out my profile, creating circles, inviting others. There was a lot of furious typing, that's for sure - I may have even pulled a finger ligament or two. Anywho, at some point during my frenzied Google + ing, some option must have come up that was like "hey, do you want to link your Picasa web albums to your profile, it would be spiffy!" and I was all "What? NO! WHO ARE YOU?! I don't even USE Picasa Web Whatever." and deleted the album.

Flash forward to 2 weeks later, which I go to dust the virtual cobwebs of my blog and *EEEEEK* all my images are gone. Clicking on them resulted in an ominous 404 error "not found on server." Double-eek. So I posted on blogger's help forum and got this reply in return:

"Did you recently delete photos from Google+? If so, this automatically deletes them from Picasa Web Albums, which stores images uploaded to Blogger.

Unfortunately, there is no recover of deleted images from Picasa, so you will have to re-upload them. If you don't have the originals, cached versions may still appear in the results of a Google image search - I get about 66 images for the following query:

Professional Gremlin Wrangler site:professionalgremlinwrangler.blogspot.com"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

If this were a scene in a movie, the camera would pan out slowly, cutting from my living room, to my house, to my street, to my town, to my state, to the earth and STILL you would hear the trailing echoes of my scream.....

So, yeah. I deleted all my blog images - most of which are no longer on my computer. Thanks to Helpy McBearerofbadnews who answered my question in the Blogger help forum, most of the images appear to be cached if I image search my own blog. I'll have to find the images from the internetz, then RE-UPLOAD them in the appropriate order, to the appropriate posts.

So while I'm working on that, I'll leave you to entertain yourselves with this:
Backin' Up Song

Dogs & Toddlers - a Cost vs. Benefit Analysis

2011-06-29T06:39:00.000-07:00

Dog ---> Toddler

Pros:

* Reliable source of food
* Does not struggle/fight back when you take food from it
* Cannot punish you or otherwise retaliate
* Smells interesting

Cons:

* Independently mobile / can follow you
* Risk of enraging toddler's caregiver when stealing food
* Thinks you're funny/furry/adorable and tries to touch or pet you
* Poor motor skills - petting likes results in hitting/ pulling/ slapping
* Makes loud noises

= Overall analysis: Potential negative outcomes are outweighed by potential for reliable food source

Toddler ----> Dog

Pros:
* Dog is furry to touch
* Dog is funny to watch
* Dog makes interesting noises
* It is fun when the Dog eats out of your hand

Cons:
* Snacks are taken against will
* Dog runs from you or otherwise avoids you
* Dog makes loud barking noises
* Dog is bigger than you and moves rapidly

= Overall analysis: FUZZY DOGGIE!

The Worst (Dog)

2011-06-24T06:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a friend of mine on Twitter asked "what is the worst thing that your dog has ever ruined?" Having been friends with me long enough, she already knew that the basic list of things Logan had destroyed *in general* was lengthy, but she wondered - what was THE WORST?

After considering it for a while, I finally picked a "winner"....if you can call it that. The two runners up included the death of comforter we'd received as a wedding present which Logan literally (and I do literally mean literally....literally) humped the stuffing out of; and the time he ruined our dishwasher because he'd gotten his collar tags snagged in the rack while licking dishes (pre-washing!), the fall-out of which can be seen below.

He also needed 14 stitches from stepping on glass

This particular - worst - incident actually began as a bizarre behavior a few weeks prior to the actual event. After cohabitating peacefully for several years, Logan woke up one morning and decided that the thermostat on the wall of our living room was evil and needed to be eradicated immediately. Matt and I had already come to terms with the fact that something was decidedly *off* about the dog, and didn't think it was particularly irrational that he spent hours a day jumping from the floor, to the couch and snapping at the wall, trying to remove the thermostat cover. It had wronged him somehow, and he was out for revenge.

I'm gonna mess you up

On the wall next to the thermostat hung a painting that I'd purchased when I was 18 on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Florence, Italy. I can still remember the little shop off a tiny, crooked street where I 'd found it, and bought it. Years later, when we moved into our home, I took it out of storage and gave it a nice home on our living room wall. And it was still hanging there the day Logan lept for the thermostat cover for the 14,000th time, missed, and grabbed the painting instead - presumably - by mistake. Matt and I were asleep at the time.

What I saw when I came downstairs that morning was simply a pile of chewed up bits of canvas and wooden frame. There's no better way do describe it. The bits were just large enough for me to identify what they had once been. Unconcerned, at this point, that the dog had CONSUMED most of the painting, I simply cradled the bits in my hands, and started to cry - why of all the things in this house, had he chosen something so irreplaceable and something that held so many memories? My sweet, sweet husband saw my sadness and immediately telephoned an art restorer - which is confusing on so many levels: (1) where did he find the telephone number for an 'art restorer' on such short notice? (2) the painting, although meaningful to me, was really just a cheap souvenir and (3) THE DOG HAD CHEWED IT TO BITS AND EATEN THE LARGE MAJORITY OF IT. No, there was nothing the art restorer could do - well, except laugh at us when she came to the house and heard the story of what had happened. I'm pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever been given a pile of bits to restore - what an exciting day for her!

So, that was the worst. It certainly wasn't the LAST, and quite possibly there will be a new "worst" sometime in the future. One can never really tell with a dog whose worst enemy is a thermostat.

Don't Be This Person: A Simple Tutorial

2011-06-20T06:48:00.000-07:00

Stop making me awkwardly pretend to listen to your inferior directions! We have technology now that makes these conversations unnecessary. Ok? Thanks so much.

XOXO,
M.

Google Knows All My Secrets

2011-06-06T09:42:00.000-07:00

It's time for another installation of What Has Michele Been Googling? This time, I took the liberty of breaking it down by letter of the alphabet - enjoy the weirdness. It seems like this week, I had a lot of concerns regarding spiders.

A: Andrew Wyeth, Are centipedes and millipedes poisonous?

B: Broad Faced Sac Spiders; Bruno Mars

C: Cat Internet Meme; Celebrities making stupid faces

E: Empire Carpet, Electric Shock Booths in Malls (I think I meant defibrillator booths)

F: Forums.syfy.net <---Matt has been using my laptop

G: Gall bladder, Gross Face, Grilled Eggplant Parmesan

H: How do you make Jam; How much do botox injections cost

I: iCarly; Iceland; "Is 7 considered 'a few'"

J: Jobs in the death industry; John Deere Hat

K: Kevin from the Backstreet Boys; Kelly Blue Book, King of Prussia

L: Learn to speak Na'vi; Little Tikes Truck

M: Mountain Lion, Madonna's arms

N: Netflix is down; Nickelodeon movie about Werewolves

O: Nothing...NOTHING for "O"??? Weirdness.

P: Pink bricks; Pros and cons of circumcision

Q: Quest Diagnostics

R: Real Housewives personality disorders; Ridiculous t-rex

S: Shit my kids ruined; Springfield, MA

T: Toddler bed; Traveller culture

U: Ulcer; Ugliest tattoos

V: Factor V Leiden

W: Wolf Spider; Wikihow - How to make Jam

X: ** crickets **

Y: Youtube - Labrador Puppies <-- Allie's new favorite video

Z: Zucchini

Busy, Busy

2011-06-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to break up the monotony around here.

In the beginning, babies depend so strongly on routines. It seems like Matt and I spent countless hours in Allie's infancy trying to get her into "routines." A sleep routine, an eating routine, bathing and dressing and diaper changing. Somehow, over the last year, everything seems to have fallen neatly into place. Allie wakes up at 7am, eats solid foods, then has her bottle. Nap-times occur at 9am and 2pm - we just fell into these times because that seemed to be the hours she was showing signs of sleepiness. Bottles at 12, 5 & 7 and countless meals & snacks in between. I remember the days when I LONGED for this type of consistency and now that I have it....frankly, I'm bored.

BLAH and BLAHHH o'clock followed by robotic diaper changing at Blah-leven. Something has to liven this place up a bit, so I'm taking matters into my own hands.

The biggest change, perhaps, is that I've started looking into going back to work part-time. The only thing is - I'm looking for something really special, enough for me to transition Allie into daycare 2-3 days a week and ultimately not getting to spend as much time with her, so I'm looking for a right fit, "this sounds awesome" kind of opportunity. Too bad this whole blog writing thing never took off and made me millions.

I've been experimenting with cooking, specifically, with ingredients I know we don't use a lot. Being home affords me the luxury of time to cook fresh, nutritious meals which is especially important now that Allie is eating meals with us. The long-term plan is to plant a garden this summer so I can start growing a small amount of our own vegetables. We've all been having fun experimenting and taste-testing, especially Allie who has developed an unexpected love for watermelon, strawberries, uncooked broccoli and beans.

I try to motivate myself to do one "big" thing per day. Today, it was applying to a few part time jobs & vacuuming the downstairs. Other days it might be something more creative such as editing our photos or crafting new wall art for Allie's room. This is all assuming my bossypants toddler allows me a few free moments at a time. Generally, she's convinced that my laptop is just a big shiny metal box that exists solely for playing youtube videos of puppies.

So, that's the story over here -- what do you like to do to break up the monotony

Yeah, They Come to Snuff the Spider

2011-05-31T07:03:00.000-07:00

I walked into the shower this morning and came face to face with this

Very clever, spider, trying to confuse me by using my own natural exhaustion and lack of caffeine.

At first, I was confused - what's that strange black spot on the shower door?

Then, my brain identified the culprit

Finally, horror overtook me.

Having just put Allie down for a nap, I was forced to moderate my reaction. Normally I would have screamed loudly, fled the room and jumped up and down in the hallway pointing and stammering "spider, spider!" Instead, I kept it all inside, and what escaped my lips was a quiet "eeeeee."

I grabbed a glass and started splashing the spider with water from the bathroom sink, which enraged it (or began to drown it, whichever). It scrambled around helplessly - falling down the side of the shower door until it reached the shower base & got washed down the drain.

You'd think at this point I would have declared victory, shrugged it off and had a long, relaxing shower. But you'd be wrong. I took a neurotic 7 minute shower which involved me keeping my eyes open and fixed on the shower drain in the event that the spider - like every horror movie villan - rose from apparent death for a second epic showdown. In fact, I might avoid that bathroom altogether for the next few days.

The Lake

2011-05-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, Allie took her first trip to my in-laws' house on Masten Lake, in Upstate NY.

Since 2001 Matt and I have been visiting the lake, delighting in the serenity, simplicity and beauty of this place. So many good times have been had - lots of laughs and smiles all around. This is a place where Matt and I grew together, and a place where I grew into his family. This is the place we went when times were hard and we just needed to clear the air (and our heads) for a few days, have family meals complete with produce from the garden and lay our heads down to the sound of humming crickets when the day was over.

This is the place, two summers ago, when Matt and I had "the discussion" about starting our family. By September, we found out that Allie was on her way.

I was pregnant with Allie in this picture, but I didn't know it yet

Yesterday, while Matt took a nap, I walked Allie down to the lake and held her close - sweeping her tiny toes into the water. "This is a lake, Allie." Two people became a couple, two people became parents. What was once a wistful "someday" thought was now a child I held in my arms. Then I walked her back to the house and Allie filled her belly with fresh strawberries and corn and played games with her grandparents. Like so many Junes before - summer has started by the lake.

Dusting off the Cobwebs

2011-05-26T07:35:00.000-07:00

Hello (hello, hello) is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me.

So, um, I've been neglecting the blog. It's not like stuff hasn't been happening. Stuff has been happening - I just haven't felt particularly clever or motivated to write it all down. So...stuff. I'll make a list of random events in no particular order.

(1) We discovered Allie is allergic to sunblock so, that sucked. Her eyes swelled shut to the point that they didn't even look like they were open, except they were. Little A's such a trooper, though. We were at a petting zoo when this happened and she still smiled and giggled at all the animals in between whimpers. Sometimes I wonder if her time in the NICU with tubes, wires and IVs somehow made her extraordinarily tolerant to scary/painful stuff happening to her. So yeah, sunblock. Who knew?

(2) I vomited on my child. Here's the rundown of sucky events that led to this moment of horror. Matt was feeding Allie her nighttime bottle downstairs on the couch. For no particular reason, she started heaving (she does this sometimes) and vomited copious amounts of milk all over herself, Matt & the couch. Matt and I lept into crisis mode - he agreed to clean up the mess on the couch if I could bathe Allie. Carrying her upstairs, I was getting waft after waft of vomit smell - the worst smell I've ever smelled. I'm not even kidding. I got her into the tub before I lost control and threw up all over her head and back. I threw up on my child. We stood there for a moment awkwardly looking at one another.

Allie looked at me like this.

And I looked back at her like this.

And I turned the faucet on and scrubbed everything away.

(3) I experienced my first ever tornado warning when a funnel cloud formed above our supermarket on Tuesday. The skies got a very frightening green/gray color and I was fairly sure we were all about to be raptured. Thankfully, it passed and aside from a few destroyed roofs nobody was hurt. Seriously scary stuff. Those of you who live in "tornado country" ...how do you manage? This was enough tornado excitement for a lifetime.

Ok. Updates complete. Hopefully the next time I'm updating it's with something more worthwhile.

The Basement

2011-04-14T05:19:00.001-07:00

There were a lot of creepy things about our former home. Built in the late 1700's, the house had taken on a Frankenstein type of appearance - each owner over the decades had built, updated or expanded upon various parts of it until we bought it in 2005. The "main house" consisted of the original 1700's farmhouse structure, complete with original stone walls and basement -- the basement of nightmares.

A dark unpainted wooden staircase led down to a dark, dank stone basement, poorly lit with spiders lurking in the corners. If someone wanted a set to film a torture chamber or ancient dungeon, our basement would have been a good contender. We didn't use the basement much - save for holding the washer/dryer and storage totes as it wasn't a particularly welcoming or comfortable place to be. Inexplicably, there was an exposed, functional toilet in the corner next to a slop sink. Just in case you ever wanted to live out the fantasy of using a prison toilet, that would have been the perfect place to go. There was a single window with a screen which bore the marks of children's fingers - I kid you not - it looked like children had pressed their hands into it over and over, leaving handprints in the mesh. We knew the previous owners had three children, so we'd always chalked it up to them, but the effect only added to the overall scariness.

Logan, our lab, is normally fearless. This is the same dog who lept into the fast-moving Delaware river because he spotted a stick, requiring my husband to swim out and rescue him. His motto is act first, deal with the consequences later. However, from the day we took him home, Logan has been terrified of that basement. Despite never having actually BEEN in the basement, he would lie down and cower, ears back & tail down, anytime either of us would get near the basement door. "Do you want to go basement?" became the ultimate threat in our house - any bad behavior on Logan's part would cease instantly upon hearing the "B word."

Finally, one day, Matt decided this silly basement fear had gone on long enough. Maybe Logan wouldn't be so afraid if he just knew what was down there. Heaving his massive 95lb frame down the basement stairs amid squealing and struggling we hoped this would finally be the end of the "scary basement." Matt dropped Logan off in the middle of the (fully lit) basement and walked back up the stairs, closing the door behind him. We waited. There was silence. It was eerie. After 10 minutes passed we opened the door and Logan bolted up the stairs in a flash of yellow fur and fear. He lay on the kitchen floor shivering and wild-eyed. That was the end of the basement experiments.

When we moved to our new house, which also has a basement, Logan had no trouble running down there and exploring - which only increased the mystery -- what WAS up with the old basement? Were hundreds of dogs tortured down there? Was it haunted by the soul of an old farmer? Did Logan share my overwhelming and irrational fear of spiders? I guess we will never know, but I certainly didn't mention any of this to our current renters!