Diary of a Mad Hatter

I think I just blue myself.

2013-05-12T21:26:00.000-07:00

My to do list is a million miles long, my house could be on Hoarders (as an after picture not a before...you know how it looks all cleaned up but still you can tell there's a problem? Mine is like that but maybe a little worse because you can actually see a lot of the mess). I've been sick. The baby has been teething. The teen has been trying to get out of going to school everyday of my life. The husband has been working long hours and desperately needs a break. So naturally, it's time to talk about something very important in my life. The TeeVee. (Which, quick anecdote - I went to a baby shower and dominated the games 3 for 3...and the one I dominated the most? I won thanks to TeeVee (naming the kids on TV shows). So, all that time spent watching TV wasn't a total waste after all. It helped me win some movie tickets and a reputation.)

I've been beside myself since 30 Rock went off the air. I'm currently making my way through the entire season on Netflix for probably the fourth time. The Office is going to end soon and we all know that it's time because it is drunk and needs to go home but I know I'm going to be sad, probably even cry like a baby (I know what those sound like because I have one who is doing that right now) because I did (and still do) every time I watch the episode where Michael leaves. Parks and Rec has been renewed for a sixth season which makes my pants do the happy dance. I need more Ron Swanson in my life. But the most important TEEVEE event of the year, dare I say decade, is happening on May 26 and I CANNOT WAIT. I have literally blocked my calendar for the entire day to devote myself to Netflix because THE BLUTHS ARE BACK. Aaaaaaaaah! EVERYBODY CALM DOWN AND LET ME TALK.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Arrested Development. Like, seriously for reals. LOVE.

*swoon*

Mad as a hatter, I am. Yoda, also.

2013-04-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

My life has been very hectic lately. Between a 5K and family drama and a teething baby and a teen on a 2 week spring break and work stuff and spending any free moment I have laying in bed I am exhausted.

Here is what has been happening in my life. Because you need to know. THE WHOLE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW.

OMG, someone sedate me. STAT.

The Teen (formerly known as The Kid)
She's as happy as a teenager can be expected to be. If you ask her, I'm either too nosey or I ignore her. Sigh. She tries pulling the same tricks I did, but I've got her number. It's 867-5309.

Middle school is the worst. I keep telling her it will get better. I don't tell her she'll be 30 when it finally happens.

I worry that she isn't eating right, is sleeping too much, and that she doesn't seem to have a best friend. I also worry that she's not applying herself in classes where she doesn't like the subject or the teacher and that she won't learn that the only person she is hurting is herself.

The Baby
She's a very happy baby when she is getting what she wants when she wants it. Almost 13 year difference between my girls and they act the same way, FYI.

She's very advanced and gifted. OBVIOUSLY. She has hit every milestone early or on time. Including teeth. TEETH. We'll get to that in a bit.

We just started a baby sign language class and she already signed "eat" or she could have been trying to lick the dried baby food off her hand. Either way, GIFTED.

Speaking of food...she loves it. Do not get between her and a yogurt melt or there will be HELL TO PAY. There are so many different philosphies about baby food and when they can have certain things, and in what form, and I'm almost over it. Seriously. Over. It. I ended up just buying a bunch of baby food from the store despite my intentions to Make! All! The! Food!. I bought organic, over priced stuff to help me feel better about my parenting. Maybe I'll get my shit together and actually do a menu plan and a grocery list and schedule time once a week to Prepare! All! The! Meals! but probably not.

Also, my house has been taken over by baby stuff. I frequently ask myself, "Where did all this stuff come from?" and then I remember Amazon.

Breastfeeding / Pumping
Breastfeeding with my first was an epic fail caused by overactive letdown, thrush, and being young and impatient and embarrassed to have to ask for a place to pump when I went back to work when she was 8 weeks old.

With my second, I had overactive letdown and then diminishing supply because of supplementing with formula for a myriad of reasons. If I forget to take my More Milk Plus or don't drink enough during the day (water, not whiskey) I notice a considerable difference. I struggle to pump the 12 ounces she needs from me while I am away. When I'm home, she nurses about every 2 hours and what feels like all night long. I know now that she is eating more solids that will mean my supply may dip even further. My goal is to make it to 1 year, then nurse when we are together until she is sick of it or she's 2, whichever comes first, but it's not looking good. We have started to supplement with formula because I just don't have the time or energy to pump every free moment of my life. And I have to be okay with that.

Also, she bit me on my tender parts.

Family Dramz
Thank god the people who are causing this drama do not live within 500 miles of me because so help me God. The main point of contention really boils down to we have very different views of what good parenting is and it makes me sad. For them. Not me. Have you seen those kids of mine? I don't like to brag, but they are fucking awesome.

And now my mom is mad at me for swearing. Way to go, Internet.

Work
Busy with a capital B. Also part of the reason that I'm having a hard time with pumping. Meetings! Off site! All the times!

I can't disclose more than that or else I would have to kill you and I'm not a violent person so that would be a challenge for me.

A challenge I would welcome.

J to the K.

5K
I died, but I came back, just like Jesus, I am a zombie. Worship me.

Too far?

This is my life now: napping and pooping.

2013-03-11T12:46:00.003-07:00

ERMAHGERD YOU GUYS! Today is NATIONAL NAPPING DAY!

Why didn't anybody tell me? I would have taken the day off! Although, really, it should be a federally recognized holiday complete with paid time off. Amirite?

Let's see how many other made up Internet-y words I can use in this post today.

El oh el.

I really need the naps. Like, for realsies. I think I slept about 3 hours in 3 days. The Baby is having her first bout of constipation (I think the carrots are the likely culprit because the peas and bananas and avocados and sweet potatoes went through her system just fine) and it had both of us crying and sweating and cursing the gods, or in her case, cursing me (the look on her sad little face was very "What the hell? Do I need to scream louder for you to get my point, woman?). Also, we did The Thing that other parents don't normally tell you about, you know what it is, please don't make me say it.

Sigh.

Okay.

We pulled poop out of her butt. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. If you survey 100 parents and nobody admits to pulling poop out of their kid's butt then probably 85% of them are dirty, rotten liars. Welcome to Parenthood. It's incredibly glamorous.

We've given her prune juice (baby move) and pear juice diluted with water and while it helped it didn't really get anything moving. So, last night, after changing my mind a million different times I finally broke down and agreed with my husband to give her the babylax (liquid glycerin suppository). It worked but it was The Terrible. I wiped her head with a cool washcloth and held her small, sweaty, little body against mine and just tried to comfort her while she screamed and cried and strained and made noises that broke my heart into a million pieces.

It's not completely over yet...and I am anxiously checking my phone from updates from my nanny (aka my sister) to see how she is doing. So far I've gotten a few videos that show she is just fine (which I totally needed).

TMI? Probably. Maybe a new section on the blog: The Poop Diaries?

It's happening.

The happity hap hap haps.

2013-03-06T21:52:00.000-08:00

Hello Internet! I had to take a break after Nablopomo. Blogging errryday (minus weekends because obviously) was tough. I don't know how so many of you churn out thoughtful, engaging writing errryday and still do other things like eat and sleep.

Life here in casa de mi is great.

I can't complain.

Well, I can, but I won't.

The Husband and I are beyond tired but we have a healthy, happy baby so we are so grateful. Also, she's cute so that helps. We have a relatively healthy, moody teenager -- she's also cute but that makes it harder because I want to lock her in a tower to keep her away from the boys. And there will be a time where I become cool again. I know it. Don't you tell me any different, Willis. We were watching Double Divas (judgement free zone here, people) and Molly and her daughter were getting pedicures and she started acting silly and The Kid looked at me and said, "ugh, that is so you."

I know she wanted me to be offended but joke's on her because all it did was give me more ideas on how to embarrass her and ruin her life which is my purpose in life so inherface.

Time for sleeps.

P.S. I have so many things to write but not enough time to write them because I spend seconds writing the drivel above so I can get back to watching Parks and Rec and playing my puzzles. I'm practicing for when I'm 80.

P.P.S. I meant to tell you in that last P.S. that I'm going to BlogHer! Are you!? Tell me! Let's be friends! Or avoid each other, if that's what you prefer. Sniff.

The last one.

2013-02-28T13:08:00.001-08:00

"When do you feel your sexiest?"

I don't recall feeling sexy in a very, very, very long time. Between fertility drugs and the pregnancy and the baby, feeling sexy is on the bottom of the list. Right next to "exercise" and "eat healthy".

I could say I feel sexiest after a day of pampering, manicure, make up, fancy clothes...but the truth is that just makes me feel really tired. Also, hot. As in sweaty. So much work to make the beautifuls. Just thinking about it is making me want a nap.

The truth is I feel sexy when my husband makes me feel sexy (all together now...awwww). When he tells me I'm pretty (which has to be hard, lately) or pauses to give me a kiss or hold my hand or a high-five because that's how we do it, yo.

Nablopomo is no mo.

Thank Baby Jesus, fo sho.

Peace out, spiders.

Cuz you live in the interNET. Get it? GET IT?

I slay me.

Nap, yes?

Fast and only on Saturdays.

2013-02-27T16:59:00.000-08:00

Mae West described sex as "emotion in motion." Unpack this idea in a post.

I don't wannnnna. Sex is gross. Talking about it lately really bums me out. Probably because I am so very, very, very, very, very tired. Also, Prozac.

At first I thought I was going to have to disagree with the highly respected philosopher, Mae West, but then the more I thought about it, the more I decided that she was right. Because the emotion that you are putting in motion doesn't have to be love. It can be sadness. Or loneliness. Or insecurity. Or joy. Or spite. And for those times you engage in the drinks or the smoking of funny cigarettes, and the emotions come the next day after you've sobered up, it can be guilt, embarrassment, or pride (depending on what you wake up next in the morning).

The entire time I wrote this I thought of my spirit animal, Liz Lemon.

Jenna Maroney: How's the sex?
Liz Lemon: Fast and only on Saturdays. It's perfect.

Sex education.

2013-02-26T13:38:00.001-08:00

"Do you think sex education should come from the parents, the school, or a mix of both?"

I believe that sex education should start at home, as soon as they start asking questions. I decided I wasn't going to pretend that babies fell from the sky and (depending on her age and what she was asking), I would give her as much information as she needed. The day that she asked me what a condom was (she was 8 years old) I decided we should go ahead and have"the talk". I explained safe sex and sexually transmitted diseases and where babies come from. I used plain terms, the right words for the right body parts, and still kept it on her level. I would rather she heard about how it works from me, than from someone else, who might not give her all the right information.

Then, when the time came in elementary school and we got the notice that they would be teaching human sexuality, I wanted to warn them that she might try to teach the class. I think it was good that the school provided the information...you could opt your kid out if you wanted (we didn't) and I'm glad...because it just drove home the information we already gave her. And there were probably kids who didn't get the information at home (I would have been mortified to ask my mother what a condom was!) so they can still get what they need and maybe we can prevent forest fires. Or something like that.

It did make it awkward when we were trying to have da baby...see here. (Still not as awkward as her telling my husband that she HEARD us. I died a thousand deaths that day.)

What do you think?

Symbol of sex.

2013-02-25T12:37:00.001-08:00

Today's question is, "Do you think you would enjoy being a "sex symbol?"

I'm not sure why that the question is phrased the right way. Think? Would? Shouldn't it just be, "Do you enjoy being a sex symbol?"

Because, obviously I already am a sex symbol. I mean, come on...nothing is sexier than hair that hasn't been washed in two days, hairy legs and pits, a milk-stained tank top, yoga pants that are too big and also holey in the wrong places, and the sweet smell combination that is sweat, milk, and tears. Right?

Sometimes I find it so hard to fight off my husband. I have to tell him all the time, "Didn't we just do it like 7 months ago? Give a girl a break. I know I'm sexy as hell right now, but slow your roll."

And when we go out in public? I'm so hot that people walk as far away as they can from me. I know they are just being polite and admiring me from a distance and not trying to avoid me because of that crazy sleep-deprived look in my eyes.

It's a tough life, but someone has to live it.

What is love? Baby don't hurt me.

2013-02-22T13:00:00.000-08:00

"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies." -Aristotle

Aristotle be cray-cray.

I struggle with this...what kind of love? Romantic love? Familial love? This kind of love? (Do not judge lest you be judged, to which I say, JUDGE AWAY BECAUSE OMG THIS CAN'T BE REAL?!)

I certainly love more than one person (ahem) in my life, so I don't agree with Mr. Aristotle. I don't like the idea of one soul in two bodies (or three, or four, or five, or even six or seven or eight or nine, or ten but maybe eleven could work). I don't like this idea mostly because I don't like to share. I prefer to think of it as "I have my soul, you have yours, they dig each other and want to hang out for eternity, is that cool?"

And if it's romantic love, then our souls will do it.

Heh.

All you need is love. And soap.

2013-02-21T21:56:00.003-08:00

All you need is love. Amirite?

This.

Not this.

Although my The Teen (formerly known as The Kid) would disagree.

P.S. This counts as a post, right?

Everybody back to their seats.

2013-02-20T12:55:00.000-08:00

Erich Fromm said, "Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says 'I need you because I love you'."

Mature love is this. And this. And this. And this. But mostly, this.

Love to Hate, Hate to Love

2013-02-19T07:30:00.000-08:00

Hate is such a strong word...it's not one that I use (seriously) very often. I might say "OMG I HATE YOU" but that's not real hate, that's just friend hate. I think real hate is probably easier to feel than real love -- and I think Martin Luther King Jr. got it right when he said, "I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear."

Real hate, obsessive hate, brings you down. It makes you miserable. No one really wants to be around you. Except maybe other haters. And haters + other haters = lots of miserable people that you do not want to associate with because they probably have meetings that involve costumes they can hide behind like the cowards they really are. Also, membership dues.

Love, real love, especially loving someone who hates you or has wronged you is infinitely harder. I don't think I could ever love someone who has seriously wronged me, unless it was my children. Because no matter what they do I will always love them, obvs. What I'm talking about is the loving your enemies kind of love. It makes me think of the Amish community that forgave the man who killed their children. I just don't think I could do that. And what does that say about me? I know it would be easier to hate him. And that hate would probably drive me to do something terrible. Unforgivable. Possibly? How could I show love? Forgiveness? Is forgiving a form of love?

This is too heavy for me to write about today.

What do you think?

I'll take Most Romantic Book Ever for a 1000, Alex.

2013-02-18T18:25:00.002-08:00

The most romantic book I've read is The Time Traveler's Wife.

I was visiting family and staying in one of the two options my hometown has for "motels" and it was in the bookcase in my room. The room that was right under one of the 15 bars my hometown has...that's right, folks...it's both an "inn" and a "pub". We are classy with a K. Since I couldn't sleep from the sounds of drinking and tomfoolery that were going on beneath me, I decided to read a book and the title caught my eye. And just like eating a can of Pringles, once I started, I couldn't stop.

It has time travel. It has love. It has infertility. It has science. It also has weird stuff, like doing it with yourself.

I highly recommend. And don't skimp out and just watch the movie. The book is better. The book is ALWAYS better (except in the case of Twilight, where the movies beats the books...slightly.)

VD, one more time.

2013-02-15T10:32:00.001-08:00

I am so tired of talking about Valentine's Day.

No offense to anybody who isn't...it's just...no more.

Please.

Having said that...um...yeah...I'm still going to talk about it because I feel like I have to -- when I decided to do NaBloPoMo, I committed (to myself) that I would write on prompt errryday (minus weekends) and now I feel that if I stop when I'm halfway through I'll just be a quitter. And everybody knows that quitters never prosper but liars do just fine.

So today is about how my Valentine's Day this year compared to last year and the answer is pretty easy for me. Last year I was pregnant and this year I'm not. Now I have a wittle baby who lets me (and her aunt) dress her in cute outfits and take pictures of her. If I tried to dress The Kid in a cute outfit and take a picture of her I would probably end up getting The Look, The Stomp, and The Eye Roll.

Last year I was probably still recovering from my hospital visit and dealing with the nausea and the pain and all the joys that I did not experience the first time I was pregnant. This year I'm dealing with the lack of sleep and the joys of having an infant AND a teen. I am blessed, don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, I know how lucky I am...but some days...Jesus take the wheel.

This year, as I lay in bed, nursing the baby, I told my husband before he left for work that we should agree not to get anything for each other. So of course I got him a card and he got me a card and a very nice flowery plant. I also told him not to touch my hairy legs (I haven't shaved since I had my post-op appointment...in October...so...yeah) but he said he was going to anyway. It didn't get him anywhere but that just supports my point that we have Real Love, people.

Hope you didn't get VD on VD.

Although, if you did, that's a little funny, amirite?

How I feel about Valentine's Day.

2013-02-14T11:44:00.000-08:00

Meh.

I'm totally phoning it in because I'm tired of talking about Valentine's Day.

Happy VD.

2013-02-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

Dear Internet,

Where VD means Valentine's Day and not venereal disease, in case you were confused. Also, I couldn't pick the perfect Valentine's Day card for you so I opted for the "choose your own adventure" approach.

You're welcome.

xoxo
-T

Let your candy do the talking.

2013-02-12T00:30:00.000-08:00

Conversation hearts is to Valentine's Day as ovaltine is to milk. They are where it is at, people.

There are the G-rated ones, for the kids, like these.

Necco Conversation Hearts

Then the R-rated ones, for someone like your best friend or your prudish partner, like these.

Chocolate Fantasies

Then there are the X-rated ones, for your adventurous partner or people that you like to make uncomfortable, like these.

Chocolate Fantasies

If you buy all 3, I suggest keeping them labeled very clearly, perhaps in a safe, private place, away from little sticky hands, -- you don't want to have to tell your kid that "lick my pussy" means to lick the cat. Because you would totally have to take one for the team and lick the cat to keep up with your cover story and hairballs are very hard to deal with. Trust me on this one. I know. Because I had a cat. Gah! Mind, gutter, out of it!

I ain't into wine and roses. But I'll take a diamond.

2013-02-11T00:30:00.000-08:00

Today I'm supposed to be writing about my ideal Valentine's Day but I feel like I already kinda covered that. Besides, Valentine's Day is kind of a bullshit holiday because every day should be Valentine's Day, amirite?

I don't see a need to get all bent out of shape about Valentine's Day (anymore). Sure, there were times in my life where I would get so depressed because I was alone on Valentine's Day...then there were times I had a boyfriend and I would fret over (complete with hand-wringing and pacing) what was going to happen on Valentine's Day...and then I fell in Real Love...and I'm over it.

So, to sum it up, my ideal <insert holiday, event, or occasion for celebration here> is to spend it at home, in pajamas, with the ones I love.

How about you?

I want to give you a buzz cut.

2013-02-08T00:30:00.000-08:00

Romantic movies are not generally my cup of tea.

I don't mind watching them, sometimes I even like them, but you won't find me sleeping in a tent outside a movie theater just to be the first in line to see one.

Of course, after my first and only Black Friday experience, there is no way I would do that anyway. I've decided that my love of sleep and my hatred of people just don't mix with any kind of "stand in line for hours to get something exclusive" event.

I can wait for that movie to be on Netflix, I'll pay full price for that blender, and cell phone video of that concert on YouTubes will work just fine for me.

So, because I'm more of a comedy nerd my list of movies are romantic comedies - heavy on the comedy.

The Wedding Singer
50 First Dates
Knocked Up
Easy A
The 40 Year-Old Virgin
Crazy, Stupid, Love

Others that I missed? I know there has to be some...help me out!

Let's get it on (where "it" means sitting on the couch watching Netflix all night long).

2013-02-07T10:00:00.000-08:00

I had this long-winded post about what my ideal date night would be...how it would start with the beauty process of a long hot shower, with extra time spent on shaving all the hairs, and blah, blah, blah.

But really? If I'm being honest? Which I am? Because everyone knows that people are honest on the Internetz? Especially me? That sounds like the start of a horrible night. Showering? Dressing up? Make up? Going out, like, in public? Where there are people?

I hate showering (I do it for you, not me). I hate dressing up (ugh). I hate people (in general, as a group).

So my ideal date night would be me, in my favorite yoga pants and roomy t-shirt, cuddled on the couch with my husband. Netflix. Chocolate chip cookies and Ovaltine. Cheese and crackers. No make up. No fancy party dress. No shaved legs.

And the best part would be that our night would end in uninterrupted sleep, with everybody staying on their own side of the bed.

Aww yeah...that's what mama likes.

Deal breaker.

2013-02-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

That age old relationship question...should you (can you???) be friends with an ex after you break up?

Well, it's your lucky day because I asked some very reliable sources and have the answer!

Simon says "no", Magic 8 Ball says "all signs point to no", and mama (me) says "hells no."

I once tried to be friends with an ex, several years after our relationship ended, but when he started going on and on about what a mistake he made (duh) and how much he still loved me (obvs) and how I am basically the most amazing woman on the face of the earth (tell me something I don't know) I had to S that D, Liz Lemon style.

I really do believe that there are people you meet in your life that you are not meant to ever talk to again. They were there for that time, they probably changed you in some way, and that was all that was ever about.

Especially the assholes.

Truly, madly, deeply.

2013-02-05T10:30:00.000-08:00

For today's purposes, I'm talking about romantic, make your knees weak, love.

And I was 27 when I fell in it for the first time.

Those other times I "fell in love"? I know now that I wasn't in love. I was in lust. Or serious, hardcore like. Never love. I know that now because it didn't feel like it did when I fell in love with my husband. (All together now, awwwww.)

Love is not complaining about the lack of activity in the bedroom. Love is moving furniture from room to room, and back again, when I get a whim. Love is not getting frustrated with me when I move, for the sixteenth time, where we keep the diapers. Love is loving me at my weakest moments. Love is helping me wipe my ass after my cesarean section. Love is cleaning up dog poop, taking out the trash, and going to the grocery store. Love is not kicking me out of bed when I smell of sweat and sour milk, with my greasy hair in a pony tail. Love is loving our daughters, caring for them, worrying about them, cuddling with them. Love is the 4 hour commute (2 each way) he drives every day so that he can be there every night to tuck them (and me) in. Love is that feeling you get when you look at another person and know there will never be another.

That's love.

And I'm still in it.

It's just a little crush, not like I faint every time we touch.

2013-02-04T11:00:00.000-08:00

Ahhh..my first crush.

His name was Barl Cush (names have been changed to protect the "innocent"). It was 4th grade. I was just starting to get boobs. We were both in the Very Popular crowd (the first and last time I would ever be included in such an exclusive group). I crushed on him HARD aka I wrote my first name with his last name and drew hearts around it.

Our relationship progressed as all grade school relationships do, I told my friends, they told his friends, who told him. We became official after he told his friends he liked me too, and his friends told my friends, who told me. The CIA should seriously recruit for agents on elementary school playgrounds because that is where the information begins and ends. We never even spoke about being boyfriend and girlfriend - we just were - because that was what everybody was saying, "Teri and Barl kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G", but nothing really changed -- we continued to eat lunch together, we hung out at the local park, we rode our bikes, we might have held hands once, and there was absolutely no kissing (gross).

Then one day It happened.

I heard he liked another girl, too.

OH MY HEART, HOW IT BROKE.

"Don't worry!" said my loyal, faithful friends. "You're way prettier than her!" (Because that is what you say to your friend to make her feel better. It's in the manual.)

Apparently I wasn't (THOSE LIARS!) because soon my friends came to me and said, "He wants to date both of you." Me! A sister-wife! Before I even knew what that meant! For one day, we were both his girlfriend. Then common sense kicked in, "What the heck! (I didn't swear then) this is really messed up, I don't like him anymore!" And just like that, we were no longer kissing in the tree. At that point, it was the most tragic day of my young life.

I kind of had my revenge about 3 years later, in 7th grade. We were playing volleyball and I "accidentally" kicked him in the nuts. He called me a fat pig, which I totally wasn't (then) but I thought I was (why? do we girls do this to ourselves!) and I ended up crying in the locker room. I moved to another state at the end of 7th grade and never saw him again.

Looking back, I should have kicked him harder.

When I say I love you, I really do. Except when I'm saying it ironically.

2013-02-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

First post of NaBloPoMoFo and it's all about those three little words that you wait and wait for him to say first but then when it's been two months and he still hasn't said them to you, you take the plunge and say them and then he says "I've been wanting to say that for so long!" and you punch him in the face for making you wait. Or have sex with him. Whatevers.

I say "I love you" all. the. times. I said it to each of my family members last night after celebrating my 35th! birthday. I said it to my babies when I left the house this morning. I said it to my cup of coffee and my over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder because they are both supporting me in ways that I really need right now.

I most certainly DO NOT say it to the dogs. I only tolerate them. BECAUSE OF ALL THE BARKING AND WAKING OF THE BABY THAT THEY DO.

I say it all the time because, well, you know, you never know when the terrible is going to happen.

I love you.

Three little words.

je t'aime

Or two if you speak French.

NaBloPoMoFo and Denial: Talk Amongst Yourselves

2013-01-31T00:30:00.000-08:00

I've decided I'm going to do this:

Which means if you know me in Real Life you might want to skip the month of February because SHIT is about to get MORE REAL THAN IT USUALLY DOES.

There will be talk of EMOTIONS and FEELINGS and MY LADY GARDEN.

And Real Life People, remember that if you try to talk to me about what you've read then I will do what I usually do when you try to talk to me about my blog: pretend I have no idea what you are talking about.

DENIAL is my best friend and also a river in Egypt.

So is the CAPS LOCK.

Well, it's my best friend, not a river in Egypt.

Probably.

P.S. Today is my birthday. It's a big one. Gulp.