Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Frustrating but Unique

So remember when I said I felt poopie?  Well the shit hit the fan and I've been down for the count for the past day.  I was so bad that I actually went to the doctor.  Just so you know the gravity of that statement, I haven't been to my primary care physician (can I even call him that at this point?) since before The Boy was born.  Their chart is not documented with my PCOS or my child.  They do know I got married though so there's that.  I'm a little miffed because bascially he told me to ride it out.  I wanted drugs damn it.  That whole holistic "it will make your immune system stronger" crap was NOT what I wanted.  I wanted a Zpac!  I got drink orange juice and here's some Amoxicillin (not even the yummy liquid kind). 

Anyways......  I have a cold and an ear infection, this is my MO.  I always get ear infections.  One time in college I was sick and went to the student, I don't know what they called it, infirmary?  Anyways, the medical professional there made a comment that looking at some one's ears with chronic ear infections is like looking at the rings of a tree.  But I digress as usual.

It Halloween...yay! sniff sniff snniiiiiiffffff, blow.  We went to the pumpkin patch.  We made green caramel marshmallow popcorn and delivered our "Zombie Boogers" in our Boo Bags to our friends and family.  And by we I mean me at like 10 pm on Saturday night because I'm still a swinging gal!  We attended the Monster Bash sans costume for The Boy.  We carved pumpkins with our family and friends.  The Boy calls the pumpkins "pumps." mother in law calls them punkins which totally reminds me of my Grandma making fun of people who can't say pumpkin correctly.  I was young at the time too and I'm sure she did to reinforce how to say it correctly but for the life of me I couldn't tell the difference in what she was saying.  I mean I do now.  I was thankful my Grandma wasn't around to correct my mother in law.  But Grandma's lesson only taught me that she always acted a bit better than those around her.  Again, I digress.....

So what I was getting at was that today is Halloween and The Boy has yet to put on a costume.  We had the cute cuddly dragon, the RWAR dinosaur that he could ride, the police man he picked out, the generic super hero, Yoda, and a doctor.  The dragon he wouldn't put on past his legs, which is what led to the dinosaur but that wasn't fun, except when Juanito put it "on" to show The Boy just how much fun it was.  So we took the dinosaur back and got the generic super hero because it looked simple to put on and The Boy picked out the police man.  Come time to put either on for the Monster Bash and oh, hell no.  He put the police hat on but then it ended.  The generic super hero never had a chance. 

While at the Monster Bash one friend's son had on a Yoda costume which was really just a jacket so I was hey that might work.  Luckily Schmacey's son was Yoda when he was younger and she had one laying around.  Sweet! Maybe.  Every time The Boy sees the costume just in the bag he says that it belongs to Baby Richard.  So apparently not his costume.  Last year The Boy was a Mad Science and his grandma made him a lab coat that we were hoping would still fit him and in the off chance we bought a cheap "stethoscope" from Walmart.  Juanito was like, he could be McDreamy or Steamy. Please don't dock his man card in this time of emergency.  So the stethoscope was a huge hit this morning but screw you lab coat, you can stay in the bag.  So when I delivered The Boy to daycare this morning he wore his scuba man tee shirt (another back up costume) his crocs, plaid shorts, his sweatshirt and his stethoscope.  I think he's an anesthesiologist. 

So who knows what he'll actually end up being tonight.  I have a few more tricks up my sleeve but I've accepted that this is just part of him growing up.  Maybe its not like everyone else but he definitely isn't like everyone else so why start now?

Does anyone have family on the East Coast?  Are they ok?  All of my family back there is present and accounted for.  A little shaken and a little soggy but ok!  Hope you can say the same!

Monday, October 29, 2012

Yay Mondays and Pity Parties

I must preface this post with the fact that I feel poopie. And when I feel poopie I get whiny and complain a lot. This is no bright side or silver lining. There is pouty mouth with a bigger than average lower lip. There is the glass half empty pity-party and I’m the only attendee.
So the weekend was a whirlwind of pumpkins, hay bales, petting zoos, costume changes, outlandish temper tantrums, more costume changes, trick or treating in no costume with a bunch of other people in costumes, cleaning, nap-skipping, baking, cider (spiked with moonshine) and more pumpkins and pumpkin guts and pumpkin seeds and more temper tantrums because God Damn Two is an exciting time in a person’s life.

I promise to post more about all of that but right now I am in full-bore poopie mode and have a pity party to attend. After the pumpkin carving party and everyone left and we got that devil child I used to claim to bed, Juanito and I were not too far behind. But even after reading for a while, I could not sleep. I laid there with my mind fixated on the fact that I hurt all over and there was this awesome post nasal drip going on. I am so embarrassed to admit that I lost sleep over worry about being sick. Seriously.

So when I woke up (still under the blankets which is rare) I knew before I reached a hand out from under my warm cocoon that I was getting sick. This is the stage where I don’t feel 100% but there is nothing that warrants being home and not going to work. The pity party stems from the fear that this will turn into something worse and I have no control over when or to what degree it will happen.

When I finally made the decision to get out of bed I also decided that I would not let this impact me. I was fine. Ignore it, it will go away. If you were really sick you would be running a fever. All the great things my upbringing has taught me. I had to wake The Boy which is becoming a morning thing and his recent resistance to the mornings makes me fear his teenage years. But he eventually came to and decided he would watch cartoons and drink his morning juice.

But when I decided it was time to get dressed that is when the battle royale began. He wanted to wear his pajamas to daycare and I did not want him to wear his pajamas to daycare. The battle of wills commenced and when faced with a time crunch I start to lose my shit, quickly. My yelling and his yelling peaked at a cacophony of “no pajamas for daycare”, “I wan dees!” and “I just want you to wear pants!” When I was at my breaking point I walked away, which is all I know to do. He cried even harder. My heart breaks because I feel like a horrible mom who is abandoning him. I don’t know how to explain to him that I must walk away for me and its not because of him, even though it is. I’m just setting guidelines and rules that are totally normal, why can’t he see that? Damn it, I wanted to stay in bed too and I wanted to stay in my pajamas but damn it we can’t. Lower lip - commence droop and quiver. We have to get up and go, insert scowl. We have responsibilities that suck. This is the sound track of my pity party and its on repeat.

I said fuck it to the makeup and the other side of my hair. I just decided to pull it back in a ponytail and slap on a wee bit of mascara. Why try when my heart isn’t in it? I returned to the ball of crying boy in my living room and without fanfare of conversation forced him into his shorts and tee shirt. We cried the entire time. I feel like I raped him. I forced him to brush his hair and teeth. I was not rough. I did not yell. When I did speak it was a calm warm voice that was really more for me than him. When I offered to put his sweat shirt on his tears subsided and he willingly put on his jacket and grabbed his blanket to go.

When we got to daycare and I opened his door he gasped and cooed in the sweetest voice “Mommy!” I felt like an even bigger monster of an asshole. So my resolve at 5:45 am to not allow the poopies impact my day was totally eradicated by 7:05 am. I am still whiny and the post nasal drip has become a runny nose and I’m popping Halls Breezers like an addict to keep my throat from reminding me that I feel like shit.

Friday, October 26, 2012

Getting Our Fall on Ya’all!

We have so many Fall and Halloween events planned for this weekend that I might burst spewing forth pumpkin spice latte all over your knee high boots and scarves as golden, red and brown leaves rain down like fireworks! It’s gonna be effing fantastic. Between the hay rides, pumpkin picking, Monster Ball and pumpkin carving there are so many photos ops you would think that I might actually get a photo. Oh and my goal is to actually get a family photo where everyone is looking at the camera. Happily.

Which leads to me to my post about Carlsbad, where we did not accomplish that goal.

We made what is becoming our annual trip to Carlsbad, which is actually Carlsbad Village. We stay at a little barely three-star hotel that is fabulous. Which I talked about here.  We’re right across the street from the beach. We laid on our bed and could see the ocean. GLORIOUS! It rained while we were there, which was a welcomed sight to these desert rats. 
Cee, The Boy and Red
While we’ve been there before, everything was new to The Boy because face it everything is new when you’re two. This trip my sister, AJ, and her kids, Cee and Red, joined us. While this was Cee’s third trip to the beach, this was Red’s first trip to the ocean. Red claims she’s been to the beach before in Michigan but I gave her a geography lesson on how much better this was. After getting settled into our room we all walked over to the beach. It was wonderful to see everyone revel in the glory of the beach. The calm of the waves crashing on the sand and the gravitational pull of the tide in and out. It was so fun to see Red and Cee take it all in and play in the surf together. Meanwhile, The Boy was excited to be in the biggest sand box until he realized we were heading for the waves. He yelled at everyone to get out and come back. He was genuinely concerned about his cousins’ welfare. I told him it was ok and held his hand while we walked into the waves. His anxiety gave way to squealing and screeching and yelling in sheer, unadulterated happiness. 
My Salty Dog

The gravitational pull of the waves proved to be too much for him and he fell down in the waves. He giggled and spit the salt water out, just like Dad, and kept going. He continued to screech when the waves came in but now it was so we would swing him up and over the waves. Eventually his blue lips drove us back to the hotel. The rain the next morning, while delightful, did delay our beach going adventure. Luckily the rain stopped and the sun came out for the afternoon. It was perfect.
Unadulterated spinning happiness
I have to say that this was the most fulfilling trip I've had in a long time (Maybe since my Walden trip). I know that raising a child can be taxing and draining and tests you day in and day out and that a vacation with a child (regardless of what age) is far from relaxing.  But the rewards, the joy and the bliss can't be quantified and measured.  As a parent I might have new fears but also new delights.  And my delight now calls me Mommy and tucks in Alfie when he sleeps (which is all the time) and greats me arms open and running full speed when I come home. 

There are so many more things to share about the trip. (Like the seals! I loved the seals!) I went through the photos last night and started playing with them. I will share those and my pseudo-Fall adventures in due time! (aka when I have time so please be excited about my pumpkin patch pictures in the beginning of December.)

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Fickle Bitch

There is a lot of talk about the fall; much hub-bub, about Mother Nature these days. There are people here in Phoenix nostalgic for the crispy autumn air and golden hues of fall. There are also people in Phoenix celebrating that the AC can be turned off (for now because this ain’t my first rodeo).

There are people in the Ohio flabbergasted by the 80 degrees in October. There are people in Oklahoma frustrated that they can’t bust out their cute sweaters and scarves. There are people in Colorado shoveling snow off their cars. There are people in California doing a little happy dance for the rain and dropped temperatures.

It seems that everyone is critical of Mother Nature and in their defense she is one fickle bitch. This morning in my neck of the desert it was actually chilly. I finally warranted the cardigan that is a staple in my wardrobe. The last two mornings The Boy has worn a sweatshirt to daycare. But on this afternoon I’m stuffy and hot in the office and my weather icon on my monitor says its bright and sunny at 82 degrees. .

I know that this isn’t the autumn that gets conjured up when you think October. I know that we could very easily rock the flip flops year round (and some do, Juanito). But this isn’t new information people! This is how the weather always has been and always will be, unless you subscribe to that silly little notation of “global warming.” Why do people every year complain that its still 80 and they can’t wear their boots. Or “Its October and I got a sunburn.” And to make matters worse, I’m now complaining about the complaining.

Anyways… The weather, she’s a fickle bitch. What she does today will change tomorrow. Before you know it Ohio is gonna be buried in snow, Oklahoma is gonna blow off the map; Colorado well they are used to snow before Halloween; and Phoenix, well you know Phoenix it might explode into a ball of fiery flames. Environmental apocalypse..yay! So what I’m saying is be nice to Mother Nature (bike, ride or carpool) and maybe you’re weather dreams will come true.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

An entire post about nose hair

Many years ago I had a twitch in my noise which had me fiddling with it. Notice that I did not say that I was digging in my nose because if that were the case Juanito would immediately find me unattractive. He thinks nose picking is one of the top vilest things a person can do. When I pick at or in the general vicinity of my nose I merely think that I am fiddling with it.

Anyways, many years ago, or just a few as to not feel old, I was fiddling with my nose and complaining that there was something tickling it. Juanito suggested a nose hair that was too long. I was appalled at this idea. I was under the assumption that only men with their constantly growing facial hair had nose hairs, not delicate petite little flowers like me.

I immediately inspected my nose and saw one little white hair and every time I moved my mouth or face and I saw with my own two eyes as it brushed the other side of my nostril and it tickled. I’ll be damned. I was astounded that I had nose hairs that grew (I have no idea what I thought was going on up there but must not have given it too much thought). I whined that I didn’t know what to do with this and Juanito said, “I usually pluck mine.”


I grabbed my tweezers and delicately jammed them up my nose and grabbed that little hair and pulled as quick as lightening. My eyes immediately watered and I dropped the tweezers and grabbed my face squealing in pain. Juanito laughed.

Years later whenever I find myself fiddling with my nose too much I grab my tweezers and mirror and quickly eradicate an annoying little hair.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Treacherous Social Waters of Two Year Olds and Daycare

The Boy started at a new daycare today. Between concerns about the quality of the daycare diminishing as he has aged; ultimately knowing we needed something near his future school; and the commute that was slowly killing me one traffic jam at a time we decided to change. We have been in an in-home setting since he was 6 months old and have built this little community of kids and parents that were wonderful. It was hard to make the decision but we knew for longevity it was necessary.

So the new place is a big facility servicing children from 2 weeks (!) to 12 years and is run by a little old grandma who has a bit of a mustache. I’m sure this isn’t painting a very nice description but its accurate. She is very warm and every room she goes into the kids run to her for hugs. Normally, in an in-home setting the idea of the grandmotherly figure doesn’t appeal to me because I want structure and education and learning. In a big facility where it’s geared more like school I love the grandmotherly figure who is still warm, loving and nurturing for these babies. My baby!

So I dropped him off this morning, including his naptime sheet, naptime blanket, diapers, wipes, change of clothes and his happy little butt. We set up my finger print to be able to drop off and pick up and we went into the room. He immediately started playing with the toys and the other kids gravitated to us. He seemed fine and didn’t need me so I hugged and kissed him good bye and stood out in the hall way watching him. He looked a little lost, a little pensive and a little unsure, but not scared or frightened or ready to cry. I was though. I was a mess. I watched my baby. My baby. My well-adjusted little boy navigating the treacherous social waters of daycare and two year olds. (A bit dramatic I admit, but kids are ruthless)

I wished he would cry when I left just so I could soothe him and let him know he would be ok. That we would both be ok. But instead I forced myself to walk away and get in my car and call Juanito. Crying.

I will worry all day long. Did he ever cry? Has he made a friend or two? Is he adapting well to the new rules and new surroundings. Is nap time the same and will he be able to sleep? Will he like it enough to want to return tomorrow? This growing up shit is hard on everyone, but it seems hardest on me!

Thursday, October 18, 2012

T Minus Three Months

We’re in the final descent of the terrible twos. Not sure if this ride is coming to an end or this is just a dip before the triple spiral that will propel by sheer force all of the gum that we’ve ever swallowed out of our bellies.

Sunday night someone in the house had back to back melt downs around dinner time. I would try and throw Alfie under the bus on this one but who am I kidding; that guy barely completes one task let alone does it again. We were a little bewildered since the temper tantrums seem to be spacing themselves out over the last few weeks.

How I love this happy face
But this week as been heart wrenchingly wonderful. The Boy is silly and fun in the morning. He does this hide-hide-hide thing where he hides under something and then giggles until you find him. I can’t remember my mornings before him and I don’t want to. He (and Juanito) is playing outside with the neighbor kids or in the back yard in the evening. He has even willingly come to the dinner and even occasionally ate dinner with us. His speech is improving every day .

They say that three is the new two as far as the behavior problems. I’m not sure if we should prepare for more loop de loops or throw our hands in the air and scream?

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Perchance to Dream

I’ve heard some stories from other parents about their kids sleeping problems. I say it like it’s a mythological occurrence because before my maternity leave was over The Boy was sleeping through the night. Since he was about three weeks old we have had the same routine (which we so aptly named “the routine”). Majority of the time he has slept through the night, except when he was teething or when has been sick, which again isn’t that often. I am thankful for my uninterrupted evenings and restful sleep. Because I have heard some horror stories, believe you me!

One friend hasn’t had a full night’s sleep in six years. Her son was born when her daughter was 18 months old and had just started sleeping through the night. Her son doesn’t sleep more than six to seven hours a night. When he was almost three and she was almost committed (I jest, I think) she went to the pediatrician and they tried various tactics and homeopathic remedies and then out right drugs. Not much slowed this guy down. She said that recently he started putting himself to bed well after the rest of the family has fallen asleep. She considers his waking up only one time a night a victory.

One friend says their kids don’t really need the sleep so they keep hours I haven’t maintained since college (the first time around). When The Boy doesn’t get enough sleep he is a ramped up mess of screaming, climbing, screeching, yelling, giggling, running, crying, throwing, hitting, did I mention screeching? And while he might act homicidal, I feel homicidal. So sleep is good in our house!!

Another friend’s son didn’t sleep through the night until he was a year old but even now his sleep pattern is pretty touchy. No new routines for him or it’s no sleepy time. This means sleepovers with someone willing to babysit overnight are not an option which can be deadly to a marriage.

And speaking of sleepy time, I just read a blog where the kids recently developed this aversion to sleeping. He starts from the moment he gets picked up from daycare begging “no no night night.”

Now I may have just jinxed the holy hell outta us (and if so I’m sorry Juanito) but The Boy is a fantastic sleeper. I will give credit where credit is due. Juanito can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Ask anyone who has invited us over for dinner and to hang out. He will inevitably fall asleep on their couch. And I will also collect a gold start for The Boy’s sleep habits because like Juanito says, I sleep like the dead.

I am concerned that all this patting on the back and gold star collecting will also screw us in the end when we do have another child and that child believes that sleep is for fools. I really enjoy being a fool!

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Seasonally Confused

Back in June, July and August, most of metro-Phoenix was making their annual pilgrimage to Southern California to escape the heat and play in the surf. I make my pilgrimage in the Fall.  So while everyone else is dreaming of cooler weather, pumpkins and spiced what have yous, I will be packing the sunblock, beach towels and bathing suits for one last hurrah on the beach.  

 It has become a somewhat custom to go to Carlsbad, CA for my birthday.  Last year we didn't go in the hopes of including more people, but it didn't go as planned.  So we're going back to Carlsbad.  And instead of dealing with inflated prices, annoying crowds and other unpleasantness that summer travelers bring, we're going in the off-season.  And I absolutely love Carlsbad and the Surf Motel, which is a three star (maybe four) motel with the best location in Carlsbad.  You can literally walk across the street to the public beach.  What I love about Carlsbad is that everything we want to do is within walking distance.  Note that I said want to do because we're not going to Cali for Disneyland or Legoland or Adventureland.  We're going for Relaxationland.  We want to go and just be and chill.  And I never use that term, I'm kinda repulsed at my diction there.  But if we need to drive somewhere, the PCH is one of the most entertaining roads.  So many little shops and people for these nosey eyes!  Oh, another word that I would never use but is totally appropriate here - chillax (again my AP English teacher would be unimpressed).  This trip is about taking a break before the chaos of the holidays begin. 

To indicate the level of holiday chaos in my family, I am thinking about emailing my mom and sisters to schedule out the holiday plans.  Yes its not even Halloween and I'm wanting to schedule Thanksgiving and Christmas, but that's how it rolls here. Between Thanksgiving, Black Friday, Tree Trimming party, my Mom's birthday, Red's birthday, holiday parties, holiday baking, holiday wrapping and my sister, Al and Baby S coming into town for a week around actual Christmas, there is a lot of planning.  A.LOT.  And as stressful as it is - I absolutely love it!

I have three days until we leave for Carlsbad. shows the trip in it's 5-day forecast and I'm googling for new places to eat while there. Did I mention that its currently 77 degrees in Carlsbad?  That's so perfect.  If I had a tail, it would be wagging.  I hope I can make it. 

Prepare for Battle

I guess I am really as dumb as I thought.  Even though I whined about being over the politics, I just loaded up my Twitter follows for tonight's debat.  I am sending a little prayer out into the world for the strength to make it through. 

Good thing I will never be a politican's wife. 

Monday, October 15, 2012

Wasting Idyllic

I’m tired of politics. I used to love being informed and knowing what was going on and even engaging in a debat or two.  But lately, the last few weeks, I feel underwhelmed by the various candidates and overwhelmed by anger behind not the ads but the everyday people on Facebook talking trash. And the ironic part is that the people who talk the trashiest trash and the loudest are the same people a few weeks ago who were complaining about everyone else posting political garbage. Can’t beat’em, join’em I guess? I want to say something so badly. But a small part of me understands that regardless of how witty and accurate my retort would be, people will still respond and bash me. Also, Juanito told me to turn off Facebook if it was making me mad. Sound advice if I wasn’t already mad.

This past weekend at a happy hour (for my birthday might I add) a friend seemed to target one person at the table and took the political discussion to another level, seemingly attacking her for her presidential preference. Ironically, the attacker has never expressed opinions in the past and I wonder how many of the “facts” she presented were provided by the new boyfriend of questionable mental stability. I’m not saying that since he has an opposing opinion than he must be crazy but when your fear of the world’s end is based on the half-time show at the Super Bowl then you start to kinda wonder.

Anyways… I think it’s sad that one person can attack another person based solely on their political leanings. I’m sure if I had been discriminated against for something else this wouldn’t be so shocking. Say if I was gay. Or Hispanic. But we’ve all been friends for so long I was a little taken aback. And honestly I’m not sure if I was more shocked that she expressed ideas or that she expressed them against someone at the table. It’s not like I didn’t know that she was not of the same thought. This friend has been deeply conservative and I should know since I’ve known her before politics even mattered. Hell I think we were friends when Perot was running (no need to Google – 1992). But it was the manner in which she did it. Addressing a subject that most of the table doesn’t know as intimately as she would know (taxes) and stating that she’s afraid that people don’t know how various decisions made by the current president will impact our economy sending it into a tailspin, thus financial ruin. I was enraged that she would not only turn birthday happy hour into a forum for her to tell my friends that they were too stupid to know any better but to do it in such a condescending manipulative manner, did not go well in my head that was slightly fuzzy from drinks eloquently named “Scorpions.” The silence that had fallen across the table begged to be rescue. Playing up the drinking and adopting a silly-yet all-knowing persona, I ended the conversation. The conversation did not come back up and the night was not ruined.

But it did leave me thinking, am I wrong? Am I stupid? Sure, there are things that I don’t know and believe me, taxes are totally one of them. But I follow my gut in this election. I make choices based on what I hope this country can be one day. And even though some would say it’s a wasted vote (like my Dad back when I did KidsVote and voted for Perot) I vote with my gut because there have to be other people out there with my thought and I want them to know that I stand with them and they are not alone. Sometimes being a Democrat in Arizona is lonely. I’m sure that my views are too idyllic but I don’t think that I’m so extreme as to put the country into a financial ruin, or any ruin whatsoever.

I admit that this post was neither entertainingly funny or have a point. It was just something that happened lately that is still roaming around my noggin. I guess it’s just interesting how much of impact people who we hold close impact our thoughts

Friday, October 12, 2012

tiny Dancer

Just because Target says my shoes are ballet flats does not mean that I can dance ballet.  But the marble coated walls and floor of the vestibule where we wait for the elevators in my office makes me want to dance ballet.

And see Schmacey, the but does negate everything because I did! 

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Thoughts, truths and other obsurd things

Some times when the traffic is bad, but not really bad, but more like everyone is a grandma behind the wheel.  On those days I wish everyone would line back up in one line and start over again like in elementary school.  Remember when your teacher would walk you to an assembly or something and the line would get all disjointed and she'd make you stop and line back up.  We need a teacher on the road.  

Mumford & Son are on a country station.  What is with that?

What’s the word for people who discriminate against fat people? Fattist? I work with a fattist.

I regret cutting my hair.

Why would Tupac fake his own death.  What did he have to gain by losing his notoriety?

Elevator Etiquette – I wish I could figure out how to crop dust the elevator just in case of an emergency.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Hot times in the city.....

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sex life of married people. It started during a conversation with a friend about the sexual compatibility of her and her husband from the get go. This was interesting to me because well, as I stated before, Juanito and I first met when I 14 years old and our first kiss was only my second one ever. So needless to say I was horribly inexperienced and the word fumbling doesn’t even begin to describe our first few encounters as teens. So to have that spark that you read about in romance novels from the very beginning is fascinating to me. I won’t lie, a part of me assumes that she’s lying about her hot sex life merely because I think it’s a hoax perpetuated by chick lit and Nora Ephron movies. I sound jealous don’t I?

While on a mini-vacation with Schmacey, I started reading a completely trashy novel quintessentially named Bad Boys Down Under. It was soft porn at its best and perfectly placed during this carefree weekend. The love stories, or should I say lust stories, centered around a gorgeous woman and a chiseled, wild man-child and their undying love for one another blossomed within days of meeting one another. While I internally laughed at the raw passion what gave me pause was wondering when did I miss the passion boat? I think I might have ignored it when it came by.

I’m pretty sure the answer is hidden within the therapy I’m in. It’s most likely tied to the anxiety issues that I can’t seem to find the way to articulate. I feel like I’m on a mission to rekindle the passion within me. I think when people have kids they do things to try and reconnect with their partner as a person and not as a parent. But what I think I missed was that Juanito and I share a connection unlike anyone else’s. And my friend with the hot sex life has a completely different connection than me and Juanito. And so on and so forth. Our connections, regardless of their electrical charge and frequency and strength, are unique unto ourselves. But the longevity of that connection is dependent on the people. Which is why I am not looking to reconnect with Juanito on an emotional level but a little more basic, primal perhaps. 

In the past when Juanito and I talk about the fertility process when we conceived The Boy, the timed sex that is required is a major low point. I really wanted to make an effort this time around that the timed sex, or as Juanito calls it Robot Sex, is better, enjoyable for all, a postive memory. I’m not aiming for earth shattering but check back during the post-coital glow. This goal was hard to meet this last go around. And I’ll be honest, reading Bad Boys Down Under did help me get me in the mood to be able to initiate and be the aggressor, which is a role I'm not comfortable in the bed room. I think we accomplished what I set out for but as always there is room for improvement. 

While passion is hard work the payoff is so damn worth it.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Currently, this is my favorite lunch! 

It is less than $2 for a lunch, travels nicely to the office and does not require refrigeration.  Its super easy to make and tastes exactly how it should. 

I am, however, gravely concerned about the white powder that is in the cup with the little noodles that is "necessary for proper cooking."  Does any one know what this is???

This weekend.....

It has dipped below 100 degrees here in the Valley and that means its Fall. In fact it will be will Fall until like January when it will actually get cold (ish) here.  I'm talking in  low 60s FOR A HIGH!  Luckily we’re all a bunch of thin-blooded pansies so we’ll whine like it’s the tundra.

I busted out the Halloween decorations at my house the other weekend. I typically do this in the first weekend of October just to foster the idea of fall when the temperature gauge doesn’t always play along.  It was nice that we thought about turning off the AC.   So the Snoopy dressed as a wizard and a dog dressed as a witch who no longer play the music, due to the extreme heat, are sitting out and the mini ghosts and cats made out of The Boy’s hand and foot prints over the years are decorating the mirror in the entry. I even Pinterested my front door. Don’t be jealous.

I'm so disgruntled at the font of the R...don't even get me started on this!
We took The Boy to one of those Halloween stores that pop-up in vacant strip malls during Labor Day weekend just to see what costume he would pick out. Along with every costume you could think of, including the slutty version, they also have animatronic …things. Like a life-size witch from Wizard of Oz and when you press the button she cackles and says “I’ll get you my pretty” while her jaw flops about in the attempt to look like she’s talking for realsies. Most of the displays were either broken or making a half-hearted attempts so it wasn’t too scary. I felt the zombie baby eating its leg was a little unnecessary. Unfortunately there were some that actually worked and started to scare The Boy. The short werewolf made him cover his eyes. The big werewolf made him burying his head into my next. The jumping ginormous spider made him and Juanito jump.

We did look at costumes and I was pretty sad to find that there are very few options for little boys that don’t involve a weapon of some sort. I don’t know what makes costume makers think it’s a good idea to give small children plastic swords and police batons and little guns. Who thinks this is just darling??? I whined that this would be the last year that I get to have a little snugly costumed baby so we went to Babies R Us. We had very few choices, a monkey or a dragon, he picked the dragon. Still disappointing but at least I get my soft baby. When we got home and I tried to get him to try it on he only let me pull it up to his waist. He gave me the Heisman when I tried to put his arms in the costume.

I’ve got some time to try a practice run through again but I’m gonna have to find an alternative. Is it too early in the game to throw a sheet on him and call him a ghost?

Monday, October 8, 2012

People are inherently nosey...and possibly dumb

My office recently moved into a new building. We merge two offices together into one building two floors. There is a lot of activity of people wandering around to see where everything is and who sits where. Its been like those few moments after your teacher would rearrange the desks and everyone was settled and you’re looking around to see who you will talk to now.

There is a decorative display right by my cubical. It’s a ginormous chunk of “concrete” that has rebar sticking out of it and it has the company logo on it. Its pretty cool and a great conversation piece that would make more sense in the receptionist area but…

So at least once a day someone touches it, knocks on it, does something with it and they typically will say, “huh, that’s not concrete.” I’m concerned because the people are typically engineers and should be intelligent enough to know that a five foot chunk of cement is not hanging by two small wire cords.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

I beat Jesus

Last year about this time a friend of mine, whom we’ll call Schmacey (look you’re a character!), told me about this thing call your Jesus Year. As I am older than most of my friends I shared this news with them when they celebrated their 33rd birthdays. Some people pointed out the inappropriateness of it since it was also the age that Jesus died. For our sins and all. A (questionable) fact I didn’t know. I'm still not sure if I was supposed to feel bad for bringing this up to them or not. 

My interpretation

Jesus Year is the 33rd year of your life in which you will experience a significant change that will be or will lead you to your true purpose in life. I do not believe that this is a mid-life crisis as it is more a passing from waiting for my life to begin to realizing my life started a while back and I need to catch up. Its about shaking the hand of the person I was supposed to be and moving forward (I wish I could tie this into the debates tonight but I don’t think I will).

So back when Schmacey told me about this it was ironic that I had recently left a job that was equivalent to hell and was at what I thought was to be my new career. As my 33rd year progressed I lost my job without unemployment benefits; became a stay at home mother; became the mother of a two year old which has tested me on a daily basis; worked a part-time job; became a part time interviewer and resume submitter; struggled with finances; struggled with depression; struggled with relationships; struggled with anxiety; found a new job; started a new career; said good bye to friendships that hurt; invested more of me into the friendships that matter; found a big chunk of peace within myself; vowed to work at my marriage to ensure that what we have is still here in 33 more years; and decided to expand that family. My 33rd year isn't over yet so who knows what the next week will bring. There is still time for a crucifixion.  (Inappropriate?  Me?  Probably.)

When I turn around and look at the past year I realize that it’s been a big year. I did not intend to make this my Jesus Year but it happened anyway. Is that divine intervention? Perhaps. Is it natural progression of maturity? Perhaps. When we look back at our 33rd year of life will most of us see that this was somehow a pivotal year?

Was your 33rd year pivotal? Tell me how.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

I'm still here

I promise.  I'm still here and writing.  I just haven't had time to actually put the thoughts to words to screen and then publish. 

Things have been moving forward at a nice and brisk pace at work which means I'm busy there.  Sometimes (read most of the time) when I get home I don't want to play anymore.  Laying in a vegetative stay on the couch (loving named Wonka) is not only preferred but almost an obligation.  But after watching way too much Jersey Shore I need to move on. 

My birthday is coming up.  That is all for now.