I'm not afraid of the dark...

...and it's a darn good thing I'm not, given the amount of time I spend standing outside in the dark, in the cold, in the damp, urging a puppy to do her "business" - nevermind that the puppy has the attention span of a fruit fly and has forgotten that her "business" doesn't include chasing leaves into the street with me chasing after her.

Back that train up, you're saying. Puppy? Her? But what about Kingsley? How could you have abandoned the pootie? Fear not, dear reader. Pootie is safe and sound and probably sleeping in my spot in my warm bed. Nope. Suckers that we are (okay, sucker that I am), we are the recently adoptive parents of a cute but annoying bloodhound puppy, Eleanor.

Eleanor: Playful but untrainable.

But SuperJanel, are you crazy? Yes, dear reader, yes apparently I am. Because I responded to the Facebook posting titled "Puppy in need of a good home" and the bells went off in my head that we're a good happy home of two adults, an infant and a dog - why couldn't we provide for a puppy in need? And here we are, now a happy home of two adults, an infant, a dog and a puppy that screeches like a hoot owl being attacked by hyenas whenever she encounters something that she doesn't like. Good times.

She'll outgrow it. At least that's what I'm telling myself in order to feel a little better about a rash decision.

But friends, readers, strangers, poor souls that have happened across this page of mine, I offer up this plea: The next time you have a dog, a cat, a bird, a gerbil, a freaking washcloth in need of a good home - please remove my name from your mailing list.  Currently, I'm out of room and patience for even the cutest, the sweetest, the most inanimate objects.

...until the next one shows up. :)

Where's my coat?

Do you want to know how cold it was in my house this morning?

(How cold was it?!)

It was so cold, I had to drink *hot* coffee. No joke here, I really drank hot coffee. And I HATE hot coffee. But I left a window open in the living room and the thermostat read 51 degrees.

Ooops.

So where have I been? I've been on blogcation. Similar to the seemingly popular "staycation" in that I've been home, I've just been staying away from my blog. You'd think that this would have provided me with a surplus of things to discuss with you but it hasn't.

I'm going to go clear the frost off the television. I'll be back.

Have some wine, it'll warm you up.

It's Labor Day. Or if you're Canadian (or just unnecessarily fancy) it's Labour Day. Being as I don't currently have the option to labor (or labour) for dinero this year, I shouldn't be celebrating Labor Day. But since I was in labor about four months ago and damn it, I think that counts for something, I'm putting my feet up with the rest of the country and enjoying a day of rest.

At least until Mini Bee wakes up from his morning nap.

It's cold in the house this morning. I have the windows open and the air conditioning on (because I like to party and because it helps my allergies) and the combination of 55 degrees outside and 70 degrees inside makes it freaking cold where I'm sitting (next to the window and under a vent). I should take my own advice and go put some more clothes on; in a few months the Bee will be complaining that it's subzero in the house and why can't we turn the heat up above freezing in the house and my response to that will be that he should be wearing more than his underpants and a pair of socks, for the love of all things holy it's December and who in their right mind walks around in their underpants in December.

And to answer the question that I know is on your mind at this moment, Yes, I'm already wearing more than just underpants and socks.



My idea of comfortable home heating and cooling has always been a little backwards than the norm. In warmer months I like to set the thermostat at about 66 degrees so I can wear slippers and sweatshirts. And then in the winter I lower it to about 60 degrees and wear t-shirts. And all year round I have the windows open because I hate the smell of stale air (and confined dog). Last year was even worse in the winter - I was preggo and my internal thermostat was all effed up anyway. I turned the a/c on in February and have yet to turn it off.

We're having dinner guests this evening. The Bee invited a friend over for dinner and that friend invited a few other people for dinner (AT OUR HOUSE!) and so a small dinner is turning into a large dinner and once again I find that I have to go to the damn supermarket just to buy food for other people. I think we should start hosting BYODF (yes, I want you to bring your own DAMN FOOD) parties. We'll be happy to prepare it and serve it and most likely even clean up afterward but holy crizzap, you people are getting expensive. Nothing like extending the invitation of your unemployed friends to others.

Being that these are the Bee's friends, he's not too upset with the virus-like spread of invitations - his only stipulation is that they bring the beer. Now, if I got to drink any of this free beer then my attitude might not be so bad. But I'm the one upstairs, tending to the baby and the leftovers and the clean-up and the barking dog and empty beer cans. Wah, wah, wah. I ought to just implement a "You can't come in my house unless you bear gifts for the Janel" policy and tell them all I want wine. So our BYOB parties have now evolved into BYOBADFAAPFTJODCI parties. And for those of you that can't keep up, that translates into "Bring Your Own Beer And Damn Food And A Present For The Janel Or Don't Come In."

So... who's coming for dinner?

Mmm, pencils.

It's September. September rings of school, football games, and fall foliage. If September had a smell, it would be of freshly sharpened pencils and brand new notebooks. I love the smell of school supplies. I like the feeling when you walk into an office supply store and you're confronted with the overwhelming scent of office supplies. My mom said I should have been a teacher, if only to smell the supplies at the beginning of the school year.

Anyway. Can you believe it's September already? Where has the year gone? I mean, I know where my time has been spent. How about yours? Did you do anything fun? Have you accomplished all your summertime goals?

For always complaining of boredom and having nothing to do, I actually had a semi-busy week. Last Friday I had a job interview; it didn't go so well and I don't expect them to be calling me anytime soon. It wasn't the interview itself that sucked, I was just a wreck. Earlier in the afternoon I'd laid my clothes out on the bed so I could get out of the shower and iron them. Well, Kingsley decided that he was going to take his pent-up anger out on the bed and pee all over everything, including the only even semi-professional outfit that currently fits me. I could have killed him but that would have only made me more late. So I broke out the B-team outfit, ironed it and rushed out the door. The interview was going great until I looked down about halfway through and noticed that I'd sweated completely through my shirt, like from shoulder to elbow - totally noticeable. GROSS. And apparently in my rush to get dressed and get out of the house I put my underwear on backwards and they rolled down under my butt cheeks, making me looking like I had a giant turd stretched from hip to hip. SWEET. And the cherry on this proverbial disaster of a sundae? My super-hot, knee-high business socks apparently lost all elasticity mid-interview and I had to stop in the hallway to hitch them up so I wouldn't trip over them. That wouldn't have been so bad except for the turd-roll under my butt cheeks that everyone saw when I bent over to hitch up my business socks. AWESOME. So I'm not going to sit around and wonder why this company isn't calling - I'm pretty much aware that I bombed that meet-and-greet.

Some days I wonder why I even bother...

This last weekend Libbeth and her family were in town. They had a family reunion to attend on Saturday and spent the rest of the weekend in Des Moines, so I got to see them on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. It'd been almost 16 months since I've seen them - the kids are getting big and I finally got to meet (the newest) Baby Girl. And Libbeth and Ryan got to meet Mini Bee; they both said he looks older than he already is, which I don't see but I spend all day, every day with him. They feel like a second family to me - they've been there for me in great times and some of my most dismal times, too. It was wonderful to see them and I cried when they left but the Bee and I are talking about making a trip down to North Carolina later in the fall. I hope that happens.

My mom and step dad are separating. Sort of. They're moving to separate apartments, which is pretty much separating, except they're only six doors apart in the new building. Literally. So they're separating but they're going to be neighbors, which makes me giggle. And not because I don't understand the reasoning - I do get it - but it just sounds like a really bad television sitcom. But it's not my place to pass judgment. I hope they're happy and can either work it out or end it amicably. My idea of happy isn't everyone else's idea of happy and vice versa. Not that I even know what my own idea of happy is, most of the time.

But it's too late to get into that. I'm too tired for that conversation tonight.

Late night philosophy...

I've tried to live my life by the saying, "I do not regret the things I have done but those I did not do," meaning to me that the choices that I make are less regrettable than the choices I've failed to make and opportunities I've passed. (Made famous among people my age by a cult movie Empire Records but a form of this can be attributed to Mark Twain. But anyway...) And then I had a couple shitty years and realized that in spite of trying to live free of regrets, I was accumulating them anyway. Apparently, there's no "do over" in life once you reach the age of 10, no matter how nice and convenient the option may be. But all choices have consequences and some leave us wondering what could have been - "what if?"

We all do this; we all play this game. Looking back, there's choices that didn't turn out so great - the end result was different than we expected and we're left to live with the aftermath. We don't regret, necessarily, the choices that we've made but from time to time we wonder if it was the best decision. Could we have played this a little better? Was there a better answer? I do this all the time, in regard to decisions I've made over the years.

Here's a good example: In April 2008, the Bee and I went to a pet store to look at puppies. I could stop right there and ask who in their right mind does that? Looking at puppies is one of those things you do that never ends well. But for the rest of that month and into May of that year, we pined over the boxer puppy at the pet store. We himmed and hawed about getting a dog, and what breed, and when to buy and how to pay for it. Not once did it occur to us that getting a dog would create wrinkles in our lives. And so one weekend in May, we bought a dog. A few days after that I picked him up and brought him home. And life has not been the same since.

Instead of being able to leave the house for hours on end, even to go to work, we now have the duty of making sure that Pootie gets outside on a regular basis for walks and potty trips, making sure he has food and water and toys and treats - all of the responsibilities that go along with owning a dog. Is this a decision I'd change? Would I call a "do over" on getting the Pootie? Probably not; I love his drooly, wrinkly little mug to death. But knowing what I know now, we probably would have nixed the idea of getting a boxer and gotten a dog more suited to our lifestyle. We would have thought about the hassle it would be to find a place to live that accepts dogs and the mess that living with a dog presents. We probably would have gotten a dog anyway but it would have been a more educated decision.

Maybe that's how I should approach this. Maybe I should say that I should have made more educated decisions in life. Maybe I should have stopped what I was doing and what I was thinking and considered all the outcomes (if that's even possible).

That said, if I lived my life more carefully, made my decisions more deliberately, there are some conversations I never would have broached. Topics best left alone, secrets never shared, complete situations avoided - and the domino effect that follows them would have been avoided, too. If I'd followed the path opposite to my gut, my instincts, my heart...

There it is - the big IF. What if...?

And *what if* I had? What if I'd done the opposite? Where would I be? What would I be? What would I have? If I called for a "do-over" on some of my biggest regrets, I wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't have some of the things I treasure the most. I wouldn't have the experiences, good and bad, that I feel have shaped the person I've become. Calling for a "do over" on some of my most painful memories takes away some of the happiest moments of my life. Maybe that just goes to show that you can't have one without the other - you can't have moments of pure joy without experiencing profound sadness. Gain is only appreciated by loss.

I've always felt it's better to know than to spend a lifetime wondering. Some people might feel that's akin to kicking a dead horse but the "what ifs" have always plagued me. What if I'd tried a little harder? What if I'd kept my mouth shut? What if I'd gone? What if I'd told the truth? Someone once told me that regret and guilt are feelings we put on ourselves; we're in complete control of inviting them to the table and similarly we can ask them to leave. No one can make us feel guilt - we do or we don't. No one can make us regret - we either do or we don't. But once they creep in they're hard to turn off.

What if, what if, what if...

"I do not regret the things I have done but those I did not do."

Sometimes.

The art of doing nothing.

Three weeks? Three whole weeks, are you kidding me? What the heck have I been doing for three whole weeks that I've been too busy to write? I have no idea. Nothing spectacular, that's for sure. I've lost my motivation for a lot of things, which is weird because I finally feel like the Mini Bee and I are starting to agree on a routine. I'm getting more sleep than I've been able to get in months and yet I'm just exhausted all the time. What's up with that?

As usual, things around here are in a constant state of flux. The only constant thing in life is that things are always changing. The Bee got laid off again this week. Awesome, right? Yeah... The last round only lasted two weeks but it felt like two months and we were ready to kill each other. This time around it's predicted he'll be out of work until spring. Spring! That's two whole seasons away! I'll be 30 before he heads back to work! What are we going to do for six whole months? He's got some ideas, some projects, some side jobs, thankfully, because that's a long time for us to just sit around and stare at each other. But if we don't keep our attitudes in check it's going to be a rough few months.

It's Thursday - usually on Thursdays at this time I can be found standing barefoot in a line of women (and one man) ranging from pleasantly plump to crazy heavy, waiting to weigh in for the week. Instead I'm home this morning. I actually have things to do and the timing of my Chubby Kids meeting just doesn't work with everything else there is to do. Mini Bee is starting to cut teeth and his naps and eating schedule have been all messed up the last few days. I hate dragging him to Chubby Kids when he's not had a morning nap - he just wails and I have to leave early anyway. (It's rare that he's ever really unhappy but when he is, he's definitely not shy about letting you know.) But those are just excuses. Mostly it's the fact that I've fallen so far off the Chubby Kids cart that I refuse to weigh in this week. I have to get back on track. My stomach has been upset lately and I've been having heartburn (which I haven't had since Mini Bee was born) and I know it's because I've been eating like a cow. Like last night, I was up at 12:30 eating Wheat Thins. I've never been a middle of the night eater - I felt really guilty, standing in the kitchen with my hand in a box of crackers, but not guilty enough to stop eating. Ugh. And then when I woke up this morning I was still hungry for breakfast. What the French, toast?

Moo.

Speaking of food, there's a new eater in the house. Mini Bee is big enough that we've added fruits, veggies and cereal to his diet. And he loves it! He seems to enjoy just about everything we've tried but especially likes prunes and sweet potatoes. Kingsley thinks it's pretty cool that Brodie is eating food - he gets the leftovers. And that explains why Kingsley has been farting so much lately. Apparently prunes aren't good for boxer puppies. :)

So tomorrow my oldest little brother is moving to Colorado. For some reason, I didn't think this would effect me as much as it is. Craig came over yesterday to sort out some stuff we have stored for him in the garage and I cried when he left. I'll see him tonight and it's not like I'll never see him again. But he's more than just my brother, he's a good friend. And I'm going to miss him. He's moving because the love of his life just moved out there; I can't think of a better reason for him to go, especially when she's as sweet as she is. They seem to get along exceptionally well - they're great together. And so I wish him the best of luck. :)

But like I said, I have things to do today. Brodie and I are heading to Williamsburg to pick up one of my favorite aunts. He needs to have breakfast, I need to shower, got to go to the post office, have to run by the union hall - so much to do and all before noon, when I need to be in Indianola to eat lunch with my mom. So I'm going to get busy.

Give me a Wii, I'll be yours forever.

I'm sitting in bed, Brodie sprawled out in the Bee's usual spot and Kingsley at my feet. It rained last night, I can see out the window. I didn't sleep very well but don't chalk that up to the rain. No, I didn't sleep very well because the Bee didn't sleep very well. And because we don't have one of those Swedish-spaceman-wonder-material Tempur-pedic matresses - you know, the one where one person can breakdance and the other can sleep with a glass of wine balanced on their forehead - I felt every time he rolled over to get out of bed. Which was often. When the Bee doesn't sleep well it makes for an especially long day for him and an even longer day for those around him. I pity those stuck in the tunnel with him today at work.

So I'm tired today too. Tired but not grumpy.

Yesterday didn't turn out to be as fabulous as I'd anticipated. But maybe I set my expectations too high? In spite of my good mood and the great weather, I wasn't able to find my motivation to do much of anything. I looked up and saw that it was nearly 1 pm - at that point I'd barely moved from the sofa. I was grungy, Little Man was still grungy, I hadn't Shredded or eaten or anything. The day just sort of got away from me. I found myself running to get things done so that it appeared that I'd accomplished something when the Bee got home from work. I hurried up and popped in the Nazi's DVD and Shredded my way through level two, only to end up with an oddly swollen knee and quite a bit of pain. Damn you, Jillian Michaels! Damn you!

I iced it and took some Advil; by early evening it was feeling significantly better, especially in comparison to the ankle I rolled while limping my gimp ass up the stairs, not able to walk correctly because of my bum knee. But this morning I'm having hardly any pain - things seem to be back to normal. So here in a few minutes I'll tie on my tennis shoes and try again. I was kind of hoping that taking a day off would help relieve the pain in my knees. I don't know if the pain comes from the weight or the exercise; I guess I'll just keep going until the answer makes itself clear. Obviously, if I continue the exercise and lose the weight and find that my knees don't hurt - then it was the weight causing the pain. If after continuing the exercise and losing the weight, my knees still hurt, well, then it's the stupid exercise that caused the pain and I'll sue Horse Face for all she's got. (Which would be a good plan except for that huge fine-print message at the beginning of the workout that basically says, "If this causes you pain, knock it off. If this causes you pain and you don't stop, we're not responsible for your injuries, dumb ass.")

I did set up two interviews for this coming Monday. Both are with temp agencies. I was sort of depressed about this until I realized that my interest in any job they offered would be temporary at best, fleeting at worst. I have no long-term career goals anyway; maybe I shouldn't be looking for long-term work?

Interviewer: "SuperJanel, what is your short-term career goal?"
SuperJanel: "Get paid."
Interviewer: "Oh. And your long-term goal?"
SuperJanel: "Don't get fired."

When I started the interview process at Giant Conglomerate Bank, I knew from someone that worked there that they often gave away gaming consoles and trips and money as incentive prizes for people to come to work and do their jobs. So when the HR rep that called me asked why I wanted to work there, I was pretty honest: "I want a Nintendo Wii." And I STILL got hired. But I never won a Wii. Which I probably should have put on my exit interview paperwork as the main reason I left. Oh, wait. I never went to the exit interview. But that's because I was never asked to go to an exit interview, the bastards. I wouldn't have gone anyway, but still, it would have been nice to have been invited.

Oh well. It's now 7:32 in the a.m. I've got to go take my daily beating before I shower and head to Chubby Kids for my weekly session of public humilation.

"Thank you, Jillian. May I have another?"

Oh happy day!

Today is going to be a good day. I can just feel it.

It's Wednesday, hump day. Doesn't that just sound dirty? I mean, I know that the hump is referring to the middle of the week and not camels or, you know... I guess it's just the third grader in me that giggles whenever I hear the phrase "hump day."

I just woke up in a good mood this morning. And that usually makes for good days. It's sunny outside, warm but not hot, clear skies - all that makes for good days too. Maybe later I'll round up the MiniBee and we'll go for a walk. (Round him up - duh. Like I don't know where he is at all times...)

Want to know who is not having a good day?

Jailbird Kingsley

Kingsley. Kingsley is not having a good day. Kingsley decided very early on that he was going to be a jerk today. He's usually obnoxious in the morning - it's like he's so excited to be awake he can't help it. He runs up and down the stairs, off the sofa and back again - and I generally don't mind nor do I get in his way. But this morning he added a new facet to the routine and started barking, right in Brodie's face. Not cool, Pootie. Not cool at all. Now Pootie is in puppy prison, for at least part of the day.

So I guess it's not universally a good day. Good day for SuperJanel? Indeed. Good day for Pootie? Not so much. Good day for Brodie? It's always a good day for Brodie; this kid hardly ever has a bad day. Good day for the Bee? I'm not sure; he's always grumpy in the morning and that makes it hard to tell. Good day for that Harvard professor and the cop that arrested him? Not today but tomorrow they're getting drunk with the Prez, how can that be a bad day? Good day for Brett Favre (Faaaahhv-re)? Eh, probably not, he's staying retired. But ask him tomorrow, you never know.

Anyway.

Yesterday, I did not Shred. I did not do anything. (I feel like Dr. Seuss here. "I will not eat green ham on a train, I will not eat green ham on a plane...") Mega-Nazi bizzo Jillian finally won - she strained my left knee to the point of no motion. I felt extremely lazy and my appetite was out of control. You know, I'm not sure if no exercise and a ravenous appetite are related, especially in such a short amount of time, but it weighs heavily enough on my mind that even a false connection stands as a great motivator. Exercise = no cravings = less food = fewer calories = losing pounds = successful weigh-in at Chubby Kids. Although really, I could break that down to exercise = successful weigh-in at Chubby Kids and save myself a lot of time and thinking. So today I will Shred. And probably go for a walk. If the dog isn't still in doggie jail this evening I'll take him out for a long walk; he's a good walking buddy. Definitely more entertaining than most people I know.

Did I tell you Brodie's exciting news? He rolled over on Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure the crying that ensued was due to my excitement and yelling, not the act of rolling over. I didn't even get a picture, I was so busy clapping and screaming. It wasn't the most graceful movement but it was definitely a roll over. He's getting so big! Then Monday night was our first night of rice cereal. He's had cereal in his bottle before (he used to really enjoy it and then he started refusing his cereal bottles, I'm not sure why) but this was his first time with cereal from a spoon. And I consider the entire operation a success - more cereal stayed in his mouth than came back out. And he slept like a rock that night and pooped twice the next day. Go Brodie go! Last night he fell asleep just as the six o' clock news came on because he didn't nap all day and stayed asleep until 3:30 this morning. His schedule will be a little off today but we ought to be better by tonight. He's getting to the age where he's really a lot of fun. I get to watch him experience things for the first time - his facial expressions are priceless. He loves to talk and coo and laugh, especially at Mommy. He loves to give kisses and suck on his thumb and he really likes his bathtime. Being a mom is more than I ever thought it could be - I can't even put it into words.

One of Little Man's favorite places to be: his lights and sounds activity gym. Not that you can see the lights or hear the sounds; trust me, it lights up and makes noise.

Brodie's not quite sure what to think of rice cereal.

Brodie and Daddy hanging out. OMG, they look alike.

Grandma gave Little Man some vanilla pudding. :)

And now I'm off to get busy. I have to Shred and give MiniBee a bath and take the dog out and pick up yard bombs and feed the baby (after I wash my hands, of course). So much to do, I'm so very busy.

Ha.

Do you hear that?

It's completely quiet here this morning. Well, completely quiet except for the dog tipping over the trashcan in the bathroom and the ceiling fan and the neighbor's kids are screaming. But it's still pretty quiet. No lullabies, no mobiles, no baby cooing, no drill sergeant Jillian Michaels... It's nice and quiet.

It's just me and Pootie home this morning. The Bee and the MiniBee took off for his cousin's house early and left me home alone. I feel weird, like there's something I should be doing but I'm not sure what it is. I did my Shred this morning (day 11 - woot!) and then went for a bike ride, came home, talked to my momma, made some breakfast and now I just don't know what to do with myself. I miss the MiniBee (and the big Bee too, lol). I've never sent him out to play with Daddy before - I'm a little nervous. But I'm sure they're fine.

I fell off the Chubby Kids wagon hard last night, to the tune of beer and martinis and pizza and ice cream cake. I guess that's what weekly points are for but holy cow. I can't be doing that very often. It was Mark's birthday and we all got together at West Glen to celebrate. We ate at Graze; I'd never been there before. Their menu is all appetizers, which is kind of different, but all so very good. Remember that I said the Bee would never eat ground chicken? I lied. If I could make ground chicken taste like the Food Guru makes ground chicken taste, we'd eat it all the time. Freaking amazing.

How does one get the moniker of "Food Guru" anyway? I want to be a "Something Guru" where something is replaced with something awesome, like food. What kind of guru could I be? How about a cheese guru? Or a waffle guru, I do like me some waffles. Although Chubby Kids has pretty much done away with my enjoyment of most cheeses and waffles, unless you count the 2% cheese I've been eating (which is SO not the same; cheese should not bounce like Jell-O) or the Eggo Nutri-Grain Low-Fat waffles I heat up in the toaster (which pretty much suck but aren't as many points as toast). Some days I just miss food. And then I think about the weight that I've lost and where I'd like to be (in terms of pounds, not location) and I can hear my mom's voice: "There is always another pizza." I have moments where I'd like to stick a virtual sock in my virtual mom's mouth and eat the damn pizza but mostly I just resign myself to eating half-ass cheese and cardboard waffles because that's what the Mega-Nazi Jillian would want me to do.

I have nightmares about that woman. *Shudder.*

Anyway. I'm going to go turn the radio up, clean my kitchen, maybe vaccuum and take a nice long shower. And then I'll wait for my baby to come home. :-)

It's Thursday, I got nothing

I have to give credit where credit is due. I have to thank Jillian Michaels' for her hand in this week's spectacular weight loss at Chubby Kids - I lost 3.8 pounds. I haven't done much different as far as my eating habits or my points so unfortunately it seems that exercising in her stupid little six-minute circuits seems to be doing the trick.

Hey, I just said I had to thank her. I didn't say I had to be nice to her. She may have aided in my weight loss this week but she's still a horse face bizzo that sucks the fun out of my mornings.

I took Pootie with me to Dairy Queen tonight. And before you all start calling me a big hypocrite for going to Chubby Kids and Dairy Queen all in the same day, I had a slushie, damn it. Back off. (LAY OFF ME, I'M STARVING.) But the great thing about driving around with the Pootie is watching him stick his head out the window. His cheeks flap in the wind and his tongue hangs out and looks all funny. It's great. If I weren't busy driving and balancing my slushie and the Bee's Blizzard, I'd have tried for a picture. Alas, it was not to be. Maybe next time.

The Bee and I have been at each other's throats all week. He's stressing about money and tired from work; I'm stressing about finding a job and started that stupid Shred DVD. We're both cranky and pissy and just plain mad about life in general; the only thing we can agree on is that MiniBee is awesome. Except for when he poops beside his diaper and not in his diaper; we pretty much agreed that that was not awesome. By the time that was over we were all covered in crap and Brodie was the only one happy about it. I still don't know how that works exactly but that's what happened.

Anyway. I'm tired of complaining and just plain tired in general. MiniBee is down for the night; I think I'm going to turn in early.

I never thought I'd say this...

It's time to go back to work.

Do you have any idea how much I hate saying that? It goes against every fiber of my being to admit that I need to get out of the house and go to work. Obviously, there are financial benefits to working, like being able to pay our bills. But secondly, and almost as important, I need a little interaction. Don't get me wrong, Brodie is absolutely fascinating. But he's not much of a conversationalist. (Yet, anyway. I have a feeling one day he'll open his mouth to start talking and won't ever be quiet again.) I spend the majority of my days reciting nursery rhymes, making bottles, washing nipples, folding laundry, and harvesting my Facebook farm. It's an enviable life, I suppose, but I'm starting to get bored. Which is why I'm saying it's time to go back to work.

I'm actually kind of disappointed that I'm not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. I thought I'd be good at this. And maybe I'd be better at it if we didn't have the financial stress that we have right now. I love being home with Brodie, I really do. But I feel guilty for not working, for not helping provide for the household and for putting that kind of pressure on the Bee.

The problem is that I find work just as boring as being at home. I've had a bazillion jobs and only really enjoyed maybe two of them. It used to be the topic of many a humorous tête-à-tête that I'm truly a jack of all trades and a master of none until I realized that I don't really find it that funny. If I were to be honest while writing my resume not only would it be about 9 pages long and have only three solid references (two of which are family), it'd be incredibly depressing. I mean, do you know anyone - other than me - who's had more jobs than she is years old? Think about that - I might as well hand a potential employer a piece of paper that says, "Don't hire me. I'm flaky, irresponsible and suffer from an adult onset of attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, self diagnosed. Please save both of us the time and effort and turn me down for [insert job title here] immediately." But, in spite of a fantastic job record and an equally impressive attitude, I keep plugging away, applying for this and that, here and there, under the guise that someone will eventually bite.

Ugh. I'm tired of stressing about this. I'm going to talk about something else now...

Today is Day 7 of Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred. Cheesalicious as this might sound, I actually can feel myself getting stronger. I can do push ups now. Not very many of them and I'm sure my form is pathetic but it's more than I could do a week ago. I still hate jumping jacks and I think her bicycle crunches are the stuff of Satan but I have to admit it's doing something for me. If I can do this anyone can do this. I'm as uncoordinated and unfit as they come. Plus I have a baby that giggles at me, a dog that won't leave me alone when I lie on the floor and green beans for hand weights. (I still haven't broken down and bought actual weights - I should probably do that sometime soon.) I'm still out of range of a Presidential Fitness Award but I do sense improvement. And I guess that's the point.

I'm making Blue Cheese Burgers for dinner tonight. Well, the Bee is making Blue Cheese Burgers for dinner tonight - he's the grill master of the house. I refuse to use the grill, it's a charcoal grill and I've seen him come inside too many times reeking of gasoline and burnt hair. Anyway. The recipe calls for ground chicken but I know I'll never get the Bee to eat ground chicken burgers. So we're making our burgers with hamburger instead. But I suppose I should get off the computer and get myself cleaned up and get to the store. I need a shower, the baby needs a bath, the Pootie needs to go outside. Things to do, things to do...

What the hell happened to the driveway?

The Bee is cheap. (Well, about some things.) It's one of his more endearing qualities.

"What are you buying? Well, I heard we can save four cents if we drive across town and buy 17 of them..."

I've learned that the best way to deal with him is to indulge him on occasion.

"Really? If we buy 26 rolls of paper towels they're only $2.24 instead of $2.29? That's a heck of deal!"

Never mind that we rarely have room for 26 rolls of paper towels, the giant 50-pound bag of dog food, the 1,380-cup industrial size canister of coffee. That's just a technicality. We will expend the energy to live around whatever it is we can get on sale just to save a few bucks.

Prime example: Right now, the Bee is out in the driveway changing the oil in his truck. We had to spend $61 to buy the supplies to change the oil, not to mention the kitty litter we have to buy to sop up the puddle of spilled oil in the driveway, the shirt that was ruined in the removal of an oil filter and decimation of the neighbor's tools (because when the job is messy, it's better to use someone else's stuff and not your own).

All to save $19.95.

And then there are things the Bee is not cheap about. Like bacon. The Bee will not buy cheap bacon. We can't buy whatever bacon is on sale, we have to buy the $7 package of bacon, because expensive bacon is obviously better. I don't know. I just nod and smile and say, "Okay," because it's easier than the argument that ensues if I don't.

The sacrifices we make for relationships.

Day 1: Complete

I hate Jillian Michaels. If I could find the receipt, I'd take this DVD back. She makes me feel fat and flabby and she has horse teeth. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt, although I think that means that there are still some muscles under all my extra weight.

I shredded today. I jumping jacked and push-upped and lunged my way around the living room (as much as someone of my stature can do, anyway), stepping over the dog and ducking out of the way of the ceiling fan when necessary. I looked like a damn fool and felt pretty stupid too. Jillian is a no-break-taking, 20-minute workout Nazi and she'd roll my ass if she saw the lackadaisical approach I was taking to her shred. I wasn't even using real hand weights, I was using green beans. (She ought to be thankful for that. If I were using real hand weights I'd have chucked those SOB's through the tv. She's lucky; I won't waste green beans.)

But I figure, some shred is better than no shred and if it turns into 60 days (or 90 or 120 or 733 days), what's the harm? It's more than I did yesterday (hell, it's more than I did all last week) and if I stick to my Chubby Kids and keep walking the dog, it's definitely an improvement. I asked the Bee if he wanted to shred with me. He laughed. But after having done this I realize that our living room floor probably couldn't take the both of us doing jumping jacks at the same time. Oh well. He'll be jealous soon enough.

I'm going to go collapse now.

SuperJanel enters stage right

I'm waiting for my coffee to kick in before I really get my day started. I hate coffee. I hate the way it tastes. But I've found that with a lot of ice (and a fair amount of fat-free French vanilla creamer) it doesn't taste like coffee but I still get the coffee drinker's energy boost. Plus, there are no points in coffee or fat-free creamer. Bottoms up.

It's grey outside today and supposed to rain. I love summer storms. But it makes it hard to do much with Mini Bee when it's pouring outside. I don't have much to do today: we're going to lunch with Mom and I have to go to Target and the post office, blah blah blah... My one goal is to track down "Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred." After listening to the testimonial given by my best good friend Libbeth (who has never been one for exercise) and reading the testimonial of Benjamin's mommy (who claims to have zero willpower) I figure the least I can do is give it a try. Especially since it's on sale at Target this week. The other thing I have to do is track down a cute lamp for Mini Bee's room - I decided last night after about breaking my neck, tripping over the fan, that we need a better source of light. Plus I'm only a mediocre diaper-changer in broad daylight - in the dark I tend to put diapers on backwards. Poor Mini Bee.

Kingsley came home from Grandpa Donnie's Doggie Day Camp this weekend. Did I tell you that already? I think I did. But after spending the day with him yesterday I think he's depressed. Or maybe he's just really tired. He spent all day yesterday and all of this morning so far just sleeping. I did take him for a lo-o-o-o-o-ong walk last night; it's a good excuse for me to get out of the house and clear my head. Plus he just loves to walk. One thing he learned at day camp was how to properly walk on a leash, sort of. As long as there are no other dogs, people, kids, bicycles, roller bladers, strollers, cars, motorcycles, trees (do you see where I'm going with this?) within a 50-foot radius of the Pootie on his leash, he's great. The rest of the time I have to keep him reeled in.

Between Pootie and a nearly 14-pound Mini Bee (and Jillian Michaels) I am going to have super buff arms by the end of the summer.

So yesterday I had a job interview. It's hard to judge how those things go. Short of being hired on the spot or being forcibly removed by security, you really have no idea what kind of impression you leave on people. I went to a local Chevrolet dealership to interview for an F&I position. And for those of you that don't know what F&I is, it's the person in the dealership that no one really wants to talk to - it's the person that makes you pay. You either have to hand them a check or hand them your personal information so they can judge your financial history and stability. Either way, the F&I person is never too popular. And they're usually pretty crabby, because they're surrounded by idiot customers that have no idea how the car buying process really works and they're required by management to be at work about 900 hours a week. However, the F&I person generally makes pretty good money which makes being disliked (and a crappy work environment) a little easier.

Anyway, my interview went like this (paraphrased but definitely not embellished for entertainment purposes, of course):

Scene: A sleek, modern car dealership, full of natural light and glass offices - I like to refer to those as people aquariums. Enter Interview Guy, a lifelong slick city car dealer with the hair to match, wearing perfectly pleated khaki pants and a moderate scowl. He greets Superjanel, wearing the only pre-pregnancy pants that (almost) fit, a head-full of massive and unruly curly hair and a big orange Swatch watch. (Hey, love me or leave me, I yam what I yam.) They walk to his particular people aquarium; he ushers her to sit in a straight back wooden chair with leather wrist cuffs attached to the arms while he wanders around his seven acre desk to sit on a throne of silk and satin throw pillows in various jewel tone colors. There is a young woman holding a fern fan and a plate of grapes in the corner and an Irishman in a kilt playing the bagpipes near the window.

Interview Guy: "So why did you leave your last job?"
SuperJanel: "I didn't leave, I escaped. I was a cog in the machine of Giant Conglomerate Bank. I busted outta there, broke outta my chains, took as many people as I could with me, all the while screaming 'This way to freedom! Follow me if you want to be free!' But I kept my parking pass, the bastards. I showed them. WOOT."
Interview Guy: "...?"
SuperJanel: "Okay, so yeah, I had a baby."
Interview Guy: "Um, yeah. That concerns me."
SuperJanel: "Me too. I don't want to work 900 hours a week. I'd like to see my baby from time to time. Plus I get crabby when people expect too much from me. I don't really like people. Or work."
Interview Guy: "Then you don't want this job. And I can tell you that you don't want this other job; you're too smart and you'll get bored. Then you'll just leave and I'll be looking for another employee and that takes time. And my time is the most important thing in the world because I am the most important person in the world."
SuperJanel: "So..."
Interview Guy: "It's actually quite hard being me. I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. I have to have my teeth bleached on a weekly basis and sleep in a tanning bed to maintain this John Bachman-like appearance."

[Note to readers: For those of you not familiar with WHO-TV, the NBC affiliate here in the Des Moines area, John Bachman is a 643-year-old television newsman, pumped full of formaldehyde and kept in a UV light radiation chamber when he's not on the air. He's like a local George Hamilton.]

SuperJanel: "Um..."
Interview Guy: "But I can see that you understand being awesome. Your resume, all 14-pages of it, and your references - both of them - speak volumes for your job stability, your intelligence and overall awesomeness. So let me tell you about this other position we have available..."
SuperJanel: [Zoned out, focusing solely on the large piece of lettuce in Interview Guy's teeth and silently agreeing that she is pretty freaking awesome]
Interview Guy: "...Let me get my office manager down here so she can bask in your awesomeness for a few minutes."
SuperJanel: "Let's get this show on the road."

And that's pretty much how it went, sort of. It's not the position I applied for, it's not even the position I interviewed for. But if it's meant to be, it will be. I'm not going to stress over it. I liked the place, I liked the people that I met. I actually went to school with one of the salespeople. ("Wait! ...a minute!") So I'm going to take the "wait and see" approach rather than the "run around like a chicken with my head cut off and my panties in a wad" approach.

Who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear.

Okay. I've obviously been caffeinated. I'm going to go get busy now.

Monday morning musings

The Mini-Bee is 10 weeks old today. He's been smiling all the time and cooing. He puts together a vowel and a consonent sound (ooh-ga, usually) and tries so hard to laugh - you can see it in his eyes when he's laughing - it won't be long before we hear him giggling. He hasn't rolled over yet but I think that has to do with the fact that he doesn't spend a lot of time on his tummy and hasn't developed those muscles. He's not a big fan of tummy time and I'm not a big fan of making him cry but we're working on it.

I have a job interview today. I'm nervous about this interview, more so than others I've been to. Does that mean that I want this job more than I want other jobs or does that mean it's been a long time between interviews and I'm just nervous about interviewing in general? I don't know. What I do know is that if I don't get a job soon I'm going to go bonkers. I'm in need of some adult conversation, some big people interaction. I find myself hanging out at Target, lingering in the laundry aisle, desperate to make conversation with random strangers.

No, not really. But it won't be long...

I should really lay off the coffee; I'm nervous enough as it is. If I keep up the coffee drinking I'll be Parkinson-ing my way through my meeting with my potential employer and then he won't want to hire me because I'm awesome, he'll hire me because I fulfill two minority categories - female and disabled AND I'm awesome.

The weekend was sort of a bust. The Bee and Mini-Bee and I went camping with the Bee's family. Again. For the second weekend in a row. And I was miserable. I couldn't sleep. I got attacked by a 12-pound mosquito and was surrounded by frogs and had a huge, sweaty, snoring Bee drooling on my shoulder in the 212% humidity all night. I didn't sleep at all. So Saturday morning I got up and declared that Mini-Bee and I were going home. I'd had enough. I was sweaty and itchy and frizzy and dirty and oh-so-tired. I was miserable and I was making people around me miserable and I wanted to go home. So we did. And you'd have thought I hauled off and kicked the Bee in the shins and broken his favorite toy given the look on his face. But he did have a good time, a much better time than he would have had with me there.

Pootie came home yesterday. I had to get him a new collar and it took an hour of scrubbing in the tub to get the kennel smell off of him, but he's home and seems to be happy. Is his attitude any better? Eh... He still doesn't listen for crap but he seems a little calmer; maybe that's what happens when you get your balls clipped off. (Poor guy.) When he first got home he was mad at me - he wouldn't come to me at all and wouldn't look at me in the bathtub. But I put his new collar on him and he's now my best bud. I missed that little wrinkly face.

I think I hear Mini-Bee waking up. The full-size Bee's almost sister-in-law is coming this morning to watch him while I go to my interview. I should probably get in the shower so I'm a little prepared when she gets here. I have a much better chance of getting a job if I don't smell like a foot.

Wish me luck.

Don't bother. This post is boring.

I can't sleep.

It's nearly 2 a.m. and I'm still awake. Yup, I'm still awake as in I haven't been to bed yet this evening. At this point, I'm trying to stay awake because Brodie generally wakes up around 2-2:15 to be changed and fed. And to fall asleep for 30 minutes would just be painful.

I hadn't blogged in a while, going on three weeks, and then I blogged the other night in a fit of self-pity. It wasn't pretty. It was so not pretty that I took it down the next morning. That post won't be coming back soon. It's not that I don't have time to blog; I do. It's not that I don't have things to talk about; I do. I just don't seem to have my words lately - nothing seems to flow like it used to. My conversation, in person and online, seems to gravitate towards the Mini Bee, and rightfully so, he's terrifically interesting. (At least I think so.) For those that aren't related to us, and probably for some that are related to us, that probably gets old. Hell, sometimes I think I've given all the Mini Bee related news and then I open my mouth and surprise myself with more.

A lot of that has to do with the fact that I'm currently home on what I'm still referring to as "maternity leave" even though that insinuates that I've only temporarily left somewhere, not left somewhere on a permanent vacation, which is a little closer to the truth. And being on "leave" is fantastic; I enjoy being home with Brodie. But let's face it - he's not much for conversation just yet. I talk ALL THE TIME and get no response. So when I'm around adults I find myself gabbing away. Sometimes I'll listen to what I'm saying and have no idea what's coming out of my mouth; I guess I get pretty excited over a little interaction among big people.

The point is that I could come here every day and bore you to death with the mundane details of life with a two-month old. Or I could post sporadically, when the urge strikes and I have something fabulous to say.

Unfortunately for you, dear reader, this post is neither. Because as I write it, and as I'm sure you read it, it's boring as poo. There is nothing fabulous occurring here. I admit it.

*Sigh.*

It's tough being mediocre. Good thing I don't have to experience that on a regular basis.

We're going camping this weekend. We consists of myself, the Bee, and the Mini Bee. We're heading to Lake Rathbun on Friday afternoon and we'll be home Sunday morning, the earlier the better. That boils down to about 40 hours of camping. I keep a mental countdown running at all times; it makes me feel better about the idea of sleeping in a tent.

This won't be our first camping trip this year. Last weekend we were at the lake for a couple of nights - the first night was great, I slept like a log and Brodie slept in the camper with the Bee's parents. About the time I got attacked by the tree frog in the shower house was when things started going downhill, at least for me. The Bee got pissy when everyone went to bed at 8:30 on Friday night and he realized that drinking alone in your campsite while your campmates sleep is actually pretty pathetic. Top that off with 18 hours of pouring rain and that makes for crabby campers all around, especially those that sleep in a tent. A leaky tent. More specifically, a tent with a leak directly above my forehead. Water torture, anyone?

Bueller? Bueller?

That's what I thought.

We're camping (again) with the Bee's family. His parents have a fifth-wheel trailer with air conditioning and a flat screen tv. If only they had wi-fi, it'd be perfect. But last weekend I sat in the camper, warming up something to eat and watching Regis and Kelly while sitting in the a/c and laughed at myself for calling that camping. I've stayed in hotels that weren't as nice.

But in exchange for this weekend's camping trip I have gained the Bee's word that we will be viewing the new Harry Potter flick next week, come hell or high water. I've seen every Harry Potter movie on opening day in the theatre - there were showings where I was not only the oldest in the room but also the tallest. And *yes* - I've read the books. And *yes* - I know how it's going to end. But I still want to see it. Consumerism in the flesh.

It's now 2:10 a.m. and not a peep from the Mini Bee. I think it would be stupid to wake him up but I know as soon as I drift off he'll start to whimper. Or, I'll sit here all night, waiting for him to wake up and it'll be one of those nights he sleeps all the way through.

Doh!

I'm hungry. But it's now officially Thursday and I don't eat on Thursdays until after chubby kids weigh-in and that's not for another 8 hours. I think I'll lie here, wait for the Mini Bee to wake up and think about waffles and peanut butter. And milk. And ice cream. OMG. I think I may starve.

what time is it? it's cold in here.

i think it's monday. my days are running together. when i worked, i looked forward to the weekends because it signaled no work and time at home. when i didn't work but the bee was employed, i still looked forward to weekends because it meant we could hang out (or argue or break up or whatever we chose to do that weekend). but now, since we're both home, all the days run together and weekends are no more special than weekdays and if i didn't have a calendar i wouldn't be able to tell a wednesday from a sunday.

it is monday, right?

it doesn't help that days and nights are just suggestions right now. the mini-bee isn't much for scheduling or timeliness. and at six weeks that's okay. if the little man is six years old and still trying to eat three times a night, we're going to have words.

did i tell you guys i rejoined chubby kids? first two weeks i did awesome; this last week, not so much. when i fall off the wagon, i fall hard. like standing up in the wagon and running off the back end at full speed. which, for a chubby kid, isn't that fast but i carry a lot of velocity. my mass prohibits any real acceleration. i'm going to go to my meeting this week but i won't weigh-in, i don't need to see just how badly i'm doing. the flip-side of this is that maybe a little public humiliation would do me some good. i don't know. i do know that i'm tired of salad and chicken but not scrambled eggs and popcorn - can a girl survive on scrambled eggs and popcorn? i guess i've survived on worse for longer; at least eggs and popcorn are better for me than martinis and tequila.

martinis and tequila almost sounds better than eggs and popcorn though. and if i had martinis for breakfast and tequila for lunch, i'd pass out by dinner and wouldn't care about my remaining points for the day.

something about this just doesn't sound right...

i had my first drinks, post-baby, last weekend. the bee and mini-bee and i went to his parents for dinner last friday night. his entire family was there and his almost-sister-in-law and i sat in his mom's kitchen and proceeded to drink a bottle of tequila. okay, she nursed a drink or two for six hours and i downed most of a bottle of tequila. mini-bee was cuddled and carried and held and fed by family and almost-sister-in-law and i had a pretty good time. it was nice to have an evening like that, it was a good way to ease myself back into the real world. although it still doesn't occur to me that i can have a drink when we're out - i'm always like, "i want tea" and then when everyone else orders beer or fun drinks, it dawns on me that i'm not pregnant anymore. but by then it's too late and i don't want to be the pain in the ass at the table, changing orders and having the wait staff spit in my drink.

okay. we're having a friday the 13th marathon in honor of the new friday the 13th movie coming out tomorrow... on tuesday the 16th. huh. that's jacked up.

while the little man naps...

brodie doesn't mind if mommy facebooks or checks her email. but brodie throws a fit everytime mommy even thinks about blogging. he's got a sixth sense that tells him that i might be thinking about something other than him and that is just unacceptable - WAHHH! but he seems to be sleeping pretty soundly at the moment so i'm going to give this a try.

things around here are pretty good, for the most part. brodie is growing like a weed and is changing everyday. he's started staying awake longer - most afternoons we get four or five solid hours of awake time with him, which is kind of fun, except that i'm not always sure what i should be doing with him. so we sing and we dance and i tell him what i'm doing as i'm doing it. he's not a big fan of tummy time and i'm not a big fan of making the baby cry, so we do a few minutes on his activity mat until the frustration of not being able to see takes over and he starts screaming. he loves his swing and he's getting to love his bouncy seat. i'll set him up on the counter in his bouncy seat and let him watch while i cook or clean or make bottles. eating is still his favorite activity as the little porker weighed in at 11 pounds, 9 ounces at his last doctor's appointment over a week ago. just two nights ago he slept through the night, from 9:30 to 4:30. and last night he slept from 10 to 6. the bee and i are getting so much sleep lately we're not sure how to act if we can't be tired and grumpy.

not that we're not still grumpy, we just can't blame it on brodie.

the bee and i? well, we're still plodding along on the sidewalk that is our life. sometimes we walk beside each other, sometimes i walk behind him and kick the bottoms of his feet and sometimes he runs to the bar nearest our path and hides out for a while. i can't say that things are perfect; i don't know if things will ever be perfect. i guess for the moment we're tolerating the status quo. how's that for true love and bliss?

things around here are changing, though, and not really by choice. the bee got laid off this week - that goes into effect on friday - and i've been trying to contact giant conglomerate bank to find out about going back to work and so far no one has responded. to be perfectly honest, i'm not heartbroken over this - i hate my job - but i would at least think if they didn't want me back they'd tell me. i have been looking for other work; there has to be a job somewhere that i can at least tolerate, i'm just not sure what it is. the bee is picking up odd jobs for friends and family and doing what he can to stay busy. he's talking about working for his uncle in chicago for a week or so and wouldn't that be a fun family vacation? right...

i don't know. i'm trying hard not to stress over things i cannot control and to manage what i can without making people around me crazy.

little man is waking up; i need to make a bottle and get my day going.

what, me worry?

i think i'm depressed. no sarcasm here, i think hormones are messing with my mind. i've been shrugging off the idea of post-partum depression for nearly four weeks now. i'm well aware of the fact that i've always been a "glass half empty" kind of person but this is getting ridiculous. i'm pretty miserable with the way i look and the way i feel right now. i worry constantly about big things and little things, things that don't make any sense and things i have no control over. and these aren't just fleeting worries - these are the kinds of thoughts that make me drive home to check to see that things are done; irrational thoughts about the way we care for the baby - things that sometimes make absolutely no sense at all. i broke down this afternoon into a terrific little attack, a nice mix of panic and anxiety and a bout of hyperventilation. the bee and i are at each other's throats and have been for about three days now; this evening we called a truce because i'm nearing meltdown mode and he's in the middle of a migraine. things just sort of suck at the moment.

in spite of all this, baby brodie is wonderful. never mind that his parents are neurotic and spastic and all sorts of other adjectives that end in "-ic", i'm sure.

i go to the doctor on monday. the bee is self-medicating with muscle relaxers. we're going to be fine, it's just not going to happen tonight.

can i have four beers?

it feels like monday. it's really tuesday. the holiday on monday has messed up my week already, not that i had anything big planned - my days pretty much run together anymore. save for the occasional trip to target or the post office, all my days are pretty much the same. and that's okay, me and brodie do just fine - putzing around, doing a whole lot of not much at all. he's my little buddy. :-)

one thing i did have to do today was go to court. see, i never really offered a lot of detail before, but a few months ago i found myself in a just a wee little bit of legal trouble. the circumstances were pathetic and far from ideal but it was technically my fault. and so i've been sweating the outcome for the last few months. my pre-trial conference was today and i was fully prepared for whatever that means, i really didn't know. in fact, i still don't know what goes on at those because at mine, my attorney and the county attorney negotiated a lesser charge, one that i don't have to disclose to potential employers, and a teeny weeny fine. WOOHOO! i am jailbird janel no longer!

i can say that the experience has taught me that i have completely missed my calling. i should have been an attorney. how terrific would i be at a job where i argue with people all day for lots of money? i mean really. i would rock that job like a hurricane and we're not talking wimpy little tropical storms. i could katrina that job if i set my mind to it. BUT... but that would mean how much more school? and how much more in student loans? and right now all i want to do is talk baby talk to little man; i'm hardly suitable for adult conversation.

however, speaking of school, i am considering another bout of grad school. there are some programs locally and at the school where i did my undergrad that sound interesting and at least worth investigating. i may end up being the most educated stay-at-home-parent in my zip code but at least i'll feel good about myself, right? riiiight...

the bee and i were discussing daycare and my venture back to the whippy dip and most likely (eventually) giant conglomerate bank. neither of us are too excited for me to go back to work and put the little man in daycare. in spite of my education, i'll be working to pay for someone to watch the little guy and very little else. i've never wanted to work (let's be honest, i hate working and i'm really good at staying home) but now i actually have a reason to stay home - a really good reason. again, i'm not sure what the answer to this dilemma is - hopefully something presents itself soon. technically, i'm supposed to be back at giant conglomerate bank by the middle of next month and back to the whippy dip even earlier than that. i just don't know.

i may have already mentioned this, but the idea of someone watching little man all day everyday bothers me immensely. i don't want to miss out on watching him grow up and do all the spectacular things that little ones do. but the advice i've been given (not to mention my own conscience) is leading me to believe that falling into the position of a stay-at-home-mom - dependent on someone else (ahem, buzz buzz) to bring home the bacon and be happy about it - may not be the most sound decision at this point.

and as long as i'm talking about things that have bothered me, let me bring this up. my son turned three weeks old yesterday, right? three weeks. and he's met the majority of his family and lots of his extended family even. but do you know who hasn't rushed up to see him, in spite of the fact that he said that he would? my dad. my dad has yet to meet his grandson. my dad and his crazy wife have yet to drive 90 minutes to meet my son. my dad, who on the day i delivered, said that he'd be there. my dad, who two days after i delivered said that he'd make the trip up that first weekend. yup. my dad hasn't so much as called to see how we're doing, much less travel to meet my baby. do you have any idea how much this bothers me? when i called my dad the monday after mother's day, guess what we talked about? we talked about my half-sister's kids and his crazy wife's grandkids. i got all of 30 seconds in on the topic of the fabulousness of baby brodie; he just didn't want to talk about it.

i can't even begin to explain how peeved i am - how much i'm insulted by his behavior. yes, i know, concessions should be made because my father isn't the man he used to be. and i ought to cut him some slack because he's old and not well. but i'm going to come right out and say that i'm tired of making concessions for someone who only has his own best interests at heart. i'm tired of making excuses based on a lack of good health and mental instability for this man. i understand that he is what he is and i should accept him for that - he's always been a flake and we've (my brothers and i) always come second to his life, his agenda, his needs. but i am honestly hurt by his lack of interest in the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me. and i'm not going to be the one to reach out anymore. he's the one that's missing out on getting to know brodie. lucky for brodie, he has other grandparents that adore him and can't see him often enough.

and now my blood pressure is through the roof. i need a pill. or maybe a beer. do you know that i haven't had a drop to drink in 10 months? i know that i'm able to drink now but i'm afraid that the first sip will knock my ass out; i've lost my tolerance and i'm back to being the drunk chick two sips into my margarita at the mexican restaurant.

oh, woe is me.

a sunday morning quickie

get your minds out of the gutter.

brodie will be three weeks old tomorrow! at his last check-up, little man weighed in at 9 pounds, 9 ounces - and that was last monday. who knows? we may have broken the 10-pound barrier since then. this kid is an eater - every two to four hours - he never willingly misses a meal. most of the time it's just me and him, putzing around the house, getting the mail, taking lunch to the bee at work. i'm falling into the trap of domestic-ism and easily so; the idea of going back to work at giant conglomerate bank makes me want to cry. i don't want to miss any days with little man and the idea of someone else (such as daycare or a babysitter) watching him everyday makes me sad. i don't know what the answer is - hopefully it makes itself clear soon.

as for me, i get some sleep here and there. i do a lot of laundry. i've lost 33 pounds but i still have a few to go. my body has completely changed shape and none of my clothes fit. i'm seriously contemplating muu-muus as this summer's fashion statement. i could wear muu-muus, sport flip-flops and eat bon-bons all summer, because obviously if it's hyphenated it's worth my time.

the bee and i are good about half the time, which really translates to daylight hours because after the sun goes down he's a bear. he's either such a heavy sleeper that he doesn't hear little man cry or he has far more tolerance for the sound of an unhappy baby than i do; i'm not sure and i don't really care - i find both options equally annoying. so most of our arguments take place in the middle of the night while we're both half-asleep and mostly incoherent. in all actuality though, it seems to work okay for now because neither of us remember what was really said or done (or not done in some cases) but we both know we need to apologize for something. our morning conversations go something like this...

janel: "hey. hey. HEY. it's 6:45, you wanted to leave the house ten minutes ago."
the bee: "hi. you need to brush your teeth. i don't know what i said last night but i'm sorry."
janel: "i don't know what you said either but okay. sorry i hit you with the pillow all those times."
the bee: "it's okay; i deserved it - i was being an asshole. but really, you need to brush your teeth."
janel: "i freaking get it. lay off my teeth there, nuclear waste mouth. aren't you late for work?"
the bee: "oh hell. what time is it? why didn't you wake me up?"

and so on and so forth - you can see where this is going. and so begins another beautiful day in our neighborhood...

brodie's cousin kooper loaned us his stroller. it's the coolest thing ever. all these bells and whistles and straps and baskets and handles and buttons. the only thing it doesn't do is make toast. i'm kind of excited to get out and walk with little man this week.

tomorrow is memorial day; i think i'm working at the whippy dip but i'm not sure. i can see how that place eats managers for dinner - yesterday we were welcomed by two machines full of sour ice cream and a cooler full of sour, chunky ice cream mix. luckily (and i honestly mean this) i was the only one that tasted just how bad the stuff really was - if we'd sold much of it we'd probably have a lawsuit on our hands. i don't think dead customers or botulism are good advertising tools.

yesterday was the first day i left little man with his grandma. i wasn't worried about them, leaving brodie with my mom is like me watching him, you know? but it was the first time that i was really without him for nearly 11 months now - i felt like i'd left my right leg at home. it was very bizarre. once i got over it (which is really to say once i stopped sobbing, which was about 43 miles into my 56 mile trip) i was okay. it was nice to talk to adults and have conversations about things other than poop. but i missed him all day and couldn't wait to get back to see him last night.

the bee is working overtime (OT BABY! WOOHOO for RENT!) this weekend on a big nasty project so it's just me and brodie today. we've got some errands to run and groceries to buy and some stuff to do but we have to be home by 4 p.m. for the start of the Coca Cola 600. i'm going to give little man his first lesson in nascar: jeff gordon is a dipshit and kevin harvick rules. :-)

i'm a fast learner

i've never had a better reason for not writing than i do at this very moment. it's not that i don't want to write, i've got all sorts of things to say - i just don't have the time. it's amazing how one little person can manipulate all my time, all the time. he's really good at it - and he's only 10 days old. imagine what lies ahead...

so in honor of brodie being 10 days old and me finding 17 minutes to myself where i'm not asleep or trying to be asleep, here's what i have learned in my first 10 days as mommy.

• there is no such thing as "sleeping like a baby." babies don't sleep. they toss and turn and grunt and snort and fart and burp and moan and groan. or at least my baby does. it sounds like we're keeping a herd of piglets in the bassinette as opposed to our super adorable baby brodie.
• babies may be cute but they can make some really ugly and funny faces.
• you can't "sleep when baby sleeps" (i must have heard this about 50 trillion times over the last 10 months, for real!) if the baby doesn't sleep. and there are times when baby brodie doesn't sleep.
• just because the diaper is full of poop doesn't mean that baby is necessarily done pooping.
• babies will pick the most expensive and hardest to clean blanket in the room and then pee all over it. twice.
• some babies are talented enough to pee in their own ear.
• my son is very, very talented.
• there is apparently nothing more monotonous to a baby than the weather channel. it puts him to sleep every time. :-) and when meteorology doesn't put him to sleep, and five hours of rocking and dancing and singing with mommy doesn't work either, just hand brodie to daddy - five minutes later they're both sound asleep.
• licking napkins and wiping faces is apparently a genetic thing that can't be helped. it just happened, i swear!
• bath time is no fun for baby brodie. but it's fun for mommy.
• pooties love brodies. :D
• suddenly every waking moment is an opportunity for a cute picture. i can't get enough pictures of a sleeping brodie, it's the cutest thing ever.

i'm sure there are many, many more - i just can't think of anymore right now. one thing have learned, and very quickly so, is that my brain is now mush. i shouldn't be allowed to make any sort of decisions, big or small, right now. i'm lucky i remember my own name.

and now i'm going to watch the office while the little guy sleeps. priorities, right?

the new love of my life

the waiting is over, baby brodie is here.

he's amazing. he's perfect. he's beautiful. he's enormous. he's the spitting image of his father - it's adorable. his eyes are a deep, deep blue (and subject to change, i know) and his little face is just perfect. i'm in love, completely and totally head over heels for this little person that i've just met but that i've known for the last nine months. it's the most overwhelming, terrifying, intense feeling i've ever felt - but it comes with relief and happiness and joy, pure joy.

really, there are no words to describe how i feel. it's just incredible.

i swear - there are pictures but i can't get them to you tonight. i'm calling this a "connection" problem but it's probably just really tired lady operator error. but we go home tomorrow and i'll do my best to get them posted just as soon as possible. i can't wait for you all to see his little face.

he's worth the wait.

cankles what?

a quickie post to satiate the needs of my readers. and to those four people that read this on a regular basis, please accept my most sincere apologies. i didn't know you existed, lol.

so here we go - in no order of importance, just as they come to me - one paragraph (or less) on the things that are happening in my life.

pootie: so despite all our best efforts, kingsley did not win the cutest canine contest. i appreciate all (one) of you that voted with me. he missed the mark by about 6,300 votes, give or take. i think the whole thing was rigged but i'm not clamoring for a recount. he was disappointed, momentarily, and then i gave him a new chew bone and now all is well in the world of the pootie. we've moved on to more important things, like trying to teach him that the big bed is for mommy and daddy and the floor (complete with pillows and a blanket, he's hardly suffering) is for kingsley. now, just so you don't leave here thinking that i've suddenly decided to walk the hard line with the dog, this was 100 percent the bee's idea. but when we woke up this morning, there was the pootie, wedged in between us in the bed, his blanky abandoned on the floor. score: pootie 1, bee 0.

work: it's no secret that i hate my job. i'm pretty open about my discontent with giant conglomerate bank and their policies on this and that, namely their policy that requires me to show up on a regular basis. it's also no secret that i've pushed my boss to his limit as far as my absences and his patience are concerned. so when it was suggested to me that "i should just quit" yesterday, i wasn't really that shocked. however, i was left wondering what exactly i had to do to get fired. i've never known anyone with an attendance record or even a performance record such as mine that wasn't fired. but me - can i get canned? oh heck no. when i went in for my exit interview with the center manager, not only was i encouraged to stay - he approved my short term personal leave, my short term disability leave, my fmla leave and pretty much said "come back when you want to." you've got to be kidding me. um, okay. sign me up. :) so now, i don't have to go back to work at giant conglomerate bank until the end of the summer - if i decide to go back at all.

bwahahahaha... sometimes it is good to be the janel.

the bee: oh the bee. the bee, the bee, the bee. some days i love him, some days i hate him. some days i want to run him over with the car. since our last quarrel, which has been about four days, things have been okay. we've been to baby school a couple more times, we survived the holiday (although that meant not communicating over the easter weekend while we ate dinner with our respective families). last night he was talking in his sleep and told me to "move over, cankles." what a peach. i have noticed, much to my chagrin, that if i pacify the bee with niceties that i'm more successful in getting what i want. now don't misunderstand - these aren't over the top niceties i'm providing here. we're talking about my not arguing, not having the last word, making dinner on a regular basis and pretty much just being a nice person. why do i find this so demoralizing? i'm not sure. it's hard for me to be nice sometimes. and then i remember that *i* picked *him* and i'm the only one responsible for my happiness in life. so if i can do little things that make life easier and happier i'd be stupid not to, right? right. i find that when i'm nice to him - SHOCKER! - he's nicer to me and the world continues to turn, just at a far less dramatic angle.

my mom: once again, my mom has been right about several things. she knows what they are and you already know she's smart. but i should take her advice on a more regular basis; day to day life would be easier.

the ice cream store: i don't talk about the ice cream store here often, except to say that 1) i heart ice cream and 2) i heart ice cream from the ice cream store. what i've not told you here is that i've always wanted to try my hand at running (or in this case, co-running) the ice cream store. remember what i told you about giant conglomerate bank and my leaves of absence? do you see where this is going? yup, it's headed to pella. it's in the works that prior to arrival of baby brodie and after my period of recuperation i'll be (partly) in charge of the ice cream store, along with my bestie nigel. i'm way excited about this, and not just in terms of the amount of ice cream i'll be consuming (lots!). a week from tomorrow is our opening day, just in time for the big tulip festivus for the rest of us and there's a lot to do but i'm looking forward to the challenge.

baby brodie: we're only 29 days out, ladies and gents. can you believe that? do you remember when i first broke this news last september? that seems so far away now, it's unbelievable that it's nearly may now. at this point, whenever i go into labor they're not going to stop it. so he could come tomorrow, he could come a month from now. and while i'm huge (seriously, a barn) and i'm uncomfortable (not back of a volkswagon uncomfortable, but pretty freaking close), i want this kiddo to take all the time he wants to bake to perfection. (ask me about this in two weeks and especially while i'm slinging ice cream at tulip time; my answer may be different.) but all the doctors i've seen have said that things are progressing as they should and in the words of one doctor, "this is gonna be a big baby."

and that's about it, that's all i've got for now. i'm gonna go start some dinner (chicken parmigiana, YUM!) and get cleaned up - we have more baby school tonight. this class is all about diapers - cloth diapers and the diaper service we're signing up for. it's not that we don't already know how diapers work but going to class gets us two free weeks of diaper service and if it's free, it's for me. i've been feeling especially crafty today - beyond making a big italian dinner and growing a person, i've also made my own laundry detergent. laugh if you want to (mom) but it smells really good. i might just start doing laundry for the fun of it.

right.

things that scare the janel, vol. 1

(alternative title: peekaroo! i'm bustin' out of you!)

you know how i feel about snuggies. and now they've come out with this - the peekaroo. while i've not seen this in real life i can safely tell you, with no doubt in my mind, that i never want to see this in real life. this is some scary shit, my friends.

however, if you find that life will not be complete until you have one of these in your possession, click here.

o.m.g.

toilet humor, among other things

so there's this quiz on parents.com: "what kind of dad will he be?" and one of the questions is, "when the two of you throw a party, you can count on him to... A) keep everyone laughing, B) make his famous five alarm chili or C) hire the best caterer in town." i had to stop taking the quiz after this question as i was thoroughly stumped. there was no option D) get completely shitfaced and have to be carried to bed.

and yes, this is how i spend my time at work.

i have a lot on my mind this morning. some of it's important, some of it's just dumb. most of it's just dumb.

for instance - here's some dumb for you. it so happens that i spend a lot of time in the bathroom at work. there are several reasons for this, the first and most important being that i have to pee about 3 times an hour. the second reason, which is also important but not as much as the former, is that the bathroom is oft used as a reprieve from stupid customers or stupid coworkers. sometimes i just go there to nap. (only once, i swear. i felt pretty dumb coming out and my butt hurt really bad.)

anyway. with all the time i spend going back and forth, to and fro, i have a lot of time to think. and this morning i was thinking about underpants.

due to my current "condition" my underpant-buying habits have slowed to a complete halt. the last pair of underpants i bought weren't actually bought at all. and no, i didn't pocket them. it was one of those free panty giveaways at victoria's secret. do you guys get those cards in the mail too? i used to get them all the time and for some reason, i've not received any lately. so i got to thinking about this. does vs discriminate against the preggo? are they teamed up with the diaper giveaway people so that you only get offers for one free thing at a time - "oh, you're getting free diapers in the mail, you don't have a need for free thongs?" maybe they're offended that their last offer for free underpants was redeemed for BAPs - big ass panties - and they've removed me from any future mailings because i obviously don't fit the criteria for their target audience.

but let's face it, at this size and shape, i'm not fitting into much these days. you have no idea how i long to wear regular jeans again. i can't wait for real jeans that button and zip.

sigh.

ready for more dumb? i've got dumb for you. this train of thought also starts in the bathroom (shock!) - i encountered a new breed of weird this morning. i watched this chick wash her hands prior to entering the stall and then re-wash her hands upon exiting. now, part of me says, kudos to her for fully embracing her ocd at work. but on the other hand (lol, no pun intended) that's a lot of soap and water and paper towels she's using there - that certainly doesn't jive with giant conglomerate bank's effort to be the biggest, greenest bank in the world. imagine if we all washed before and after we did our business - that's a lot of wasted resources. so what's the answer here - really clean hands and a lot of dead trees or only moderately clean hands and a company's reputation saved?

and don't think that i'm mocking the severity of anyone's ocd. for crying out loud, i'm the girl that will drive by her own house seven times to make sure the garage door is shut and hasn't magically reopened.

yeah. that's me. and that was just last week.

i just realized that i made myself sound like a total bathroom lurker. i'm really not. i'm just really good at wasting time - mine and yours too, obviously. :)

enough dumb. how about some important stuff?

so brodie's crib mobile arrived yesterday and it is the cutest. thing. ever. for real. it makes the pootie crazy (which makes me wonder about the struggles we'll have over baby toys and pootie toys) but i love it. i got it all attached to his crib and just sat there yesterday afternoon and watched it for an absurd amount of time. but that got me thinking about the fact that we're only about six weeks away from baby day and i have a lot to do. and even more to buy!

it's been decided that i'm not having a baby shower. several factors played into this - it's not all about me and the bee.

1) the family and friends that i would invite, for the most part anyway, live far away. on top of that, i've been hitting these people up for money and gifts on a regular basis for the last 10 years. "look at me, i'm graduating high school! send me money, i'm getting married! send me more money, i'm getting married again! hey, check me out, i've harlan-ed my way through college but i'm finally graduating - send me some shit!" it just seems rude to ask for baby gifts after all the invitations that have gone out in the mail over the years.

2) there is some animosity between families of the bee and i. basically, my family can't stand him and his thinks that i'm a total raging lunatic. and why on earth would they buy gifts for the child of a total raging lunatic?

3) and this one wasn't as much of a factor as the first two, but many people i know are struggling financially right now. it seems really selfish of me to assume they have the means (never mind the desire) to purchase things for me and baby brodie.

so yeah. we registered and did all that, but it seems it was for naught. no shower, no hassle. and i really do like it that way. but it does leave more of a burden on me and the bee to find a way to provide all these things that we apparently need when we have trouble paying the rent most months. so we're relying on a lot of hand-me-downs and craigslist and ebay. and things are coming together, slowly but surely. there are a few big things we have to get - a carseat is one of them. there are a few big things that i'd like to get - a dresser, a swing, a pack-n-play - but they're not necessities. and then there's things that are obviously not necessary for survival but just sound like fun - like pee-pee teepees. don't those just sound like fun?

oh yeah.

so me and the bee. on again, off again. up and down. two steps forward, thirteen steps sideways and four steps back all while doing the hand jive. we agree, we disagree, we agree to disagree. who knows? i've decided to take a lackadaisical approach to the whole thing - it is what it is, maybe it'll get better, maybe it'll get worse. maybe we'll get it together, maybe we'll learn to be apart. all i know is that for right now, i can't deal with the drama anymore. so i'm not going to. and that's all i have to say about that. for right now, anyway.

superjanel out.

impossible is my middle name

you guys know how i am. when things get weird or uncomfortable for me, i get kind of quiet. this time is no different. i could tell you it's been calm around here. i could tell you that not much has happened or changed in the last few days. but that would be a lie. truth be told, it's hard to talk when you've got a mouthful of humble pie, as i do right now.

the bee came back last week, bearing roses and mexican food for dinner. not one to turn down a free meal, i let him in and let him talk. he's been in and out since then, he's stayed over a couple times, he put together brodie's crib and changing table, he went to baby school with me over the weekend. he says he spoke out of anger and frustration, he wants to be here for me and for brodie, he loves me. in spite of the incident a few weeks ago, we've been able to talk about a few things and we're each making steps to think before we speak and to try to look at things from the other's perspective.

it's what i wanted; i ought to be thrilled.

except i'm not. and i'm not sure why. i keep waiting to hear the thud of the other shoe when it finally hits the floor. i think i've been conditioned to be suspicious of the good times. and so to hurry along what i believe is the inevitable i'm undermining all of the positive things that appear to be happening around me. i'm overthinking everything - i'm too busy reading between the lines to see the writing on the wall, so to speak. there's always a catch, right? am i so wrong to think that there's an underlying cause to this behavior or should i take it at face value and appreciate what i've got, what i'm getting, while i'm getting it?

i'm just confused. i'm confused about the expectations we have for one another; i'm not sure if this is all temporary until the baby gets here or until something better comes along. i thought i knew what i wanted and then when i get it i complain that it just doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel the same, it doesn't feel good - or maybe it doesn't feel good enough. the thing is, i'm the one that's responsible for building up these unattainable goals, these unrealistic expectations. where do i get them? everywhere i look, every couple i know has some sort of issue - big and small, no relationship is immune to problems. so where do i get the idea that things will be different for me? once again i find myself wondering when good enough is just that.

welcoming the wrecking ball

i think the hardest choices in life are the ones in which we have no say. obviously, there's the banal side to this statement for things such as weather or death - things we couldn't control if we tried. i'm more referring to the ones that other people or circumstances decide for us: those are harder for me to grasp because my mind plays the "what if?" game until i'm physically ill. not that knowing what could have happened if makes me feel any better - i generally feel worse. the fact remains that there's nothing i can do to change the outcome.

i know you all know what i'm talking about. but i'm referring to the bee and i. just a few days ago, our attitude was that we were going to try to work things out, over a period of time and in baby steps. it wasn't a spoken decision, it was an underlying theme to all our conversations. for the good of the baby, for the connection we had, for what we felt for each other - there was enough foundation there to perhaps rebuild the shanty that once stood with a nice, pre-fab modern structure. this morning the construction crew went on strike and all plans have been scrapped.

it's over.

this morning he says that he told me those things because he wanted to be nice. he doesn't love me anymore - he's reached his breaking point and is moving on. he will continue to care for me, in terms of my general health, but he'll wait to hear about the baby when he gets the letter in the mail from the department of human services. he has no connection to anything or anyone here any longer.

if i weren't already feeling so bad this morning, i probably would have cried to the point of vomiting. the thing is, somewhere deep down, i knew this was coming. i knew that any reconciliation would be like putting a band-aid on open heart surgery - a temporary solution to an enormous issue.

i had hoped, in typical needy-female fashion, that in spite of all our difference and difficulties that he and i would be able to pull it together for the sake of the child and that eventually all our problems and faults would fall to the wayside and a new kind of relationship would develop. don't misunderstand - that's happening here. it's just happening as we sit 70 miles apart and the problems don't matter much as the relationship that is developing is the one between two people who apparently can't be with or deal with one another.

it's not exactly what i had in mind. but how naive am i to believe that a baby could be the glue to hold us together? i'm going on 30 years old - it's a pretty pathetic storyline for someone who claims to be as smart as i like to think i am.

the thing that chaps my ass about all this? he's reached his breaking point, he's ready to move on. the natual question that comes to mind for me - where in the hell is my breaking point? why am i not ready to move on? why do i let him hurt me so much, why do i need him in my life, why do i cry over him when i know he's certainly not crying over me? where has my sense of self-worth gone? beyond being the partial creator of this child, what makes him so freaking special that he's worth my time?

i'm angry. i'm so, so angry. i'm angry with him for so many reasons but mostly i'm angry with myself for letting it get this far. i'm angry that i feel this hurt; i'm angry that i've let myself come to depend on someone whose only dependable trait is that they're chronically undependable.

some humor in all that diatribe though? if the dumbass doesn't submit a change of address to the post office he'll never know that he has a son; all his mail will come here and gather dust in the grocery sack in the closet. it's not my job to deliver his mail. although i would consider swapping it for a couple of sham-wows, the slimy bastard.

anyway.

so here i am, monday morning (again!?) and i'm supposed to be getting ready to go to the doctor for my 30-week check-up and then going to work. i'm not sure how much work i'll accomplish today: it seems that in the last week while hacking and coughing and carrying on like a lifelong smoker with terminal emphysema i've managed to literally twist my rib cage a little off center which is causing a tremendous amount of pain. i can't stand, i can't sit, i can't lie down - when i cough i want to fall over. and sneezing? i will attempt to blow out an ear drum or an eyeball before i'll let a sneeze escape these lips, otherwise i'll be wishing i were wearing rubber pants and sitting in the bathtub. it's just not pretty. ahh, the glorious side of being pregnant - the side no one tells you about. like wetting yourself on a regular basis or that your skin will thin out to the point where you can see each and every vein in your chest, no one tells you that all your joints become loose and lethargic to the point where it's actually possible to give yourself an injury like twisting your rib cage. see, if people knew this kind of stuff going in there would probably be far fewer babies. pregnancy is not for the weak.

on a happier note, and there is no sarcasm here - i'm truly happy about this - mom and i ordered brodie's crib and changing table this week and on saturday night i ordered his crib bedding and curtains and such. i'm excited to get things put together and in order, to help with planning a shower and washing little socks. his room will be adorable, although if what i hear is true, he won't actually spend a lot of time in his room for quite a while. that's okay; it'll look nice.

so yeah. i'm going to go get in the shower and carry on with life as best i can. it's not what i'd hoped for and not what i'd planned but how often do we really get what we want anyway? somebody bigger and smarter than me obviously knows what is going on here, i'm just waiting to hear the details.

superjanel OUT.