This is TOTALLY one reason that we don’t post pictures of our kid’s face online. In addition to the fact that advertisers LOVE mommyblogs because they provide them with free, cute smiling faces to use in their advertisements, and the fact that you never know what constitutes kiddy-porn for some yucky person out there.
Archive for the ‘Random unpleasant things’ Category
Kid for sale on Craigslist. And this is why…
Tuesday, August 4th, 2009TangleWHAT?
Friday, July 24th, 2009So yeah. For about a month now we’ve had a newspaper clipping sitting on our fridge. We live in the vicinity of Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Pops. Tonight is Berkshire night, meaning you can get FREE TICKETS if you live within an hour of the place. And we do. So SWEET. My Mom and Dad took the Bubs up last night to get some tickets. The whole shabang started a bit late for us…about 8pm…but what LUCK! They had planned a few things for kids, the most exciting of which was an “instrument petting zoo” which started at 6. Of course, owing to Camper’s huge talent conducting the ipod with his toothbrush, I was all LET’S GO!
So we went. We grabbed a couple of friends who live nearby and set out. After we parked our car with tremendous help from the various groups of teenagers hired for the event (WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU POINTING? USE A FINGER!) we walked our butts up to the front gate and handed them our tickets. I think we asked EVERYONE we met where the visitor’s center was, “Because that’s where the petting zoo is!” They waved us on, we got there, and walked in. “I hear there’ s an intrument petting zoo around here somewhere!” The tour guides looked at me like I had ten heads.
“Uh, actually, there’s not. That was a misprint in the paper.”
“So there aren’t any instruments around here for these kids to look at?”
“No, we asked them to fix it, but they didn’t.”
“So there aren’t any instruments around here for these kids to look at?”
No. none. But there is a tour! A tour which included a VERY sweet man walking us across the lawn, pointing at this:
And telling us about that house is an original restored something or other. He told us a bit about this and that, but honestly…as hard as he tried to make it interesting for the kids…I don’t think either of the children present noticed a thing he said. We heard there was a pre-concert going down a little further in to the “musical compound” of sorts, and in an effort to get my kid to see SOME KIND OF MUSIC we walked down there. Our trusty tour guide accompanied us, still desperate to do right by us, and pointed things out as we walked. We got here:
and decided to sit on the lawn and listen for a bit. Our tour guide, who was a bit on the elderish side did NOT sit on the super uber wet grass with us, because of the whole risk ratio of PNEUMONIA and DAMPNESS, etc. As we got settled I thought I heard the voice of Satan:
Siiiittttt dooowwnnnnn!!!!!
All low and angry like. I was like, “Whoa, whoever is yelling at their kid is MEAN. Whoa.”
Then I heard it again.
Siiiiiiittttt doooowwnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!
I turned and saw this woman:
(we were in front of her at the time)
YELLING at our friendly tour guide! I handed my mother my baby, and turned to her. I said,
“Beeeeeeee pooolllitttttteeeeee,”
and was going to go shove her face in her salad when our friendly tour guide stopped me. So instead I gave her a dirty look and said to the gang, “I’m going to put her on the Internet!”
So there, mean, witchy woman who probably got in on a free ticket just like we did and couldn’t wait 15 SECONDS for us to get settled so our tour guide to go back to whence he came. You know who you are, and shame on you. You might think you fit in with all those polo shirt wearing, champagne sipping, picnic basket grass-sitters. But you don’t. You drove back to your house and had some diet coke and mac ‘n cheese just like the rest of us, except you are MEANER.
I mean, there are a hundred funny/hilarious things that happened tonight…like my mom sitting our friends on our gate check bag for the stroller, and the wet grass seeping through, and all of our butts/knees ending up looking like this:
and like when Bubbs didn’t want to sit in the stroller and so our wee friend (who is just about 8 years old) took a turn and made Bubbs laugh. (Way to go stroller, way to handle a grown-up kid!) But honestly, it all pales in comparison to my desire to complain about the aforementioned woman. Seriously, I should have just kept with my plan to shield my child from the arts for as long as possible. The arts and polo shirts. Best laid plans.
Hole in the Boat
Monday, July 20th, 2009Once upon a time I worked in accounting. I was responsible for getting people paid, and sometimes things happened. Sometimes the systems didn’t work the way they were supposed to, sometimes people didn’t…sometimes I had to take lots of money out of people’s paychecks because of mistakes they made or things they didn’t pay for. I remember a comment I made once when someone got upset because their direct deposit didn’t go through and they weren’t able to pay their bills. I didn’t say it to his face, of course, but behind his back. Which is why, I’m sure, that it’s coming back to bite me. The haughty words of fasle confidence were:
“I have enough money in my account whether or not I get paid today at 8am. Why don’t people have their lives together?”
I, like many other students/recent grads out there, was confused. I thought that having some money left over from my student loan in my account meant that I had my life together. I thought that I had money. I didn’t realize that what I had sitting in my account was debt.
Today was the first time ever that I had to sit down and look at our account and wonder if and when bills were going to clear. I unwisely spent my food budget for two weeks last week, thinking that I’d get a bigger load of stuff while John was still here, putting off shopping until he got back. Then we went out to see a movie, something we haven’t done in months. I knew I was going over budget, but I didn’t realize that $40 would be such a big deal to me. I wrote a personal check for another monthly expense, I went about my Sunday…and then last night it hit me. Car payment, due today. Scheduled to be taken out of our account automatically. Paycheck, coming on Wednesday, scheduled to come automatically. The chronology of the situation wasn’t working out. Add to that some gas for the car, our frivilous Harry Potter weekend, the check I wrote, and whatever else was pending…and I started to get upset.
The thing is, we had scheduled money from savings to go into our checking account. It was supposed to be there. It would cover everything, but it didn’t go today. We hope it gets there tomorrow. We sold some stock. Hopefully that money turns up soon. There is money there to cover our needs, but if we can’t get at it, what good is it? I asked my Mom to cover us til Wednesday, and although she lovingly told me “We’ve all been there,” I still feel like crap about it. I know that John feels powerless, a couple hours away, he scheduled everything the other night and moved the money to where it needed to be…and it’s just not going. I don’t know what will happen if everything tries to clear and it doesn’t. It’s never happened to me before.
Seriously, on Wednesday everything could be just fine. Two days from now. We could have the other money transferred and we get paid and we promise to be a little more thrifty with what we spend, again, (honestly! one movie in 9 months…SERIOUSLY!!!) and the world goes on spinning. Or some other random charge comes up and I’m left wondering again.
Really, everyone goes through this?
I hope for the time when we have paycheck(s) that cover needs AND wants, when we are able to save enough to REALLY have a cushion. Not one made up of money that we had to fill out the FAFSA to qualify for. We can do it, I just pray we’re given time to get there. I think we’ve learned quite a lot in this economy. A lot a lot. And I’m going to tell you, once we get our feet under us, or even one foot, we’re not going to let it slip. Maybe it’s a small lesson that will save us the big one.
I hesitate to write posts like this because they are, of course, SUPER way TOTALLY completely too personal. But you know what? I don’t care. If someone can learn from our naivete, or if someone else can feel a little less desperate because Holy Crap she is going through this, too! Then so be it. I’ve gained strength from your stories, so here you go. My sad little situation this evening, for your reassurance. Your boat has a hole in it? Mine does too. But we’re fixing it, don’t worry.
Ucky.
Monday, June 29th, 2009In one sentence, the reason I have not watched Real World in years:
“I’m making out with Courtnee and Bronne’s making out with her mom!”
This show is truly disturbing. They bring a bunch of kids together at a time in their life that they are MOST likely to make big mistakes, drown them in alcohol and give them a job they aren’t even remotely qualified to do (which used to be something that added something to the community, and now is just anothe place to drink) and then film their every move. Did I mention the communal showers and the fact that everyone is talking about WHEN not IF people will start to cheat on their boyfriends and girlfriends. This show is insulting to true human relationships. Was it always this bad? Or am I just old(er) now?
Guess I’ll just watch something else while folding laundry next time.
PS I especially like the girl who got the ‘promise ring piercing,” because it means more than a real ring because you can’t take it off. Well, you know what would REALLY symbolize commitment to someone else? Not cuddling with, drinking with, and flirting with other men the first day you are away from the man you love.
End of Day Meltdown
Saturday, June 13th, 2009Let me preface this post by saying I am a happy person. Today was a good day.
I have no idea why, but about 40 minutes ago or so, I just internally went INSANEO. I’m not yelling or slamming things, but seriously…if I were alone…I might be doing both.
We ended up getting a rug that I’ve had my eye on for about 17 kajillion years (story on that to follow, very exciting) so I went about rearranging Camper’s room to fit it. It is square, the old one was rectangle, and some changes had to be made. All at the same time John installed the top of stairs baby gate we got at BabiesRUS today. A store, by the way, that we have to drive an hour plus to get to. When I finally got done putting the room together, I was utterly unhappy with it. It’s a lot like it was before, but less…something. I don’t know. On top of that, in “moving a few things around” I discovered the extent of the dust that I “ignored” today in order to go out and have a nice day with my family. That set OCD into motion. Then of course, I can’t get the room just right, we find out that part of the baby gate is broken (stupid, stupid gate), Camper rejects rice cereal for the last time (I am never going to try and feed that baby plain cereal ever again), he then rejects the bottle, and rejects being held by me as I try to put him down for bed.
It’s as if he is saying, “Whoa Mom, you’re tense. Um…can Dad put me to bed tonight? I officially reject you.”
So to recap: the room is dusty and awkward and not how I want it to be (even though I love the rug), the brand new gate is broken, and my baby is fussy and most likely going to be hungry in the middle of the night.
Swell.
SO. Now that I vented all that out (even though I didn’t even mention the fact that if I have to try and roll my chair over the power cord under the rug one more time I will scream) I’ll list a few good things that I’m going to have to write about in the next few days:
The drive in (We saw Up. Seriously fun, and a good way to see a movie with a baby!)
The rug. (Oh, the rug. How things just find their way to me sometimes. Yes Amy. The rug.)
The cute things Bubbs is doing. (Do all babies put their shoulder to their ear like that? What about the top-tooth smile?)
Our nice day at the mall. (Where we bought a piece of crap baby gate, arg.…oh yeah, this is the positive part of the entry, sorry.)
That’s probably about it, except for the fact that John is getting stuff in the mail about school. That’s exciting.
I think I’m done for the night.
Just enough is not always easy to make.
Friday, May 1st, 2009So last night was an interesting night. As my last night alone at home with Camper (John works nights, my parents have been on vacation) I thought I had make it through without wigging myself out. I know I’m a grown up…but I have to accept that I just hate being alone. Hate it. So this is the conversation I had with John via text messaging last night:
Me: You there?
John: Yeah. What’s up?
Me: I’m not sure. I’m just really uneasy. Can’t relax. Just needed to talk to you I guess…I will tell you my issues.
John: What are your issues?
Me: 1) My feet keep falling asleep and I keep imagining going all paralyzed and Camper crying. 2) The vice president said that he wouldn’t let his family fly right now and I’m scared my parents are bringing home the swine flu and I watched Private Practice where some crazy woman is going to cut out that woman’s baby and I keep hearing stuff.
At that point John called me. See here’s the thing. I know very well that I’m not going to go all paralyzed and that no one is going to show up and try and cut my baby out (mostly because I’m not pregnant anymore) and I’m not even REALLY THAT worried about the stupid swine flu. Moderately worried, yes. But not VERY. But every once in awhile I have to get a little help getting things out of my head. My Aunt and I talked about this the other day, the tendency our family has (many people have, really) to let fear get a little out of control. Most of the time these days I can get through it on my own. Relax, fall asleep. But I was SO CLOSE to asking John to come home last night that I knew I had to at least talk to him for a minute. He stayed on the phone with me while I checked on Bubbs, locked the windows downstairs and wandered around to shake the heebie jeebies off. Then we talked. For over an hour. He put on a headset so he could keep working while he chatted with me. It was kind of nice, like we were still dating. He was able to convince me that at the first sign of swine anything we’d get ourselves to the hospital, but that really…we most likely will not get it. He also distracted me from Private Practice, which I’m ridiculously addicted to, although it might be the most far-fetched medical drama yet. (Besides the internal baby-snatching, last night’s episode included the doctors switching two embryos for two women’s IVF, one of which was the LAST embryo one woman had left from her dead husband. Seriously.) Sometime around 1am I guess I was getting super sleepy, I had put a movie on in the background and ended up just falling asleep with it on. We said goodnight, and I was better. Wa la.
I guess John expected me to have a night like last night two nights ago after watching The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. *Spoiler freaking alert* I expected it to be uplifting, but instead I watched as an 8 year old German boy befriended a Jewish boy in a concentration camp, lost all faith in his father (who ran the camp), and then snuck into the camp to help his Jewish friend find HIS father, only to be herded with all the other men (naked, I might add) into a furnace and burned. Yeah. And that was the end. The guy in charge of the camp lost his own son, the mother went slowly crazy as she found out what her husband was up to, and both little boys died. It was awful.
But no, I was ok after that. It was Private Practice that got me in the end.
Today was busy- cleaned things up a bit this morning- made sure the laundry room was clear for my parents. I ran some errands. Went to the dry cleaner (drive through! genius!), brought a coupon to a store I went to last week and got $25 back from my purchase (wow!), then spent that $25 on a swim shirt for Camper and some travel bottles. I then ran by WalMart to pick up perscriptions and contacts and a few things here and there (dryer sheets, very important), and then back home. Bubbs took a nap while I made some sweet and sour kielbasa, then we all ate together and the Bubbs got a bath…and then he WENT TO SLEEP. WITHOUT CRYING. ALONE IN HIS CRIB.
Last night and tonight were so sweet. I got him in his nighty night diaper, brushed his teeth, and then we rocked for a little bit. Now when I sing to him he smiles behind his pacifier and buries his head into my chest. I say a little prayer for him, and then lay him down, and he seriously rolls over and goes to sleep. It’s wonderful. Just wonderful. It’s so nice to have a peaceful baby at bedtime, happy even. I know there will still be nights when he’s FREAKING OUT, but hopefully these sweet nights with the cuddling and the peaceful drifting off to sleep will be the norm.
I think I’m going to go check him though…because he’s perfected the art of pooing in his sleep. Good times, no?
Welcome to the weekend everyone.
I don’t want to be your friend.
Thursday, April 23rd, 2009Ok. This is hard for me to write. I could be adding substantial drama to my life by writing this, but chances are, if you are reading this it is NOT ABOUT YOU. Believe me. This isn’t about anyone in my family (including family and family in law),or anyone I talk to on a regular basis. So don’t attribute this post to a situation it doesn’t belong to. And with that…here we go.
There are some people (one person, but I’ll say “them” anyway) in my life who want to be friends with me, and I don’t want to be friends with them. There is not (necessarily) anything wrong with these people. There is no “you did this to me one time” reason for me to want to keep my distance. What drama or intrigue there WAS is way in the past, and I honestly don’t hold a grudge. What I do hold is a little warning feeling deep inside me that will simply not let me relax around said people. that’s it. Because of my life experience, and my experience with these people, I do not feel at ease around them. My husband has a similar feeling, for reasons all his own, and anyone who knows him knows that the word “friend” is very specific, and doesn’t apply to just anybody. He is not the kind of guy that needs a lot of friends, he’s happy with the few good ones he has, and we already struggle trying to keep in touch and visit. The situation is: I simply don’t want to be friends with them.
This said, I try very hard not to talk about said people, I am always courteous to them, I would lend a hand if help was needed. Gladly. I feel much more comfortable around the family of said people than I do around said people (ok, it’s getting ridiculous now) which causes issues, I guess. I would never be outrightly rude, except for the fact that they keep pressing it to the point where I have to say: “Hey, I don’t want to be friends. That’s just how it is.” If they would just let it go, I wouldn’t have to say this (as I have said in the past, out loud, to this person’s face…not in an attempt to be mean, just trying to be HONEST) and life would go on. I am not the type to pretend or to hide my feelings, but I am TOTALLY the type to function around people in a respectful, cordial, normal everydayperson kind of way.
I think this all started because I ignored a friend request on facebook. Geez louise. It’s almost not worth it, huh?
I think that I have the right to have people in my life that uplift and comfort me, make me laugh, challenge me (in good ways) and in some way add flavor or vibrancy to my everyday situation. I also claim the right to refuse “friendship” to those who make me feel uncomfortable, at any time and for any reason (or without reason) and without the need to “get to the bottom of it” and “make sure we can all be friends.”
I don’t say, “I love you” to people unless I really, really mean it. I don’t spend time with or give of myself emotionally (which friendship requires) unless I feel comfortable. I don’t add drama to my life, because yo, I got enough already.
So that’s it. And amazingly, writing this post hasn’t helped me feel better in the slightest.
As I listen to a salt shaker sing, I review my nightmare.
Thursday, March 19th, 2009Camper was watching Blue’s Clues (one of his favs) but then Grammy Lee grabbed him and brought him into the other room. So now I’m watching it alone. Cool, huh? So, the reason for this early morning update is to chronicle my hideous, horrible dream from last night/this morning.
I was engaged to that Duggar kid. The oldest one.
Let me back up. In my dream, I knew John, I was wearing my wedding rings, and I was trying to text him. This makes me think that my engagement to the oldest Duggar was either a secret plot or some serious brain burp. So the oldest Duggar gets down on one knee and proposes, to which I say, “Yes” even though I was thinking, “Um…no?” He gave me my ring, some weird diamond encrusted version of a daffodil? Yes people. I say “Thanks” and begin to fake-cry out of joy. Yes, I remember fake crying. So then we are in a huge bus with his whole family and I start to send John a text message saying, “He asked me to marry him!” and the oldest Duggar says, “Now that we’re engaged to be married, I don’t think you should be text messaging. Let me see your phone.” Jaw DROP. I was all, “Um, no?” But he took it and looked at it while his mother started explaining something to me about a man’s role in the family and understanding her son and God. I wasn’t listening because I was still mouth hanging open surprised that he had invaded my privacy that much. Fast forward to me accidently calling the oldest Duggar Camper’s name, and getting a vague memory that someone was out there waiting for me. (I think this indicates that I had a case of amnesia, quite possibly a similar situation to this lady here.) So yes. Then I remember trying on lots of different outfits trying to find something that fit (which for some reason included white tights with little presents on them, little girl style) and that would keep me warm while talking to John outside about the situation.
Fast forward AGAIN to me, on a mission (as in religious mission, for my church), still married to John and engaged to the Duggar kid- and I get a phonecall from my mission Pres. He tells me, “Let’s talk about your boyfriend.” Now, let me explain. Boyfriends are not allowed on a mission. Not to mention that I’m married, engaged to someone else, and now I have a boyfriend on top of it? And my mission president seems supportive?
I woke up with a headache people. Now it’s time for a shower.
Life Isn’t Fair
Thursday, February 19th, 2009Camper woke up at about 2am and wouldn’t go back to sleep. This, however, is not the cause of my consternation. When I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I had
THE BEST HAIR OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.
It was amazing. It flipped out in just the right way. My bangs were in this weird configuration that looks so sweeping and graceful. Even my skin looked rosy and nice.
Why does this always happen? I have the very best hair days in the middle of the night. By day my hair looks, well, clean. But I am completely at a loss as to what to do with it. This is my conversation with myself in the mirror everyday.
“Well Erin, what shall we do today?”
“Makeup?”
“Ok, but just mascara. No need for the other stuff. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Ok. what about the hair?”
“Ponytail?”
“We did that yesterday. And the day before.”
“Ponytail it is.”
So sad.
The day in which the world told me, “No.”
Tuesday, February 10th, 2009And this is the story of how today sucks.
1) I feel awful. Dreadful. There is nothing I can eat that doesn’t make me sick. Water makes my stomach hurt.
2) The doctor told me, once again, that there is nothing to be done right now about my condition. I get to be referred to a specialist again, have a million tests again, and wait for it all to start, again. On top of that, I got to hear it from a student doctor and then a real doctor who both asked me a hundred questions (oh how I love describing my symptoms) and did exams before telling me there was nothing they can do. Doctors seem to have the market on the money for nothing scheme. Good job medical professionals everywhere.
3) I asked another question for work and got another pissy half-answer from the girl who is supposed to be running the show. Does she know how much of a *itch she comes off as in her emails? Because I’m about to bag the whole thing because I think she just sits around creating rules and implementing them via email, holding anyone accountable for them before they’ve been told. And plus, I get like…one project a month so far? That $9.99 will go a long way towards paying the good for nothing doctor.
4) I can’t even finish a secret surprise for Valentine’s Day because Walmart suddenly had a hissy about printing my wedding photos…even though I’ve been printing them fine for forever. I got transferred from person to person until they just said “no” at which time I officially lost it on whatever manager they recruited from the local prison to tell people who wants stupid. pictures. printed. no. The photos weren’t even for my project, they were just for Camper’s baby book. But as a result of my intense ANGER I told them to take all the photos and shove them. Thank you Walmart for protecting my son’s baby book from photos that were legally and lawfully purchased BY US over a year ago. I applaud your skilled diplomacy.
I am hereby banishing WalMart from my life. I don’t even care if they are cheaper. I DON’T CARE. On the day that I stand before the judge, or the whoever you stand before when you go bankrupt, I will explain that I have no money because I had to buy my conditioner from Target and pay $2 more because WALMART SUCKS SO BAD.
Tack on a bill “late notice” from someone that’s already been paid (whether they believe me or not, probably another trip to Staples to fax more recipts (do those trips count for “mecial expenses” for taxes?) to people who lose them. Because they were trained at the same prison as the WalMart employee. And my day is complete. I’m offically done. I still have sheets to fold and stuff to do and probably should avoid food at all costs, but I think I’m going to wait for my baby to wake up, bathe him, cuddle him, and let my brain turn to dramatic mush while watching American Idol. And eating cheese. Lots of cheese. With a glass of milk. And maybe some chocolate.
(AND NO I DON’T HAVE MY PERIOD.)
Because I am done today. Just done.
