Saint JRM

Today, I am cooler than you are. There's no way you had a better day than I did, in fact I've not felt the slightest bit of self loathing all day. Wanna know why? I know you do.

I gave my hair to a kid with cancer. Oh yeah, that's right, I am that generous. I mean really, when was the last time you did something for a kid with cancer? Let alone give them your hair?

Ok, so I was getting a haircut anyway. And I already planned to cut it shoulder length... but when the person says to you "If we take off ten inches we can donate it to Locks of Love" what are you going to say but yes? So my three years of growth are all gone (as I wanted, to be honest) but now some little girl with cancer can have hair, and how cool is that? On top of all of it my haircut was free which actually made me fell a little less altruistic than if I'd paid to give my hair to a cancer patient. Nonetheless, I've felt good about myself all day long. (Side note: I remember an episode of Friends where they were trying to convince Phoebe that charity is never selfless because the giver always gets something out of it... and yeah, that's true, but it's still a nice feeling.)

Seriously internet, give something to a cancer patient. You'll feel great.

Self Loathing in the Blogosphere

I have a confession to make. I am jealous of other bloggers. I've always had severe inferiority issues, and I see all these amazing, talented people who I admire so much and I just know that I can never be as good as they are. Sure, part of that is my utter lack of self-esteem, but a big part of it is also the knowledge that I'm not as clever as SJ or as funny as Angie, and never will be. I love these women, but there are times I read a really great post (nearly every post SJ writes, actually) and there's that tiny green monster in me that hates them for being so much better than me.

This isn't a new phenomenon. When I was younger I would get mad at Olympic Gymnasts, because I'd never be able to do that. It's only been in the past few years I have stopped hating actors my age for their success at my age. If I'm not successful by now no one should be, dammit. At the end of the day it's always been the writers that make me the most jealous. I have a friend who's been published dozens of times, and has written over seven books, and just keeps going. Then there's Suzan who just finished her ump-teenth book and I strongly suspect she's the best bodice-ripper-writer evar. I don't even write romance and I'm jealous... though I did have some erotica published in a magazine and was paid for it. No you can't read it. I think there are like two people ever that knew me that I allowed to read it. Writing sex is embarrassing, especially when people you know are reading it. I digress.

It's not a simple case of if I'm just so jealous why don't I write and feel better. I do write, well, I write here anyway. And I write random paragraphs when I get a particularly good sentence or phrase in my head, but they never go anywhere. At the end of the day something the size of this post will have one really good sentence, if I'm lucky. Well hell, if you the reader are lucky. It's like a treasure hunt!
Honestly though, it's hard to come to terms with mediocrity. I want to be better for the people who read my site, I want to be better for my own sake. I want someone other than my husband to nominate me for the Best of Blog awards. (No, I'm not asking you to nominate me. I've already been nominated, I'm just a little embarrassed that it was Joe who did it. It's also one of the reasons I love him so much, so it all works out at the end of the day as far as that's concerned.) I don't think I can ever tell you all how much it means that you come here and read me and that you like me, right now you really like me. 'Cause that's how pitiful I am, and how much I need that validation.
Maybe I should go take my meds...

Ragings of Comfort and Joy

So amazingly Christmas wasn't awful! It was actually pretty good. See, I was worried, because last year was so wretched. We came down from Omaha and spent a week at Joe's parent's. It rapidly became a nightmare, what with all the yelling and the sniping and the frustration and the unplanned pregnancy. Joe's family is large and loud, and completely foreign to me, as I am sure I am to them. It's not that I don't like them, but his parents thought I'd rushed him into the relationship and "trapped" him with the baby, etc. etc. etc. Now that we are married I've noticed a marked difference in the atmosphere when I'm there. I got hugs and kisses and presents instead of cutting remarks from his mom, and hey! That's a huge improvement!

Now we're home again, with more things to unpack and put away, and as usual I am putting all that off and simply sitting on my ass. And writing you! And eating olives! What fun I am. Though since i am taking the time to write you can't snicker at me too much. After all, you are taking the time to read. (Which I appreciate so much I shall stop picking on you right now.) Feel free to laugh at me for eating olives. From the jar even. I told you I was nuts.

Jack spent his first Christmas not really aware what was going on. 8 months isn't quite an age where he can really enjoy it. He managed to tear a little bit of paper, and played a bit with his presents, but mostly he liked playing with the boxes. He did get to play with a cousin who's right at a year older than him, and I am convinced he thought she was just a really neat toy. He got the most amazing grin whenever he saw her, it was as if he were thinking "Hey! There it is again! I like that thing!". She in turn tolerated him poking her in the eye, and only stole his binky about four times. That's when she wasn't going for his bottle, but it's all good.

It was really nice to have a holiday that exceeded expectations, and to spend time with family that wasn't tense and uncomfortable. It's what Christmas is supposed to be, but so rarely is. I hope you had as nice a time, internet.

There are a lot of idiots in the internet...

... Unfortunately I'm one of them.

Today is Random Notes About Jack day. Join in one and all in this poorly written adventure!

At seven and a half months Jack is now 17 lbs 11 oz and 29 inches long. I have given birth to some sort of mutant baby who wont stop growing. He's going to be 6' tall by kindergarten.

Jack has a fun new quirk. He will not poop in a wet diaper. Which means that as soon as you change the wet diaper you have to turn around and change to poop filled one. The problem is that you can't predict when this will happen, so you have to wait for the stench to assail you. Oh how I love that stench.

We've been giving Jack his juice in a bottle with a sippy-cup style nipple, so that he can learn to tell the difference in preparation for the sippy cup. I'm pretty sure that he thinks it is some kind of novel teething toy that occasionally provides a fruity tasting surprise. This means he chews on the nipple and drools, and becomes covered in a layer of juice and spit that I mostly just leave alone, since he'd just do it to a clean outfit anyway. What a great mom I am.

His third tooth is showing along his top gumline. He is very displeased about this tooth, and shares that with all who come near. Paired with the mild tiny bit of his cold that is left, and the immunizations, yesterday was such a fun day. I explained it to my mom thusly "He wasn't in the best of moods anyway, and then we stabbed him". At least today we are back to just the tooth and mild cold leftovers.

Tomorrow we leave on our Christmas trek to see the families. I keep saying "next time we are just staying home" but when you live within driving distance of both sets of grandparents that isn't really an option. At least not without being much more of a bitch than I am in the real world. I often wish I had the balls to say some of the things in real life that I do here, but I am completely hopeless at confrontation. Just ask the smelly people whose children had no sense of personal space who I was in the checkout line with yesterday. Did I say anything to them? No I did not. Not even when the perfume was making me gag. That's just how much of a pushover nice I am. I personally think you all are much better off knowing the online me. She tends to tell it like it is.

Happy Holidays everyone. I can't wait to read posts about how terrible they all were! I'll try to come up with a funny version of my own painful weekend for you.

You know what would be useful?

Instead of word verification, if someone could come up with sober verification. Or a phone that breathalyzes you so that you can't drunk dial. I don't think I drunk dialed though, I just know a lot of people got off topic comments that made me look dumb. And not people I normally read or comment on, so they don't know that it's me just being drunk.

One of my SIL's called yesterday and I told Joe it was his Evil Baby Mama. After having answered the phone with a British accent and calling myself "Rachel" and Joe "Cecil". I then said I was drunk which is an okay thing to admit to the EBM but not to a SIL. When Joe referred to his sister by name I realized what I'd done and drunkenly stole the phone away to apologize. I was a HOOT, I tell you.

Bad alcohol. Bad.

Enough already

The "War on Christmas" is bullshit.
Good start?

Holiday=Holy Day. Easy enough, right?
So why are all these people claiming that saying "Happy Holidays" is a liberal attempt to erase the religious meaning of Christmas. Are you on crack?
I have no problem with saying Happy Holidays. Saying Happy Holidays isn't an attempt to "erase" Christ from the holidays people. I have enough sense to recognize that as much as these stupid fundamentalists would like to ignore it, there are other holidays occurring. Choosing a greeting that doesn't exclude other religions isn't a bad thing. In fact, choosing a greeting that does excludes people isn't very Christian, when you think about it.

I'm so sick of certain types of right wing fundamentalist Christians forgetting that not only does the earth not revolve around them, neither does our country. Here we have a country founded on freedom, but they seem to think that freedom only applies to white Christians, and that if you point that out you must be a liberal Satanist. Get over yourselves already. So some people are trying to be nice and recognize other religions and Holidays other than Christianity and Christmas. There's nothing wrong with that. And as far as it being Christmas first? Not quite. It was Hanukkah first so if you want to use that argument, then Happy fucking Hanukkah.

Ok. I think I got enough of that out of my system.

Happy Holidays Internet!

All grown up

So, I keep meaning to tell you!
Joe and I are doing something mature, and grown up and terrifying. We have a play/dinner date with another couple our age with two boys that are both within a few months of Caleb and Jack.

I've know the husband J, for about 7 years, and his wife J, almost as long, though I was never really friends with her. He and I worked together for a few years, which was how we met. Even though he was my boss he's only four days older than me and we always clicked really well. Too well, in that there was always an inappropriate tension and I am sure people thought there were things going on. They never were, but any time a male and female are friends the rumors abound. I think it was part of the reason I was never completely comfortable around his wife, that I was always afraid if she wondered too.

We had a bad falling out several years ago, as things will happen when you work with someone you are really close to, and since I quit at this time we never really hung out again. I've sort of kept in touch, every few months I'll call and say hi, or whatever. Anyway, it occurred to me, here's a married couple our age, with children the same age as ours, who I've got some prior connection to, why not see if they can be our "couple friends"?

I called last week and ran the idea by him, and then she called a couple of days later to set the date, so now we have this whole grown up dinner date planned. I feel like I should take something, she said no, but it seems like the right thing to do. The problem being that my only ideas are things I see people do on TV. Wine? Chocolates? What to grownups bring other grownups for dinner at their house? And Jesus, does this mean I am now one of those grownups? The thought really frightens the hell out me. I mean, you read me, I'm not remotely mature.

Help me internet! How do I play dress up for the night and pull this off?

Sadness

John Spencer who played Leo McGarry on the "West Wing" has died of a heart attack.

I am very sad today.

Annoyance

You know what I am really, really tired of? Peeing when I throw up.
I know my stuff got all stretched out of place, but I'm healed, and I do my keigels, so this shit needs to stop. Or urine as the case may be.

Feel Free To Go All Wes Craven On My Ass

So, I want true life horror stories about the IUD.
Some background: I can't take any form of the pill, patch or ring. Depo now comes with a black-box osteoporosis warning, and as I SO don't want to be one of those with two under two (No offense to SJ I just can't do it. Having Caleb visit about kills me as it is and he's four)

So I am thinking IUD but you don't get the truly scary stuff from the clinics or planned parenthood. So shock me, frighten me, and make me gag.

After all, I shared the sputum with you!

Don't Squeeze the Charmin

This post is going to be disjointed, so bear with me.

My ass is now known as Charmin, since on a whim I told Joe "Don't squeeze the Charmin" while he was grabbing my ass. He thought it was a bit too funny and now I'm stuck.

We now have Jack encased in a play pen. (Play yard is a euphemism. It's a pen!) So far he's not angry about it. I don't think the reality that this is his new range of play has sunk in yet. Once he could move our blockades and escape to the very unsafe kitchen and dining room we didn't have an option really. And I have to admit that it's nice to have my living room back without having everything blocked with milk crates to keep him from getting to the bookshelves, etc. Once it's all put away I'll take more pictures for you, so you can ooh and ahh at my very average standard of living.

Joe's dad is the one who brought us the play-pen. He gets bored periodically and likes to get out of the house, so he comes up with a small excuse (the initial one here was bringing us a lightbulb for our fiber-optic mini Christmas tree) and then drives two hours and takes us out to lunch. He's a silly man at times, but he feeds us so it's all good to me. He also brought us an infant sled that has me looking forward to the next snow. ME looking forward to SNOW. It's all my love for that kid. It makes me insane(er).

My cold is fading, as is everyone else's but it's now spread fully to my lungs and ain't nothin' sexier that coughing up sputum. MMM. Sputum. Lung crap tastes awful by the way. And it's all chunky and yellow. (Are you gagging yet? Cause I am totally trying to make you gag)

So that's the news that's worth mentioning. Oh, and I got laid. So there you go internet, have a good evening :)

My Karma Blows. (Actually it coughs)

See? This is what I get. I knew when I wrote it that bragging about my never-been-sick baby was a bad idea. Did I listen? No. I told the internet how my baby had never been sick. So one morning last week he woke up with a runny nose. I'm only guessing at the sore throat and sinus pressure since those were what I woke up with along with my runny nose. Joe's actually waited until later that night -his morning- before showing up. Yep. All three of us. Got sick on the same fucking day. And still are. Dammit.

Mine has started moving into my lungs, but I received nice happy prescriptions from the doctor I saw last night. I figured I was already there for therapy I could see the regular doctor as well. So I did, and didn't have to pay any extra. How much does that rock? A lot, but not enough to make up for all my mucous issues. I'm just guessing, but everyone out there has had that night where you were coughing so much that you couldn't sleep? Sure, there's the whole being in a sitting up position, but I cannot sleep like that. I know, because I tried. So no sleep, bad head and chest cold, screaming baby with bad head cold, and cranky husband who worked twleve hours with his chest cold three days in a row so as not to call in sick. Don't you wish you were me? I wish you were me, 'cause then I could be you, and even if you've got the same cold every blogger on the internet seems to have, you don't have my screaming baby and cranky husband.*

My lungs are actually sore I've been coughing so much, and the cough drops and Vicks aren't doing much for me but I think that the carryover is helping Jack a little, so at least someone is getting something out of it. One of my happy prescriptions is for something called Tessalon Perles, which are Lidocaine gel caplets. Yes, the painkiller Lidocaine that is related to Novacaine. I'm guessing my insides are going to feel great. I'll let you know.

Completely off topic, I was linked to by a site that doesn't have me down as a mommy blogger! True, it's because I am a crazy-ass insane lady blogger, but still the diversity is nice, don't you think?

*Joe's not actually that cranky, he's just sick. So don't think he's being horrid, he's really putting up with me amazingly well.

Did you know that alcohol is a depressant?
Did you further know that in an already depressed person alcohol can trigger insane pity parties?

I have therapy today.
Sorry about all that.

(I did not actually drink for 6 days straight.)

170 means shit to me

Oh Internet.
I am supposed to be writing a post about my weekend, and the baby-free time, but I just cant get behind it. I am too busy feeling like a loss and a failure as a person.

This is not who I thought I would be. This is not who anyone thought I should be. Maybe I wasn't voted most likely to succeed, but I was voted most unique (a title created my senior year that I won almost unanimously) and how the hell do I say "yes, I was the most unique but now I am just a Stay At Home Mom" and why do I feel it's a "just" situation, and how do I justify that I am no longer technically "Stay At Home"?

I was supposed to be the first in my family to go to a real college. There was this whole "genius" thing that I had laid on me, that I don't know that anyone can really live up to. What the hell does an IQ mean at the end of a day? What does it mean that my scores were so high when I can't even function in society? I can't even make up my mind what to study. Sometimes I write it off as being a polymath, and having too many abilities in too many areas, but that requires me to buy into the mythiology of who I was supposed to be.

I have been paid for acting, my great love supposedly, yet I know I could never be anything great. I've been paid for my writing, but I still view that as a fluke and I am so scared to try again I've never finished anything since.

I love Joe, and I love Jack, but do I use them as excuses to not try? You bet your ass I do. I'm so scared of failure I can't leave the world of mediocre almost minimum wage jobs in case I can't live up to what everyone thought I'd do.

I never graduated high school you know. I was suspended two months before graduation, and though I did briefly attepmt to finish my last semester the next year, I got pregnant and it was far too easy to quit. My GED score was so high that at many schools my scholarships would have been higher than were I in the top 10th % of my graduating class, which I easily was. And see? I still feel the need to justify my intelligence.

Oh internet, I so often hate myself. I hate my decisions, and the places that they took me in my life. I think I should be better than this, but really I am afraid that I am not.

Maybe it's too much Vodka.

Is it really bizzare that I am so thrilled for Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck? 'Cause I really am happy for them. Welcome to the world Violet!