Fat Lip

Fa got a fat lip today. Poor baby. I have always loved her top lip. It reminds me of a giraffe's top lip. Her daddy has the same lip. I love that lip!
Well, today it's fat. She fell off of 'Duck Mountain'. She was climbing up onto her pile of ducks and fell forward onto the lip. Ouch. Well, of course I took pictures of it. C'mon. I had to. It's huge! So, to celebrate we took a picture together too. I figured I should make it a little fun since I was following her around like the damn paparazzi in our livingroom. She was just about to give me the finger and punch my camera out of my hand when I decided to make it fun for her.

I did feel bad. How do you get over the fact that your child will get hurt whether you are around or not? How do you get rid of the guilt? The 'what if's', the feeling that you can't protect her every second of the waking day? It kills me. I try so hard to be there for her to protect her and despite all my efforts, she gets hurt anyway. I take it to the extreme too...I tell her she's gonna get hurt even before she does it. I sound like an old lady. "Fa, be careful, you're gonna fall off there!", "Fa, what're ya doing? You're gonna get hurt!" Damn, how annoying! But I know what's dangerous, I know what she's gonna fall off of, especially if she's not paying attention. But I can't always be there. How do I teach her to care for herself as much as I care for her?

I know this is one of many fat lips, cuts, scrapes and bruises but those are easy to fix. Put some antibacterial spray and a smooch and she's on her way. What about the real hurt? The mean friends, the heartbreak, the loss of a loved one? I don't know if I'll be able to handle that. I can't stand to see her in pain or get hurt in any way. I am not ready for the real thing. This is a very frightening concept for me to grasp. I can deal with it when it's me. I've been there, friggin' done that. How do I shield her from it? Should I? Or is it just something that everyone must experience? Well, I have news for you, I don't like that! That's not fair! This was just a 'fat lip'! What about when she gets a 'fat heart'?

How can I keep her the little, innocent girl that hugs me on a whim and truly believes that the moon rises and sets with me? The other day she said to me; "Mommy, how 'bout you put me on the couch and I'll give you a big hug!" C'mon, how lucky am I?

I tell her every night before she goes to bed: "With all the little girls in the world; how did I get the very best one?" One day she'll be able to understand that question and maybe even answer me. Until then, I'll kiss her boo boos and hug her right back each and every time she demands it.

Crap, crap, crap!

I'd like to retract my previous statement:

This dawg is a pain in the arsse.

We (BD and me) woke up (Saturday morning...a day to sleep late all around) to eviscerated wee wee pads, pee and remnants of eaten poop all over the floor, the walls, the door, the dawg. Our jaws were gaping and we were outright gagging at the odorific find. I am flabberghasted. I can't stand it. What a way to start the weekend. "How can we clean the floor and leave just enough bleach on it for the dawg to lick?" That's what BD wants to know. I am curious myself at this point.

There's gotta be a better way.

On a brighter note...Back to bigger and better things...I took Fa to the Long Island Game Farm yesterday with my Friends. She had a ball. Once again, she rises to the occasion, never ceasing to amaze me. She rode on the Tea Cups, the Merry-go-Round and the Choo Choo Train...With Glee...She had a ball. I always expect her to cower in fear or to cry and she always does the opposite! She jumped onto each new experience with a smile and a song. I couldn't pry her off the rides. She fed the Giraffe and giggled over his gigantic, black tongue and sticky, stringy saliva.

We had such a great time. I am grateful that we had this experience together. She loved hanging out with her friends and wanted to do everything big kids did. I know even more now that when she is faced with new situations and other kids to play with, she's all for it. It's me who holds her back and who doesn't allow her the new opportunities..because I am afraid. She is practically fearless...I am the one with reservations.

I gotta get over that!

Full of poop, full of heart or full of shit?

We took RT's poop to get analyzed again. $50.00! FIF-TY bucks for me to gather and transport his poop the the vet. Jeez. It' s more expensive than diapers. I am praying with all my might that the little buggies in his poop are all gone. If not, I might puke. For he has taken to the wonderful past-time of eating his poop now. Fantastic. Less to clean anyway.

So I finally got a call from the cardiologist a few days ago. I have Mitral Valve Prolapse with, of course, a leak or murmur. Why wouldn't I really? It only makes sense that the palpitations and other wonderful symptoms should all point to that. And why should I ever be normal? I can't. It's not in my nature. The doctor had some woman call to relay his message from the results of my echo cardiogram. Wouldn'tya know, I get the most moronic message-relayer out there? I had questions like: "Why is it only dental work that needs a pre-treatment of antibiotics and not, say, a kidney operation?" Her answer: "I don't know!" I felt like Mr. Hand in Fast Times at Ridgemont High...I. Don't. Know...Can you repeat that? What a loser. Why call a patient and be ready with some answers to questions she might have? That would be way too professional for me.

Between the poop and the heart I am ready to scream. By the way, Fa hasn't even looked at the potty since her last review of it...I just wish she'd use it regularly already....What's so special about pull ups anyway? I think they are ugly. There are so many cutsie undies out there in the world..I know, I've bribed her with about 100 different pairs...She's just not interested.

She's just not that into them. I guess.

My Daughter

"Goddness Gracious mee oh my-oh! " (A phrase we like to say to each other whenever we see/do something silly), do I love my daughter. She is the worlds most precious thing to me.

Yesterday was a busy day for her.

We had morning music class which is always a little overwhelming for her at first, but she usually warms up by the end of class...The loud noises used to be an issue as well, but she has become less sensitive and more extroverted in public situations. She is always exhausted by the time we get home. However, instead of napping, we went to a friend's house to see her and her newest daughter, (she has two now, Bless her Heart.) Fa and A, my friend's eldest, played together so nicely. Fa always shocks me because she started out in life quite shy and apprehensive in new situations but she's growing into herself and her confidence is blooming beautifully. My little flower.

They played together for a few hours then we decided to go in the backyard to jump around in the sprinklers. Well...If you could see the excitement! As Fa puts it, "This is the best water game EVER!" They had a full fledged blast. I have never seen her enjoy herself more. The wet grass on her feet didn't bother her, the heat was a non-issue and her shyness flew right out the yard. She was squealing with delight and pleasure and she even talked with my friend and her husband like she knew them forever. (Something Fa only does with a select number of people.) It's amazing to see her come out of her shell like she has been doing regularly this entire summer.

BD and I were worried at one point because she was so painfully shy and cautious in new situations. However, she is coming into her own and discovering that it is okay to have fun and be away from mom to do it. She used to scream and cry (and hit and bite...me) in new and overwhelming situations and in order to maintain sanity, we used to try to keep her away from them. We decided that it wasn't best to keep her sheltered so we started exposing her to new and overwhelming situations much more frequently. Always trying to let her know that it's okay and she is fine. It's working.

This summer has been a giant leap in her development. She is changing from a coy toddler into a bold three year old. I love it.

I want her to know:

• it's okay to be uncomfortable in new situations but she can work through the feeling and have fun with friends
  
• she can enjoy being with friends and with adults that she trusts and laugh and play and sing in public
  
• that I am always there for her (even when I'm not physically)
  
• she can always depend on me to protect her, but she must also be confident enough to protect herself
  
• she has the ability to do anything she dreams and her fears should never hold her back
  
• I want her to feel exactly the opposite of how I feel on a daily basis. I don't want her to fear the unknown or to not do something because she is afraid of what might happen
  
• I want her to learn that she can take chances but must know there are consequences for her actions
• I want her to be a confident and classy woman and be proud of herself and her body

This summer I am watching her evolve and I am witnessing her confidence soar to new heights. I am so proud of her.

She napped when we got home. I love to stare at her napping face. I can watch her sleep for hours. Those are the times I will cherish when she is older. I will never forget that face as long as I am breathing. When she woke up she built this "Sprinkler Tower" with her daddy.

I had gone out. I love when she spends quality time with her daddy. He is going to help shape her ideals and her values and teach her how a man should treat her. With him as a role model, I will not worry.

I love my daughter and I love how she is growing. I will always keep her deep in my heart. I will always cherish her smile, her eyes, her stinky feet and her hugs. When she is older and wiser, I will remember that face and how she was once so shy she wouldn't leave my side. But I know I can't keep her like this forever. She will learn to be more confident. She will become more independent and grow farther away from me. But I will hold these days close and I will remind her that we were once one being and she will always be my heart. She is my soul and I breathe for her. Always. My daughter.

Why I love T.V. and a whole lot more...

1) I'll admit. I love T.V. I know it's a horrible habit to start in childhood. But I love having the darn thing on in the background during the day. I always swore I'd never let Fa watch...But there are a few great children's shows out there...I am addicted to Noggin. When she's napping, I watch it. So anyway, we found a few shows that we both like to watch...Fa loves Oobi and Oswald, I love Jack's Big Music Show and Pinky Dinky Doo...Knowing full well, I leave the tube on way too much. (I can hear the T.V.-hating moms gasp at the thought) I have been starting to turn it off again during the day. (I miss it.)

When the 'acceptable' or mutually agreed upon shows are on, we catch them if we are around. That frickin' Pinky Dinky has gotten Fa to start telling her own stories. I tell ya. I can't believe it. Now, don't get me wrong. She is by no means plopped in front of the tube all day every day. I am a teacher in real life you know, I think I have been doing a fantastic job on her so far. She is a very bright lady. She loves to read and we read all the time...She has a load of books under her memory-belt and she reads them to us now...word for word...(I know, she's the smartest 2.6 year old ever..I know) But she made up this story one night as I was putting her to bed:

Once upon a time, mommy was sleeping in her bedroom. Fa was sleeping. The air conditioner was on, the ceiling fan was spinning. The duckies were sleeping and the walls were purple. My toenie nails were blue and my hair was blowing in the wind. The moon was shining and the sun was going down. It was dark in the bedroom. I was drinking water. I gave Mommy a big hug. The daddy was cooking and Auntie was playing in the yard. I went to sleep with mommy in her bed and we snuggled under her covers. The vacuum cleaners were 'Big Mamma' and 'Baby' and they were off doing neeno. And she lived happily ever after. The End.

I was flabberghasted. I asked her where she got that story from and she said, "She made it up like Pinky Dinky." Wholly bookworms Batman! I love that T.V. See, it's not all gore and garbage...There is some intelligence to children's programming out there. Yes, I know her content leaves a lot to be desired. There is somewhat of a beginning, middle and end and her story structure needs work. She's got some story elements there like setting and characters, but her plot needs work..Hot damn though, she's better than some of the 4th graders I've had in my life.

I'm sure when her Noggin days are over, I'll be singing another tune...But until then. You go Noggin!

2) I also love the smell of Fa's feet. It is such a distinct smell and BD thinks I'm crazy, but I just can't get enough if them...I can sit and sniff them all day long if she'll let me. We also like to pick out her 'fuzzy punk' from between them..She tells me, "Mommy, get the fuzzy punk!" I love that...

3) Her hair is also one of my favorite things in the world. I love that I have done many styles on her head...I love to style it into all sorts of different ponies and clips. She loves that too. It' so soft and luxurious. When she was born, she had a full head of jet-black hair...Now, it has grown way past her shoulders and it's brown with a kiss of blonde throughout...I'd kill for hair like hers. I want her curls, her color and her texture. It's perfect. When she's 13 she'll cut it into a mowhawk and dye it green, I'm sure. But for now, I will enjoy it in all its glory.

4) I love my husband's eyes. They are the most amazing color of green/blue and brown I have ever seen. They have an outer greenish-blue layer with an inner brown-speckled layer around the pupil...Very interesting and oh! so nice to look at.

5) I love music. I love dancing around the livingroom with Fa to all kinds of music. We listen to this (Fa's fave is "Catch the Moon") and this and even this. She bangs her head like a true rocker and makes those "rock on" horns with her hand...I get such a kick outta that. I love that she adores music as much as I do. We have so much in common...Did I make her that way, or is it truly her taste? Hmmm....

6) I have a new appreciation for the moon. I have always had a connection with it. I have always been drawn to it. But since Fa; I have fallen in love with it. She adores the moon. She looks for it at night and loves books about it. I also love that she reads these books to me at night...The moon has been something that has driven me throughout life and now I see the same connection in her. Maybe she'll be an astronomer when she grows up. I love that.

7) I loves me my coffee in the mornin'. Hot damn. I can't get through without it. (like my strong coffee-lovin' accent?) It just makes me happy. I love to drink it with a little bit of Silk Creamer mostly. But I have found that Silk Soy Milk and a dash of vanilla International Delight works just as nicely. I started getting really attached to the java so I had to cut down quite substantially but I will never give up the mornin' brew. Oh! And this place is my heaven...When I die, I wanna live here...

8) I love when Fa sings. She's doing it right now in her crib. She belts out the tunes all day. She sings in her crib, in the tub, in the car and in the park. She loves to sing. She sings songs she already knows by heart, like Twinkle Twinkle or The Rainbow song...but the best is when she makes up her own words, and melodies. Where does she get that from? What makes her so confident that she can sing just about anywhere? How happy is this kid or what? That. I. Love.

9) I love California. More specifically, Northern California. BD and I used to go there on vacation every year before we got married. Then we got married there and I have fallen deeper in love with it since then. We haven't been there in 5 years. But I am itching to go back. I love Napa and Monterey, Bodega Bay and San Francisco. I love the Golden Gate Bridge and all of its surroundings. I wish we lived there. Maybe one day, when Fa is off to college in California, we'll move there. I can only hope.

10) Lilies. The most beautiful flower out there. I love these Lilies the best. But these are so beautiful too...I love the fact that they come in all kinds of styles and colors and there isn't an ugly one out there. They are a fantastic flower with so much to offer their admirer.

So, this turned into a list. I hafta stop here. 10 is a nice round number. I'll leave it at that...

Monitor Chain!!!

I Love, love this game....I snapped Chelle's site on my laptop...on my lap. I just found her from a previous comment here at my site...Through another blogger... Jenny, at Dot Moms I love this game! Let's see how many of us get connected!
Are you interested in playing along?: (Photograph this blog post (including your monitor and its immediate surroundings), and post the resulting pic on your blog. Then the next person photographs your blog post and posts it, and so on. Leave your post URL in the comments so people will be able to follow the chain, and link your image to the post you photographed… this way people will be able to zoom into the monitors by clicking.)

I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. But I'm having a hella time doing it. Get snappin'. Thanks Chelle...Whee...

Baby vs. Puppy

My poor husband wants to have another baby. I, on the other hand, do not. We have been avoiding the topic for a lot of months now. I have been just feeling not so ready here. With my history and newborns, I fail to see the positive aspects of another child...Plus, I'm gettin' up there in ovarian age, it might not be so easy...So we bought a puppy. I know, crazy right? Well, I truly figured it'd be way easier than another kid. I dopily thought: I won't feel so frickin' heartbroken every time he leaves my side, I won't be too attached, I won't feel so responsible for my heart and blood running around outside my body, I won't care if he cries, I'll feed him and walk him and that's that...oh so many reasons why a puppy is easier, and such the smart choice...Well, I was wrong. Dead wrong. Yes, I don't feel so attached to the frickin' thing...it is definitely not of my blood and loins....However, the work involved is waaaaaaaay more difficult...Put it this way, at least a baby shits in diapers...And it's shit that I helped make with mine and my husbands genes...

So I weighed the cons and cons. Here's what I came up with.

Baby: poopie & peepee all over the place
Puppy: poopie & peepee all over the place

Baby: Diaper rash
Puppy: I wish

Baby: midnight feedings
Puppy: eats two-three times a day

Baby: spit up
Puppy: slobber

Baby: gas
Puppy: gas

Baby: potty training sucks
Puppy: potty training sucks

Baby: colick
Puppy: is there a such thing as puppy colick?

Baby: grows up to talk back and think her parents are idiots
Puppy: loyal & faithful

Baby: tantrums
Puppy: happy licking most of the time

Baby: money for clothes, diapers, food
Puppy: money for clothes, wee wee pads, food

Baby: teething
Puppy: shreds wee wee pads to pieces (even with shit on it)

Baby: the pee pee dance comes later and can be somewhat controlled
Puppy: the Shit dance just makes a frickin’ mess all over the house

Baby: PPD
Puppy: you still need meds 'cause he's rippin up the place

Let's see...it's a toss up. Did I make a mistake with the puppy or what?

Overthinkers Anonymous

Hi. My name is The Laundress and I am an overthinker. (All of you in unison...Hi Laundress.)

Me: I am having a difficult time 'over' thinking of all the worse case scenarios that can happen during summertime activities.

You: Like what darling? Please try to be specific.

Me: Well, we took Fa to her cousin's pool yesterday and of course we didn't bring her bathing suit or mine for that matter because it's a fairly new pool and we didn't think it'd be open. But all she wanted to do was go in and I wasn't about to. I really hate the pool. I have a swimsuit issue too..but that's for the "Mommy-Belly Anonymous" meeting next week.

You: Poor baby. What did she do?

Me: Well, she wanted to get by the edge of the pool to put her hands and feet in and all I could imagine was her falling in and drowning. I don't know CPR...but that's for the 'Scared of Everything" meeting tomorrow.

You: Was she in any danger whatsoever?

Me: You see, that's the problemo. I can't help but envision her falling in even when there are plenty of people around...(but not really watching.) I feel like I'm the only one watching/hawking her. (and my husband, of course) Then I get the 'you're an overprotective mom vibe' happenin' and I start to feel self-conscious and paranoid. It's the paranoia and lack of self-esteem as a mom that makes me feel this way. I know I'm being overprotective but that's my daughter dangling in the pool. I like to think I don't care if people think that way about me but I do. I felt like shit already because she wanted to go swim and we wouldn't let her. Now, I'm following her around like a puppy because she won't hold my hand and wants to look at the kids playing in the unfinished and ungated pool.

You: You might want to get over that, you are going to make her neurotic.

Me: Thanks. I know that already. That's why I'm here.

You: Well, you have at least 26 more years of 'OA' before you get cured...Drink some coffee and relax...

Is that a geoduck in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

We watched "Dirty Jobs" last night on the Discovery Channel. The host Mike Rowe (cute, btw) was diggin up Geoducks. (Pronounced "Gooey-ducks".) Wholy crap. These things were obscene. I have never seen anything like them before in my entire life. BD and I were laughing so hard, his geoduck almost fell off. (hee hee) I can't imagine that there is a need for theses things out there in the world. But there are. People eat them. I know, you're saying of course, silly. What else would someone want to do with such a gorgeous phallic symbol...

I eat sushi. I love it. I look forward to eating it as much as I can. But jeez, I would never go for that...OK, So it doesn't look exactly like that when you are eating it, but whoa...just the thought...I'm surprised someone hasn't come up with a dirty movie featuring the exploitation of said Geoduck. I missed my calling.

To prepare it for cooking. You have to boil it for '6 seconds' then rip the outer skinlike layer off of the 'tube'. It looks just like a 'used' prophylactic. The thing is gross. Then you rip it out of its shell and cut off what looks like; you guessed it: a scrotum. Ugh...I was mesmerized. I couldn't take my eyes off the T.V.

Whatever you do in life, you must check this episode out. It's not up on the Discovery Channel website yet...But don't you worry, just 'google' the name and you will be stuffed with a plethora of information...I am obsessed with these things...I have such a dirty mind...

31 Months

Fa is 31 months today. July 20th. It seems like yesterday I brought her home from the hospital...the both of us crying and unsure of what to do next.

Now, she's just such a joy in my life and those initial, unsure moments have passed me by. I can't believe I ever felt the way I did back then. I was so sad and scared and afraid of what might happen to her that I couldn't enjoy the 'moment'. I had severe PPD. I was a mess. I thought I was the only one who ever felt that way and I thought I would die. I wanted to die. I didn't want to be a mommy. I wasn't good enough to be her mommy. She deserved more than I could ever give. I wrote a letter to American Baby in response to an article I read a few months ago...they never published it. But I want to put it here. So someone else can read it. Not just me.

August 5, 2005

Dear American Baby,

I just finished reading your article: (left blank) in your August 2005 issue…and I cried. Not because I remember it happening like that, or because I miss those times, but because my first three months were nothing like the article. I had Post Partum Depression and I would have given anything to have those “new mommy” issues that the author had instead of the ones I had. I want to tell you my story because I also took notes, but I really don’t need to refer to them, I will never forget how I felt when my daughter was born.

Day one:
The day my daughter was born was when I began crying. I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest and I could not breathe. It took me nine months to get used to having that little being inside of me. I depended on feeling her kick, hiccup, and move around at all hours of the night but nobody warned me that I would not have the same amount of time to get used to the fact that she WASN’T in there anymore. A part of my being, my reason for breathing.

The night she was born, I missed her so greatly that it felt like the loss of my mother all over again. I cried the entire time I was in the hospital. To top it all off, it was around Christmastime and the hospital was short staffed and short tempered. One nurse yelled at me because I called for help to go to the bathroom even after my allotted “two times” to make sure my bladder was functioning. I told her I couldn’t do it and she yelled, “Are you going to need to hold hands every time you go? What are you going to do when you leave here? How are you going to take care of the baby?” Good question. I wanted MY mommy. She wasn’t there. I was alone. I felt it from the first second my daughter was taken from me.

Day three:
Taking her home from the hospital was a different story. Like the author of the article, I sat in the back of the car with my daughter too. However, I was praying deep down in my soul for my husband to crash on the LIE so I wouldn’t have to live anymore. Once we were safely in the house, we stared at her for what seemed like an eternity and I hoped her parents would come and pick her up because I was done with her.

Breast feeding was a nightmare, I had no one to help me figure it out and my nipples were cracked, bleeding and literally falling off, so I had to stop. The hospital promised a lactation consultant who never showed up. I was devastated. I felt like a failure and a horrible person because all I wanted to do was see my daughter’s face from that special angle that no one else would ever see. Instead, I fed her the bottle hoping she would choke, this way it wouldn’t be my fault.

Day four:
I also figured out that at 32 years old, I was afraid of the dark. I hated being alone at night with her because that was when the thoughts and visions would be the clearest. I had thoughts of people breaking into the house and killing us all. I would see my daughter being sucked up by a chainsaw or lawnmower and I could not stop it, nor did I really want to. I never did anything to hurt her and I never would, even at my darkest, (I would rather have killed myself) but those visions were scary and made me very unsure of my sanity. I felt like I was losing my mind and my sense of reality. I wanted to die. I wanted to escape, run away and never see her again. I wasn’t good enough for her.

Week two:
The day my husband went back to work was when I realized I needed help. He was afraid to leave me alone with our daughter and most of all I didn’t want to be left alone. I was afraid she would get hurt and I couldn’t save her. I was afraid to drive in the car with her alone and I was afraid to leave the house even to go for a walk with her. What if someone kidnaps her, or me? I was afraid of her! She knew more than I ever would or could. I would look into her eyes and ask for her forgiveness because she got stuck with me as a mommy. I promised her I would find her a better mommy and one day she would understand why I left.

I started comparing my mother’s life to my own. I had my daughter the same time my mother had me. However, my mom died 17 years later and I started thinking that was my fate as well. I wondered what it was all for, if I was going to leave my daughter in 17 years like my mother did. Or sooner. Was it worth it? She really didn’t need me around at all, I thought. Just get it over with and let her live a fairly normal life without me….Mike would re-marry and she would have a person who could really take care of her… She was better off without me. That went on for a few weeks until I finally broke down. I didn’t want anything to happen to her. I didn’t want anything to happen to me because without me, she would be a motherless daughter like I am now. I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I didn’t want her to ever suffer the pain of losing a mother, like I have.

Week three:
Unlike the author, I didn’t join a mommy group because I was sure I was crazy and no one has ever thought of the things I think about. They’ll surely have me arrested or put away somewhere and take my daughter away from me. Not one mommy out there could possible feel the way I do. They are not in my head and they will never understand me. Those mommies are all living in a dream. It can’t really be as easy as they make it look. What’s wrong with me?

Week six:
I called my OB/GYN and told him my story. He referred me right away to a psychiatrist. I went to see him that same day. He prescribed Wellbutrin for the depression and Klonopin for the anxiety. I resisted but knew there was no other choice. I was going to hurt myself, not my daughter and I needed to fix things. It was a slow recovery. Aside from the physical aspects of childbirth, the mind can play fantastic tricks on you. Physically, I was a wreck. My body was not healing quickly and I had issues down below that no woman should ever deal with. It was scary. I felt useless and helpless and motherless and with medication, I was finally ready to be the mother that my daughter needed me to be.

Nineteen months later:
I thank the stars above that I used what little courage there was left to make me take a step in the right direction. My daughter is a well adjusted, active toddler and I couldn’t live without her. She is the air I breathe. My husband has been my rock because without his strength, I couldn’t find my own to help myself. I realized I wasn’t totally alone. I had people to help me and I had support when I needed it. I am forever grateful for my husband to teach me about life and love and motherhood.

I hope this letter helps just one woman out there who might be feeling a little the way I did. It is normal and not everyone has sparkly and bright experiences when they take their child home for the very first time. It is unbelievably scary and no one is truly prepared for what is to come. Especially when the crying, the diapers, and the all-nighters are the easiest things to deal with, compared to the visions, thoughts, and terrible fears you can have as a new mom.

Please use this letter if it helps just one woman out there. I know I went through such horrible experiences and I’m sure they are hard to read just as they are hard to share, but it would all be in vain if I did not help someone because of it.

Sincerely,
me

***No one has ever read this before. I am not sure I want it out there. But it seems fitting to compare myself now to then. I was so lost and I felt so alone. But I got through it and I look at my gorgeous Fa now and I cry. She is the heart that beats inside of me and the air that keeps me alive. Without her, I am nothing. Without her, I will die. I truly live for her smile and to see the joy in her eyes when I enter her room first thing in the morning. As happy as she is to see me, I am overjoyed to see her. I love this little girl with all of my being and I cherish every moment with her...even the first scary moments. For without them, we wouldn't be here today. My big girl. My love. My heart.

Over 1000

Wow, That can't all be from me checking into my own blog to see if it's up and running. I have over 1000 viewers according to my view counter. Woo hoo. That's great. Now, who are you?

I doubt just the 5 people that I know personally have checked in that often. They can't be wondering what I'm up to that much. I'm not all that interesting.

This is fun. I am loving this blog thing. And I am loving the other blogs that I have been discovering and reading on a daily basis. I'd love to post some of my favorites but I don't know if I can do that without permission. So, if you are around and you would like me to link your blogs, I'd love to. The more the merrier.

I haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm doing here but it seems to be working out pretty well. I love the 'link mechanism' here in blog land..it makes me giddy with happiness. Don't ask me why. I dunno. 'Cause, ya see, I can link to things like this and make myself giggle whenever I want to...

Thanks for viewing! Hang out for a while...I'm sure I can serve you up some Oreo's and milk, if you want....

RT's First Bath and Smelly Feet

So it went well today.
I still haven't gotten one comment on how to control a wee wee pad weilding puppy. Thanks alot lurkers. Are you even out there? Is anybody reading? ...Feel me people!!!! Feel my pain.

The dog had his very first bath. He hated it. We did it in the sink. Even though I was too scheeved out to do it in my tub where Fa's hiney sits, I thought doing it where the dishes sit would be beetter...Don't ask! I was expecting that he'd be miserable. He shivered heavily and whimpered a little and I felt bad for him. But too bad, he needed it so frickin' badly. He stunk almost as bad as Fa's feet. And those were ripe today too...Whew. This heat has made her feet so smelly and BD thinks I'm crazy, but I absolutely love, love, love the smell of those feet....Especially when they've been in shoes all day without socks! Oh yeah, that's a smell that lingers...

Fa and I were out most of the morning today and RT was a pretty well behaved little man. He only ripped up my magazines that the mailman slipped through the mail slot in my back door. I forget that that is where RT is living and that is where the mail gets flung. So he 'read' BD's Sports Illustrated and ripped it to smithereens...Poor BD.

We came home and lo and behold. No doodie flinging. I was surprised but ecstatic. I didn't have much fecal schmearing..only a few spatterings on some toys and the magazines...I threw everything out. Nice.

It's so farking hot here in NYC and my house didn't smell, so that made me quite happy. I walked into a sweet smelling, doodieless home. I like that. I expected it to smell like Penn Station again. Then I went shopping for some basics like paper towels (since I used up a whole 9 pack in a week) and when I got home, BD was cleaning up the shredded wee wee pad... I'm glad I missed it.

I hafta go now. BD is feeling abandoned by the time I spend on this blog. "We don't have a relationship anymore!" Aw, how sweet. He misses me...Shucks.

She melts my heart.

So Fa was having a hard day today. Every once in a while she'd lose it and start screaming. She has this violent side to her that is a little harsh. When she gets good and pissed she hits and bites. She has stopped hitting and biting me...with the help of the treasured "time out". But she still hits and bites...The rug, the couch, the pillows whatever is closest. (even the hard wood floors)

Today, when I stopped her from playing with the precious 'shitting machine' because I was getting grossed out by all his saliva on her hands. She lost it big time. She tantrummed like the true two year old that she can be. She ran to her yellow balloon that has been helpless on the floor since Memorial Day. BD bought it for her. It lost it's string and helium and just kinda lumbered around the living room for her to toss once in a while on a whim. But if we threatened to throw it away, whoo hoo, ALL hell breaks loose. So we have been ignoring it. It caused us no harm. She hardly ever played with it. But we did toss it back and forth somewhat more than usual today. Who knew it meant so much.

Well, well...she bit into this balloon with all her heart and soul. POP! Her face had the look of panic. I thought she was gonna scream. I figured she'd scared herself with the unexpected pop of the balloon. She's never bitten a balloon before, that is a loud sound...However, her true reaction melted my heart. She looked at me with her little, pouty bottom lip and genuinely cried in mourning. "I popped my most favorite present of all!" Mommy I broke my best present!"
I started tearing up right along with her. I truly felt her pain. That balloon was a gift from her dad and it gave her happy feelings to know it was around. And in anger, she popped it. Her favorite present was broken by her own actions. I tried to explain that that is what happens when you act out in anger. But I thought I was gonna die right there. I felt her heart break right there in front of my very own eyes.

All I could do was hug her and tell her it was going to be okay. She was devastated. I was heartbroken. She kept saying, "We hafta throw it in the garbage now, it's broken." The tears were welled up in her eyes and it took all my strength not to break down with her. She handled it well enough, but tonight when I put her to bed, she brought it up yet again and I started crying all over again for her loss. What a terrible thing to have happen, as a two year old that's total devastation. It's only just the beginning and my heart truly melts for her.

Because I need more stress in my life...

Stressor Exhibit A:
I think I hafta take Fa for her very first haircut. I hate to do it, but she's -a gettin' wiley! I have to fight to comb her hair now because her ends are all knotted and tangled...I am dreading this...for many resons:

• she's afraid of everything
• she hates strangers
• she probably won't let anyone touch her
• she will cry and scream and come out with a crooked haircut
• I will cry and scream and try to be calm but will ruin everything
• how am I gonna let a stranger go at the wriggling, screaming mess with scissors?

But I think it's finally time. We might just hafta bite the bullet and get motivated.

Stressor Exhibit B:
I hafta give this dang dawg bath. He stinks. He steps in his own poop and walks right through the house. I wipe his paws with baby wipes but then he just tramples through the dood all over again. I can't find a tub to put him in. Do you believe the asshole at Petco told me to go to a baby store and buy a baby tub. Douche. What the fuck am I gonna do with the baby tub when he grows out of it? Oh, have another baby to fill it with, of course....No thanks. Jerk. I wanted to get a tub that fits in the stand up shower we have downstairs so I don't hafta put his shitty paws in my bath tub upstairs where Fa's ass sits. Gross. So, we're off again to find a tub. And another thing: Bending over to pick up shit, and piss has now given my back a run for it's money and I am starting to live on Motrin again. It never ends.

Stressor Exhibit C:
Just when I think everything is a-ok. Hubby comes home in bad mood and I get so mad, I cry. So now we're not speaking again. Again. As per my therapist. I can't let this linger. I hafta confront. Yuck. I'm mad at you because you were in a bad mood, banging stuff around. But when a telemarketer called you were cordial and even smiled while talking to her. Hello? Is anybody in there??? I deserve that much.

Stressor Exhibit D:
It's so farking hot outside I could spit. I wanted to put Fa in the kiddie pool on the lawn yesterday and today, but it's scalding out there. We'd both melt away into the grass, never to be heard from again. What the? So now I'm stuck in the house with a bored 2.5 year old and a bored 2 month old dawg. I'm loosing it here...Anybody wanna come over to play? Then, if I'm on the phone, that's Fa's time to shine. "Mommy, get off the phone, watch me!", "Mommy I want a snack.", "Mommy, c'ome on in, come get me in my crib." Which leads me to...

Stressor Exhibit E:
All my friends are gone. Missing in action. I can't find one. I won't see one until tomorrow night for...woo hoo ceramics. One is here from Va so I'll see her a few times. One I see with her daughter on Wednesdays for music class...Who I happen to adore...A few others are gone by the wayside...Damn it...I can not keep a friend. I'll probably lose her too...With the mommy people I know, the only thing we have in common is kids. And I can't use that as enough ammo to start a relationship. I think I'm damaged. I either can't understand a person or don't like their kid. It leaves me lonely far too much to admit. I can't break the cycle either. Everyone who meets me usually thinks I'm fun and happy. But I don't usually get close enough for them to figure out the truth. No wonder BD comes home mad sometimes...When I was single I had the same friends as I have now. But we were available much more often. Now that I have a daughter and only one other friend has a daughter...it just all dissipates. BD says I don't try hard enough. It takes work to maintain a friendship. I don't put in the hours I guess. I am far to difficult. I get pissed at something (and don't say anything) and usually that's when the relationship sours. I don't let them know I'm pissed, so I don't call and they don't call and then years have passed and there goes that friend. Shit. I am damaged.

No wonder I'm alone most of the time. I say I don't care, but I do. If I didn't really care. I wouldn't have spent up all this space on Stressor Exhibit E!

This is not fun!

So this is what happens when I leave RT alone for an hour. (Notice the wee wee pad is nowhere in sight) I want to strangle him. I went up to put Fa in for a nap and when I came back down that's what I was greeted by. And now the friggin' dog is doing this. I am truly beside myself and the shit. To top it ALL off the dog has parasitic poop. I hafta call the vet and send in another stool sample tomorrow (after his meds are finished). If this dog is still parasitic, I'm gonna puke. I am not happy with buggy-shit embedded in my tiles for Fa to touch accidentally. Whattif she gets sick. I'll die. I'll blame myself and I'll be very pissed off. He better have those buggies gone tomorrow or you'll hear it from me.

If anyone is out there and reading this...Please give a sista some advice because I am ready to choke the BT Pup. I know you're out there. Come on, come out from the shadows and save me. Or you'll be reading about how a young mother poured cement on her puppy's paws, wrapped him in a rug and sent him to sleep with the fishes. I'm italian, I'll do it.

Don't make Fa grow up with her mother incarcerated for puppy murder. Have a heart. If not the puppy, save the girl. Any advice can be posted as a comment. Please, please for the love of God please. Give a gal some advice. Please.

I Got Tipsy Last Night

Whee!
Big Daddy cooked (yup that's right ladies and gentlemen eat your hearts out, my hubby cooks!) a fantastic BBQ and we drank a bottle of white wine. I haven't done that in ages. We used to drink a bottle of wine a night. Red, white, you name it we drank it. I think we tried to relive our Vineyard theme wedding often...Then, I became a mom and drinking wine at dinner when your itty bitty baby might need you in the wee hours of the night became somewhat stupid. Especially since I can't get up at 2am when I'm sober let alone tipped. But now, Fa sleeps all night long and I think I am ready to uncork the yum yums again! Wow. I really missed it. I missed the flavors and the aromas and the sleepy feeling you get when you are done eating. Like you wanna crawl up on the couch and lick your paws until bed time...it just made the dinner so much more delicious and we laughed and watched Fa run around the table with R. It was kinda like a real family.

Tonight, we will uncork a white again. I am looking forward to it. Sometimes you just hafta go back a little to move forward, ya know. Family dinners have been non-existent here for a while (with trying to keep the old house clean for showings and trying to keep the new house clean until we unpack everything) and I think they are coming back again...Yippee...

Maybe I'll finish unpacking one day this year. Until then, pass me the wine.

Winter isn't here yet?

It was about 1,000 degrees yesterday. I know, I know when it's winter, I can't stop complaining!! When it's summer, I can't stop complaining...Just shut up and listen to me anyway.

I was looking through old pictures in my album and I came across this one. It just makes me smile. It was Fa's first real adventure in the snow. The first time she could be out there and really enjoying it. I snapped this picture of her 'helping' daddy shovel the snow. I love the way she's pushing the shovel and he's standing there watching. Look at how little she looks.

Anyway, I hope this picture cools ya off for a little while. It made me feel better. I am NOT looking forward to all the snow again. I happen to enjoy summer very much. But since I have "mommy belly" and the bikini is out, it makes it a little harder to tolerate. I used to wear a bikini top almost everywhere...Not anymore thank you very much. Now I sweat just a little more in my tanktop, capris and padded bra. Yay mommyhood!

1 Laptop + 1 Laptop = 0 Sex

Hubby and I are sitting on the couch; like two people on the LIRR. We both have our laptops on and we are looking up totally different things on the internet. It's Saturday night. What we really should be doing is cuddling, kissing or talking to each other. Don't get me wrong. We acknowledge each other. We just laughed that we are both quite pathetic staring blankly at our laptops. It's funny actually. But that's why I love him so much. We can be together but not be together all in the same room. And I appreciate that. He is my best friend and I love having him next to me even if we aren't talking. Sometimes just the company is just enough. It's nights like tonight that I truly know we are meant to be together. We are enjoying each other's company, silently. And I can see us doing this until we're old and gray. And I love that. It makes me smile and I think I'll kiss my husband right now. Just to let him know I think he's the cat's meow. And besides, Aunt Flo is here anyway so the sex thing wouldn't happen anyway.

Scatologist to the Stars

That is me!

Just ask. I know all about the doodie-goings-on in this house more than anyone else on earth. I guess you could say, I'm totally full of shit. Because I am. I feel like I'm covered in the stuff from head to toe. It's nauseating. I have it stuck in my nostrils and I think I see it laying around when it really isn't there. It's like a horror movie. Haunted Shit. Children of the Shit. The Shitville Horror, I see shit people!!!!

OK. Now if you want your shit analyzed just let me know. I can tell you when the best times for you to go are, and could tell you what you ate just by a single glance.

Farfallina:

• Goes once a day (usually in the morning)
• She's constipated unless she eats whole grains and fruits
• She has IBS
• She loves fruit but doesn't eat many veggies
• Hides behind the loveseat when she hasta go and tells me to go in the kitchen
  
• When she eats blueberries her poop is blue, but frequent
• Loves Farting like her mom
  
• Still would prefer her Pull Up to the potty

RT:

• Poops 3-5 times a day - definitely morning, noon and night but also after nap and play time
• Eats 3 times a day
• Farts like a Champ
• Still has some sort of parasite in his poop that he's being treated for (YUM!)
• His ass bulges out when he hasta go and he squats in a circle
  
• Only eats puppy food
• Comes out like Carvel Soft Serve
• Stinks

Want your Shit analyzed call me...I'll do it. I'm good at it. Tom Cruise, eat shit.

We Have Poopie!

Fa POOPIED ON THE POTTY!!!!!!!

I am so frickin' excited I could spit....

I promised her we'd go and buy some more Backyardigans books...(her faves) and we'd celebrate when Daddy gets home!!!!

This R is turning out to be quite valuable. Right before she went, I asked her when she was gonna poopy in the right spot like R and she said; "Right now!" SO, we ran to the pot and she sat and shat!!! I am filled with elation and fear. I scratched her behind her ears when she was finished I was so excited (and confused...thought she was R there for a sec.)... She has jumped over a major milestone today and she knew exactly what she was about to do. She was happy and proud and we even called Daddy to tell him. She told him, not me. She is getting so big. I know this is only the beginning and it may not happen again for a while, but a Mom can dream can't she???

Happy, happy, joy, joy! The good times are a- comin'! I can feel it. See, I know deep down that if I expect too much, I will be let down. But the joy of seeing my girl act like such a biggun and be so mature and proud really makes me tear up.

I am very proud!

Wee Wee Pads and Toilets and Pull Ups, Oh My!

That is what my life revolves around these days. I feel like I'm walking down the Yellow Doodie Road with The Tin Poop, The Scare Toilet, The Cowardly Fa and Tarto the dawg...Except I'm not as pretty as Dorothy...I'm looking more like The Wicked Witch of the West.

And I'm feeling like her too. I want to click my ruby slippers together and keep repeating..."There's no place like home!" However, instead of ruby slippers I have doody covered flip flops and 'home' smells like a toilet so I think I'd be better off in the Men's Bathroom in Penn Station...There's no place like the toilet....

Emerald City is by far, the longest way away from here...that's for sure.

Fa is still in a pull up. I can't get her to even look at a potty, let alone sit on one. I am running from one doodie filled pull up to a doodie covered wee wee pad...(If I'm lucky) Usually, he hits the pad. But when he's bored and rips up the pad from the 'pad protector' that it's supposedly locked into...he shits and pisses on my slate floor. Gotta love it. Advice: Don't buy the pad protector. It sucks. It doesn't hold anything in place and he shits and pisses all over it..including the ring that holds the friggin' pad into place...Nothing like fingers covered in doodie. Yum. Finger Lickin' Good.

To top it all off. Fa broke her crib. She uses it like a trampoline in the summer olympics. She is fantastic at 'high jump' and ' front tumbles'. She loves to hold the railing and see how high she can go. Gold medal trampoline. One day she's gonna find herself on the other side of the railing. She's gonna flip right outta there. Head first. So, we are talking up the 'Big Girl Bed' issue. She seems quite enamored by the thought of sleeping in a bed like Mommy & Daddy. However, I can see it now. Girl twister doesn't sleep in one spot either. She sleeps like her Dad. Tossing and turning and ruffling up the covers and sheets. This should be another adventure in itself. I can't wait. She wakes up in a different position every morning. How is she gonna keep her head 'sneepy' on her 'pinnow' every night? (That's how she says sleepy and pillow, by the way)

She is the full length of her crib right now. Head to toe; headboard to footboard. Pretty soon her stinks are gonna be sticking out of the crib footboard just like her daddy-long-legs. His feet haven't slept in a bed in 25 years. They always hang off. The poor things.

So much fun, this life is. "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore"....

This is how you act????

BTW...I am very upset that I have not been mentioned on your blog, I better see my name in "lights" soon....and it better not be anything bad or I will come to NY and cut you!!!!!!....see, that is how you confront someone....haha. Love ya
...So this is how real New Yorkers act.

My friend Z, sent me an e-mail voicing her opinions of me....(and the fact that she hasn't been mentioned here yet)...I may just tell her that she knows I love her and that I miss her terribly. Maybe I'll say that the fact that she moved so far away from me is not my fault and she needs to come stay with me when she does get to NY to 'cut' me.

No really, She is my friend.

Let's see...What story(ies) should I mention about Z? God there's so many. How 'bout the time she had a colonoscopy and showed the picture of it to total strangers, saying, "Isn't it pretty?" Her mother says it's in a photo album in the garage (filed under 'Grand Canyon')!

What about all the pot we smoked and the bug that we killed, and his voice saying. "But I love you!!!"

"Or when I close my eye, all of them close"....

Or the times we hung out at Gallagers Strip club.

Or the "Double Dates" she forced me to go on...and then didn't force me to go on.

Or the times when we'd go to the beach every single sunny day of the summer and that time at the beach when we started talking to those two cute guys behind us and forgot to flip over... and we got sun poisoned on one side only. Remember eating at Pizzaria Unos that day and freezing under the Air Conditioner. Then me singing to forget the pain...Oooh it was bad.

How 'bout the first time we met...Thanksgiving. And you thought I'd look like a""metalhead"... however that looks...and were surprised that I was 'normal' (little did you know then)...I thought you'd look like a Guidette...and you did. High curly hair, guido boyfriend and all...

Whattabout setting each other up with different guys...Yikes...I won't name any names....

How 'bout when you worked the Mall and we'd go to community college together....Remember meeting E....and scaring him in the Quad...but becoming really great friends with him too...And the cafeteria...did we ever go to class?

Jeez...I could go on forever...

Can't wait to see you next week...

Love you

Mytralvalve Prolapse....

So now this is what I have...UGH....I'm so confused!!!!

Went to the new cardiologist yesterday. Dr. G was wonderul. Funny and sweet and very nice to me. He told me that the jerkoff who I was seeing first was the #1 Cardiologist in NY. I told him, I don't give a shit his staff sucks. I'm here because someone recommends him and I trust that someone.

He says he hears a 'click' not a 'rub'. The 'click' is the extra beat in my heart..The cause for the palpitations, I guess...I am going for an echocardiogram in a few weeks. I hope they find nothing. But then again, I hope they can tell me why I still have chest pains, shortness of breath, heavyness in my chest and palpitations. I am truly a mess. And if indeed it is Mytralvalve Prolapse, if I have a murmor, the only way it effects me is I'll hafta take antiboitics when I get dental work. He made it sound so simple, but I truly believe there is a scarier reason for the antibiotics during dental work! I'm not happy about that!

He also said, he doesn't hear the 'friction rub' that is Pericarditis...It could have gone away or never existed at all. And he can't believe that the other jerkoff didn't perform an echo himself...So much for being the #1 cardiologist in NY. Apparently 97% of the people with Percarditis have it go away on their own. 2% take Advil and 1% need steroids...Great. Leave it to me to be difficult without even knowing it.

I dunno. I'm gonna hafta stop drinking so much coffee...I don't know if I can do that! It's torturous to try to stop IV'ing caffeine....Whattm I gonna do? I'm already panicking!

Who's the Best Pet Yet?

RT! That's who!

I promise, this won't become and RT Blog! And Fa has not become second class. But we have been consumed by RT and his bowels for the past few days and whoah Nellie, is he the bestest boy ever!

This morning, I woke up to find he peed in his box with the weewee pad in it. So I hugged him, walked him (no success) and took a shower. After I came down, I saw he pooped in the weewee box! Bravo RT!!!

I fed him and finished getting dressed. I walked him and BINGO! POOP in his potty place outside! Do I have a Supergenious (meep meep) dawg or what? I have the best pet yet!

Fa is still snoozing, so that's one down and one to go. See, it's all in the wrist, uh, I mean scheduling! Everybody needs a schedule....I am the QUEEN of overobsessing about scheduling! I can't function unless I have a schedule. I think this makes for well behaved puppies and children (maybe?)!!!

Maybe I'll start a puppy business...Nah, maybe not, too much work. Maybe I'll start a childcare business...Nah, too much involved. Maybe I'll just worry about my own two children for a while and take it from there. They are my first priority.

More Pictures of R

Maybe he really is happy here...
He looks content!

RT the Wonder Pup

How could you get mad at this face?















Is this a good boy or what?

The First Night

RT... Pooped all over the floor....Outside the crate. We are taking the advice of a few experienced dawg owners and combining all the smart advice together. We let him sleep in his crate, opened. (We think he's used to that) so he pooped on the floor. Ooops. At least it wasn't all over his bedding!

I took him out first thing...Nothing.

I took a shower and fed him. Then I took him out 2 more times after he ate. The first time, Nada. The second time, BINGO! Poop in the grass. I praised him and played with him for a while. Then I put him in his area so I could get my other puppy, Fa, out of her crate.

Now, both puppies had breakfast and only the four legged one pooped in the right spot.

The plumber's here. Again. Seems that this time he's gonna get some work done. I hope.

This day is getting busy. I am getting overwhelmed...

Oh that's right! It's Big Daddy's birthday today too.

Happy Birthday Big Daddy

I love you. I hope you know that this is my favorite day of the year. I love to celebrate YOU!
Your birthday is a day to tell you what a great husband and daddy you are. (I know we don't say it often). Also, to show you how happy we are to be your wife and daughter (and puppy).

You are a very special man and Fa and RT and I are very lucky to have you in our lives.

Happy Birthday my love and celebrate with the knowledge that you are loved.

7 Hours and Counting!

RT has been home for 7 hours.

He has pooped in his bedding twice already and peed on the floor at least three times...right next to the wee wee pads.

This is really fun. I am having a ball.

I can't wait to see what happens when we all go to sleep and leave him in his crate all night with his baby bladder and colon. He seems to love dancing in his poop. It must make him happy and feel comfortable because he does it often.

All My Children!

RT is home.

R.T. (Italian name unidentified here)...Fitting, since the World Cup Finals are on and Italy is playing. Big Daddy's Motherland! He is very excited, more for 'football' than RT, I assure you.

Mommy and baby are doing fine. Fa is a wonderful big sister, she helped to set up his crate and helps walk him, everyone is napping right now except for mommy. Figures. Fa was so excited to see him again. She has been such a patient girl with this new addition. I think we are gonna grow up fine together. RT seems like a wonderful man and a very smart guy too.

I love him. He's sleeping in his crate right now. He slept on the way home too in the box in the car. We stopped to see his cousins A and G and he never even flinched. He had a blast! He did keep bopping his head on their mirror and cry though. I think he thought the reflection was his long-lost brother.

He hasn't peepeed or pooped yet, but I keep hearing how crate training is the way to go!!!! Maybe I should put Fa in a crate too. Now I have two babies to potty train...Fantastic!

We're off to go get RT

We are getting ready to get the new boy. I am very excited and Fa keeps saying we're getting "OOOOOOttieeeeeee Daaawg"

I'll fill in all the details later.....

Ask The Laundress

Q: What do I do if I’m invited to an intimate party by someone I’m not intimate with?

My gorgeous friend, (I love her to death) K always gets herself into these situations. Now, she has yet another stalker in her midst. She gets these mommies who call her constantly and harass her for play dates. I know, she is a beautiful woman who has a wonderful personality. She draws people to her. Everyone wants to be her friend. However, K (my very bestest buddy in the entire world) isn’t known for her returned phone calls. She sometimes takes a while to get back to you…(so do I, that’s why we understand each other so well) Sometimes other people take that as an insult or a slight against them. We just see it as, “Don’t take it personally, we’ll get to you.”

Today, she has this (her second) “Stalker Mommy”. Who calls her on every phone K owns and harasses her at Mommy & Me. Here's a good one: StalkerMom invited K to a “sex toy party”. Yup, that’s right a SEX TOY party. Picture a whole buncha mommies buying dildoes for themselves with their husband’s ‘hard’ earned money…pardon the pun. K is mortified. Mind you, K and I aren’t prudes in the slightest definition of the word. We’ve both pretty much seen all there is to see between the two of us. K even hangs out with porn stars on occasion for Christ’s sake. But the woman is mortified about being invited to this party. SO! She asked The Laundress for advice…I am honored to reply:

A: Tell the weirdo mom that: You will not attempt to justify where the gigantic purple dildo came from to your husband. You refuse to spend his cash on frivolous items such as nipple clamps and Benois beads. You adore your husband and ALL he has to offer. You don’t need substitues. You’re sorry if she feels she must ignite some lost passion into her marriage by throwing such a peculiar party. By the way, you don’t even know her well enough to share such an intimate moment as purchasing a “ball stretcher” for your husband. If you were to go and purchase some sort of sex sling, you’d do it with your best friend The Laundress and not her. Tell her to keep her edible panties to herself and to leave you out of it. And also tell her to lose your number and forget you exist.

Take my advice. Or not. It’s up to you.

Any questions about advice you want answered, please feel free to e-mail me.

Ranting and Raving and Carrying On

Fa has been up since 6am.

Apparently she has a moth in her room who seems to be invading her space. She's yelling at it. "Cut it out!", "Stop that!", "Get lost, that's not nice!" , "Get oooooooooooff theeeeeeeeee beeeeeeeeeeeed!" It seems that the moth is quite the wrabblerouser and she isn't having it.

Unfortunately, that means I am up also. Our morning routine is quite relaxing, usually. I get to shower at around 7am. Have my 2-3 cups 'o joe and blog a bit. She usually gets out of her cell about 8am. Now though, she's singing to the offending moth and I (as Fa would say, smacking the palm of her hand with the back of her other hand) "Gotta get mo-ti-va-ted!" This makes me cranky and you don't wanna make me cranky. You wouldn't like me when I'm cranky. No, I haven't been cranky yet here. Those previous posts were cake...a walk in the park...Go ahead, make me cranky, I dare ya.

We are off schedule here. I hope, and pray this means early nap time. (for both of us) Lately, I have been napping when Fa naps. Like she's an infant again. Only then, I didn't nap when she napped. I cried. Jeez, I'm a big ball of mental health aren't I?

The plumber is coming today. I hope he's coming to get some work done. We are getting that reverse osmosis water purifier for the home installed. You know the one that cleans and filters the tap water so you can get rid of the Poland Spring monstrosity in your kitchen. The one that takes up space and invites your daughter to play with the spiggots that release scalding hot water. That one. Hopefully we can say sayonara to it tonight. Although, I'm so used to drinking out of a fountain, I might not be able to drink water from the tap out of self-consciousness. Are the pipes clean? Will it really filter out the impurities? Or will I be subjecting my whole family to cancerous nastiness that the tap water usually contains. Gee, another thing to obsess over. Great.

So, after much yelling, screaming and carrying on at my father and his girl yesterday, they calmly got me a cardiologist appointment for next week. Hopefully, this guy will help me and get rid of these chest pains. I haven't had the fun in the sun summer that I was planning here in the new home. I'm starting to get depressed. Hee hee...starting. You'd think I was there already wouldn't you? But I'm really not. I guess I just like to complain. Alot. Ask Husband. He'll tell you. No wait don't, he'll go on for hours about how miserable I am. Just listen to me.

Aren't I so amusing?

I'm surrounded by idiots.

Went to the heart doctor for my second EKG today. The appointment was at 9:15am. The Husband took off from work for the morning to come with me. We sat there for an hour before he went to ask what the hold up was. They didn't even realize I signed in (for a doctor that wasn't in until 3pm). Whoever made my followup appointment mistakenly scheduled me for a different doctor than who I was supposed to see. The one I was supposed to see wasn't there and the original doctor wouldn't see me. They told me to come back tomorrow.

This is many of the stupid mistakes this office has made this week. Dr. Gleckel (and his cohorts) is the worst cardiologist who doesn't care about his patients. I called him over the holiday weekend and he was curt and abrupt with me the two different times I contacted him. (Sorry, I was nervous about my heart and I interrupted your holiday) First, he said he'd call in a prescription for me without looking at my records then never called it in. (After I told him I was having chest pains and couldn't breathe) Then, he told me he couldn't do anything for me and I should go the the ER. When I told him I wouldn't go, he told me to get fit in to see him the next day, on Monday and the office was closed. Then today's stupidy just elevated my aggravation. I am so fed up with stupidity, I can't stand it.

To top it all off...I just can't run to a doctor when I feel like it with Fa around. She was patient today in the waiting room but I had Husband with me. I just can't (or won't) drag her back and forth. It's too much. I can't handle it. I'm sorry, I'm not the super mom I thought I was and I don't feel well. I refuse to lug her all over the place to see doctors...It just stresses me more...Good for the heart right? Ask me if I've followed my general doctor's orders of taking it easy. Go ahead, fucking ask me. I dare you. I'll rip your fucking head off.

I'm so pissed fucking off.

Happy 4th of July

So. Fa's betta fish croaked. Almost croaked. Who am I kidding, he croaked. He was lying on his side for a few weeks, flailing for air once in a while and gasping for his last breath at the top of the tank every so often. I had to break down and send him to "Flushing". I felt bad sending him swishing while he was still gasping, but I didn't know what else to do. I somehow felt a sigh of relief today because he was suffering. At least he seemed like he was suffering. How much do fish actually suffer? Really? I couldn't very well fix him and I was NOT about to bring him to the emergency vet. Especially during a holiday weekend...(I couldn't even find my heart doctor this weekend, I wasn't about to search for a fish doctor)...C'mon, how far do I hafta go here? So, I flushed him. Yup, I killed the fish. I am a pet fish murderer. He is finding Nemo in the deep sewers of Long Island. I feel bad. Kinda.

Anyhoo. I've been sitting here trying not to let Fa realize he's no longer in his tank. "Breath of life ceased to exist." This is a nice tank mind you. A tank with a filter, light and even a gargoyle as company. Bettas live in stagnant, shallow, murky water so this was like "Betta Mansion North" here. She walked passed him a few times and never noticed. Luckily, we went to E's house to celebrate the 4th. So, she was preoccupied all day. We get home from the BBQ (Thanks J for cooking, you make a mean turkey burger). And I am starting to feel even more guilt-ridden about Chloe and his situation. Yes, the male fish's name was Chloe..Don't rub it in, I'm sure he's not all that thrilled with his outcome as it is. Except, Fa has trouble with her "L's" so she calls him "Canoey".

In the depths of my guilt, I call Petland Discounts and they are open 'till 6pm. I run there. Faster than if you lit a firecracker in my butt. (Hey, don't get any ideas). I buy an identical fish...."Chloe 2" and I set up a smaller tank. Without the whole rigamorole of the set up like before...Apparently, the large set up was too much and he wasn't happy there. I find that hard to believe, but that's what that guy in Petland says. It's a small home (I'll just tell Fa that since we moved into a new home, Chloe wanted one too). And it looks like things will go smoothly. But then again, does it ever go smoothly?

Fa is still napping. She had a very busy day with E and some other friends. They played in the kiddie pool and created masterpieces on the concrete with sidewalk chalk. It was a very relaxing and fun BBQ. That J & K really put together a nice feast. And it came in handy as distraction to the dying betta. When she wakes up, I'll bring Chloe2 to her room and tell her he wants to live with her in her room from now on. I'll do the whole dog and pony show about his new digs and hopefully she won't catch on. Damnit, she's really smart. I hope she doesn't call my bluff.

I always feel better after a good 'ol shopping spree!

Hubby took Fa to his parent's house to swim in their pool and I'm all alone..in a good way. I thought I wouldn't know what to do with myself, but I figured it out, fast!

So, I went shopping. For nothing in particular. Wait, I lie. I really wanted these, so I went out to go get em! I was very happy they had my size and I didn't have to waste a trip to the shopping center. So that put me in an even better mood. I decided to look for clothes for Fa. (Because she's so deprived of everything, she really needs more summer clothes)

Then, I realized I had a gift certificate to Children's Place from Fa's birthday in December. I found some really cute summer styles on sale...A treat in itself because I NEVER find a sale item. Then, you're not gonna believe this; I had another gift certificate to Macy's from Christmas from Dad for makeup. I spent it all on Clinique and Benefit...I bought: This, and this (because I need some "plumping up") and this because I need to hide the suitcases under my eyes. I bought this in green and some of this in true Kakhi to try to make my "brown eyes green" and this because I needed it and the sales lady told me it was the best. I was so frickin' happy with all my purchases. It really put me in a great mood. See, all I really need in life is Fa and Hubby, some time to myself, a blog and some gift certificates! I don't ask for much. Really. I don't.

Score Another Hat Trick for This Girl

Well my “Hat Trick” is over for another year. Thank Christ, until next year, all fucking over again.

My Hat Trick returns like clockwork every year, without fail. I can always depend on it; like when Gretzky used to perform those amazing hat tricks regularly in a game... Yeah, well just not as graceful. Even if I think I may have forgotten it, it rears its ugly head when I least expect it. And I have nothing to do but live it out all over again. Year after year I guess, until Fa has her own “Hat Trick” of some sort.

It starts around the first week of April, when I stumble upon something to remind me that the 30^th of that month is my mom’s birthday. This year she would have been 65. The feeling begins like a sick stomach ache. It lasts for a few days and then I realize that it’s not really a stomach ache, it’s just April. I spend the rest of the month denying that it’s that time of year again and that feeling lasts until May. Mother’s Day.

I always seem to cry on Mother’s Day. I can’t help it. I just can’t enjoy it like I deserve to. I am too empty to be able to sit back and relax with my own daughter…the thoughts just keep making their way into my dizzy head. How many Mother’s Days do we have together really, before Fa is suffering the way I am now? This usually ends a few days after the actual day, once I have accepted the fact that I got through it without much incident. (Crying is the least of the many symptoms of the dreaded “Hat Trick”)

Then June sneaks up on me. I am always so happy for summer to come and the heavy coats to be put away for the season. Then before I can say “ice cream anyone?”, the 25^th rolls around. That’s the anniversary of her death. It always seems like I’m the only one who remembers because no one discusses it ever. It’s like some sort of taboo topic that if you bring up, you’ll be cursed into hell for eternity. However, if only they would acknowledge it, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to take. What’s so hard about saying; “You know what today is right? Damnit, I miss her so terribly.”

But I know. They haven’t forgotten, she was too amazingly wonderful to have anyone forget her. The day comes and goes and not a peep is uttered by anyone. Usually, I can depend on my Aunt to remember some hysterically funny thing that she might have said, cursed or done. That helps and I appreciate the effort to reminisce about happy times. But that’s the extent of it. The cemetery is bare. The area where she is seems cold and untouched. Every year when I go to see her, it feels like I was the last one there, from last year. Then, like a whip, June is over and my Hat Trick is too.

By this time Big D is about ready to slap me. I am so bitchy and annoyed by everything. I am very difficult to be around. I just wanna be left alone, but then I feel too lonely to carry out my own wishes. I cry at the drop of a hat and at pretty much anything Fa does. She just tears at my heartstrings on a daily basis anyway. When I start to feel like I’m losing her by every aging second, damn, I’m a mess. It so difficult to enjoy my life with her when I know the ending result won’t be a happy one for her. In the end, I’ll be gone and she’ll be left to fend for herself. That just doesn’t seem fair to me. Does it to you?

I guess I am satisfied that I made it through another year. A sigh of relief exits my entire body and soul. But shit man. I have been living this Hat Trick for 17 years now and it never gets any fucking easier! Especially since Fa came around; she has magnified the whole experience 10 fold. Every move we make as mother and daughter scratches deep into my core and I ache for my own mother, terribly. It is never easy even to get through a regular day. It just pelts away at my heart knowing that I don’t have my own mother there to ask questions, to bitch and complain to, to laugh with, to hug. There are times when I want to yell; “I want my mommy!!!” But no one hears me. Maybe my mother does, but I'll never know it for sure.

Oh damnit, It's July 2nd already! How did that happen? All I know is that it’s over. For now. See you next year.

Ballet Moves Fa Knows by Heart:

In my previous life, I was a dancer. I was a great dance teacher and a very good dancer, if I do say so myself.

In my dreams, Fa will take over in the arena of dance and I will live vicariously through her. (healthy, I know)

So I have started her early. (Miss Sharon would be proud!)

She is now well versed in many ballet postions and tap moves.

Ask her and she'll place her body into quite a few forms and "graceful" movements:
-plie
-releve
-arabesque
-tendu
-pirouhette (twirl on one leg)
-chasee (galloping)
-passe
-fairy runs (running with her hands behind her back, like a fairy would)
-echape (jumping with her legs in and out)
-shuffle and shuffle step (tapping)

This is just the beginning. I can't wait for her to be in therapy because I forced her into a life she never wanted. That should be fun...But in the meantime, I'll indulge in my dreams of having a prima ballerina as a daughter.

*End note: Fa could grow up to be anything she dreams. I'll love her unconditionally forever. But damn it is she cute when she shows off her moves!

Happy Mother's Day to Me!

I just came back from "cashing in" my Mother's Day gift from Fa and my man. It was a gift certificate for a spa treatment at Estee Lauder. Sea salt body scrub, 30 minute massage and a foot treatment BABY! You know you wish you were me right about now...

Anyway, the whole experience was exceptional! I was rubbed down from head to toe in a salt and sugar body scrub. (Yes, I was nekkid and a little uncomfortable) Then, I was "hosed" off in a soothing shower to return to another 30 minute massage. I was melting into the table and all thoughts of exposed, "jelly-belly" diminished by that point. After my massage, she scrubbed my achin' tootsies and put them in warm booties for another 10 minutes....This is the life!! My skin is so soft right now, it's a shame to have to wear clothing. But I don't wanna scare innocent bystanders by struttin' my nudie stuff throughout the neighborhood.

I am so relaxed, you're gonna hafta scrape my sleepy self off the couch. That's where I am and that is where I intend to keep my spa-treated ass until FA wakes up from her nap. Usually, she takes a 3 hour nap...today better be no different!

Thanks husband and Fa for the special treatment today. I really needed it.

I found It!

Attatched to our blanket AND my husband's leg hairs.

We woke up this morning to find it sticking onto them both.

Phew. I thought I was losing my mind! I searched for a good 10 minutes for that friggin thing. I knew he would find it for me. My hero.