The Limelight

The Limelight
Originally uploaded by Wonder Mom & Princess Stinkfoot.
I loved hanging out here.

6th Avenue Billboard

6th Aven Billboard
Originally uploaded by Wonder Mom & Princess Stinkfoot.
These old billboards painted on the sides of the brick buildings are my favorites. There aren't all that many left anymore and when I see one, I get very excited.

Friday...and.

Happy Friday!
( Even though every day is like Friday for me.)

I am going to a Mom's Night Out tonight. Woohooo. Can you smell what the Margarita is cookin'?

I know. Detox. Well it's over, pretty much and I've been doing well...so I'm treating myself. I feel great and energized! So I deserve a treat. My treat: Margarita, straight up with salt.

I'm still sore from the gym, but I'm going again tomorrow. Hopefully in time, it'll get better. Figures that these past few days, 'Miss Independent' wants me to carry her every friggin' where. She has been climbing into her car seat for months...This week: "Mommy put me in the car seat please!" What the?

Anyway, Chelle tagged me (eek) and I'm not sure what to do so I'm tryin' here...

1. Morning : suck
   
2. Pets : stink
   
3. Snow : bites
   
4. Bounce : boobs
   
5. Crazy : working out
   

In other words 'TAG' now you're it...Get working on these five 'fun' words:

1. Coffee:
2. dance:
3. ass:
4. toe:
   
5. kiss:

Have a good weekend.

Journey Through Hell and Back...A Comedy.

Once upon a time when The Laundress was still “JJ”, she was thin, muscular and energetic. She taught dance every day and went to the gym/took fitness classes in the mornings before work. She was still always cranky but at least she had a 'great bod'. Today, she feels old, washed up and tired. Motherhood can really beat the shit out of you, by the way.

After months of complaining to her King about the way she felt; TL decided to get a detox done on her to make herself feel better. It worked. TL had more energy and even lost a few pounds. She is actually right back to her ‘pre-baby weight. (2 years and 8 months later)

One day recently, TL thinks this crazy thought to join the gym again. “Why not?” She says. “It can’t be all that bad, really!” Well, she was wrong. Dead wrong. Last night, TL met the ‘Scorpion Woman’, her initiation/personal trainer at the new gym. She seemed sweet enough at first. She was young, beautiful and full of life. She made small talk and got to know a little about TL’s background, smiling the entire time. (she had the devil in her eyes) 

She made sure to explain how she was certified in pre/post natal exercise and kickboxing and she knew CPR. She explained where she went to school and how she became a personal trainer. She seemed almost docile. She turned evil quickly. As soon as they hit the gym floor, she became malevolence incarnate with fire spitting out of her eyeball sockets. Fwoosh...

TL gasped and sweat and hyperventilated a bit. She tried to look for the 666 engraved in the back of Scorpion Woman’s head, but that damn woman was too swift and TL couldn’t keep up with her. TL’s arms shook and her legs trembled with every set of gajillion reps that the evil serpent lady made her do to “strengthen her core”. (yah right, sure) Scorpion Woman allowed TL to take quick water breaks to ‘rehydrate’ but she really was just taking some time out to sharpen her claws and mingle with the other gym imps that hover around to see the sacrifice taking place.

After one full, agonizing hour, TL was set free to wobble down 3 flights of stairs to her car. Yet, TL didn’t know that it would be physically impossible to steer the 80 ton piece of machinery back home. What a night!

When TL got to her safe haven swearing all the while that she will never go back to that woman ever again in her life, she realized her daughter was already in her crib for the night. Bummer. So TL did the unthinkable on a usual night. (Must’ve been those damn ‘endorphins’.) She went into Fa’s room to hug her and kiss her goodnight.

She heaved the 30 pound child out of her crib, (gotta get this gal a bed) into her still trembling arms and rocked her gently in their chair. It was heaven on earth. She understood at that moment, why she was torturing herself. (For Fa.) If TL feels good about herself, then Fa will do the same and they have a chance in this crazy world. TL must make herself feel better and enjoy this life with her child. It’s the only chance she has. 

So, TL will keep her torture session for Monday and repeat the agony once again; one more time for the love of god. Then she is on her own. She will go to her gym regularly and make herself stronger and fit. She will eat right and drink her coffee again like a normal person. She will lose her momentum but her King will keep her motivated. (After all, he paid for her membership at the gym in the first place.) She will do it. She is motivated enough. She was even able to type this morning, so she must not be that bad...gah! To top it all of, she posted her saga all over the internet…so she has to keep her word….Maybe she will live happily ever after; after all…

Funny things F did this weekend...

Well, at least I think they are funny.

• Licked my face whenever I kissed her
• Sucked her thumb and then wiped her ' thumb juice' on my arm
• Called me 'Mama'
• Sang (at the top of her lungs) songs that she made up
• Farted on us and giggled saying..."Thunderbutt!"
  
• Counted to 100
• Put the Mr. Potatohead eyes on her hands like Oobi
• Banged her head, in the car to music
• Looked at all the photo albums we have to find "Mama in the pictures"
• Drank out of a regular cup like a big girl
• Refused to eat anything unless she had the big girl cup next to her
  
• Picked out all her own outfits
• Told the dog: "I'ts okay boy, I'm here, I'm here. Don't be afraid"
• Took all of her rubber duckies to the 'doctor duck' for a check up
• Read this book to me cover to cover, word for word
• Told me to hold her hand while crossing the street
• Kept her "eye on the ball" and learned to catch
  
• Needed Daddy to read her a bedtime story every night
• Liked to dance naked in her room before the story was read
• Fought me to go to bed because she wanted to lay on the floor totally nudie
• Cuddled with her Daddy on his lap during the story
• Called out, "Mommy's turn" after Daddy read to her
• Told me "I Love you Mama" as I lay her in the crib

Can't get any better than that, can it?

The choppers are in. Finally. Sigh.

F's two year molars are almost all in. You know what that means right? Crying. Tantrums. Edgy girls. Short fuses. Fighting non stop. Yup. She's teething. There's only one more molar to finish its debut and then she's done. And you know what? I'm sad.

When F was born, I waited patiently for her first tooth. (It didn't arrive until she was 11 months old.) I waited and waited and frickin' waited and nothing. Then one day, I saw them cutting through pink, swollen gums. I cried. I was so happy but so scared that teething would be disastrous. I thought, jeez she's got a lOOOOOOOng way to go until all of her teeth are in. This is gonna suck big moose...But mostly, she was pretty good. She drooled, cried, bit on things. Then as fast as it started, she had most of her choppers. Her one year molars were terrible. They came late too. She had bad issues with those suckers.

Then we waited again. For a long. long while until this week, when we noticed the last of the Mohicans show their crowns. All this time I thought she was being a total 'ho because she was sick last week. Nope. Teeth. Those suckers are ripping through her poor little gums like gangbusters. (And they always come in late too. Bastards!)

Why am I sad, you ask? Because this is just another proof positive that my baby is growing up. No more teething, a milestone of infancy and toddlerdom. She's onto bigger and better things. All of her choppers are in now. Pretty soon, the tooth fairy will be paying us regular visits. And I will never have her slobbering and gnawing goat like on plastic toys again. It sounds nice, but I was so worried that teething was gonna be terrible that once again, I didn't get to enjoy being in the moment. I never live in the moment. Ever. It seems that I blinked and I missed teething. That is why I'm sad.

She's a big girl now and I know there is so much more to look forward to. But. But. I feel like I missed out on a lot of the other infant things that are supposed to be so cool because of that damn PPD. I hate that shit. I am resentful to it; and if I could I would kick it in the balls and call it dickface. Fucker.

I am so happy that F is growing and thriving and I know how lucky I am to be around such a wonderful little person but I'm still mad. I have the right to be don't I? I'm not mad at her, I'm mad at that fuckin' PPD kickin' my ass and taking away special moments that I'll never get back. That's why I'm mad. Damn you PPD, damn you to hell.

A Good Wife?

I got an email from my friend last night. People Puh-lease...Can you believe someone wrote this at one time in the not-so-distant past.

C'mon now. Was it ever really like that or was that just on TV?

First of all, here's a few reasons why I would never do well in the 1950's (following the order of the list in the article).

~I don't cook. I never have, I never will.
~I am always in sweats unless I'm leaving the house.
~I'm grouchy as hell. Most of the time.
~The house is filled with clutter.
~Toys are strewn everywhere, upstairs downstairs, the basement.
~We don't own a fireplace and if I did, p'shaw.
~Fa has her OWN agenda, not BD's and especially not mine. She does what she wants- doesn't matter when BD gets home.
~I AM happy to see him, but I will not dance a tango upon his entrance. Sorry.
~We listen do to each other and have the respect for each other that we each deserve.
~The evening is OURS not just his...What the hell?
~My Goal: try not to jump out a window or choke the dog.
~I am a complainer. I complain. I do. Really.
~Drink? Am I a bartender now too?
~I constantly question his judgement..As does he with my questionable behavior.
~Oh, I know my place alright...and it ain't the laundry room!

*I can't even stand that the thought is out there that women do this. I wanna scream and bang someone's head against the wall when I read this. (Preferably the author of this article)

*Whaddya think?