Monday, December 31, 2007


On Saturday I went over to a friend's house to help her trim the hooves of her two goats. (I grew up on a goat farm. If you want stories I have dozens, all embarrassing.) I knew from previous trips that she lived near an old cemetery, one that I've been itching to photograph for over a year now. There's an old gate that makes the entrance look like a castle:

But more intriguing is the vault. You can almost see it from the road, and it's magnificent.

Walking up to the vault gave me a hollow feeling at the base of my throat; the weight of all the lives and time that have passed was palpable. I only walked through the front of the cemetery, and I could have spent hours in that tiny part.

Every time I changed position I saw another beautiful scene, another macabre sight that caught my breath. This was one of my favorite shots. I wasn't sure it was going to turn out; I was already at my car when I noticed the top headstone. It wasn't until I zoomed in with the camera that I noticed the broken marker in front of it. It's going on a card for sure.

All our fears are represented in a grave yard. There are families buried together. Children's tombstones, marking lives cut far too short. Stephen King was right when he said that there is really only one thing we are afraid of. The Dali Lama was right, too, when he said that in order to live fully we must accept this fear, and the reality of our own demise.

Walking through a place with so much history and so many stories always makes me a little contemplative. I felt the same way in this little farm town cemetery that I felt in Westminster Abbey: a mixture of awe, fear, despair and joy. Because we all end up in the same place, eventually, but parts of us linger for awhile. And if we're all headed in the same direction, then what is the point of all this violence and war? Why should we be cruel to others when we are the same at the deepest levels? Why cause others to suffer and shed tears, when we could all be making cookies?

I went home and hugged my little family. We made cookies whose heads kept falling off. We ate too much sugar, had lots of fun, and talked about learning to play the guitar together (again) this year. And while I may never be famous, and I may not be able to make a lasting mark like Gandhi or Elvis, I can enjoy the time I get to have. I can compost, I can make gifts for people I love, I can recycle and laugh and speak out and live according to my ideals. I am lucky and happy, and even though I still share that one big fear we all have, I'm living with it a little better these days. I couldn't ask for any more.

I wish you plenty, and peace, and good fortune in the coming year. Most of all, I wish you the best kind of cookies: the kind that have heads that fall off.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Gender neutral

I have lots of projects I want to get into now that the holiday insanity is over. There are bibs for impending babies, cloth napkins for our house, curtains for keep the cold out, and then there's this issue:

You need a different view to see the how bad these chair seats are:

What you see staining the chair is from a myriad of sources. All of them are directly related to a young child and food, and some sources are grosser than others. And every seat on every chair at our kitchen table is this bad. The set is at least 15 years old, and I think they've held up pretty well, actually. But the day care has taken its toll on my chair upholstery, and I've been waiting to re-cover these babies since October.

I recently received a how-to book on upholstery, and it includes a section on this type of seat. I need to pick up a couple of tools, some beer and some fabric. I've been looking for something pretty (for me) and fun (for the kids) but not really feminine (for J) to use, and my favorite so far is this pear print.

The price isn't bad (another fabric I looked at on that site was $38.00 a yard) and I think it would be a fun addition to our house. If the spouse approves I'm going to order the fabric, grab my tools and get crakin' on something I'll get to enjoy every day. (One of the best things about working at home is that you get to have the work space you love, and you can change it anytime you want.) I promise to document the process. You could use a good laugh, right?

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

"Today's the Day!"

One of my favorite quotes from the movie "The Jerk" is above. If you haven't seen the movie, please do. Anyway, Today is indeed the day. I am going to blog the hell out of this site, and I'm going to do my best to update (nearly) daily. I am also going to post pictures in all the posts I can.

Christmas at the parent's house. Note the cagey look and slight pout. Thunder before the toddler storm.

Sunday, December 23, 2007


I'm blown. We went to J's parent's house for the weekend and we're all whacked out now. Poor girl had a little fever from Friday night until this morning, and we both had a bit of a bug as well. Not to mention that going to that house near Christmas feels like having someone inject a mix of crack and Draino directly into your brain.

I forgot my camera on our trip, and didn't remember to take any shots of the stuff I made before we left, so I have no pictures of family, scenery or presents. I'm a little sad about this, but not devastated. We had a great time. There are tons of pictures of the girl and her cousin that I wish I had, but I have the memories. It seems that the ages of 2 and 4 go together very well.

You know what? We've got X-mas for two more days. I'm blown now. I'm going to go lay down for a bit.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Sneak attack

I neglect my blog. Since I have no real readers that I know of, I don't really feel all that bad about this. I had a commenter once, bet I'm guessing she left due to both the quality and frequency of the posts. (Goodbye dear made my day one day. My apologies for sucking.) But I've been so busy sewing and creating gifts fir the holidays that I haven't had time to write about doing these things. To hold you, my imaginary reader, I will give you three pictures of a scarf I made.

More to come!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

They poop too much

The cat keeps going into the child's room. Neither cat likes this small, loud person, but she likes the kitties. Oh my. They are members of the family, and they are furry. Plus, they run. And she's into that.

So to torture us for bringing this loud raving lunatic into the house, the damn cats going into her room at night and meow loudly. This might wake her up.

Sleep has been such an issue that I debated punching a cat in the face more than a few times. We have gone weeks without more than 4 hours of sleep a night. She just starting sleeping right you loud, bad smell producing fur-balls whose shit I sift out of gravel. SHUT UP. I FED YOU ALREADY.

The alternative might be that they've started to like her. That, or they're binging her offerings. Several kitty toys have appeared in her room, mysteriously, overnight.

The cats used to bring offerings to the vacuum cleaner. I'm not sure if there's a connection there or not, but I suspect it has something to do with both volume and unpredictability. Either way, they best not wake the child. Or I will unleash her upon them.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

I'm not a talented story-teller. At least, not out loud. There seems to be a block between my brain and my ability to describe what's in it. There's also a block between my mouth and brain which causes me to say things, and those things I say? They get me looks. Looks. But I lack the accurate phrase to describe these looks, so I'll use J's. I say something, usually trying to make a joke, and these people look at me like I have "lobsters coming out of my ears." This look is most often partnered with either a nod or a confused look. On a really good day I get both.

J knows exactly what I am talking about. He gets looks, too.

I have no idea what I must sound like to normal people. Let's see...Vegan liberal who is self employed, hates the workings of corporations and large companies who are buying up our lives, is a pacifist that often uses the line "punch them in the face," practices Yoga, sews and reads blogs but doesn't watch TV. I belong to a Universal Unitarian Lay-Led Fellowship, I never shop at Wal-Mart, watch horror movies and spoofs of horror and science fiction movies all the time, and I have no idea what sports teams are playing. Did I mention I read celebrity gossip? I also read science fiction, some poetry from time to time, and child development books.

In short, most of our culture considers me a freak. But I think most of the people in our culture are raving imbeciles, so I don't care. I like the smart people I find. I like people who will consider, honestly, another point of view. If we have that, we can get along. Or at least we can agree to disagree.

But now, it is the weekend, and it's too nice a night for such heady stuff. I'm going to go watch anime and have a drink. See? Horrible story teller.

Friday, November 9, 2007

It's good for you

Right now I am forcing an infant to sleep by cuddling him on my lap all snuggled up in blankets. Truly I am a cruel, cruel person. Actually, I wish to lay him down, as he is a big ass baby and bits of me are falling asleep, but he snaps awake each time I try this maneuver. It's only his third day here, so by next week I should be able to lay him down and maybe use the bathroom while he naps. I hope I hope I hope...

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

It could be a Dylan song

The times, they are a'changin.

J works in the title department of a large home building company. It's not something he particularly enjoys, but unlike his last job, which was very cool but paid horribly and had hours that were sadistic, he can now enjoy evenings and weekends. As an added bonus we can afford to pay our mortgage and eat dinner out from time to time. There is also no required beer drinking with this soul sucking corporate job, which may sound like a con instead of a pro, but try being required to not only drink but also drive from location to location four to six days a week, and add in very little sleep, and pretty soon cool job is no longer cool, local celebrity non-withstanding.

I am the champion of digression.

Anyway, the company J works for is in round four or five of layoffs, which is no surprise given the current state of the housing market. My father also works for this company, and he's not only been in the mortgage banking industry for a long time, he's also really good at his job. He said it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. (As an aside, my favorite quote is from Lily Tomlin - "It going to get much worse before it gets worse.") So we're in the same position as so many people right now...we're wondering if J is going to have a job much longer. If he loses his job it won't be because of his performance, or a mistake on his part. It will be because this company has to cut costs, and personnel are expensive. Yesterday the only competent person in a department J has to deal with often was laid off. People who are paid well, by and large, are paid well for a reason. But that also means that they are more expensive than the idiots, and tend to go first after all the really expendable people are cut.

J and I haven't really talked about what we'll do if he gets the axe. With the day care doing so well, and the fact that J loves kids and kids love him, we could change our licensing and have him join the business. It would mean some changes to our house, but we'd be together every day doing something we both love. Given the economy in general, this might be the most viable option. There's always the chance that J won't be the one to go this time.

I can't imagine working in that kind of atmosphere, however. Knowing someone has to go. And there are just enough people to do the work that needs done, so not only is someone you know fairly well going to lose their job, you're going to have to do their work, and you're already swamped.

I was in a similar position with my corporate job before I started my business, and I finally decided that the person who decided that you could operate a company with 1/6 of the original staff doing all the work, well, that person was an idiotic jackass. The human brain can only deal with so many tasks and so much information at one time. No matter what your spreadsheet and profit margin for the board says. So I left. I had a plan, I got some training, I did some research and took a huge chance, but I did it. I've never liked The Man.

But I've got to go... Perhaps I'll edit later?

Monday, November 5, 2007

Holy crap that was fast!

Last week I ordered some fabric from Sew, Mama, Sew! and hot damn, it came in the mail today! It even came with the pictured button, a little free goodie from the store. I loves me some free swag, you know. I think something as small as a button can sometimes make you feel like a special, important person. Actually, what makes me feel like a special, important person is that they got my super cool Russian doll fabric here fast. I appreciate this kind of service, and I'll order from them again.

The fabric is going to be used for the "Pleated Beauty Handbag" from "Bend The Rules Sewing." My mother in law is a nut for these little dolls, and she loves bags. Plus, she's getting her Masters (?) right now for education, which is being paid for by the school she teaches at. She works with kids with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and it's a job that is both very rewarding and very tough. It's also something this lady was meant to do, and those kids are lucky to have her. Mom in law has also had a pretty difficult couple of years, and I think this present, made just for her, will bring a smile to her face. I'll post pictures as soon as it's done!
So, that picture thing? That was way easier than I thought it would be. Shame on me for being so lazy. Then again, getting sleep on a regular basis makes one a little more motivated to do something other than grump and eat. SO! Here are some pictures I love. Just because I can!

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Hey! That was a hell of a lot easier than I expected. So this is my test...better photos coming soon! (My kid is wearing a dog costume and reading books. It's a favorite pastime.) Notice: my house has not been staged by a professional.

The night time is the right time

I am a gigantic dork.

I'm not going to pretend to be super hip, or cool, or really ahead of my time. I'm just a big geek who spent an entire eight hours yesterday without her child but with her mother, in Amish Country, on a mission to go to a fabric store run by people who speak Pennsylvania Dutch and don't wear buttons. We had a fucking FANTASTIC time, too. We visited a cheese factory where you could see the cows wandering about outside in a field, cows that were free to eat grass and lay under trees and shit in their choice of locations. It was crowded in the shop; there were at least 60 people lined up to walk slowly around the refrigerated bins and use a toothpick to sample tiny squares of cheese. There was an obviously non-Amish lady (unless there's a "You can wear tight black jeans and too much lipstick but only if you're the announcer on Saturday" rule I'm not aware of) with a pop-star type head set on who would herd you through the door.
"Shopping? To the right. Tasting? Back of the line please. Shopping only? To the right." Repeat! Again! She also had to drone on endlessly about how you "DO NOT PLACE THE TOOTHPICK IN YOUR MOUTH! USE YOUR HANDS TO REMOVE THE CHEESE FROM THE TOOTHPICK! IF YOU PUT YOUR TOOTHPICK IN YOUR MOUTH, THROW IT AWAY AND GET A NEW TOOTHPICK!" There were also signs to that effect every 3 feet. We had to shop around the slow moving, cheese-tasting herd of people. And I shit you not, there was peanut butter cheese. Who the hell thought that would be a good idea? I have a feeling it was along the lines of "How stupid to I think the English (Amish term for us worldly folks) are? I think they are so stupid they will even eat cheese mixed with peanut butter." And we do. It tastes like peanut butter fudge, but it still weirds me out. Unnatural cheese.

One of the reasons J and I became Vegan was factory farming, and the horrible way animals are treated in the industrial food producing system. Without getting preachy, we believe that all life has worth, and regardless our your carnivore/herbivore status, you should not be unnecessarily cruel to other living things. It's especially heinous if you are doing these things solely for a profit. That being said, I MISS CHEESE! It was the hardest thing for me to change about my eating habits, this cheese love o' mine. So the Amish cheese place? Heaven. The animals were treated well, no funky shit was added to them or their milk, and I get to eat the tasty, tasty results. Mmmmm...

So back to the fabric. It's awesome. My favorite fabric I found was the last yard and a half of what appears to be something like seed packet covers of flowers with 1920/1930's style illustrations of children on them. This description does the fabric no justice. Now I really need to get my ass in gear with the pictures. But there was a ton of beautiful stuff, and even though it wasn't handmade Amish fabric (as I had been lead to believe) it was still well worth the trip. Plus, I got to hang out with my mom. I would have gone just for that. See? Geek.

When we got home I finished a skirt before we ran out to meet my family for dinner. My sister is in town with her boyfriend for the weekend, and she and my parents agreed to take the child for the night so J and I could go to a Halloween party. Where everyone had to dress as their favorite video game character. (The GEEKY! The horror!) In my defense, I never really played video games. I preferred to read if I had free time. So I was the person every costume (except Tetris. I didn't live in a hole, just on a farm) had to be explained to. Our friends are nerds, too, and they went for some obscure stuff. Or maybe not, I have no idea. But Mario and Luigi weren't there, so by normal standards these characters may have been obscure. Again, I had no idea who the hell anyone else was supposed to be.

We've finally known our friends long enough that they've all become comfortable. Spending an evening with these people has become the social equivalent of putting on my favorite sweatshirt, and we had a really nice time. We stayed out until after 1 am, and I honestly don't remember the last time we were able to do that. This sleeping thing? It rocks. So does having an awesome, dork activity filled day. Now I'm going to get ready to give the service at our Unitarian Universalist Lay-led Fellowship. It's on chaos, and features "The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats. There's no hope for me, I know. Please, if you have read all this, go do something cool. Save yourself! Or you, too, will end up discussing the various advantages of a self-threading machine vs. an old reliable one; lots of fancy stitches vs. button-holer. Run away!!

Friday, October 26, 2007

Taking a chance

The sleep thing, otherwise known as "The Child Doesn't Sleep Thing" seems to be getting better. (Thank your local deity for me, will you?) The specialist's plan appears to be working, much to our surprise, and that means that both J and I are feeling much better. We're still tired, but not nearly as tired as we were the first few nights of "The Plan." I've been sewing again, and have made a smock and most of a dragon costume so far. I'll be finishing the costume tonight, and making our little Sugar a jacket this weekend. I have some really beautiful buttons and some classy black fabric, and I'm hoping to figure out how to post pictures (I've just been too tired/lazy up until now) so I can show off the results. I could also record the dismal failure, but I'm being optimistic here. Besides, the patterns are from "Bend The Rules Sewing" which I not only love, but can understand! It's so nice to find something printed that's both inspiring and do-able. Because really, my blog addiction is getting a tad out of control here.

Speaking of blogs, I took a chance and offered to do a "pay it forward" thing with another blog. I'm not sure if I qualify due to the massive amount of readers and comments I get daily, but we'll see. I'd love to be able to participate in something so positive and fun. But, well, we'll have to see. Perhaps if I can't do it this time I can next time, once I figure out how these things work.

Now, off to educate and entertain the Wee set. Have a fabulous weekend!

Monday, October 22, 2007


There are two problems with babies. The first is that they don't listen. "Go to sleep, baby!" you say. And there they are, crying and waking other people up instead of slumbering off to dreamland like a good little baby. Which leads me to the second problem with babies. They don't speak English, or any recognizable language for that matter. They just cry. Which, let's be honest here, can be a bit irritating at times. Freaking stubborn babies. Don't even get me started on how they won't use the toilet.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


I haven't felt particularly inspired lately. The desire to write, sew, play, read and basically make things, which is usually so strong, has all but left me in the past few weeks. Things are looking up, though, and tonight after the kids leave I'm going to go get some copies made. The images I'm copying are patterns from "Bend The Rules Sewing," a book that has actually inspired me to get of my hinder and make something. The projects are easy and quick, and are probably just what I need to get my ass in gear. I'm not sure what I've been waiting for, but today I feel like maybe I have just enough energy to get something done. Let's hope that energy is still around tonight.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

On the table

What I admire most about the bloggers I read is their honesty. These people lay out their lives on an autopsy table and let the rest of us look in at the blood and guts and imperfections. For most of the people I read this has changed their lives. There's Dooce, who lost her job, went into a mental institution after having a child, and now makes her living from her website. There's Rob Rummel-Hudson, who's daughter was diagnosed with an extremely rare and horrible brain disfigurement, and who has a book on it's way to bookstores based on his writing about his daughter's "monster." And there's Linda aka Sundry, who overcame alcoholism just in time to get knocked up, and writes about her changing life and imperfect mothering daily.

The other thing these people have in common is their membership in the parent club. They are all doing their best, and they all catch crap for their choices. I think that's shit, second-guessing someone's best efforts at this huge gamble of raising children. Especially when the children are smart, safe, well adjusted and loved. If it's not the way you'd do it, fine. Give some suggestions, or just shut the hell up. But no one seems to know what is right when it comes to kids and their weirdness, so there is no "right way." The kicker is that there definitely IS a wrong way. It's when you hurt your kids. Aside from that, pretty much anything goes.

When it comes to my online writing about being a parent, I am not completely honest and forthcoming, like the writers I just wrote about. They are the examples of how the internet can come back to bite you in the ass. Plus, I run a day care. So if I write about how I wanted to (hypothetically) just walk away from my life at points, or how I softly sang "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep" over and over again to my kid when she was 3 months old, well, then, who'd want to leave their kids with me? Clearly I'm unstable and can't be trusted. Except that's not true. I'm human, just like any other person who has popped out a wee one. And we're all flawed to hell in one way or another. It's when the judging happens that people forget that. People forget that they themselves spent exhausted nights crying on the floor out of desperation and despair. They forget those times because those are the Dark Times, and they hurt. But everyone has those moments. Some of us have them more than others, but we all get our share.

So if I'm a bit more honest here from now on, please remember that. Everyone needs an outlet, a place to vent what needs out to keep from blowing. I have a limited number of options in my life right now, so I've chosen this place as my pressure valve. My language has been misconstrued before and landed me with the shrinks. I've learned to be more careful with my phrasing. But for the record: I have never nor will I ever harm myself or others. I will put myself in the hospital if I ever even start to feel that way. To be honest, however, is not to be pretty. Honesty, like an autopsy, is not a pretty thing.

Caveat Emptor

Monday, October 1, 2007

Rabbit Rabbit

Right now I'm listening to thunder roll across our skies, and hoping it rains soon. It's been a hellacious morning, and an electric storm full of rumbles, rain and lightening would be a wonderful way to clear the air.

It's October, and that means one thing here in my house: Halloween. Every year we try to watch a horror movie each night in October. We've not made it through so far, but I have high hopes for this year. We kicked off our attempt this year an evening early, just because it fell on a Sunday and we could. We started with the best of the best: the original Frankenstein. This is one of my favorite movies of all time, and it was a great kick-off flick. Tonight we're going to take in Frankenstein meets Jesse James or something similar. (I'm really, really bad with remembering titles. That's J's job.) This is a bad horror movie classic, and it's almost criminal we haven't seen it before now. I'm looking forward to the badness. And the cuddled up on the couch aspect of our movie marathon...boy does having a kid mess that up for a while. On the other hand, I can't wait until she cuddled up on the couch with us, debating the finer points of any given genre film. She's so cool...

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Back to reality

I read a lot of design blogs, and I've noticed something about the design world that makes me giggle. No one lives like this. There are coffee tables with perfectly arranged objects, objects d'art, small delicate breakable things that have no place in a home where people honest to god live. Sure, it's a nice place to visit, but just try puling in one of those bathrooms after a night of too much fun. In fact, try walking through said house on said night. I bet you wake up the next morning covered in expensive shards, your $15,000 designer couch now stained with some stranger's love juice.

Give me a real house, give me design that is affordable and works with the reality of mud and dirt and clumsiness and cats. All the design website pictures have dogs in them. Little dogs. These dogs have probably never experienced the pure doggy joy of a frozen horse turd in the winter, or rolling in dead skunk. These dogs live pale imitations of real dog lives, much like their owners, who seem to never get dirty of receive piles of junk mail or, for that matter, do anything more offensive than tinkle in their ultra clean and sophisticated powder rooms.

I have witnessed pictures of houses that are decorated entirely in white. Or orange. Or any other color....what is that like when you first wake up? I can only imagine a jarring sensation. One not dissimilar to being hit in the face with a pie while a gong sounds next to your ear.

While many of the homes and apartments do look sensational, and I have been inspired to class up our humble home because of these internet gems, I really do want to see these homes in action shots. I want a photographer to sneak in on a Saturday night after a long week and catch the inhabitants wearing old, frumpy clothes, not using coasters and dealing with a toddler while fighting a cold. I want a little realism mixed in with my form and function, because while pretty, the design I see isn't reality. These pictures are the equivalent to the runway shows in Paris or Milan. I saw a picture this morning of a woman wearing a dress with dried leaves under it, which has to be really comfortable. She also had makeup that hinted at Frankenstein's Monster's Bride, except not as well done. And orange hair. This, also, is not reality, and I keep waiting for the punchline of the joke. How do these people make money? Where is there a market for dried leaf dresses? White couches? Women who break when they sneeze? Glasses that shatter when you laugh while holding them?

I want money for my insanity too.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Expanding on a Theme

The dreams continue.

Last night I was at a Drive In, and I was being pursued up the scaffolding behind the screen by an ex-boyfriend. I think I was telling him to go away.

Now, I don't have a lot of time in my life to contemplate the meanings of my dreams, so I usually just get bothered by them and then push the thoughts away. Today, however, the kids were being really good, and as I chopped cabbage and washed dishes I had some time to think.

When I wake up from the dreams of People Past, I am usually disturbed. I sometimes have a feeling of profound loss, and sometimes I feel like something important has just slipped through my fingers to shatter on the floor. You know, that gut-wrenching "shit!" feeling. I then feel guilty, because the dream was about a former lover, and I love my husband. I didn't ask to dream about other men, and I spend a lot of my time telling them to go away. I realized something today, however, that shed some light on the former flame theme. That's all I have: former flames.

I've never had a lot of girl friends, and when I did, some of them were girlfriends. I've never been particularly comfortable around other females. I find them catty, petty and devious. Guys are usually much more straightforward. At least with my guy friends I knew what they wanted and what they were thinking. And yes, I ended up sleeping with some of them. Because validation is a basic human need, and I got fucked up in the head somewhere along the way. That's life, and I wasn't a slut, just a confused kid who wanted to feel safe and loved. Digressing...

So most of the people in my dreams were my boyfriends because that's who my friends were. The reason I feel a loss is because I did lose something, and maybe I'm just realizing it. These people are exes for a reason. The loss is for who I thought they were. Why I'm still dealing with this subconsciously I don't know, but at least I know a little more about the situation. I've loved lots of people (and not in the carnal sense) and I've been hurt when things have ended. I've been extraordinarily lucky to have found a person that I believe is a soul mate, as ridiculous as that sounds when said aloud. I am thankful for my spouse daily. But to realize how much I love him, I had to break a lot of eggs, so to speak. The eggs are still in my head somewhere, causing trouble.

So we'll see what this realization does to the dream theme, and maybe my next post can be about puppies, or chapped lips, or anything the hell else.

Monday, September 17, 2007


Lately I've been dreaming about people I haven't seen in a really long time. I've dreamed about old friends and lovers, about people I used to fear or distrust and about people I barely knew. There is nothing sexual about these dreams; most of the time I'm asking the people why they are here and what the hell do they want, it's been years since I saw them last. I'm not sure what has caused this night time trip down memory lane, but I'm not a willing passenger and I want my dreams about plates full of chocolate chip cookies back.

Last night's episode was about an old friend named Eric. Like most of the dreams as of late, I have no way of finding the person I dreamed about, and I'm not sure I'd want to. I have moved on with my life, and am not the person who knew these other people. My Mom firmly believes that if you have either a really vivid dream about another person, or a series of dreams about them, then you should find that person because they need you. Dreams are very important to my family. We have stories about talking to each other, dead relatives, and other equally crazy things in our dreams. My Grandmother swears she knew I was pregnant before I told her because she dreamed about it. My Mom says the same. And yet I don't want to take a can opener to my sealed past, dredging up old times better in memory than in reality. You can't go back.

The question remains, however. Why is my subconscious pulling out these people? I feel snippets of these dreams for days afterwards, and in the end I guess I just end up feeling haunted by my mistakes and lost companions. Should I find them again? Let the sleeping dogs lie? Seek a shrink? Whatever the reason for these dreams is, I'll be happy when this phase is over.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

The Aftermath

My daughter was returned to me today. She spent last night at her grandparent's house. My parents. The ones who successfully raised me to be the adult I am. Apparently they threw all the rules out the window when I spawned, because she came home exhausted, grimy and spoiled. She had a cut on her forehead and nose, was covered in dirt and was falling over from being so tired. It seems she didn't sleep so well at Grandma's house, either. When she got home she fell over again, started crying and looked so pathetic. Soooo pathetic. Then Grandma left, The Crying began, and she fell asleep while eating lunch.

She had a blast. I'm glad she's back. She getting ibuprofen tonight before bed, because I felt the molar in there. It's the size of a Buick.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

People and places

Having been raised with goats, I am not, by nurture, a people person. And moving every few years growing up means that one place is as good to me as another, mostly. But you don't keep the house if the mortgage is too much, and you don't need to be around people that are bad for you. So even though I do get attached to things and people, I try not to keep bad habits.

There are people who are different from me. They will keep and unneeded possession or unhealthy relationship until it drags them into a stinking pit of frustration, commitment and dependency. Right now all I have to say is this: Stop it.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Little Girls

On September 10th the day care gets its first boy. Up until this point it's been Ms. Domesticrazy's Academe for Vegetarian Ladies. (I'd use my first name but it's unusual, and I want to protect the children. The CHILDREN!) At that point I will begin making more money than I did at my corporate job. At that point the majority of our income won't come from the county. At that point I'll have a family splitting daycare until they get their son in, well, not quite at that point. When he's born. But wow. I'm doing OK at this. I'm getting better. I'm having more fun, and so are the kids. So I'm back in a good place, unlike July. The July from hell. And we're thinking about spawning again.

Now I read a few blogs, and I love the stories there. The blogs I like are written by parents, but they are my kind of parents. These people have tattoos, they swear like sailors, and they fuck up like the rest of us. There is one exception to this: Bad News Hughes. Funny fucker, a great writer, and someone who strikes a chord. But for the most part, I read about people who are as clueless as I am about our children, and love them all the more for it. People with a sense of humor. People that are crazy, addicted, loving, funny and have fucked up Jerry Springer bits in their lives; intelligent people. Not all the crazy and bad luck happens to White Trash. Life craps and smiles on us all equally. But all the other insight in the world tells you if you can 1) handle, 2) want and 3) are ready for another child. I've been batting the idea back and forth for a few months now, and I think I'm getting myself ready. I'm not quite there, but it's close.

I don't know why I'm not ready yet: I love my daughter, I love kids, I want another little one and I like the act of making babies. So what the fuck? I think it's our Doo. She's awesome. She's my favorite person other than her father (I have to call tie here) and I'm afraid to hurt her. I want her to have a sister or brother. But I don't want her to feel like the second fiddle and I don't want to, let's face it, fuck her up. She's been so loving and sweet to me lately. I don't want her to ever feel like she's not my Number One Kid. We've got a fairly good thing going now, and it's nice. And then there's the "want another kid" urge. It's a boring problem to anyone that's not me, and probably wouldn't be entertaining for anyone else. But hell, it's my little shop over here. And if the things I mull over don't come out I go on decorating sprees. So I continue:

We just got through the month of hell. I guess the big monster here is that i don't ever want to go through that again. She was miserable, we were miserable. She's just getting over it. Maybe I need to as well.

Friday, August 24, 2007

I'm going to have to get really good at something

My God: I want to shave my legs.

It's been a week, maybe two, since the razor last met the hair, and although I'm not at yeti level yet, I'm not going to win any hot legs contest anytime soon. It's not that I lack a razor, or shaving cream, it's that when I have the energy I don't have the time, etc. Plus we have one of those 4' by 4' shower stall things, so shaving my legs either involves angling the shower head into a corner as best I can, pulling my leg straight up and balancing while I get into my upkeep, or I shave while having no idea what I'm doing because I can't see my leg. The shower is, in fact, so roomy that while pregnant I moved my legs and held the razor still in order to accomplish my goal. It was less like shaving my legs and more like having modern art below the waist. This shower of ours also appears to have been designed to accelerate mold growth throughout the shower. The grout, glass (?) walls, caulking; all of it needs bleached nearly daily in order to prevent massive fuzzy black growth. I could take a bath, but that involves whole heaps of time, water, and emptying the bathtub of cleaning supplies I have taken to storing in there. I no longer remember why this seemed like a good idea, but I'm sure it did at the time.

Oh, how I lust after those steam/ shower contraptions. Preferably one with smooth flagstone walls in soothing earthy colors, and a slightly rough granite-ish type floor. This shower? It contains places to sit and other places, close by, to place your leg up on, so that you can both sit and shave your legs at the same time. You can also see what you are doing. It has a place where you can stand and get a full back massage with water, and many handy jets placed around so that you can also just shower, and maybe surf while you're in there. The whole area is harbored by a half wall, so there is no shower curtain, no door, no need to worry about all the mold. It just doesn't happen in my dream shower. Take that, crappy reality shower! No funky orange/pink growing crap to wrestle with daily! HA! ha haaa ha.

This shower lives in my dream bathroom. You know, the one in my head. The walls are tiled with large natural stone; the sink is one of those cool bowl sink deals; the toilet is accompanied by a bidet, just in case you're into that kind of thing. There are towel bars that aren't on your head as you sit doing your business. The bath tub is a jacuzzi with jets. There is a large window with a great view that no one can see in. And a chocolate dispenser. And heated floors. And a massage tub and great lighting and it cleans itself and the toilet never clogs. Seriously, you should see the rest of the house.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Bad feelings and making up for it

This morning my kid woke up and stayed awake. It wasn't a horrible tiuldme for her to be up, either. It was closer to 7 than to 6, so I really can't complain. I asked her if she wanted to come lay down with Mommy in her Bed, if she could Lay Down Quietly. Of course she could. For three minutes, and then The Whinening began. It included punching me several times in the face, as well as several kicks to the face, for flavor. After the kick that made me see stars, and me trying everything I could think of to tell her NO, it is NOT OK to kick Mommy, I finally slapped her foot.

I hit my kid. It was on her foot, and it wasn't a hard slap that will cause damage, but I don't like it. I also don't like being kicked and hit all the time, and so I don't know what to do. The verbal repremand doesn't seem to be working, because she's in the play pen right now for kicking me again. Fuck this. I explained this morning that it hurt Mommy when she hits and kicks me, but this doesn't seem to be sinking in right now. Fucking two. The whining, hitting kicking testing screaming slapping telling me no, in all its glory, IT FUCKING SUCKS. I love my kid. But I can't stand this goddamn stage. At the same time, I didn't like the foot hitting. I don't want to do that. She needs to understand that she's hurting other people, but I don't want her to gain that lesson because I hurt her. So I feel like a shit, a frustrated kicked shit, and I know I'm going to spend today making sure she knows how much I love her. But I still don't know what to do about the hitting and kicking, screaming and whining.

So much of parenting is like this: you know you need to do something, but no one can tell you what will work and what won't. So now she has to say she's sorry and tell me she won't hit me or kick me in order to get out of the play pen. I want to be a good mother. I want to love this kid, give her all the best, including the best of myself. That little slap this morning? It was not my best. She's fine, but I may need a day or two to get over the sting of that slap.

Monday, August 20, 2007

I get knocked down

For the past week I have been fighting what seemed at first like an Asian Death Flu, or even a Belgian Death Flu. I'm not sure which would be worse. I woke up last Sunday with the worst sore throat I can remember having, and I rushed off to the Urgent Care to make sure it wasn't strep, Hand Foot and Mouth, or any other massively contagious illness. Because I run the Day Care I need to be more anal than most on the illness front. And because of the Day Care the Urgent Care Doc put me on antibiotics. The first script was for something I told her I was allergic to. The second script was for a new drug called Levaquin. It turns out I'm allergic to that, too. So I had a cold, maybe a sinus infection?, and a severe allergic reaction. So now I'm back on solid food, I can spend more than 1/2 an hour away from the toilet, and I can drink water and even Eat! Food! without feeling like my stomach has glass shards coated in acid splintering around in there. Joy!

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Losing my shit

Today the kids at the day care and I started the day over. Twice. Because I nearly lost my shit a few times. One kid kept breaking my shit and coloring on all sorts of crap, another one kept pretending to be stupid, and yet another kept pissing and shitting herself all over my goddamn house. And I can't even swear when this shit happens, so instead I turn sort of red, I pull out my hair, and I make everyone SIT DOWN NOW. Except the kid who's pissing on my carpet. She goes to the bathroom, where I scrub her down and sanitize everything within 50 feet.

I finally, after having what I think was a small aneurysm, made a deal with each child old enough to get the idea of a "deal." I'm never going to yell again, and if I do, I have to sit in the corner. That's my end. Their end is that they 1) have to tell me BEFORE they crap on my floor that they need to use the potty, 2) are never allowed to pretend to be stupid again, or be difficult because they don't want to answer a question, and 3) will not fight with their sister unless it about not doing something dangerous. Despite the fact that I know these expectations are unrealistic, I made these deals. I will keep my end, because I want this day care to be one where I NEVER yell. I don't like getting to that point, and the kids don't like it, either. I expect more potty accidents from this girl, I expect the other girl to keep being stubborn, and fighting? Fuck that, I'll never stop sisters from sparring. It's good for 'em, anyway. But now I can say "Remember our deal?" It might help them try a little harder, which is all I really want.

Every day I try to think of new ways to make this place a little calmer and a little more peaceful. This is difficult since I'm pretty sure the sisters (there are 3 in one family) not only rev each other up, but are made of something close to speed. I've never seen another human being literally dive as an option for picking something up before. I'm going to start doing games with the 4 year old that require her to be careful-things like walking with an egg on a spoon, etc. Because two days ago she broke my toe right after she pulled my kid down some steps and skinned her legs up a bit. That afternoon she managed to kick her sister IN THE HEAD while sitting down on the couch. The FUCK, kid? Short of a straight jacket, it's going to take some work to calm her the hell down. Her older sister is like a rubber band given life. She would belly-flop onto the sprinkler if I let her. The youngest just does what ever the hell she wants, no matter what you say. I don't know if she doesn't hear well, if she's stupid, or if she's just really stubborn. My guess is the last one. She's also the one who won't tell me if she has to pee, and I'm on a much more intimate level with her bodily functions than I'm comfortable with right now. Sheesh.

But all said and done, I don't want to change what makes these girls fundamentally what they are. I love their personalities, and I love their spunk. Even the one who breaks shit. But I need them to control themselves a little more-the older ones in particular. I don't expect perfection, just don't kick someone else in the damn head while sitting down. This is an easy thing to do. In fact, I sit down SEVERAL times a day without doing bodily damage to anyone within 20 feet of myself. Perhaps I am a miracle worker in this regard, but I really doubt it, since everyone else I know has these same skills. I think it's more of a lack of stability in home life. These girls are wonderful, and their mom is trying hard. But as resilient as kids are, they can't control very much in their world. Thus the acting out. SO! I get to read and take some classes on child development and psychology. The alternative is medicating myself so that I won't care, but I do care. I want so much for these kids, and I want to be a positive influence and a good and stable part of their lives. What to do, what to do....

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Time keeps on slippin'

I woke up this morning at 6:31 am, according to our bedroom alarm clock. Which means it was closer to 6:00 am, but that is just fucking fine with me. My child is finally sleeping again. I expect a few slips back and what-not, but Jesus Pleasus, I can actually think again. Hal-e-fuckin-luyah. And speaking of minor miracles: My day care is about to be full. Full as in I'll have 6 kids daily and one waiting in the wings, at least. I'll also have to ship my kid off to her Grandma's once a week in order to keep a neighbor baby that I've been watching since she was 3 months old. All but 2 of the kids are private pay, which means $. Actually it means $$, since county kids are $. And FULL TIME! $$$! Maybe now J won't look like someone is about to shoot his dog every time he opens the mailbox. I hope-I hate seeing him worry. Once all the kids are lined up I'll be making more than I was at my corporate job. Sweeeet.

Now a unrelated subject matter. I started down the blogging path because my friends talked me into LiveJournal. So we could keep up with what was going on with them. Great! It backfires for me, though, because they write about parties we're not invited to. Ouch. I know that there is nothing in the friend contract that states that I need to be invited to every party, but it still makes me feel ... insecure? Left out? Bad, at the very least, to know that I'm slowly fading out of all social life. Not that I ever had much of one, and not that I didn't expect some of this with a kid. But it still smarts a bit. Perhaps in the future I will have a tiny social life again, or at least be invited to events so I can turn down the invitation. Now I'm going to go role-play not being hurt next time I talk to my friend.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Bitching, whining and kvetching

I'm tired, I'm in a foul mood, and I am quickly burying these facts under a facade of happy Cap'n Kangaroo-like cheer. You know, for the kids! One of the biggest challenges right now is not being a total cunt to the kids I take care of, because I feel like a bitch on wheels. I also feel like duct taping my child into her crib with a sedative drip. For fuck's sake, shut up and sleep past 3 am. Christ.

Well! Now that the bitch, whine and kvetch fest is over, how are you? Are you well? That's nice dear. Despite everything I write here, I do have some good news-the flowers in my garden are blooming. The tomatoes are starting to turn red, the brussels sprouts are growing, the jalepenos are ripening and the broccoli is flowering. We have lady bugs, we have bees and we have butterflies. I love my job, I love my man, I love my kid and the world is a pretty place right now round these parts. So the fact that I feel like the night time is a nightmare is sure to pass. (RIGHT?) I'm slowly cleaning our master bath. I think it will take me two more nights at this pace, which is fine. As long as it gets fucking done. I found a seriously vomit-inducing black moldy funk on J's facet when I cleaned it-I was afraid. How long has he been brushing his teeth with and drinking moldy water? Gross doesn't seem to cover was all I could do not to call poison control last night. Envision the conversation, won't you? Is there any way I would have sounded like a rational, intelligent human? I couldn't get a yes to that one out of myself, so I bleach the ever-loving fuck out of the sink area. This coming from some one who tries to use baking soda and vinegar to clean everything.

Today I plan to clean out a few old candle containers (the glass the candles came in needs to be rescued and used for something else.) and using these new treasures in the bathroom. I'm thinking about a lucky bamboo "garden" on the shelf by our shower. I'm going to get rid of a lot of crap I don't use anymore tonight, so that I'll have room for this new, useful idea of mine. Ahhh, the smell of fresh oxygen. Ahhh, the feeling of getting rid of useless shit. Ahhhhhh! A Spider!

One of the reasons I'm on such a cleaning/organizing/redecorating kick right now is the spiders. We have an official ass-load of the bastards around here right now. I keep finding them everywhere. Now, being the hippie I am, I like what spiders do. I try not to kill them, and I try to leave them alone or arrange transport to a safe place whenever possible. But when they decide to throw a convention in my house? It's time to take off the gloves and turn on the vacuum. Not that our house id filthy, there are just some areas that go undisturbed for long periods of time. Which, also apparently, is the equivalent of putting out a welcome mat and a few gallons of helpless, fat bugs, to spiders anyway.

The girls are done with breakfast, so despite the fact I have acres more to say, I'm going to leave you now. But! I'll leave you with this thought...74% of all statistics are made up on the spot. Have a lovely day!

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

The Blues is not just a river in Egypt....wait, what?

The past few weeks, more or less, have been a big pile of tired and frustrated, punctuated by insanely happy and wonderful times. However, right now I feel like a large, sad black man has taken my soul hostage and is singing the blues right into my brain...and it's not really as uplifting or as fun as I had hoped. J and I have always struggled with depression, so this is nothing new. But I want to cry right now; thank the god or gods of pity that it's nap time. Part of the malaise is that I found out today that a client I really wanted went somewhere else, part of it is the sleep funk. I'm not sure what the rest is, but I'm fighting this with organization (I'm cleaning out and re-organizing closets) and with loving my family. But I pity everyone else I'm around, because my little black cloud is not fun to get near. The kids here are exempt...I'm not going to let them have a bad day just because I am. But everyone over the age of 6? Watch the fuck out.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Easily distracted

So after a long and drawn out battle, not only are all 5 children asleep, I also have had a chance to eat. (I started making my lunch after 3 today...TGIF, for fuck's sake!) I have removed all the evidence of the wreck that was our lunch today, and am hoping the girls sleep until their mom gets here, cause damn. I need a break. Which is why I'm on the internets, right? The web is full of distraction, information, email, video and porn. Yet when I sit down my brain apparently flies directly out of my ass and I can't remember what the hell I wanted to look up. The Fuck? Was it sleeping patterns for toddlers? How to install carpet? Henna designs? I really really just don't know.

Tonight J and I are going to watch "Inferno" by Dario Argento. It's the second of his Mothers series (or something) and "Suspiria" was pretty good, so what the hell? We'll have some red wine, pass the hell out before the second act, and like Suspiria, have to try at least 3 times to get through it. It's not that the movie is going to be bad or boring, it's just that lately we've become old. And parents. Of Sumara. (She doesn't sleeeeeeep....) So no matter what our lovely intentions are, it's Friday and we're beaten. We need to lie down for a bit.

Tomorrow, however, tomorrow we will stay up until midnight! (Maybe!) We have a date night, with OVERNIGHT (jesuschrist if my mother cancels the overnight part at the last minute again I'm going to beat my head against a wall until I pass out) babysitting for our Wee. It's been at least 6 months since we had an actual date, what with really sleeping in and all the good shit like that, so I booked a bed and breakfast near where we're going to be. Which is in our town. But I'm really hooked on the idea of walking around our town, seeing a movie at our independent small movie theater, having a nice dinner and a few drinks, and having nothing pressing to do. Because we want to go to this nice, small theater we didn't have a huge selection of movies to chose from. We had exactly 3. Three. Movies. One of which is an Adam Sandler dump on screen, one is a serious documentary, and one was Transformers. Well, fuck. Transformers it is, because I WILL NOT BE DEPRESSED ON DATE NIGHT. When I confirmed our reservation at the B&B this morning, the nice lady upgraded us to the larger suite because no one else was staying there this weekend. I think I might bring her some flowers. Aside from the fact that is was a damn sweet thing to do, she also made sure she had Vegan breakfast for us. I am ready fro date night. I am ready fro a date, a good night's sleep, and not going to our troubled place of worship the next morning. J might go...that's fine with me. We need to check out by noon, so as long as I can get up, shower, eat, relax and walk over to our fellowship in my own damn time, I'm good.

About the UU Fellowship we belong to: I now firmly believe that people need leaders. Committees suck elephant ass, and too much discussion KILLS US ALL. Poor J is the President right now, so he feels like he must go. I have no such compulsion. My thoughts from the outset have been that, should this "church" thing become a hindrance rather than an uplifting part of our lives, well then friends, I'm out. O. U. T. = out. On one hand I love the people...well, some of the people. Most of the people. I wish no ill on all the people...but the inability to get anything done is one that drives me batshit. So on the other hand...I'm just ready to not have to get up every damn Sunday morning.

Gotta run!

Monday, July 16, 2007

Things and people: how to punch them?

Fuck a duck-this week is starting out like a cement enema. J's car decided to shit itself at the grocery store yesterday. AAA came out to the house to jump the car today (I rescued J at the store with Wee in tow last night, but this morning the car wouldn't start again.) We also had a meeting at out Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, a lay-led joint, and people managed to fuck up the simplest of meetings. To top it off AAA can suck my proverbial dick, I'm sick to death of parents that let their 2 1/2 year old get their way by screaming everywhere but at my house, and it's only Monday.

I have the trouble trio (3 sisters I watch-big county daycare clients!) today. Their mom told me she had a court date, and originally she alluded to her divorce. Turns out it was assault and menacing. She dropped the kids off at 7 am, and was supposed to be back in a couple of hours. "Hey!" I thought, "we can go have lunch with J! We can even get the battery changed while we're out! I can run the errands I need to, and maybe even stop and get a shirt for our first date in 6 months-our date THIS SATURDAY! before my 6 pm appointment with my potential new clients." The Universe, however, decided I needed a good whack to the head with a hard plastic bat. The mother of the Trio has not shown up. She may very well be in jail...and how would I know? AAA couldn't put a new battery in the car, because of some bull-shit of other. So I'm sitting in a house with 2 toddlers with mean tempers, NOT eating Chipotle, and realizing that there's no fucking way I'm getting anything done today. Except maybe invoices, but I'll tackle that tonight. Before I have a drink, if I do have a drink tonight. I might not...we'll see how the day goes. But INVOICES! Holy Pope on a stick Batman, INVOICES are more fun than CRACK! YAY!

Please, my sarcasm, I am trying to refine it into a weapon.

There are some good points to today though: I have shaved my legs. I even remembered to shave both of them, so today is not a total loss. I think I'm going to go lay down near the nappers, and just close my eyes.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Things my profile won't tell you

  1. I loves me some chocolate.
  2. I delight in using the phrase "I loves me some..."
  3. I like D&D geeks, but would hate to play the game.
  4. I adore reading comic books, but need my husband to remember plot-points for me.
  5. I run a day care out of my home.
  6. I need more patience.
  7. I love kids, but also feel like smacking some parents in the back of the head.
  8. I have fibromyalgia and insane dreams.
  9. I don't sleep well once I do fall asleep.
  10. I have always wanted to be an artist.
  11. I love my daughter more than anyone else in the world.
  12. I live in Ohio.
  13. This is my favorite number.

There is more to me than numbered lists, and since I'm writing this post with the idea that no one but my future self will read it, here's where I'm at right now:

I'm 29, which amazes me. I love horror movies because I am terrified and confounded by the idea of death. I don't want to die. I don't want to lose the people I love. I practice yoga as often as I can, because it helps me feel better in so many ways. I have always loved my husband, and am lucky to have found someone who is not only devoted and sweet, but is also truly in love with me. I've never understood this, and so I fought him off for 10 years. But I know of no other people that care for each other as much as we do. Please don't let this sentence bite me in the ass. Also: my biggest fear is my husband dying. Enough of the sap.

I'm off to try bed again. Better writing later!

Maybe she gets it from me...

So my kid? My kid is finally asleep. Her father read her to sleep, and his book of choice was Steven King's "On Writing" which I gave him for his 30th birthday. Which was in February. At least he's finally reading it. His X-mas present from'05 is a video game he's still never played.

The pain in the ass detail about all this is that I'm sitting here wide awake at 11:10 pm. I have insomnia, have always had insomnia, and it seems to get worse when I need sleep more. This leads me to believe that my child is more like me than I am ready to handle/too cold to hold. Sorry- anytime a phrase ends in "to handle" the phrase "too cold to hold" gets in my head and has to come out. The added bitch factor is that I don't feel comfortable taking a sleeping pill with a toddler in the house. So I'm up on the night when it's my turn to sleep. Fucktard.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Light on the horizon

I talked to the pediatrician's nurse today, and it seems my spawn has Separation Anxiety. This explains a lot, and the nurse gave us a very detailed and do-able plan to fix all that we have fucked up.

Tonight we've shipped our beloved child off to her Grandma's, making her very happy. We are having a few quick, very strong drinks and going to bed.

And my boobs? My boobs are 1) no longer the size of Texas; and 2) no longer feel like a panda is jumping on them. Thank the Holies.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Out of Desperation

I could introduce myself, but that's not the real story. The real story is that I have managed to give birth to a Force, and for the last week that Force has refused to sleep during the night. She's almost two now, and this household is getting a little desperate. My husband has been debating sleeping in the car. I'm ready to down a few very strong drinks and put in some ear plugs. Please, allow me to quote my favorite line from the original Wicker Man:


Because she's not human, man. I've been dancing like a grinder monkey keeping her little ass awake for the last four days, all in the name of her sleeping at night, like we humans do. The kid has been falling asleep while walking during the day, no shit. But as soon as the dark hits, game over, man. It's like the dark gives her an evil energy. She doesn't even cry, which would wear her ass out and give us some much needed rest. Nope. She YELLS for us. She bellows out instructions in a desperate pleading drill sergeant voice. "MOMMY COME HERE! MOMMY WAKE UP! MOMMY PET ME! MOMMY COME HERE! I NEED ORA-GEL! MOMMY GET ORA-GEL!" Never mind that the kid does NOT NEED ORA-GEL! It's a ploy. But I still sit in my room, bawling like a girl stood up on Valentine's Day, and wishing I could just convince her that life would be sunshine and cherries if she would just relax and go to fucking sleep.

So this is my Desperate Attempt. I need to keep sane, and maybe sharing with the Internets will give my the outlet I so desperately need. I expect no one to read this, and should someone just happen by, well then, SEND TODDLER AMBIEN.