Monday, July 26, 2010

'Cos I like to be helpful and crap...

I've decided to start a new feature called Mommy Means Well Monday!

From here on out, every Monday will be dedicated to giving you fine people a sage piece of wisdom. [Read: A blurb about something I think is cool, or shit that I make up through out the week.] Are you excited? I know I'm stoked!

Mommy Means Well Monday: 1st Ed.

When your little one is bored (okay, really, when Mommy is bored-let's be serious), jazz up old faves!

Here's my version of "This Little Piggy":

This Little Piggy went to Target
and this Little Piggy was broke!
This Little Piggy had Starbucks
and this little Piggy sipped a Diet Coke.
And this Little Piggy went BBM, BBM, BBM, BBM from his Blackberry Phone!

Gotta keep up with the times, you know?

***Need advice? Got a question? Think I'm nuts? Write in (via email) or leave a comment to be featured on next week's MMWM!

Friday, July 16, 2010

When Opportunity DOESN'T Knock....

You have conversations like this:

Me (to my MIL): You're totally cool if we stay until the baby starts kindergarten, right? Did I mention that you look stunning today? It's amazing that people don't mistake O for yours!

[My in-laws are awesome, but I doubt they envisioned spending their 50s surrounded by baby gates and Elmo. Who needs Carnival Cruise Lines?!]

We're on Round 3 (DING DING!) of trying to relocate to a lower-cost-of-living state {ie. ANYWHERE but SoCal}, and it looks like we're going KO'd once again (they're against the ropes! They don't gotta CHANCE!). Surprise, surprise.

As it was in the last 2 attempts, we can't find my husband work (in THIS economy, really? NOOO, really?!). Nor do we have the money that it takes to make such a big move and survive finally through the transition.

Having a child really takes the "we'll-just-live-in-the-Jetta" option off the table.

Moving somewhere cheaper is logical in theory, but in our case--our Mt. Saint Orman of debt won't get any smaller and Sallie Mae is still trying to take my son as payment (I'm fending them off with paltry hundreds, but I can't hold out forever)...even if we cross state lines, they'll find me.

"But think of how much you'll save on rent!"

Too true.
But we're not paying any right now. (Thanks, ILs!)

So why do we keep trying?

I guess it's our inner-masochists kicking us on.

Push that boulder, Prometheus! Yah!

That, and we're staring 30 dead in the face.

No one wants to be 30 and living at home.
You might be, but I guarantee, you didn't WANT to.

Isn't 30 official Grown Ass Folk, status?

.....but wait!

If 50 is the new 30, then is 30 the new 10?

If so, we're TOTALLY on track.

We obviously didn't have appropriate parental supervision, as we already have a child, but why point fingers?

[Can't watch your kids every second!]

You could say we just went "traditional" and Laura Ingalls Wilder'd it.

Yep, let's go with that.

SHHHHH. Shut your face and GO.WITH.IT.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

I could TOTALLY be the next Keyser Soze.

I often find myself considering a turn to the life of crime.

Do evil villains bitch about money?
Do they have heart palpitations while being rung up at Costco?
Do they worry about putting their minions through college?

Fuck and No, they do not.

For whatever reason, they be rollin'.

So, I sometimes contemplate switching to the Dark Side.

Besides, no one ever expects the Mommy with the limp.....

(ps. That reason? They have the EEEEBUL. Nice guys finish poor.)

Did that make you giggle a little? Maybe? Subscribe!

Thursday, July 8, 2010

When it hurts to brush your hair...

Maybe it's time to mellow out a tad.

I've been a little stressed lately.

I thought I was handling it pretty well. Sure, I stayed awake at night trying to figure out how to fix all our (and the world's) evils, but I've been doing that since I was eight, so status quo right?

This morning, as I'm getting ready for the day, I start brushing through my bird's nest, and it hurts. Not-ripping-out-the-tanglies kind of hurt, either. My scalp was sore and tender....WTF?

I have a scalp full of raw spots and scabs.

(Sexy, MMMmmhmm.)

Confused, I go about my morning by returning the health insurance guy's call.

As I listen to him tell me that because of our (but mostly MY) health history, insurance will cost us $400 a month (bestest case scenario, and not likely) to up to $700 a month (more likely scenario), if we get approved AT ALL--I begin raking my nails through my hair.

Then my hubby calls to tell me that he's sitting at work doing NOTHING because they're internet is down (they're an interwebs-based workplace), and after a rather annoying convo with their provider, they discover that the reason they have no intertoobs is because the bill hasn't been paid, and there is an outstanding balance.

As paying the bills are the higher-ups responsibility (who live out of the country and only communicate via the web, ohhh wait...), and they just recently "laid-off" the accountant, my hubs and crew can do nothing but sit there and hope one of them can eventually catch them by phone (remember that rusted-out method of communication? No?) so this situation can be remedied {read: PAID.}...

I don't know about you, but to ME, this does not bode well to the stability of my spouse's job. Which does not bode well to our ability to pay our bills. Which does not bode well for either of us maintaining sanity. Or a good credit score.

But, I did not want to have a freak-out fest, and rile up my already wound up husband (who I know is picturing us living in a cardboard box feeding O cat food or me running off with the pool boy that we don't have because at least his job is stable--renaming O "Pablo"), so I took a deep breath and told him I'm sure it was probably just an oversight.

As I hung up, I realized that my nails were entrenched in my scalp, and upon inspection, there was a tiny bit of blood under a few of my fingernails.

I honestly didn't even realize that I was doing that all the time.

Looking back, I do, but as we all know, hindsight is better than therapy-blah, blah, blah.

Maybe I shouldn't have quit biting my nails?

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Let's just call this Free Association, shall we?

Things on my mind: AKA things I-stress-about-and-drive-myself-nuts-with

Owen is 8 months and crawling. WOAH.

We still live with my in-laws. This August will be TWO years. WHAT?

We need health insurance, Like last year. Pre-existing conditions make that impossible/muy Arm and a Leggy. SUCK.

Chronic fatigue blows. You look fine, so people want you to BE fine, but you're not. REALLY.

Cerebral Palsy blows. I'm am SUPER lucky that (thru PT and massive surgery as a child)for the most part, I look fine/live normally but as previously stated, I'm not. SWEAR.

I will never drive a car. Yes, I probably could finagle my way into a Driver's License and behind the wheel, but it's not safe, so I ain't gonna, no matter how much protestation arises. EVER.

I think I'm going a little gray. I am devastated. PATHETIC.

My husband is an amazing man, and it breaks my heart to see him feel so defeated all the time. SIGH.

I'm growing super weary of always feeling "a day late and a dollar short," but I'm sooo grateful that at least it's only a dollar now. PROGRESS.

Should I feel guiltier for not going back to work? Given our financial sitch, I know people think I'm being a choosy beggar (and who likes those?), but I would be working just to pay for childcare, and I cannot fathom working just to leave O with strangers, just to come home and be too exhausted to spend any time with him. BOOO.

I want my libido to come back. I think my husband feels neglected. He used to feel a bit "overworked". TMI?

I worry that O will feel like he's missing out b/c his mommy is disabled. SOB.

Sallie Mae is well on its way to owning me for the rest of my life, for a degree I have never (in the professional sense) used. FAIL.

That degree is technically how I met my husband. An $80,000 husband. WIN? (yes.)

My new mantra (in efforts to be more positive) is: Be Positive, Be Patient, yet Be (realistically)Proactive. We'll see how it goes. SLOWLY.

Want to be a great wife, a great mother, and a great friend while still maintaining time for myself which makes me feel selfish, but hello? I know intellectually it's not, so I'm striving for that balance. POSSIBLE?

Should I be teaching O more? WE read and sing together, we listen to classical and classic punk? We talk to him and snuggle him all the time, but is that enough? Should he already be learning to read and know sign language and speak Latin, and have mastered the art of French cuisine? Have I doomed him to a life of mediocrity because he watches Sesame Street so I can fold laundry? NEUROSIS.

I could really go for some Yogurtland and a pedicure right about now. DREAMING.

Instead i have to go pick up and kiss my baby who just woke up from his nap. AWESOME!