if i’m going to rehab, i’m taking my friends with me

cnn.com ran a story today about why moms run the risk of becoming addicted to the internet.  according to an addiction expert,  many moms are addicted to blogs and message boards, and they use their web addiction “as a way to escape problems.”  the article also notes that these mothers point to their accumulating piles of unwashed laundry and poor hygiene as evidence of this harrowing dependency.

let me note a few things:

• this article was brought to my attention by one of my “internet friends”  
• my first reaction, albeit in jest, was “ha!  i am totally going to blog about this” and then i realized that i was probably missing the point of the article. 
• i have not showered today.  i’ve been meaning to, but i haven’t figured out a way to waterproof my laptop.
• laundry?  what laundry.  i don’t see any laundry.  let me climb up on top of this mountainous heap of dirty clothes to get a better view.   

but let me also say that i would not survive motherhood without the aid and support of my “internet friends”.  i would have gone crazy (okay, crazier) if not for the connections i made through message boards and online communities, and the girls i met online have become the most amazing group of real-life friends i’ve ever known.  call it an addiction, call it dependence, but i would be lost if not for the internet and the friends i’ve made because of it.  i may have dishes in the sink, dog hair on the floor, and laundry piled up to the rafters, but i also have an outlet for my thoughts, a means of connecting to other real-live non-toddler human beings, and the most amazing group of friends that a marginally-internet-addicted stay-at-home-mom could ever ask for.  do you think they have wi-fi in detox?

if i'm going to rehab, i'm taking my friends with me

cnn.com ran a story today about why moms run the risk of becoming addicted to the internet.  according to an addiction expert,  many moms are addicted to blogs and message boards, and they use their web addiction “as a way to escape problems.”  the article also notes that these mothers point to their accumulating piles of unwashed laundry and poor hygiene as evidence of this harrowing dependency.

let me note a few things:

• this article was brought to my attention by one of my “internet friends”  
• my first reaction, albeit in jest, was “ha!  i am totally going to blog about this” and then i realized that i was probably missing the point of the article. 
• i have not showered today.  i’ve been meaning to, but i haven’t figured out a way to waterproof my laptop.
• laundry?  what laundry.  i don’t see any laundry.  let me climb up on top of this mountainous heap of dirty clothes to get a better view.   

but let me also say that i would not survive motherhood without the aid and support of my “internet friends”.  i would have gone crazy (okay, crazier) if not for the connections i made through message boards and online communities, and the girls i met online have become the most amazing group of real-life friends i’ve ever known.  call it an addiction, call it dependence, but i would be lost if not for the internet and the friends i’ve made because of it.  i may have dishes in the sink, dog hair on the floor, and laundry piled up to the rafters, but i also have an outlet for my thoughts, a means of connecting to other real-live non-toddler human beings, and the most amazing group of friends that a marginally-internet-addicted stay-at-home-mom could ever ask for.  do you think they have wi-fi in detox?

i wish apple made toothbrushes

i could probably send a text message from my iphone while blindfolded, driving 75 miles per hour (just kidding…i don’t text and drive), while simultaneously searching googlemaps for directions and looking for a specific song on a specific playlist, but i can’t figure out how to work a damn electric toothbrush? thefuck? i got the oral-b triumph with SmartGuide because i needed a new gadget like i need another hole in my head, and also because my dentist guilted me into buying it. it’s supposed to be the most high-tech toothbrush on the planet and wirelessly monitors your brushing habits with a handy dandy LCD screen gizmo thingamajig (see, i am totally tech-savvy), but for some reason i can’t get the toothbrush to communicate with the guide. i even googled “oral-b triumph smartguide help what the fuck is wrong with my toothbrush and why did i waste money on this piece of crap” to see what i could find, and i got nothing. the LCD screen displays the time and shows a picture of the toothbrush, but it doesn’t do the 2-minute countdown like it’s supposed to or show me the little icon of a tooth being swept with a feather to indicate that i am brushing in sensitive mode as my dentist instructed me to do. i’ve tried unplugging and replugging, taking the batteries out and putting them back in (both of which are scientifically proven techniques for fixing modems, dvd players, toaster ovens, and PC load letter errors), switching brush heads, and cursing the good name of oral-b and its subsidiaries. so far nothing has worked. why is there no option-command-esc on my toothbrush?

oh, hello. what’s new with you?

so, um. yeah. i got a new toothbrush today. that was pretty exciting. and i got to nibble on the most munchable, crunchable, squishable, heaven-scented (and perhaps heaven sent?) wrinkly newborn baby goodness today. lil’ miss ivy adeline is adorable. i cursed myself for only bringing my purse with me, as i quickly realized that a messenger bag or tote would have been far more suitable for carrying out my scheme to purloin molly’s baby. purloin…that’s a nice word. much sweeter sounding than “abduct”, and less likely to carry felony charges, don’t you think? kidnapping, schmidnapping….”i was only borrowing the baby, officer. honest. she was just too cute and snuggly to put down so i had to take her home with me.” great. now i’ve gone and red-flagged myself and molly will never, ever ask me to babysit her child.

so, what else? i had a birthday. i’ve had 31 of them now, well, technically 32 if you count my actual BIRTH day. either way, i’m not 30 anymore. i’m sliding towards 40 already. i did have a little realization the other day that i am now as old as my mother was when i was born, and i was her third child. she had my brother when she was 27, my sister at 29, and me at 31. i have one baby. that is fine with me. i can’t imagine having three by this age…and back then she was considered ooooooollllllddddd for a mom. true story: my mom was considered to be “the spinster career girl” in her family because she had not yet wed or reproduced by the time she was 23. OH THE HORROR! being a liberated woman in the 70s must have been hard work when you’ve been raised on a farm to be a good quaker gal. go mom! way to get yourself all university educated and becoming a city girl and stuff before settling down to a life of cooking and cleaning, adventures in child rearing, and minivans.

and yet another new thing – gosh, i am just chock full of happenings – i dyed my hair again yesterday (yes at home, yes from a box).  if the box states “darkest black brown” on it and is called something like “sweetest cola” and your pre-dye color is light brown with brassy reddish tones….it is pretty much going to be very, very dark.  i feel quite mysterious, like i’m in disguise or something.  sadly, the disguise i would most convincingly pull off these days is that of Snow White.  i like the change, change is good, we’re full swing in the era of change now, no?  the new darker, goth-er me will just take a little getting used to, and perhaps a new choppy chop to make it look better.  i have been in desperate need of a haircut anyway.

so, at the risk of sounding completely narcissistic (oooh, i got it right on the first try.  that’s a tough one for me to spell) i’ve been having weird blog-related thoughts.  let me see if i can explain.  this is going to sound totally lame because i have a readership of, oh, about 2 people, but the whole concept of Blogging (with a big B) and exposing myself to the world suddenly started impacting me in a weird way.  not as in i was worried that i was sharing too much, or had concerns about my thoughts being part of the public world.  it was sort of the opposite.  i found myself constantly thinking “hmmm, i should blog about this.  how can i turn this into a clever post that i can share as an example to highlight my life?” and the “this” in that sentence was usually something as exhilarating as making coffee.  why on earth would i think that there are people out there who would find my morning coffee routine even remotely interesting.  and then!  it gets worse.  i started to daydream that all my actions were being “followed” by a camera crew, or that i was being interviewed by Oprah about my adventures on my new reality show….it’s going to be called “my so-called mundane, but in my head i am SPECTACULAR, life.”  tune in.  it’s going to be…..boring.  so that was just a really long way of explaining that i feel like i am living in my head too much, thinking about how i will be viewed by my imaginary “audience” and it’s starting to freak me out.  i’m sure my therapist friends (kristen, kristina, shannon…bust out those DSM-IVs and get me a diagnosis STAT!) will have a field day looking into the inner quirky workings of my neurotic mind since i’ve touched on narcissism, paranoia, delusions of grandeur, cognitive distortion, and possibly hallucinations in just one short paragraph.  (note to self: remember to take your meds, dear.  we like you better when you’re less crazy.  love, self)  oh, and after that last sentence, you can add dissociative identity disorder to the list.  

so, now that i’m all caught up, with words, anyway, i will start back into picture posting soon.  i’m changing my mindset around my goal of the 365 project and i’m making it the “as many as i can in 365 but it’s okay if i skip a few days project.”  

we’ve got house projects coming up….whoohoo hold your excitement for those before and after pics!  i’m working on setting some goals for some personal projects i’d like to tackle, so i will be updating here as i try to hold myself accountable for making changes and sticking to them.  

i’m thirty-one, time to get shit done.  i should create a masthead for that.  or maybe just a t-shirt.

oh, hello. what's new with you?

so, um. yeah. i got a new toothbrush today. that was pretty exciting. and i got to nibble on the most munchable, crunchable, squishable, heaven-scented (and perhaps heaven sent?) wrinkly newborn baby goodness today. lil’ miss ivy adeline is adorable. i cursed myself for only bringing my purse with me, as i quickly realized that a messenger bag or tote would have been far more suitable for carrying out my scheme to purloin molly’s baby. purloin…that’s a nice word. much sweeter sounding than “abduct”, and less likely to carry felony charges, don’t you think? kidnapping, schmidnapping….”i was only borrowing the baby, officer. honest. she was just too cute and snuggly to put down so i had to take her home with me.” great. now i’ve gone and red-flagged myself and molly will never, ever ask me to babysit her child.

so, what else? i had a birthday. i’ve had 31 of them now, well, technically 32 if you count my actual BIRTH day. either way, i’m not 30 anymore. i’m sliding towards 40 already. i did have a little realization the other day that i am now as old as my mother was when i was born, and i was her third child. she had my brother when she was 27, my sister at 29, and me at 31. i have one baby. that is fine with me. i can’t imagine having three by this age…and back then she was considered ooooooollllllddddd for a mom. true story: my mom was considered to be “the spinster career girl” in her family because she had not yet wed or reproduced by the time she was 23. OH THE HORROR! being a liberated woman in the 70s must have been hard work when you’ve been raised on a farm to be a good quaker gal. go mom! way to get yourself all university educated and becoming a city girl and stuff before settling down to a life of cooking and cleaning, adventures in child rearing, and minivans.

and yet another new thing – gosh, i am just chock full of happenings – i dyed my hair again yesterday (yes at home, yes from a box).  if the box states “darkest black brown” on it and is called something like “sweetest cola” and your pre-dye color is light brown with brassy reddish tones….it is pretty much going to be very, very dark.  i feel quite mysterious, like i’m in disguise or something.  sadly, the disguise i would most convincingly pull off these days is that of Snow White.  i like the change, change is good, we’re full swing in the era of change now, no?  the new darker, goth-er me will just take a little getting used to, and perhaps a new choppy chop to make it look better.  i have been in desperate need of a haircut anyway.

so, at the risk of sounding completely narcissistic (oooh, i got it right on the first try.  that’s a tough one for me to spell) i’ve been having weird blog-related thoughts.  let me see if i can explain.  this is going to sound totally lame because i have a readership of, oh, about 2 people, but the whole concept of Blogging (with a big B) and exposing myself to the world suddenly started impacting me in a weird way.  not as in i was worried that i was sharing too much, or had concerns about my thoughts being part of the public world.  it was sort of the opposite.  i found myself constantly thinking “hmmm, i should blog about this.  how can i turn this into a clever post that i can share as an example to highlight my life?” and the “this” in that sentence was usually something as exhilarating as making coffee.  why on earth would i think that there are people out there who would find my morning coffee routine even remotely interesting.  and then!  it gets worse.  i started to daydream that all my actions were being “followed” by a camera crew, or that i was being interviewed by Oprah about my adventures on my new reality show….it’s going to be called “my so-called mundane, but in my head i am SPECTACULAR, life.”  tune in.  it’s going to be…..boring.  so that was just a really long way of explaining that i feel like i am living in my head too much, thinking about how i will be viewed by my imaginary “audience” and it’s starting to freak me out.  i’m sure my therapist friends (kristen, kristina, shannon…bust out those DSM-IVs and get me a diagnosis STAT!) will have a field day looking into the inner quirky workings of my neurotic mind since i’ve touched on narcissism, paranoia, delusions of grandeur, cognitive distortion, and possibly hallucinations in just one short paragraph.  (note to self: remember to take your meds, dear.  we like you better when you’re less crazy.  love, self)  oh, and after that last sentence, you can add dissociative identity disorder to the list.  

so, now that i’m all caught up, with words, anyway, i will start back into picture posting soon.  i’m changing my mindset around my goal of the 365 project and i’m making it the “as many as i can in 365 but it’s okay if i skip a few days project.”  

we’ve got house projects coming up….whoohoo hold your excitement for those before and after pics!  i’m working on setting some goals for some personal projects i’d like to tackle, so i will be updating here as i try to hold myself accountable for making changes and sticking to them.  

i’m thirty-one, time to get shit done.  i should create a masthead for that.  or maybe just a t-shirt.

how many inappropriate google hits will i get if i talk about rectal emergencies?

it’s two o’clock in the morning and i just, heroically, i might add, performed immediate, emergent care on two out of the four assholes (literally) who  live in this house.  my baby had been struggling to sleep, and kept waking, crying.  i went in and soothed her….two minutes…up again, the crying begins again, i go in and soothe her again. i do a quick “sniff test” to make sure it’s not a diaper issue.  nothing smells afoul, so i carry on to bed… two minutes later, i’m resorted to let her cry for a while since she was so pleasant during our previous crib side visits,  and the earlier sniff test proved to be inconclusive .  

she’s still crying, and the sound is one of pain and discomfort.  my husband goes in and found her straining to have a bowel movement.  (isnt’ this exactly why you read personal blogs?  to learn all about children’s bowel movements and irregularity?)  with her diaper off i could see the problem quite clearly.  she was stopped up like a giant cork in a too-small bottle.  with a little quick thinking, mama sprang to action, armed only with q-tips and baby wipes, nary a rectal thermometer in site to help get things moving.  i got right in there, doing what ever i could to relieve my baby’s pain and discomfort.  if it required manual extraction, so be it.  i was prepared, and i got it done.  

after that crisis was averted, i was greeted by a morose dog with her tail between her legs.  this is a great indicator of when she’s done something wrong.  she has an overbearing guilt complex and a terrible poker face.  you can take one look at her and know when she’s done something naughty.  i tried to lift her tail — this was my A!HA! moment of the day and it has to do with my dog’s asshole.  terrific.  so i tried to lift her tail again and she wouldn’t allow it.  she is typically a very compliant patient when she needs her teeth cleaned, nails trimmed, medicine administered, so it was quite out of character that she would not let me see the area under her tail and around her poop chute. it was raw and blistered and excreting goo of sorts.  maybe it would have been more helpful to have had that A!HA! moment two weeks ago when my dog first starting compulsively licking her girlybits.  the fact that i’ve taken to calling her “rudy buttlicker” should have been a big red flag letting me know that something was not quite right below the belt, so to speak, if dogs were to wear belts.  anyhow, antibiotic ointment has been applied.  hopefully she’ll leave her ass-licking tongue away from it long enough for the medicine to work its magic, and she’ll be clean and smelling as fresh as a regular dog’s ass by morning. 

so after all that rectal excitement, and not in a good way, i’m off to bed.  i hope these two crazy ass kiddos sleep peacefully.

how to thwart a robbery and drive yourself insane in the process

PART ONE:

i use to have a sign on the doorbell saying “ring this doorbell and i will feed you to my rabid dog” (not really, but it did say please do not ring doorbell, no soliciting). i took it off recently to replace it and just hadn’t gotten to it yet. some jackass rang the bell this afternoon…and not just once. DINGA-DINGA-DINGA-DING. (that’s 4 rings in quick succession). and then he rang it again 4 more times before i even got downstairs to the door. HOLD YOUR FUCKING HORSES JACKASS. i thought it was maybe the UPS guy, but no. just some man asking insistently, “do you know anything about the honda next door? the motorcycle? they’re supposed to be selling it. do you know when they’ll be home?” uh, no. i barely know my neighbors’ names. i don’t know if they have a fucking honda motorcycle and i don’t fucking know if they are selling it. why the fuck would i know when they are going to be home? do i look like my neighbors’ fucking secretary? and why the fuck are you ringing MY doorbell to ask about my neighbors’ business anyway. now get off my fucking stoop before i slap you for ringing my fucking doorbell 8 times in 2 seconds….two precious seconds of my baby’s NAP TIME. jackass.

PART TWO:

great. now i’m thinking that he was some sort of criminal who was casing the joint with plans to break in and steal my christmas joy. i emailed isaac to tell him about the incident and he replied, “was he suspicious looking?” um, yeah. i think anyone and everyone who comes to my door is suspicious. i only opened the door a crack to shhhh him to get him to stop ringing the bell. i usually never answer the door when i’m home alone, but i had to do it to get him to stop ringing. now that i think about it, i’ve never seen a motorcycle in my neighbors’ garage. maybe it was a scam.

PART THREE:

i was feeling really unsettled about the guy ringing our doorbell insistently today, and then i saw on the news about a family in my town whose house was robbed (in broad daylight!) and all their christmas presents were stolen. so i called the police to give them a heads up about what happened. they officer agreed that it did sound really odd that someone would ring our bell and ask about our neighbors whereabouts, and he said that “they” ring or knock a bunch of times to try and get an answer, and if no one comes to the door “they force entry.” he asked if i got a license plate number (i didn’t), and he said that i should never open the door for anyone (duh! i feel stupid that i even opened the door but i had to get him to stop ringing) and that if anyone comes back i should call the police. isaac went to all our immediate neighbors on our little cul-de-sac and asked if anyone is selling a motorcycle. nope. so on one hand i am glad i answered the door to make my presence known and hopefully prevent anyone from breaking into my house, but on the other hand now i am freaked out that someone might try to rob my house. i need an attack dog (rudy doesn’t count) and an alarm system.

PART FOUR:

all the windows are now equipped with 2x4s in the tracks to prevent them from being opened from the outside. there is a chair propped up against our front door. the door to the garage is deadbolted. my husband has a golf club under the bed…just in case. oh, and i am paranoid.

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what part of the brain goes kaput after having a kid?  i cannot remember shit these days, but i can totally remember that i forgot something.  i was ironing earlier (say wha?  ironing?  no, not actual clothes…fabric, for quilting, because i’m crafty like that) and i had all these great thoughts and creative blog posts half composed in my mind, and i didn’t write them down because i was ironing (duh) and now i cannot recall what the heck it was i was thinking about, but i remember that i was thinking something.  

it’s like this…

brain #1: blah-de-blah-doo-be-blah

brain #2:  ooh.  that’s good!  you should totally write about that!  

brain #1: you’re right!  i am so clever! 

 

two hours later.

brain #2: hey, other brain…what was that you were thinking about earlier?  remember?  you said something clever and i was all, “hey, you should totally write about that because you are witty and wordy and smart and stuff?” 

brain #1: huh?  oh yeah.  i remember having a thought, but i have no idea what the thought was.  hey, look!  shiny things and chocolate!  zzzzzttt.  

 

so what’s worse?  not remembering anything, remembering that i forgot everything, or talking to myself as if i have two distinct and disjointed thought centers in my head?

stick in the mud

if you haven’t figured it out already, i’m not really good at the “go with the flow” style of parenting.  my baby is not on a rigid schedule but i do whatever i can to avoid wrenches being thrown in the system.  but, of course, wrenches are inevitable and i really wish that i could just chill out and remind myself that she is a baby, not a robot, and i need to adapt when our routine is slightly out of whack. come to think of it, though, a wrench would probably be a good thing if she were a robot because i could use it to more easily turn the power switch to the “off” position when i need a little peace and quiet.  

i’ve been doing this stay-at-home-mom thing for over 14 months, and i’ve gotten into a pretty good groove.  baby wakes up, baby drinks milk, baby eats breakfast and watches sesame street while mommy waits for the caffeine to kick in, baby plays, baby eats lunch, baby naps, baby plays, mommy looks at the clock wondering if it’s 6pm yet, baby eats dinner, mommy drinks wine, baby goes night-night, mommy drinks vodka, mommy goes night-night and does it all again tomorrow.  of course there are days with errands and play dates and walks to the park, but those are normal, manageable deviations and necessary distractions.  they’re part of our overall routine.  what i have a hard time with are the days when our routine is totally blown out of the water, and this is what i wish i could change.

my mom invited me to fly out to california to visit for a week.  of course she offered to pay for my plane ticket so it would be a free vacation for me and the munchkin.  she wanted to take us to the zoo, make home-cooked meals for us every night, visit with her friends, babysit my daughter so i could go for long, leisurely runs at sea-level (i live and run at 5400 feet so i always love running when i go “home” to san diego), and do the grandmotherly doting that she cannot do on the phone or over iChat.  sounds great, right?  i turned her down.  for one thing, i hate to fly.  hate, hate, hate it.  i need about three xanax and a martini just to get myself into the airport terminal, and about eighteen more pills to keep myself from totally losing my shit during the take off and landing.  (side note: this charming trait has rubbed off on my husband and now he’s nervous before flights too.  whoops!  sorry, honey.)  flying solo with a child while doped up on anxiolytics is probably ill-advised.  i have a hard enough time keeping track of my boarding pass and ID in an airport, i would probably lose my child somewhere between security and the gate.  also, i just cannot handle being away from home and away from my comfortable routine.  

i’ve started to wonder if our life of “predictable” and “safe” is going to turn my baby into a less adaptable child and a totally rigid adult.  will she become someone who likes to travel and find adventure, or will she prefer the mundane and familiar comforts of home?  will she be like me and feel panic at the mere notion of throwing caution to the wind, or will she chart her own course and go where the wind blows her?  

i keep thinking that it will get easier, that someday i will become more flexible and willing to take risks. someday i will take advantage of opportunities and venture into uncertainty.  someday i will learn that life is unpredictable and uncontrollable, and the world won’t end when things don’t go as planned.  someday i will go on vacation and i won’t worry about the devastating impact it will have on my daughter’s routine.  i just wish that “someday” was now, and that it was easier for me to adapt and sway and flow.  it’s hard to flow when you’re stuck, and right now this mud seems awfully deep and my puddle is nice and comfy.

sometimes being sucky is good

i had a dream last night that my husband had bought me a dyson vacuum cleaner.  i was sad when i woke up and realized it was just a dream, and then i was even sadder when i realized that the thought of a new vacuum gets me all hot and bothered.