Belated

Yeah, I missed my post from yesterday. I suck. Well, in my defense, I did not stop moving from the time I got up at 7:30 to the time I went to bed at 1 a.m. Gym, helping to clean the garage, grocery shopping, showering and going out to dinner with the family for July birthdays kept me very busy. Then we took horrible advantage of Jake’s sister who was babysitting for us and went to see The Dark Knight. It was good, but I had a headache - don’t mix sake and martinis by the way. And I was tired. I’m probably downplaying how good the movie was. Heath Ledger was incredible. Just incredible. If I had more free time on my hands I might have to go see it again. But the next thing I see will be Mama Mia.

OK, off to run more errands. Getting ready to be gone for four days and leaving the house and our kid in the care of someone else takes a lot of planning.

tired. busy. bummed.

I wish I had something witty to write about. But I don’t. My life is occupied with stupid, annoying tasks like calling roofers and body shops and going to the dentist. Oh and dealing with getting our wills prepared.

Since we are about to go away together, we decided that it was high time we get our wills prepared just in case. It really sucks to have to think long and hard about what you want to happen to your child in the event she loses both her parents at the same time. I should not be allowed to think about these things, especially when Jake is not here to distract me because now I’m getting more nervous than ever about leaving Bridget while we go to Mexico.

Hopefully I’ll have more fun things to talk about tomorrow.

Technology is Fun

I just spent the last two hours of my birthday typing in all my addresses, phone numbers and email addresses into the Address Book application so that I could sync it to my new/old iPhone.

Fun times, fun times.

Now to decide which if any emails I want to get on the damn thing. You all know how I hate technology.

Count to Ten

I am severely lacking in patience today. Unfortunately a healthy warehouse store size portion of patience is required to parent a toddler. Or at least my toddler. I was not doing my best impression of a good mom today.

I slept like crap last night thanks to jackassery from my asshat neighbor. I don’t do well when I don’t get my sleep.

Bridget is just such a little raccoon lately. No matter what we do, she seems to have an uncanny knack for finding something she shouldn’t have, pausing just long enough to let you see that she has it, and then running off while laughing. Forget about packing the diaper bag - that’s best done when Raccoon Child is napping to avoid having the contents strewn across the house. We are having a big fight about keeping bottoms in chairs. Last night we found her standing on the kitchen table, doing her little Flashdance routine up there. We promptly put her in timeout but had to turn our backs to hide our laughter because, while horribly dangerous, it was stinkin’ cute. Today I found her crawling across the coffee table. That landed her another 90 seconds in timeout. I know she’s too young for timeout to have a lasting effect but she does seem to understand that she is being punished and it upsets her. Not that I want my child to be upset and cry but it is part of the disclipline process.

Sigh.

I hate that I spent so much time telling her no today. And it feels like I’m yelling at her, but if you don’t raise your voice with her and use a stern tone, she just laughs at you when try to discipline her. I’ve never seen a kid do that.

Sigh again.

I’m off to bed. Maybe a good night’s sleep, plus Mother’s Day Out tomorrow will restore my supply of patience.

A Big Ol’ Steamin’ Bowl of Random

I have about a thousand and one ideas for blog posts floating around in my head. However, none of them are worthy of an entire post all their own so please enjoy the bullet points while I try to cobble something together for tomorrow.

• I got my car washed today for the first time since, oh about April. Yeah, I think it was April because I did it right before my surgery, since I knew we’d be taking a road trip that weekend. I forget how pretty my car is when it’s all clean. When I left the gym today, I actually panicked for a second because I couldn’t find my car. Then I realized that I just didn’t recognize it - my car is not actually gray after all, it just looks that way when it’s dirty.
• I’m not sure if I blogged this before or if I just Twittered it but I’ve long suspected that Trainer Dave shaves his arms and legs. I did a few sly inspections for stubble and saw none and just thought, “wow maybe he’s just naturally hairless.” But no, it’s confirmed. Today there was distinct stubble on his forearms. Why, Trainer Dave, why? I get why swimmers shave their body hair, and maybe even cyclists. But the average gym rat does not need to lose the hair for speed. Ick. Then I started to wonder what his fiancee thinks about the whole thing and if they share a razor. Double ick.
• I have yet another fucking yeast infection. I’m sorry to any men out there reading this. But damn. I’m so sick of this. I know that it’s because I had to take antibiotics for the huge gaping wound from my mole removal. There are few minor feminine problems that are more awful than a yeast infection. Obviously it’s not as bad as say, cancer. But my breast surgery was far less uncomfortable than this and that came with Xanax. And apparently I am prone to them because I rarely get just one. I get them over and over and over. Then it’ll go away and I’ll go years without one at all. My doctor has told me that I need to just make douching with vinegar and water a regular part of my routine, as in, do it a couple times a week. I also read online that some women use boric acid, making capsules out of it, placing them up the va-jay-jay. I’m not sure I can put roach poison up my hoo-ha, but I’m also not ruling it out if the prescription and the vinegar don’t work.
• I have a scribbled note to myself about a blog post idea that could either be “condom” or “condiment.” Since I have no way of knowing which it is, I’ll just talk about both. Even though we are married and healthy and not trying to prevent pregnancy, we’ve been on the condom bandwagon for a while. That’s because of my above mentioned battle with Canidida albicans. In an effort to rule out the possibility of passing this back and forth to each other, we’ve decided to use condoms until I am all clear again. And it sucks. I hate them. Just to go on the record with that. I know you all wanted my opinion. Not that we are having sex while I’m in the midst of an infection because OUCH! But in between. I won’t feel good about giving them up until I have gone two straight months without any symptoms. And yes, I’ve been to the doctor for a battery of tests.  I’m not diabetic or HIV positive and this is not chlamydia or any other STD. It’s nothing other than a stubborn cooter. (How many different euphimisms for “vagina” can I use in one blog post?)
• As for condiments, I cannot be sure what I wanted to say really. I recently decided that the only use in the world for ketchup is on french fries. I refuse to eat it on anything else. I spent most of my life thinking I hated mustard, when in fact I just hate yellow mustard. I like the spicy brown kind of mustard. If you live near a Potbelly Sandwich Works, you should try theirs. YUMMY. I crave their mustard. Mayonnaise has its place in the world but to me that’s really just in salads. In general, I don’t put mayo on a sandwich with one exception - a BLT. That sucker MUST have mayo. And it must be Hellman’s (or Best Foods depending on where you live in the country). Great, now I want a BLT.  I think that Kraft mayo and Miracle Whip are disgusting and you will never ever find either in my kitchen. Relish is the spawn of the devil and I don’t understand why anyone eats it. In fact, relish is the reason I don’t eat tuna, chicken or potato salads out or at other people’s houses. Because most of the world puts relish in these things and most of the world is wrong. I only eat my mom’s potato salad recipe, which I am learning to make almost as well as she does, and nary of a speck of the evil relish can be found in it.  I am on the fence about barbecue sauce. I am not a fan of most bottled kinds but I like it at barbecue restaurants. I think I’m all out of condiments to discuss now.
• The working out is going very well. My stomach is far far flatter than it used to be, in just a little over one month’s time. But I’m not really seeing a significant drop in my weight. I know that muscle weighs more than fat and that by building muscle I will speed up my metabolism, which will make me burn more calories even at rest. But I had hoped to see a poundage drop. My current pants are too big but a size down in pants is too small. That’s annoying. However, I bought a skirt last week in a size I have not worn since we lived in New York and the size of my wedding dress. Granted, I always wear a smaller size in skirts than I do in pants, and this does not mean that I could fit into my wedding dress today, but it was a minor victory. I also know that if I really were to be motivated I’d be a calorie counter, but I just can’t do it. I’m Italian. We eat and talk with our hands. If you take food away from me, I’d lose my identity. I do try to plan my food better and make smarter choices about food and portion sizes, but no matter what Trainer Dave says, I will not be writing down my calories. I work out so that I can continue to eat most of the things I like. In moderation. I don’t do well with deprivation and I will never consider any food off limits. Except liver. That’s always off limits but more for the gag factor than anything else.

And that concludes our random bullet list for today. Tune in tomorrow when there might be a cohesive post. Or not.

I Got Nothin’

I wish I had something fun and witty to say. I’m tired, I’m stuffy and my ear makes the weirdest squeaking noise when I yawn or blow my nose. At least Bridget seems to be all back to normal.

More tomorrow. Happy Fourth of July.

The Wii Ate My Blog Post

I was all set to write a good post. Then we started playing LEGO Indiana Jones on the Wii. Now we’re hooked.

Back with more tomorrow.

When Life Hands You Lemons….

…. sell them and use the money to buy yourself a new kate spade purse!

Then later that day, have your husband send you flowers. Look how pretty they are together.

Trauma in the Doctor’s Office

Disclaimer: If you are squeamish at all, I don’t recommend you continue reading this post. If you read on, don’t say you weren’t warned.

I might have mentioned that last week I had a mole on my bikini line removed.  I’m a naturally moley person and have had several removed over the years. They are all completely benign and normal, but still, you have to get them seen to. Well, Sunday I popped a stitch on the incision. It wasn’t that big of a deal really, it bled just a tiny bit and I didn’t even call the doctor about it since it wasn’t bleeding. I just put two butterflies on it and kept on going. Yesterday late in the day, I popped another one. Well, Bridget did that. She was standing in my lap. But that one didn’t bleed at all and since they were supposed to come out today, I didn’t think twice about it.

Today I got up, got myself and Bridget up and ready for swimming, but first we had to stop at the doctor to get my stitches out. All was quick and wonderful (except for the multiple toddler tantrums - don’t get me started on that; that’s a topic for another post) until I stood up to put my pants back on. My doctor was washing his hands when it happened.

You know how sometimes your back pops and you wonder if you heard it or merely felt it happen? Well, I could almost swear that I both heard and felt the wound pop open. I looked down and was staring at flesh that should never see the light of day. I think I almost fainted - I’m not sure since I’ve never fainted but for a second, my peripheral vision went black.

Thankfully I hadn’t gotten to the car or the gym when it happened because I just hopped back up on the table, tried not to cry (because damn, I am having a shitty week) and let him stitch me up again. All the time I had to be cheery and play with Bridget. She must have sensed that Mommy’s world was about to explode because she stopped her caterwauling and looked at me with a very concerned face. We played the “where is your hair/nose/mouth” game while I got stitched up again.

The doctor isn’t quite sure why this happened except maybe for the two stitches that popped early. He apologized like it was his fault - I think it’s just a weird spot to stitch. There is hardly any way you can move and not have that skin move or pull or rub something. Granted my doctor is no surgeon and doesn’t do just a ton of stitching but I don’t think he did a bad job. Hell, at least he didn’t leave medical waste in me.

Now I have another week with stitches, which sucks doubly because I tend to have reactions to band aids on some areas of my skin and this is one of them. I need to keep it covered but that results in a very nasty skin reaction. Today at Target I bought some other brand of bandages with a different adhesive so hopefully that will help.  And on top of the pain in the ass of having stitches, swim lessons are not possible for at least another week. The class is only four weeks, we are in week 2, I have to miss week 3. That was money well spent. I’m going to call and see if I can move the classes back to August or something. Honestly I’m a bit relieved because I feel like I have too much stuff going on right now anyway. The class may only be 30 minutes long but the prep and follow up make it take much longer.

One might think then that this was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it is, perhaps I had to learn the hard way to slow down and stop trying to do so much. But next time the universe wants to tell me that, could the message come via telegram, rather than painfully splitting open a gaping wound near my va-jay-jay?

Drunkity Drunk Drunk

Had old friends over tonight. Consumed my share of two bottles of win. Oh, that was between me and one other person. OH and I’m a lightwaight. Oh and i’m not correcting my spelling istakes. sorry. Write more tomorrow with hangover.

nighty night.