Archive for January, 2010

correction: the amount of friggin dog hair that collects in every single corner and crevice within a 24 hour period in this apartment has blown up our vacuum. after trying to vacuum just now, i had to dig the dog hair out of the nozzle of the vacuum. like stick my fingers in the vacuum for dog hair. this was after the vacuum started emitting an odor of burnt dog hair that i ignored. so gross!

i digress…

when i went to the doctor last week, after getting my pap smeared and all that jazz, my doctor asked me when paul and i were thinking of having our next child.

first of all, why the hell can’t anyone just be content with where people are right NOW in life… when you’ve been dating for a while, people want you engaged… when you’re engaged, they’re practically pushing you down the aisle… then once you’re married, people want a honeymoon pregnancy… and once you blast out one kid, people ask you when you’ll have another.

OH, THE PRESSURE!!!

so, to answer my doctor’s question… “RIGHT THE HELL NOW.”

she laughed at me and then realized that i interpreted her “when are you AND PAUL thinking of having your next child” as “when do YOU wanna get knocked up again?”

no, i am not pregnant. yes, my IUD is still in place and fully intact.

but, i’ve got the bug. the uber-contagious super virus of a baby bug that seems to be plaguing more people than i realized, which of course doesn’t help the situation.

paul knows. and he chuckles at me. i even asked his permission before writing this post, being the ever-so-considerate wife that i am… wondering if i could ANNOUNCE TO THE INTERNETZ THAT I WANT ANOTHER BEBE!!! he still laughed. he wants more children too… eventually.

i want more NOW. i want to be pregnant again NOW. i want the preggers BELLEH again NOW. and i want the little nugglet of a new babe again NOW. i want the magoo to have a sibbling NOW.

i asked jackson if he wanted a little brother or sister. this was the response i got…

i took this to mean, “sure, why not?”

so i’m taking prenatal vitamins because it’s good for me and i like how it makes my skin flawless, my nails grow strong, and my hair shiny.

please excuse me while i go sweep up the mounds of dog hair that just exploded in my face and gag while doing so.

my parents gave us an espresso machine for christmas, which is VERY APPRECIATED as it was MUCH NEEDED in our household. the problem is that paul is classically trained in the operation of the espresso machine (because he read the manual) and i am not (because i don’t read instructions… ever.)

i just attempted to make my first mocha with a double shot of espresso. and i failed. kind of. what i am now drinking does contain chocolate syrup and two + shots of espresso because i overflowed, so i will most likely have the caffeine jitters by the time i hit “publish” on this post.

i should’ve just gotten in the car and gone to starbucks.

though i have what i would call a distinct NEED for coffee (paul would most likely call it an obsession), i am in particular NEED of caffeine to run through my veins at this distinct moment on this distinct monday for the following reasons…

- the weekend didn’t work out as we had intended. originally, paul and i were going to go away and ski for the weekend. i bailed. why? because i didn’t want to pack yet another suitcase. i’ve been living out of suitcases since november and the thought of packing another one and prepping just for a short weekend getaway gave me a panic attack and made me consider cutting my wrists (the incorrect way, don’t worry.)

- instead of going to bed early on friday night to catch up on the sleep that i have not been getting over the last 2 months, i stayed up til 1 am with my husband, drinking beer and watching conan’s last show. paul and i took a trip to nyc a few years ago and stood in line to be audience members in one of conan’s shows, but we honestly weren’t HUGE conan fans. yeah, what NBC is doing is totally dick and jay leno is a douche, but we knew that already.

- the magoo ended up spewing liquid out of both ends of his body because he was fed expired hummus (the individual who fed said expired hummus to the magoo shall remain nameless.) needless to say, this made things very NOT fun for saturday evening and into sunday. multiple loads of puke and diarrhea laundry is not my idea of a good time. in addition to the extra laundry, a horrendous diaper rash now festers on my son’s bum.

- i’ve been contacted with regards to a potentially STABLE freelancing gig as a blogger, and i’m sweating bullets over it because it could be ABSOLUTELY AWESOME. those of you who blog, freelance, or just dream of “working” while sitting on your couch, not wearing a bra and drinking a crappy mocha know what i mean. i can say no more about this potential opportunity because my palms are already dripping with sweat and i don’t want to short-circuit my keyboard. also, i could jinx it.

- i’m in the midst of my anxiety meds being adjusted, which is never an easy experience. regardless of what you may take medication for, adjusting any bit of it, whether it’s the dosage or switching to an entirely different drug, is so hard to do. this is why they call it “chemistry” and why i came THIS CLOSE to failing it in high school. every teeny milligram, even part of a milligram of the medication needs to be JUST RIGHT in order for it to balance out what is currently imbalanced in mah head. this process, when it works, can take up to weeks to see “improvement.” it’s not a fun process for me or for those around me, cuz they never know when i’m goina go all wack-a-doo on their asses… or just not be able to get out of bed.

- on a similar note, i’m getting to spend countless hours each day finding a shrink who takes my insurance. currently there are none within a 60 mile radius of where we live. that’s the bad news. the good news is that my family practitioner (who i saw last week) is helping me as much as possible to use her resources to find me someone to purge my shit on.

- this maryland weather is so messed up and it’s messing with mah head. i need to see the sun. i NEED to. it can be cold as hell out (well, hell supposedly isn’t cold… i’ll report back once i learn for sure) point being, as long as i can see sunshine, i’m good. lately, if the sun peaks out here, it lasts for about 25 minutes and then it’s gone for 25 days. not so good.

- the magoo bed/crib situation is still sucking. this of course is unless paul is home, and then all is well with the world. the magoo sleeps 2 + hours, wakes up happy as a clam, and doesn’t make me absolutely distain toddlerville. when paul is not home, we have what i now refer to as the magoo-monster. this does NOT make for good nap times, which does NOT make for fun afternoons and makes me absolutely loathe toddlerville and all that comes with it. the magoo-monster is manipulating and playing the favorite parent game.

so those are my reasons for needing an abundance of caffeine. i have now consumed 85% of my mocha and all i have left is chocolate syrup.

just hook me up to an IV next time.

I am no longer a Malbec virgin. This “grape” has been “popped.” That being said, I must add that I found comfort in knowing that “the grapes are sorted and chosen by a group of eighteen trained winery staff (of whom I imagine all young, shirtless, delicious Argentinian gentlemen) before we… I mean the grapes are pressed into each Alamos cuvee (whatever that is) according to the label on the back of a simplistically designed bottle, adding to the pure beauty of The Wines of Catena, of which I am most definitely a fan.

The shopping experience for a Malbec alone was a challenge because I went into this purchase a virgin. So, like any good non-sophisticated wino, I found my price-range and then looked for killer designs on the labels. It was the subtle gray mountains in the background that led me to Alamos Malbec 2008. The simplistic background in design alone caused my mind to wonder where exactly it was you came from, dear Malbec… and made me want to visit your homeland.

In sharing this bottle with my husband (more of a beer drinker than a wino), I found myself especially intrigued to hear his input. He said, “I like the wine. Good flavor. Good aroma. The finish was a bit tart for me. Dark chocolate with it enhanced flavor, making it a bit smoother.”

“I think the sweetness of the chocolate helped to balance the aftertaste,” he said.

The writer in me couldn’t help but linger on that last sentence uttered out of my husband’s mouth in the same way that he lingered on the wine. Thoughts of balance and aftertaste both in sharing wine and life experience began to flood my head.

In learning more about this “hobby” of mine… this writing of my different wine (and occasional beer) experiences with you, I find myself learning so much more than just about what is in the actual bottle.

Cheers! Nic

Comments or suggestions? Have your own “bottle of the week” to share? Shoot me an email: mybottlesup@gmail.com

***UPDATED MON. JAN. 25***
click here for the latest info with regards to the t-shirt outrage that started last week and hopefully will not cease until these shirts are pulled off the shelves.

**********

Dear Mr. David,
It should be noted that I am writing this post using proper grammar and capitalization. This does not happen often. In fact, I much prefer writing using all lowercase letters as I am a lazy ass.

Now that we have that business out of the way, it has come to my attention that you have designed and created what I can only hope does not become the latest fashion trend for men.

The t-shirts you are currently selling in which women are blindfolded and gagged are disgraceful.

It is not uncommon for me, a 9 year rape survivor, to address offensive messages that ignorant individuals verbalize with regards to rape.

I am personally grateful to Melinda Tankard Reist for her blog and advocacy, otherwise I would not be writing this post and suggesting to you what I see to be the only way to rectify this situation.

Mr. David, I recommend you remove these t-shirts from the shelves of your store immediately. Take the proceeds you have made from the sale of these t-shirts, and donate them to a women’s crisis center.

Be a man… a good one… one your mother would be proud of.

Unsure how to sign this as I am repulsed by you,
Nic

**********

You can visit Melinda Tankard Reist’s site here.

You can visit Roger David’s website here to contact him and let him know your own thoughts.

i’m a strategist when it comes to parking lots. when galavanting around this lovely town of annapolis in my itty bitty VW hatchback (complete with “peace and love” bumper sticker), i park with an agenda.

my car becomes a puzzle piece and it must fit juuuuuuuuust right.

when turning into a grocery store parking lot, i always find a spot near the grocery cart puter-awayer if not directly next to it. this way i can get the magoo settled in the car, load my loot in the car and then pop my cart over in the puter-awayer within a super short amount of time.

it’s quite remarkable actually, and i do commend my own timeliness.

when driving into a mall parking lot, i hunt for a parking spot that does not have another vehicle next to it. this way i can flip out the magoo’s stroller, plop magoo in said stroller, snag the diaper bag and any items i may be returning with maximum space around me and not fearing that i will scratch anyone else’s automobile.

when driving to a restaurant… lately this has just been to panera as panera is currently the meca for all parents during lunch time, i park next to a garbage can. this is because, like my husband, i too carry my beverage (let’s just say a sierra mist) to my car for a few final sips… but unlike my husband, i do not like beverages in my car. the spill factor is too much for me to handle when driving while jackson is throwing toys for me to pick up and give back to him. so i get my final few sips in and then toss my beverage in the trash can instead of leaving it on the ground next to the wheel of someone else’s car.

point being, i park with a purpose.

today, post-panera-lunching with jackson, we scoot through the parking lot to drop off a prescription to be filled (since i saw my doc yesterday and am addressing my grief and awesome anxiety). since i had no groceries to purchase, i did NOT park with my typical intentions and therefore parked like every other non-wackadoo human being on the face of the planet.

i parked wherever there was an empty spot.

it is when i am bent over 1/2 in the backseat of my car, one leg in the car and one leg out of the car, unbuckling the magoo from his car seat that this elderly woman CLOSES MY CAR DOOR ON MY LEG.

“excuse me,” i said to her as she attempted to squeeze in between my now nearly closed car door and her diagonally parked cadillac.

she says nothing.

dressed in what looks to be her sunday best for a trip to the grocery store, cranberry colored winter coat to match her cranberry colored prescription sunglasses and cranberry colored cane, it dawns on me that she did not hear me.

so i repeat myself…

“EXCUSE ME,” i said again still with my car door closed on my leg.

she acknowledges me, “i’m just trying to get by, kiddo,” she says.

KIDDO?!?!?

now i’m mad. she finds her way to the end of her cadillac and goes along, most likely NOT expecting me to talk back to my elders.

WRONG!!!

“excuse me,” i said for the third time. “could you not have waited the 45 seconds it takes for me to get my KIDDO out of his car seat before CLOSING MY CAR DOOR ON MY LEG?!?”

with the magoo now out of the car and on my hip, the elderly woman glares at me and says, “well aren’t you a little young and sassy to have a child of your own?”

my jaw drops and she walks away.

UGH!!! YEAH LADY, I’M ALSO YOUNG AND SASSY ENOUGH TO LEAVE A DIRTY DIAPER ON YOUR SWEET BOAT OF A CADDY TOO.

the magoo is not even 2 years old.

say it with me, THE MAGOO IS NOT EVEN 2 YEARS OLD.

this is incredibly easy for one to forget. jackson is a bruiser of a kid. he beats up on his 85 lb dog, scales furniture to the point of reaching windows, and makes forts underneath our dining room table because he likes to “be hiding.”

he is unbelievably verbal, already producing short phrases like “i got it” and “help me mommy.” his favorite word to say right now is “elephant,” a 3 syllable word that is actually recognizable when you hear him say it.

**********

side note: just now, the three of us were sitting on the couch when paul snagged a booger out of jackson’s nose and went to wipe it on my arm as i typed this post.

i threw my hands in the air and said, “DUDE, YOU CAN PUT THE BOOG ON MY SHIRT BUT NOT ON MY ARM.”

jackson climbed out of paul’s lap, turned around at both of us and exclaimed, “DUDE!”

**********

i don’t list out these stats to boast that my child is better and more brilliant than anyone else’s. i already know that.

i list out these stats as a reminder to myself that jackson is still so young. he is not even 21 months yet… 4 more days. he will be 2 in april.

the changes in our son occur so fast and furiously, whether it’s a physical change, leaving us begging his grandparents to ship us larger clothes so that we don’t have to buy them ourselves, or the magoo shocking us with his brilliance, saying “DUDE!”

so perhaps it will come as no surprise to you readers to hear that jackson’s big boy bed is now my nemesis. correction: it’s not so much the bed itself that i loathe, it’s the entire sleeping process that is now on day 7 of SUCKING. it’s the up and down and screaming and banging and unwillingness to get back in bed no matter how exhausted this stubborn child is.

dude, it’s not cool.

i am stronger when paul is around, keeping me from going in and rescuing my son from his torture chamber of a bedroom. given the abundance of diverse feedback i received last week, he and i had a lot to discuss and a lot to experiment with over the long weekend. in fact, we’re still experimenting… because we’re still losing this battle.

we listened to jackson scream and bang on his bedroom door for over an hour last night. the door knob contraption had been removed… a baby gate was put in place outside of his bedroom door. he banged and screamed and scratched and yelled for “DADDDDDYYYYYYYYY” for over an hour. i had to ask paul to turn the volume up on the tv in an attempt to distract myself with the golden globes (and a lot of wine) because it was so painful to listen to. and mind you, i’ve been listening to this for a week.

at 10:30 last night, i went in to check on jackson. opening the door super slowly just incase he had fallen asleep on the floor next to it, i entered his dimly lit room. toys and soft book were on the floor, covering his carpet. i walked over to his bed, found his blankets bunched up.. but found no magoo underneath the blankets or in his bed.

jackson had instead climbed up into the glider and was asleep on his back, legs bent like a frog, in the chair that his dad and i rock him to sleep in every day and night.

my heart sank. he was searching for comfort and i hadn’t provided him with that.

and so this morning, i sit on the couch, sip my coffee, listen to the magoo play with his daddy and sip his milk.

he’s still so young.

so… where does this leave us in terms of our magoo bedroom drama???

hell if i know.

currently we are discussing the option of “regressing” and putting his crib rail back up. perhaps our not-even-2-year-old is not yet ready for the independence a big boy bed provides.

perhaps the college applications need to be put back in the drawer for a while.

perhaps he is still my baby.

dude.