And it continues.

Day two of randomness continues. Thoughts as I lurk on Facebook. (That could be the title to a VERY creepy indie-rock alternative song.)

My updates make me sound like the most boring person on the planet. The Mayor is doing the dishes. The Mayor is washing diapers. The Mayor is reading stories to Scrunch. Who cares? Nobody.

I find myself wanting to lie. The Mayor is packing for a trip to Bali. The Mayor is having lunch with Michelle Obama. The Mayor just won a brand new car! The Mayor is getting ready to go on David Letterman. The Mayor just finished writing her book.

Popularity contests do not end in High School.

Whoa! She got hot. and he got fat. I've noticed girls are definitely later bloomers than the guys.

My original marital theory stands...Marry a nerd. They make good husbands.

Holy crap! You're a mom/dad? Holy crap! You have how many kids?

My kid is cuter than your kid.

I would die before posting a picture like that.

I am going to kill you for tagging me in that picture.

And so it goes.

The Mayor is done posting on her blog today.

Random on Fridays

It's been a minute since I posted a random thoughts post. From now on I'll do it on Fridays.

- Driving to a little town on the river last weekend in the pouring rain almost gave me a panic attack. It's a two lane road with my side (without a guard rail) dropping off into a cliff and straight into the river. The whole time I kept thinking, "On the one hand it's cold and will take longer for me to drown. On the other hand it is cold and will take longer for me to drown." I had to call my mom so I wouldn't hyperventilate.

- Scrunch let me carry her in asleep from the car today. I forgot how much I love it when she falls asleep on me. BTW you can hold your baby from the moment they are born until they are mobile and they will sleep through the night and they will be independent.

- I have a zit in my eyebrow and it's really ticking me off. It has to stay because it's the kind that hurts too bad to pinch.

- I'm glad Grady and his mom aren't moving.

- I will never forgive myself for not having the camera battery charged when I found Scrunch walking around buck nekid with her sunglasses on her head and hauling around my purse. Never. no never.

- Applebees- Strike three. You're out.

- I almost forgot how much counting your cycles (and blah, blah, blah) sucks.

- I now own a pair of bright yellow rain boots. And I plan on wearing them in public. It's ridiculous how a stupid pair of rain boots can make me smile every time I see them. I've never been much of a trend setter, but go ahead. Get yourself a pair of yellow rain boots and post some random thoughts on Fridays.

Smooth talking.

After last night's address there is no doubt in my mind that our Commander in Chief could sell a ketchup (or catsup) popcicle to a woman in a white Armani suit. And I have to say, I'm a sucker too. He had me completely buying into the spiel. The smooth talking. The smooth skin (can he really look that good up close? ). The winks and the smiles. How about the little exchange between he and the First Lady? I almost didn't notice he wanted me to hand over my paycheck.

But then I'm a sucker. They see me coming a mile away. I sat and watched while getting a pedicure and next thing I know I'm getting my eyebrows waxed. Then she asks if I want her to do my lip, too. Did I even need my lip waxed? I wasn't even there for a waxing. Ooooooh. She's good. She was fully expecting I would leave a chunk of this week's earnings with her. Just the thought of my lip needing a wax was enough.

That's okay, I just watched the President's Address to Congress. Lets just throw more money at it and see if it helps.

An apple a day keeps the monsters away.

It totally works!

Ulterior Motives

Me? Huh? Why would you think that? Just because I'm a total slacker (and that's about as guilty as I'm going to feel about it), but my new visiting teaching partner TEACHES interior design. Oh yes, lets do the lessons at my house, shall we? I would love to hear your thoughts. Uh, yeah. On the lesson, too.

Adoption is not a cure for infertility.

Just in case you wondered. Adoption is not a cure for infertily. If you think it is, please don't do it and please don't advise it. It's just stupid. stupid. stooooopid.

Just in case you were ever tempted to tell someone that was going to/had recently/wanted to adopt about this person you knew 'who got pregnant as soon as the paperwork was in' or 'as soon they got the baby they found out they were pregnant'. If I had a quarter for every time I heard this, I'd have bought the matching loveseat to my sofa. (Wasn't that nicer than calling you stooopid?)

Guess what? We all know someone like that. (Don't look at me.)

But what you don't know is that they were still pursuing fertility treatments.

Or perhaps they never had a concrete diagnosis to begin with.
Or the meds built up over time and decided to work.
Or there was a baby that was meant to come in a different way.
Or they figured the whole sex thing out.
Or they were never infertile to begin with. They just got over the whole overpopulation justification for not wanting children.

Or....
or....
or....

Bottom line- You don't know damn thing.

A little quiz for you. Don't worry it's multiple choice.

I have three hours before I must be in bed. Husband is playing, uh practicing, with his flight simulator so he's out of the picture.

Do I....?

a) Cast on a new top for me.
b) Start gathering supplies for this awesomeness. (Thanks for the heads up Grami!)
c) Cut out the pieces to my skirt.
d) Come up with something more clever to blog about.
e) None of the above.

Anyone? anyone?

Ten reasons why a person should know how to thread a sewing machine.

#1. Spring is coming!!!!
#2-10. Hellooooo!


Convinced?

No, it's not a mid-life crisis.

For one thing, it's not the middle of my life yet. For another, I just can. That's all.

I have purple hair. No kid (especially teenage girl) wants to be like their mother so I figure this is my preemptive strike. If I do it, she won't want to. The piercings and a tat are next. Just kidding. Actually, I made that reason up. I have no explanation as to why I colored my hair, except I saw someone with it and thought, "I like that. I'm going to do it." And do it I did. For the first time I get to say "Because I'm the mom, and I can."

I don't usually wear my sunglasses in the house, but because I am the mom I also have dark circles under my eyes. I can wear dark glasses in my own house if I want to (and look like a dork). Again, because I'm the mom.

I also had a Heath Klondike bar for breakfast.

Nocturnal Awakenings

Ever feel like a moment in your life could be a cartoon? Picture this.

Ani the Coonhound wakes to a raccoon (of all things) on the porch.
Ani begins to bark (duh!).
Ani's bark wakes husband.
Husband gets up and goes to investigate.
Jedi the wimpy Weimaraner knows Papa should not be outside right now so he comes and wakes up mom.
Now mom is up.
Scrunch (never wanting to be left out) is now awake. Wide awake.
After months and months of trying she discovers that the cat is asleep. She quietly sneaks up behind him and pounces. Only he's faster, yowls, hisses and has claws.
Scrunch is now crying.Not funny except she is trapped behind the toilet (so funny).
Mom is in the other bathroom.
Papa yells for mom to come.
Now the neighbors are surely up.

And that is how we all ended up in the bed playing peek-a-boo and eating Craisins at two o'clock in the morning. All except the neighbors that is.

Dear Mike, Come home soon!

I'd like to file a missing persons report.

He's white. Not caucasian. Just white.
About 4 inches by 4 inches.
Most recently speaks in a British accent.
He never answers, but I still call him Mike.

Somehow, somewhere I misplaced by better half. Mike, my GPS, and I have been connected at the hip for the last two years. I don't know if it was something I said, or what, but he's gone. Just up and left. I've left no rock unturned, looked everywhere, and still... nothing.

In the mean time, I'm afraid to leave the house.

Mike come home soon. You have until Friday and then you will be replaced.

Eeew!

A couple of years ago I was driving home and on the phone with my sister and she asked what we were doing for V-day. I told her nothing really. And she said, "Good. Valentine's Day is for amateurs and wanna-bes." I laughed. You will too if you picture my sister saying that. But she is wiser than she realizes.

We usually don't do anything on Valentine's Day. It's crowded, hard to get a reservation, and you have to watch disgusting couples be nice to each other once a year. It was thoroughly entertaining to see who was out at the movies on Saturday afternoon. Big hair. High heels. Holding hands. My favorites were the teeny boppers looking like they were playing dress up.

Sitting inside waiting for the movie to start only got better. I overheard a wife railing on her husband for not getting her chocolates. He mentioned the flowers and a card. She asked why would it be so hard to get her chocolates? She even went so far as to tell him all he had to do was go to Longs or something. I felt so sorry for the guy. And I wanted to tell her she was a beeyotch and should think about eating fewer chocolates. But I held my tongue (amazingly) and thought about what my sister said. Jeez, lady. There is so much more to romance besides lame Long's heart shaped boxes of chocolate.

It is nice to have a reason to get dressed up. Who doesn't love a special occasion? But if you measure your love by a heart shaped box of chocolates, you really are an amateur and a wanna-be. Sweets are sweet and fancy dinners are romantic, but I know my husband loves me by the things he does more than once a year.

He changed my windshield wipers when he heard it was going to rain, runs to the grocery store for me, puts the clothes in the washer into the dryer, empties the dishwasher, puts gas in my car, and last but not least three days before Valentine's Day brings me an entire bag of Snickers. Now that is romance.

You know you're spoiled when...

We need a better word than spoiled. Spoiled sounds so bratty. Abundantly gifted? That doesn't sound any better. OK, maybe she is a little spoiled. You know it's true when people bring YOU presents on THEIR birthday. Ah, it is good to be a girl. And the only girl. Grami is coming today to celebrate her birthday and Scrunch is very excited. Honestly mom. She woke up this morning and said, "I want to see my Grami today."

OK, not really. But Grami calls (almost) every morning and says, "Scrunch told me she wants to come and see her Grami." And since it is her birthday...

Instead, she is coming here and will have to settle for a weekend of babysitting and reading stories for the ump-tienth million time. How convenient for me! I'm so confused as to whose birthday it actually is.

Happy Birthday Grami! We have lots of new tricks to show you.

If I got my way we might have world peace.

We might have world peace and a whole lot of pillows. I like pillows. I like Pottery Barn. I especially like Pottery Barn's pillows. Unfortunately, I never like them for very long. They are swapped out on a regular basis. (Have you met my husband? He's a very patient man.) I was surprised after making a recent trip that I couldn't find ANYthing I really loved. Well, I loved a lot of things, but since my house doesn't look like their catalog, nothing that would tie everything together. Totally disappointed I walked out without a purchase. I went next door to Crate and Barrel and instantly fell in love with these napkins. Hey! Napkins are just the perfect size for pillows. So that's what I did. Can I tell you much I love it when when things go my way? If more things went my way and people did exactly as I told them...For now I will settle for napkin pillows and two-dollar-a-yard upholstery fabric to recover this chair.

Forget Punxsutawney Phil!

That little varmin Phil can shove it where the sun won't ever shine!

I don't care what he says! We're getting a jump on Spring around here. And with Spring comes Spring cleaning. Or rather Spring organizing. I loves me some good organization!

With a little help from Scrunch, IKEA, and Target (pronounced Tar-jay) I can find things in the kitchen and she can find her crayons. Although I'd really rather I got to play with the crayons and she cooked in the kitchen.

This organizing stuff is a lot of work.

Different types of love.

In my (rather brief) experience, there are three types of love.

#1. This is the teeny-bopper, makin'-out-in-the-backseat kind of love. It's not really even love. It's infatuation. But it does make you get a little weak in the knees and at first glance you swoon. What it is not, is long-lasting, practical, and it would never survive pets and kids (and not necessarily in that order).

#2. This is the yes-dear kind of love. The I'll tell you anything you want to hear, whisper sweet nothings in your ear kind. It looks good. It feels good. But stick around long enough and you'll find there's not a lot of substance in the long run.

#3. This is love. This is the weather any storm, bring it on I've got your back kind of love. This is the stuff that makes it through baby barf and puppies. And when it is all said and done you'd do it a hundred times over.

Which would you rather have?

By the way...we're talking about couches. Number #3 will be delivered tomorrow. Go on. Congratulate me! This is one of the happiest days of my life (this week).

I am the new Mrs. Bellingham La-Z-Boy.

Afterthought

What would I do without you to keep me on track? I did forget to add pictures to our nekid is a fashion statement post. So without further a due, I present to you...Scrunch painting her Valentines. Nekid.

Biggest Pet Peeve Like EVER!

A spider bite on my knuckle.

Serious.

I'm going to lose it over this one!

Motherly Confessions

I like to make things easy on myself. The easier the better. And while I may have a thing for baby clothes, Scrunch is forming her own opinions. I knew that this would happen.

I expected the four year old flip of the hair attitude with an "Ewwwwww! Mo-om. I am not wearing that." That is better than nothing (such a mom thing to say), but not according Miss Independence. Apparently clothes are... like, so passe. Gosh, mom. You're like, so old. Clothes were so last week.

And so Scrunch has ditched wearing them. She's figured out how to get her shoes, socks, diapers, and pants completely off. The diaper proved a bit of a challenge since it is meant to be held securely in place, and comes in two pieces. But this kid does not back away from a challenge. Last night she even took it off under her jammies and woke up with it in her pant leg.

OK. Thank you. Easier for me. We (she) is now on day two of cranking up the thermostat and hanging out mostly nekid (That's how Holly says it). It is easier for me to pinch those cute little baby butt cheeks. Easier to wipe off peanut butter and jelly. Easier to wipe off most of anything. Even painting Valentine's had to be a little bit easier nekid.

Mostly I don't mind. I'll make her put some clothes on before she hits kindergarten. But this winter season, nekid is the new black.

You might be sorry you asked.

Both appointments went exactly as planned. Here is your paperwork. Sign here. We need this filled out. You'll need these signed too. Get this filled. Take this. We'll see you at your next appointment.

Uh, thanks.

On the one hand it does mean we are starting THE paperwork again. On the other it just means we dust off the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests. Last time I saw them Scrunch was trying to stuff everything under the sink into the toilet.

Tell your friends. Tell your hairdresser. And your dog groomer's cousins daughter. We will soon be looking for our baby.

On the upside,
I take secret pleasure in catching people off guard with remarks they never see coming.

Unsuspecting MA (Medical assistant)- "So you're here for a fertility consult?"
Me- "Uh-huh."
MA- "Have you been trying for at least a year?"
Me- "Uh-huh."
MA- "Are you using birth control?"
Me- "Nope. Seems to be built in."

Serves her right.

This time things are different. I want more children, but if it doesn't happen for a while, Scrunch is enough. I just want her to remember that she was always enough. What I can't get enough of? Banana splits. Third day in a row that I'm having one. That is what gets me through the day- Scrunch and banana splits. And sometimes we dance to Abba while eating a banana split.

Good Luck Charm

I have a thing for baby clothes. And I had quite the collection before Scrunch was ever born. I would sit in the room that was going to be hers and fold and re-fold the tiny onesies. I'd set them aside with their little matching shoes. Some days I would get them out so I could just look at them. Some habits die hard.

We have an appt. with both our adoption caseworker and OB this morning. This should be fun. It is called the shot-gun approach. I bought this earlier this week for good luck.

This is where we part ways.

Dude. What was up with Blogger yesterday? Anyway...

Raise your hand if you watch House. Uh, yeah. Pretty much everyone and their mother is standing in front of their computer with their arms in the air. Please put some deodorant on. You can sit down. Get comfortable. This is going to take a minute.

Just in case you live under a rock... Lisa Cuddy has adopted a baby girl! The first few episodes I admit I was all teary eyed and I planning my I *heart* adoption tattoo. But not now. This is where we officially part ways. It's going to be a painful breakup seeing as Hugh Laurie is the 'other man' at our house. Season 5 Episode 13 you got it all wrong! So wrong.

I know I shouldn't take it personally, but it's hard not to. Part of how I measure my success as a mother is how adoption is viewed in my house. If you think you've got problems with media influences raising a daughter in this world, you do. Join the club.

Now conversations on adoption with people get to start with "Well, I saw on House...." Ugh! Seriously. It's a medical drama for entertainment purposes only. If it's going to shape and influence your opinions about what to expect next time you develop a cold, are diagnosed with lupus, or heaven forbid how you raise your kids you are dumber than I thought. That being said these are just the highlights on where the writers and producers on House and I have a difference of opinions. And I have to tell you, this is very disappointing. They usually do such a good job researching. How could they have gotten this all so wrong?

- Adoption is not about who has the most money, best job, deepest neckline, etc. Why is Lisa Cuddy more qualified than the birth mom? Because she isn't a teenager? Oh, then I guess you didn't know that not all birth mothers are 16 year old girls. Some are. Ours wasn't. And neither were most of the people's that I know that have actually adopted and not just watched one on t.v. Adoption isn't about age, qualifications, job status, any of that. Adoption is about providing a family, complete with mom and dad.

- I just loooove the fact that the amount of time, energy, let alone WHO would be raising this child was never even considered. That's sarcasm in case you missed it. I recently read a statement that the average person spends more time planning and decorating a nursery when preparing for a baby than they do learning and acquiring parenting skills. Hey! News flash. And you don't even have to read a book for this one! Yelling and screaming at the 11 week old kid to just tell you what they want doesn't necessary work. If you're about to come uncorked, put the baby in a safe place and leave the room.

- This brings me to WHO exactly is going to be raising this child? If I were married to one of the writers on this show we would be having a serious sit down conversation. What the hell do you expect from me?!?!? Listen ladies. If you think you can have a clean house, high-stress high-powered medical career, be the perfect mother, not get runs in your hose and keep your body looking like what is depicted on this show, Costco is going to have start selling Costco sized bottles of antidepressants. And be prepared to fill them 24/7. You are a HUMAN woman. There is no way you're going to keep this all together. I'm not saying you can't be all of these things, but I would not recommended being them all at the same time.

- Your baby needs YOU. Enough said.

- The fact that she is not feeling overly maternal at this stage may or may not have anything to do with adoption. And it just bugs me it became part of the show. There is so much crap out there about "attachment issues". Yeah, they are real. But biological parents often feel the same way. If genetics is all that is required for a mother to be loving, tender, and caring then explain to me child abuse? Cuz, that happens to. Maybe she just doesn't enjoy the newborn stage? You don't just give babies back. And talking about returning them to the pound is not funny.

- Children are not puppies. It's okay to say, "Puppies are cute. I think I'll get one." It IS NOT okay to say, "Babies are cute. I think I'll get one". I think the thing that bugged me most about the whole scenario is the overwhelming feeling that I got was "I want! I want! I want!" How about what is best for a child? Could we consider that for just the tiniest milli-second, and then pretend to give a damn? You know what I want? I want a lot of things. Guess what? No one gives a crap what you want. Buck up lady. You better get used to it because if you want to be a mommy you're going to be doing a lot of things for the rest of your life that you don't really want to do.

Yeah, so in one sentence...This was not my favorite episode. On a lighter note, my hair fit into a pony tail this morning and Scrunch just brought me her crayons. We are going to be doing less watching t.v. and more coloring.

I'd like to thank...

What is it about doing ONE thing EVERY day that compels me to continue even though I'm too exhausted, too emotionally fried, too wired to put into words what a weird day it was?

All day long I wondered where my camera crew was. My job would make some award winning reality tv. It's like Cops meets Scrubs meets I don't know what else, but it is crazy.

Nurses should be eligible for Emmy's. Damn those HIPAA people and their rules!! You're stuck with American Idol instead of Nurse Ratched to the Rescue.

HELP! I'm new at this.

Thanks Flickr.

Look. I've read the books.

A year ago it was How to Raise an Adopted Child. The Happiest Baby on the Block. The No-Cry Sleep Solution.

This week I'm returning The No-Cry Discipline Solution, Reading with Babies, Toddlers and Twos, and Reading Magic.

But nobody ANYwhere has covered how to change a squirmy one-year-old's diaper without calf roping them and tying them down.

Help.

Preferably before PETA gets word.

Thanks Flickr.

Sunday Lesson

Here's a good reason not to wait until the night before to plan your Sunday School lesson.

Your intense LDS.org search into the twelve tribes of Isreal and it's gathering shall be interrupted by phone calls to the emergency room and the sneaky administration of medicated capsules.

Ani is allergic to diaper rash cream. A whole tube of it.
(I totally and completely jinxed myself yesterday.)

So, if I don't figure out why there are actually thirteen tribes and where they are, I now know that the dog dosage for Benadryl is 1mg per lb. And you shouldn't turn your back on a two year old (dog) for even a second.

*** This blog is never a substitute for actual medical or veterinary advice or care. In fact, I'd double check with someone before taking any of my advice on anything.

Oh, yeah. There are pictures. Because while the Mommy in me was freaking out anticipating anaphylaxis, the nurse in me thought these hives looked awesome!! The lighting at midnight is not great, but she has about 200+ lumps all over her body.