I f*cking hate happy, "in love" thirty-something people on Facebook. Makes me want to vomit.

I can't post this on Facebook because then all my friends & acquaintances would worry about my mental health.

And I'm fine, really.

But I do want to rant & rage a little bit.

My complaint for the day:  I f*cking hate happy, "in love" thirty-something people on Facebook.  Makes me want to vomit.

Please, spare me the gushing about marrying your best friend.  Really?  Come on. 

Today I just have a dark cloud hovering over my head, about to start raining heavily, maybe even hailing. 

I am experiencing a few major transitions right now.  Frankly, it sucks because my immediate future looks rather bleak and unbalanced.  However, I have to be strong for myself and for children.  But I'm not feeling strong right now.  In fact, I really want to take something that will take off the edge.  Don't worry, I'm not hitting the bottle although it sounds like a lovely escape.  Instead, I just ate several things that will make me fat and jack up my cholesterol.  I'm over-caffeinated, too.

Overall, I'm just acknowledging that my little world sucks right now.  That is all.

Hot Stiletto Peep Toe Pumps Can Be Worn in a Pinch for Business Casual Attire, Right?

I had a casual job interview earlier this week for a part-time marketing admin position.  As I have stated before, I am a just-in-time gal (Read: Procrastinator). So even though I have been on a slow, steady plod back to the working world of paid employment  (Updating my resume, writing cover letters, dreaming about how delightful it will be to spend those dollars earned, longing for adult conversation/connection), I hadn’t yet given much thought as to my business wardrobe.  Or more precisely what to wear to an interview.

As I was getting dressed for the meeting, I faced a minor crisis.  What is appropriate business casual attire these days?  Do I even have any article of clothing that would be presentable?  My wardrobe after six years in a Domestic Goddess position has morphed into jeans & t-shirts, workout attire, and a few sexy outfits complete with hot stiletto peep toe pumps for Hubby’s benefit.  But business casual?  Oh, I had to dig deep back into the depths of the closet and I found a pair of black slacks. 

I thought wearing black was suppose to be very forgiving to flaws of the figure.  Apparently, that is not an universally true statement.  Especially when the black pants are the wrong size.  I’m not complaining too much because the pants were too big (Yay!), and the hem was too long.  I did not have any appropriate shoes to wear with the pants.   The only shoes that would clear the hem were my super cute, definitely not business appropriate, stiletto pumps. The length of the pants thankfully covered the slingback style and most of the 4” heel. Gah!

Long story short: I had a pleasant meeting but no job offer. Afterward, I was thinking once again in-depth about my life and passions.  I’m really starting to dislike the soul-searching, do-what-you-love, what-are-you-passionate about conversations that I’ve been having lately with lots of people, especially in light of my temporary ‘single parent’ status.  I am first and foremost passionate about my family, supporting my husband’s career while staying at home with my children.  And yet I am still apologetic about it because being very traditional seems so foolish, not welcomed nor truly valued today.  Truthfully, I have no idea yet what I am passionate about.  I like to do many things but I’m not necessarily passionate about it (i.e. make it happen no matter the challenges.)

At this point in time, I just want to find a part-time gig to get me out of the house so I can interact with people.  I want to resurrect some old skills or cultivate new skills, but do something a little bit more than  retail or making coffee.  I know I don’t want the hours associated with retail or with being an awesome kick-ass barista.  I’d like to explore marketing in any setting.  Oh and I also think it would be nice to earn enough to break even with the cost of daycare.  However, it’s looking more and more likely that volunteering (and writing) will provide my sanity check this year.  Unfortunately, volunteering does not support my retail therapy when I need it nor pay for daycare.

Bottom line:  Essentially I am paying money to volunteer in order to stay sane, all while wearing sexy but wildly inappropriate stiletto shoes around town!

Daylight Savings Time, I Curse You in the Morning but Love You at Night

I loved the adrenaline jolt I received yesterday morning after hitting the snooze button one too many times and realizing we were late, late, late for school. Curse you, Daylight Savings Time and my internal body clock! So I did what any good mama does--I smiled sweetly at the school secretary as she wrote a tardy slip for Little Man and then took Baby Girl to Starbucks to forgive myself. I'm gonna enjoy that extra hour of daylight for sure and try again.

I am happy to report that Day 2 of DST went somewhat better.  The alarm blared on and on intermittently b/w the slamming of the snooze button.  I did roll out of bed, sleepy, dragging, moaning slightly under my breath, until Hubby on his way out of the door said that our tax refund had cleared.  Oh what’s that? Money to burn?  Shopping to be done?  Pedicures, anyone?  Suddenly, I was Lil Miss Perky at the thought of cute sandals.  Plus I realized I had less than 25 minutes to usher Little Man out the door.

Today is absolutely gorgeous weather.  High 70s, sunny, slight breeze.  I feel so alive and grateful on days like this.  Hanging out with my beautiful baby girl who is mostly smiles and giggles.  Running a few errands with a happy baby in tow.  Afternoon stroll around the neighborhood (Good god, just watch out for the hills.  I was huffing and puffing and some of those ‘hills” were very steep, I swear.  I also might be just a tad bit out of shape.)  Writing when the opportunity presents itself (naptime) with the windows open and my faithful dogs nearby.  Chatting and connecting with two friends and my parents.  Waiting for the bus. My only complaint today is the same complaint every day  “What should I do about dinner?”

TLC Duty – One Step Closer to My Nomination of Mommy of the Year

After a successful birthday party for Baby Girl (and running around last week as a crazed mama with a checklist), I thought I'd be taking it easy this week. But nooooo, of course not. Party clean up rolled right into TLC Duty. Little Man developed a nasty cold with heavy congestion.  I have been enforcing afternoon naps. I have been monitoring the fluid intake. I have been wiping noses, taking temperatures, giving hugs, and in general being an attentive mama nurse. (I might baby the boy a little bit. )

I kept him home from school today, primarily because  he is a snot monster.  How much can he learn when he is wiping his nose every other minute? Besides we were both tired having been up at 4am to make the TLC rounds, to include the popular "I instantly feel  better crawling into my parents' bed to snuggle and sleep." (Today has been a highly caffeinated day.)

I rescheduled my two appts and then we took it easy for most if the day.  We did make a quick run into Barnes & Noble Bookstore for two specific get well items: Pigeon finds a Hot Dog by Mo Williems and Cars 2 DVD.  Until I saw the price. I refuse to pay $39.99 for a blu-ray DVD. That's ludicrous! Thankfully another title, in my price range, caught his eye.

Today though has been challenging in TLC management versus all other domestic chores. My house is a disaster.  All regular chores aside from dining support did not happen.  Baby Girl and Sick Little Man would take turns vying for my attention ALL DAY and well into the evening and long into the night I'm sure.

I'm typing this on my phone as I rock Baby Girl at 11:30pm. She too now has congestion and is uncomfortable. Little Man migrated to the living room couch, and having slept for hours this afternoon, is wide awake watching TV.

It's gonna be a long night.

And I can already tell tomorrow will be a repeat of today.

I can’t help to think "Did I shower today?" So maybe a shower at midnight is in order since clearly two days of TLC duty does not leave time for much else.

Yup, stinky but loving and attentive qualifies for mommy of the year.

VT-isms

@ 11 months, these are VT-isms I do not want to forget:

(1)   I love that I am her favorite person in the whole wide world right now.  Whenever she sees me, her entire face lights up with her toothy grin. *

(although she is smiling for Daddy in this photo after he gave her a banana to eat, as you can see some of the evidence on her face.)
* Unless it's in the middle of the night.  Or she is whining and crying incessantly.  Then I'm not as pleased to be the most favorite person in the world.

(2)   She gives head butts of love.  If you ask her for a kiss, she butts her forehead with yours instead.  Or sometimes gives you a wet, open-mouth kiss of excitement on your nose.

(3)   Victoria protests verbally, more like a grunt of displeasure, when you take something away from her.

(4)   She waves like a queen, with her arm outstretched towards her subject. 

(5)   She is always standing up, cooing & smiling while waiting for someone to get her from the crib in the morning.

(6)   She enjoys taking her socks off when she is confined, whether in her crib, pack n’ play, or carseat.

(7)   She enjoys dancing with her mama (sitting on my hip) in the living room to the Tropicales station, channeling her inner Latina diva to enjoy salsa, samba, merengue music.
Life is Good!

Friending Your Mom on Facebook is a BAD Idea When You are Talking About Tattoos

Yes, I am a Suburban Housewife who wants to get some ink.  It’s trendy. It makes me feel not quite so homely.  The tats are for me, my self-expression.  (Although I ain’t gonna lie, Hubby thinks it’s HOT.  And well, anything to keep the fires going is probably worth pursuing.)  So Hubby and I attended the DC Tattoo Convention this past weekend with the hopes of meeting some local artists and preview their portfolios. 

I returned home very excited about the prospect, thinking about the work I want done and what it symbolizes to me.  Of course, it’s not official until I post it on Facebook.  My post:

Sorry, Mom! But I'm one step closer to getting inked. Just got home from the DC Tattoo Convention. Butterflies, dragons, and a lil crab. ;)

I got a few likes and comments from my friends.  And then my Mom weighed in with

You are not JOLIE and ERIC is not PITT. KEEP YOUR SKIN FROM INTENTIONAL BLEMISH. WHY GO THROUGH THE PAIN. LOVE YOU MUCH. BE CLEAN...

I am nothing but amused.  And yes, she did write in ALL CAPS.  But it gets better.  My sister chimes in with

            LMAO! (at mom's comment) I'm next...Shhh! I'm thinking a sleeve..

Mom’s reply:

What does LMSO mean? just voicing my opinion. You are adults who decide what is best for you, whether I agree with you or not, you are in control. MY love is always with both of you.

Oy!

When I called home for my weekly check-in, I got an earful.  After her 20-minute tirade, she ended it with “But it’s your body.  You are old enough to do whatever you want.”  You think?! 

I got nothing but love for my mother.  But I am still building up my patience reserves for when she sees all the tats for the first time.

Teething Baby = Cranky. Needy. Insomniac. Up every 2 hours.

Teething Baby = Cranky.  Needy.  Insomniac.  Up every 2 hours.

Mom Tending to Teething Baby = Exhausted.

Last night was a rough night for both of us.  Victoria was only happy as long as she was touching Mommy in some way.  When she is feeling miserable, having me within sight is not enough.  She needs cuddle time. Which  means it was decision time for me.  Let her cry it out--my least favorite option (too grating on my nerves not to mention the psychological damage the experts are now spouting off about).  Carry her around while I finish up cleaning the kitchen (It’s like an extra workout – carrying 20 pounds around.).  Attempt to hang out online with her on my lap (Too much interference -- As I type one-handed, she is on my lap, cooing, playing with a teether, and is a snot bucket.)  Or go into cuddle mode.

Cuddle Mode wins out, primarily because I had been trying to get her to sleep since 7:30 and clearly at 10:30 with an awake, fussy baby, my other attempts had failed.  I anticipated there would be many interruptions to my sleep, so I set up camp on the living room floor with the baby corral.  The baby corral covers a large enough space for me to sleep in comfortably while giving Baby Girl enough freedom to explore and play safely with slumbering mama near her side. I know she’s safe and I can get my much needed zzzz’s.  The good news about this set-up is that when she wakes up crying, I can nurse her and tend to her needs half-asleep. 

I think what is so bewildering about Motherhood is that so much of it is just Attempting and Hoping that you are doing right.  So before bedtime, I attempted to give her Motrin and hoped that she ingested enough to actually  make a difference.  That little stinker puts everything in her mouth EXCEPT the things that will make a positive difference.  And forget the Orajel.  She had her mouth firmly clamped shut with that attempt!

As predicted, we were up every 2 hours.  So needless to say, when Little Man came bounding into the living room this morning, I was less than thrilled to be up for morning duty.  I got through it but without coffee!!  I was too tired to figure out why my Keurig wasn’t working.  I’m sure it’s a simple fix but sleep deprivation does me no favors.  Thankfully, as soon as the Boy was off to school, Baby Girl and I headed back to our beds for nap.  That is the perk of being a SAHM with no set schedule.  Whenever I seriously consider going back to work, those long nights of fussy baby, interrupted sleep patterns, and tiredness, while infrequent, makes me reconsider.  Some type of Work Outside the Home will always be there, right? (I hope!)

Two hours later, rested and regrouped, Baby Girl and I are ready to face the day.  We haven’t left the house.  It’s a Domestic Bliss kind of day.  And now it’s about that time to go meet the bus.

P.S. I dislike cleaning out the fridge. Ugh!