So, yea I have been taken away to the land of baby everything, as to be expected! But I am going to try my damndest to post when I can - and not have this become the typical mommy blog with stories about mushy baby stuff and how little Adeline used the potty and what not (unless it is really freakin hilarious, then bear with me).
One thing I must say I have been doing lately is taking myself waaaay to seriously. Being a new mom I am slightly clueless, yet trying to do a lot "by the book" (what book? eh who knows).
The other day I was riding around in the back of my own car, being chauffeured around by my mother so I could watch Adeline sleep in her car seat (see, taking things way too seriously). We were running a ton of stupid errands too. Damn being a grown up! I was eating a banana in my backseat while grumbling about going to pay our water bill, going to the bank, contemplating paying the IRS much more than I ever wanted to...etc.
It was then time to dispose of the banana peeling. Now, for some reason I always feel like when I toss a banana peel, an apple core or whatever fruit debris - that I am littering. Obviously I am not, but I hate to throw anything out the car window.
So I roll the window down half way, I toss. I watch gravity do its job as the car is travelling a good 40 mph. The air catches the tentacle like banana peeling, but to my surprise it abruptly whips it right back into the vehicle... the strip like tentacles now dearly clinging to my shoulder and face like and angry octopus! I scream and claw frantically to rip the peeling from my face and hurl it back out the window all the while mashing the window up button with wreckless abandon. Luckily toss take 2 was a success.
I then look around to see if anyone witnessed this terrifying episode, naturally no one was around and mom wasn't paying attention, but I was laughing so damn hard at myself at that point that I had to tell her. It then occured to me. I have been taking myself way too seriously. You can only do that for so long before you realize it just isn't any fun.
Are you taking yourself too seriously? go smack yourself in the face with a banana peeling - it will do wonders for your ego.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
scaredy cat
With the impending visit to the hospital to have this baby I have a good case of the scaredy cat. Pretty standard, pretty normal I am guessing. I have never had to go to the hospital to stay over night and the entire process has me a little jittery. So to take my mind off of that scaring me, I figured I would make a list of other things that scare me. And here we go.
Oh- and these aren't ranked in any particular order, I would say all are equally as frightening.
1) Spiders - seriously, any size spider. The teeniest most frail little spider in the world could be chilling in my bathroom and I will smash it so damn hard you can't even tell it ever existed (this generally consists of me leaving the shoe or weapon of choice on top of the creature, in case it decides to come back to life for a bit). The monster spiders with hairy legs and like their own zip codes? I usually stare at them wishing I could scream, and hope to hell someone else is around to kill it before it kills me.
2) drive through car washes - Aside from the fact that they can be terrible for your car's paint job, they are totally freaky! I can't handle those big ugly brushy things coming at the car windows. I would have to guess this is some form of claustrophobia and my mind telling me the huge machinery will crash through the glass and metal of my car and kill me, or give me a good scrubbing as well.
3) having to make new friends - I will say hands down that it is seriously easier for me to talk to dead people than to have to go out of my way to make a new friend (and considering my hobby in the paranormal realm - talking to dead people is my cup of tea) ha. Anyways, I can't figure it out. With the friends I do have I am not shy in the least, i'm generally pretty boisterous and animated. But put me in a situation where I have to add a new buddy to my personal circle? No thanks.
4) saying no - gah I hate this one. Telemarketers, door to door salesmen, family favors, you name it and I unfortunately have a hell of a time just saying no. This is probably a bad one to broadcast, but if it is any consolation I am getting better at this! I take on way more than I should more times than I should. It is my downfall. Only 3 good things come to mind when I think of situations where other people told me "you should have said no, why did you do that?!" and that would be when I took on our 3 dogs. I definitely don't regret saying yes to those phone calls.
5) confrontation - who doesn't try to avoid this? Well, nevermind there are plenty of drama queens out in the world just having a damn ball creating bullshit situations for everyone. I unfortunately developed a "brush it under the rug" type mentality which I must say isn't any healthier. I do try to keep myself out of the middle of stuff. Every once in a while someone will force me to be confrontational but I attempt to keep those people as far away as possible.
6) losing my creativity, or motivation to be creative. - Creativity is who I am, so I am scared of invisioning myself sans creativity. With the new family starting, and the general increase of responsibiliites I see my time to be creative slipping away. I hope that when Adeline is old enough to draw, paint, and the like I will be able to incorporate tons of crafty artsy me stuff.
Well, maybe it is baby brain, but that is all I can come up with for now. What are you afraid of?
Oh- and these aren't ranked in any particular order, I would say all are equally as frightening.
1) Spiders - seriously, any size spider. The teeniest most frail little spider in the world could be chilling in my bathroom and I will smash it so damn hard you can't even tell it ever existed (this generally consists of me leaving the shoe or weapon of choice on top of the creature, in case it decides to come back to life for a bit). The monster spiders with hairy legs and like their own zip codes? I usually stare at them wishing I could scream, and hope to hell someone else is around to kill it before it kills me.
2) drive through car washes - Aside from the fact that they can be terrible for your car's paint job, they are totally freaky! I can't handle those big ugly brushy things coming at the car windows. I would have to guess this is some form of claustrophobia and my mind telling me the huge machinery will crash through the glass and metal of my car and kill me, or give me a good scrubbing as well.
3) having to make new friends - I will say hands down that it is seriously easier for me to talk to dead people than to have to go out of my way to make a new friend (and considering my hobby in the paranormal realm - talking to dead people is my cup of tea) ha. Anyways, I can't figure it out. With the friends I do have I am not shy in the least, i'm generally pretty boisterous and animated. But put me in a situation where I have to add a new buddy to my personal circle? No thanks.
4) saying no - gah I hate this one. Telemarketers, door to door salesmen, family favors, you name it and I unfortunately have a hell of a time just saying no. This is probably a bad one to broadcast, but if it is any consolation I am getting better at this! I take on way more than I should more times than I should. It is my downfall. Only 3 good things come to mind when I think of situations where other people told me "you should have said no, why did you do that?!" and that would be when I took on our 3 dogs. I definitely don't regret saying yes to those phone calls.
5) confrontation - who doesn't try to avoid this? Well, nevermind there are plenty of drama queens out in the world just having a damn ball creating bullshit situations for everyone. I unfortunately developed a "brush it under the rug" type mentality which I must say isn't any healthier. I do try to keep myself out of the middle of stuff. Every once in a while someone will force me to be confrontational but I attempt to keep those people as far away as possible.
6) losing my creativity, or motivation to be creative. - Creativity is who I am, so I am scared of invisioning myself sans creativity. With the new family starting, and the general increase of responsibiliites I see my time to be creative slipping away. I hope that when Adeline is old enough to draw, paint, and the like I will be able to incorporate tons of crafty artsy me stuff.
Well, maybe it is baby brain, but that is all I can come up with for now. What are you afraid of?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Pageantry
So, yesterday I was watching a little bit of the Toddlers and Tiaras marathon on TLC don't ask, I feel terrible about it. But some very interesting thoughts came to mind while watching that train wreck of a show...
First, I wonder if DFCS watches this stuff in order to scope out who to bust for being the worst parents ever? It is pretty obvious that most of these poor kids have to go through this because their moms are fat heifers that don't have a snowball's chance to ever be pageant material. So they force their pipe dream on their unfortunate children.
Another thing I found amusing was that one of the commercials that kept playing in between episodes was for the "Your Baby can Read" program. Obviously, most of the fools who put their kids through this pageantry bullshit are far more concerned with their 3 year old's spray tan than if she can read or express any sign of intelligence.
So here I am bashing the pageant scene, when in fact I have been in one myself. How dare I right?!!! In my defense, I was 16 and not 4 - and my mom had nothing to do with forcing me into it. Our highschool's baseball team hosted a "Queen of Diamonds" pageant each spring, and all of the proceeds went towards the team (I think). So one of the guys talked me into it and yes, that is ALL that I did for the baseball team -thankyouverymuch-
I didn't know what was what from what in a pageant. The woman who handed me the package said some mess about formal wear and casual wear. I of course had a prom dress so that was one down one to go. Casual eh? I asked around. Some of the other girls gave me ideas or told me what they were doing (seriously, how many girls can possibly wear business attire in one evening?). Naturally I went outside of the box, like way the hell away from any box on my casual wear gig. I was told we can bring props too, oh goody me likey props.
So I show up for the pageant, with my little printed pageant number for the judges to see me - and judge me. Oh they had no idea.
We all went out and formed a line in our formal wear for the initial scope out from the judges. Then we go back, line up and do the individual dealy. And then it was time for casual wear... hehe
Guess where my prop was? In a cage.
I waltzed right out onto the stage when it was my time to show my casual wear with my good ol' buddy Oscar draped around my neck. Oscar my BALL PYTHON that is. The squeals and shrieks coming from the other girls backstage probably made my entrance that much more interesting.
I wish those damn stage lights weren't so ridiculously bright so I could have seen the reactions of the judges and audience. I could hear the pleasantly audible gasps (and a few screams) which sufficed I guess. Apparently that was the first time anyone had brought a ball python as a prop, go figure.
Did I win anything? Well hell no I didn't. Rigged, not rigged, snake, no snake I probably didn't stand a chance - this sort of thing was totally not me anyways. If I can remember correctly(and I can't) one of the 20+ girls dressed in a pinstripe suit with a briefcase won for casual wear. Glad they encourage creativity during pageants right? At any rate, I took my little medal that every participant gets and packed Oscar up.
I apologize for the fuzziness of the photo of Oscar and I - but the formal wear pic is pretty clear.
First, I wonder if DFCS watches this stuff in order to scope out who to bust for being the worst parents ever? It is pretty obvious that most of these poor kids have to go through this because their moms are fat heifers that don't have a snowball's chance to ever be pageant material. So they force their pipe dream on their unfortunate children.
Another thing I found amusing was that one of the commercials that kept playing in between episodes was for the "Your Baby can Read" program. Obviously, most of the fools who put their kids through this pageantry bullshit are far more concerned with their 3 year old's spray tan than if she can read or express any sign of intelligence.
So here I am bashing the pageant scene, when in fact I have been in one myself. How dare I right?!!! In my defense, I was 16 and not 4 - and my mom had nothing to do with forcing me into it. Our highschool's baseball team hosted a "Queen of Diamonds" pageant each spring, and all of the proceeds went towards the team (I think). So one of the guys talked me into it and yes, that is ALL that I did for the baseball team -thankyouverymuch-
I didn't know what was what from what in a pageant. The woman who handed me the package said some mess about formal wear and casual wear. I of course had a prom dress so that was one down one to go. Casual eh? I asked around. Some of the other girls gave me ideas or told me what they were doing (seriously, how many girls can possibly wear business attire in one evening?). Naturally I went outside of the box, like way the hell away from any box on my casual wear gig. I was told we can bring props too, oh goody me likey props.
So I show up for the pageant, with my little printed pageant number for the judges to see me - and judge me. Oh they had no idea.
We all went out and formed a line in our formal wear for the initial scope out from the judges. Then we go back, line up and do the individual dealy. And then it was time for casual wear... hehe
Guess where my prop was? In a cage.
I waltzed right out onto the stage when it was my time to show my casual wear with my good ol' buddy Oscar draped around my neck. Oscar my BALL PYTHON that is. The squeals and shrieks coming from the other girls backstage probably made my entrance that much more interesting.
I wish those damn stage lights weren't so ridiculously bright so I could have seen the reactions of the judges and audience. I could hear the pleasantly audible gasps (and a few screams) which sufficed I guess. Apparently that was the first time anyone had brought a ball python as a prop, go figure.
Did I win anything? Well hell no I didn't. Rigged, not rigged, snake, no snake I probably didn't stand a chance - this sort of thing was totally not me anyways. If I can remember correctly(and I can't) one of the 20+ girls dressed in a pinstripe suit with a briefcase won for casual wear. Glad they encourage creativity during pageants right? At any rate, I took my little medal that every participant gets and packed Oscar up.
I apologize for the fuzziness of the photo of Oscar and I - but the formal wear pic is pretty clear.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Put it on my tab
Technically there are what, 10 days until Christmas festivities? I would say, for the next 10 days I will be worried about a few things. Things like, did I get everyone's gifts? Are they wrapped? What sort of awesomeness do I want to bake or cook for this party and that party. Most importantly is- are we sticking within our budget we have made for the holidays? We are normal humans, our wallets are feeling the strain these days.
To my surprise I get a phone call this morning. It's the hospital we are having the baby at. Cool, maybe they have some pre-registration questions for me or something so I have less paperwork later on. WRONG. What seems to start as an informative phone call about my insurance benefits ends with, "Your deductible is going to be (enter a concerning amount of money here) will you be paying that today with a check or by credit card?"
Me: "Uh, neither, call you back bye."
What the hell is going on here?! I look down, and yup there is still a person chilling out in my uterus. Quite contently might I add. Pretty sure she has no intentions of leaving her cozy abode for at least another 5 weeks. Which leads me to wonder, why would I pay a hospital for my entire stay and services - if I haven't even received them yet??? And why are you bugging me like the week before Christmas! Have you no souls?!
I call them back and explain that much to their dismay I won't be checking my couch cushions today for the thousands of dollars that they want... today. I ask when they need payment by. "Two weeks prior to delivery" Which is convenient for me because who knows when that could be. Because of the gestational diabetes my delivery date can change. Point is, what is the point?
At this juncture in conversation #2 they still have yet to mention payment options/billing options. I have to drag that out of them. Well duh they can set up a payment plan. I am now wondering why they are bullying me in the first place, I am offering to pay you. period. I could be an illegal and expect you bastards to deliver my baby for free.
Which brings up an interesting point - do you think that if I tell them my husband has a green card they will give me a discount? Hey, a girl can dream!
Maybe they should have just sent me a holiday greeting card with a picture of their ass saying "Merry F*cking Christmas, now pay up you schmucks." At least I could have had a few seconds of fun opening my mail thinking, Oh yay a christmas card.
Santa Mishap
Do any of you remember the Christmas that you realized the Santa gig was up? The fat man really wasn't sneaking into your home to leave all the goodies?
I honestly can't recall when I came to terms with that. My view of Santa was always a little skewed in comparison to what other kids believed. Why is that? Well, my mom worked for Santa. That's right. She worked for Santa.Whoa right?
For a few years mom worked at the mall around Christmas time, and yup she was an elf. You know, the cranky elf that throws your children on Santa's lap and clicks the picture and throws your kid down the runway to the left with some crappy candy cane or sticker in tow. Sidenote: she may have been a jolly elf I just can't imagine how.
The particular Santa she worked for was posted up at the mall one year, and then some following years could be found at various department stores, and mom worked as an elf at those stores as well with this guy. The guy is a family friend. So? He would come over for parties and such too. Santa had a day job, and so occasionally I got to see him in his work clothes without the elves. He taught me how to build some sweet paper airplanes.
Moving along... The setting for this story is in my kindergarten class. There was a morning that mom said she and Santa would be coming to pick me up early and have lunch. She let me dress up. I picked out the brightest, wildest, puffy sleeved dress I could find - I even had brand new pink tights to match. I was stylin' for sure.
I get to school and of course everyone wants to know why I am dressed like this. I of course inform them all that Santa is coming to take me to lunch so I have to be dressed nicely. duh.
Naturally they all say "Nuh uh! you are a liar!" and lots of "Santa isn't coming here today." and lots of variations of how dumb I am for thinking Santa would be showing up to take me to lunch. I just told them to keep snacking on their glue sticks and see!
So, I endure a few hours of taunting and teasing. We have a recess play break just before our lunch hour. There was a girl in our class...Janet...god what a crazy ass kid. I should cut her some slack though, she was medicated for adhd or some sort of thing like that (ritalin was the cure all back then wasn't it?). Anyways, the teacher would pick someone different each day to escort Janet to the nurses office to dispense her drugs. That particular day was my day! Yippee. I was actually glad to catch a break from the teasing and being called a liar because in a 5 year olds mind a lot of time had passed since morning and Santa wasn't here yet.
So off we trek to the office for meds. Now, I can't remember how the next conversation went, but I certainly recall the events that went down. Janet and I are strolling along, not even off the playing lot yet, and I am sure I must have mentioned ... My lunch date with Santa ... again. Then Boom. Guess what happened?
The unmedicated Janet snapped, and kicked my ass.
The unmedicated Janet snapped, and kicked my ass.
That's right, drug me around on the sidewalk like a rag doll. My new pink tights? torn to shreds and bloodied up around the knees. So, instead of going to the office with Ms. Crazy Schizo pants I got to go to the bathroom with the teacher to clean up my damage. All I could think about was how my new outfit was ruined, and Santa wasn't even there yet!!!
A short time passes, and we are all settled back into our desks getting ready to line up for lunch. And guess who walks through the damn door? SANTA CLAUS bitches! And my mom of course. Naturally he does his little bit for the kiddos, and then I take their hands and walk out of there.
Eat that you dumb little snots! I am pretty sure that my pride outweighed my bloody knees and damaged reputation at that point. Janet may have kicked my ass, but Santa came to take me away, and now he knows what all of you have done...bwahahaha. I honestly don't remember what happened to Janet, this town is small, and I actually went to school with some kids from preschool through high school. But? I hope that Christmas she got a big bag full of nothing! Tramp...
Merry Xmas to you.
If you really don't mind that I have typed Xmas then please do continue.
I must admit I am feeling a little scrooge-y these days. I like decorating and cooking around the holidays, but all the other crap can go away. You know, the over loaded holiday schedules - excessive gift shopping/wrapping/preparing etc. Families pulling you in every direction. Who gets your undivided christmas spirit which day and which time slot is becoming increasingly overrated for me.
Xmas, Christmas, Yule, Season's Greetings blah blah are one of those times of years (like a select few other times...ahem Easter...) that transform into opportune times for ultra religious peeps to get excessively defensive. They get pissed off that xmas is so commercialized, yet they still hit up the mall for gift shopping sprees, sit on a fat santa, and decorate a tree like the best of them. They get cranky about the Easter bunny, all the chocolates, all the eggs etc. at Easter time, yet they demolish those chocolates, and give their children lavish baskets full of eggs and bunnies anyways.
Over the years I have found that many of the modern day Christian (and increasingly commercialized) holidays are suspiciously similar to the pagan traditional holidays. There isn't enough room to show the this vs. that side to each set of traditions (but this guy did a pretty damn good job of it so you can read his article if it strikes your fancy). Anywho, the similarities are there, right there in front of our noses.
But really, what is the point in shaking a stick at another person's beliefs? So as I said before, if you are already offended - before you plan a mob to come and stone me to death (hey, speaking of which, I haven't been stoned since like, high school.)
Anyways, I wanted to share a lovely little song that I found through a very good friend.
Here ya go. Santa Claus is Pagan Too.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Fowl Play
I am not really sure why I am feeling so nostalgic lately, but the old childhood stories just keep on popping up on here.
Now, in case any of you are wondering why in the hell my dad would buy a 5 year old a turkey I will tell you. He didn't. Yup, he lost another bet while he was drinkin' (or as I said earlier, did he win?) Either way, he was awarded with yet another ridiculous animal.
As per usual, let me give just a smidge of a background. Sometimes, well, a lot of times my dad does some pretty silly stuff. Particularly if alcohol is involved. How does the saying go...Ah yes, " God invented whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world" -Ed McMahon
Anyways, I guess in my case God created whiskey to keep my father from getting me normal gifts. And losing silly bets.
I have always had a love for animals in all shapes and sizes, I have had dozens (yes way more than 12) pets ranging from pups to exotic reptiles and who knows what in between. I had mentioned sometime ago that I had wanted a goat, particularly a fainting goat. Never heard of it? oh you must see one! At any rate, dad said hell no. Because they eat the back seats of cars he said! How would dad know that goats eat car's back seats? That's easy, he and his cousin lost a game of poker and were awarded the prize of a goat. (or did they win?) They of course thought it would be a grand idea to head on to the next bar with goat in tow. When they returned from bar #2 the goat had busied itself with dining on the interior of the car while waiting. Back seat? Demolished. So no goats for Stef.
Ok---Fast forward like, 15+ years - I am now 5 years old.
Dad comes home and says, "Stefanie! I have a surprise for you! Come on, go into the kitchen, sit in the floor and no peeking until I come back in with the gift!" Naturally I am super stoked and set up in the kitchen ready for my "Big Surprise!" I hear the front door open, and dad stomp in, stop, set something down, and then a little pitter patter noise coming towards me...
Dad: "Ok pumpkin, open your eyes!"
Me: "OH WOW DAD! WHAT IS IT?!?!?!? I LOVE IT" mind you, when I looked down I couldn't have even guessed what creature was staring back at me. It was so....ugly. But maybe not too ugly. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Dad: "It's a turkey Stef."
Me: "A TURKEY?! YAY"
And as soon as I said that, what did the little turkey do? Peed. My excitement must have startled her, none the less that led to her namesake. Peeper. And as you can see below, is Ms.Peeper and myself (and yet another one of my pets, Sandy the dog)
Now, in case any of you are wondering why in the hell my dad would buy a 5 year old a turkey I will tell you. He didn't. Yup, he lost another bet while he was drinkin' (or as I said earlier, did he win?) Either way, he was awarded with yet another ridiculous animal.
What ever happened to Peeper? Well, she didn't go to live on a farm, or to live with Jesus or whatever they happened to tell me when she disappeared. Unfortunately we have a large snake population around the house, so that is a likely cause of disappearance.
So there you have it people, God created whiskey to keep dad from making wise pet choices. But we love him anyways.
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