Saturday, January 30, 2010

Last night's impulse buy

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a swing at Babies R Us, and at the time, if you bought $50 or more in Fisher Price gear, you got a free pack of FP diapers. I've used the FP diapers before, and don't like them enough to pay money for them, but free diapers are free diapers, so I grabbed a pack. Yesterday, I was going through receipts to see what I needed to keep, and noticed that they hadn't taken the $9.99 for the diapers off when I bought the swing.

We went to BRU last night, and when I asked about the price adjustment, the manager said I hadn't gotten the diaper promotion because the swing was on clearance with an extra 30% off (plus I had a coupon, so I only ended up paying $60 for a Fisher Price Precious Planet Cradle 'n' Swing swing), and the extra % off cancelled out the diaper promo. Since I asked the cashier as I was checking out if the diapers were free (again, I wouldn't pay for FP diapers) and she told me they were, the manager said he'd give us $10 off a purchase that night to make up for paying for the diapers.

We need a few baby things, so we started looking around. On one of the clearance tables, I found a random gDiapers cover in W's size for $1.90. I've been trying to talk B into doing at least some cloth diapering, and disposable inserts are about the only way that will happen. Once I explained the gDiapers concept to him (i.e. you can flush the insert and don't have to "touch any baby poop"), he agreed to let me try it out. After our discount, we ended up paying about $7 for one cover and 32 inserts (compared to the $25 clearance price BRU charges for a starter kit of two covers and something like 10 or 15 inserts).

So I'm getting ready to embark on a faux cloth diapering adventure. I'm really excited about it. I'm hoping we both like the diapers, and B will maybe consider doing some more cloth diapering (faux or otherwise) with the new baby.

Monday, January 25, 2010


Why is that every time I get near the toilet with toilet cleaner, B decides he needs to (ab)use the facilities?

* * *

I wonder how much kids sell for on the black market?

(Pause while some nice federal government employee adds my blog to some kind of watch list...)

* * *

Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches are AWESOME! I've eaten way more of them than I care to admit to over the past week or so.

* * *

My new aspiration in life is to be able to go to the bathroom without one of the following happening: (1) a small child bursting in and trying to "help" me by throwing toilet paper in the toilet while I'm using it, or (2) a small child standing outside the door screaming because he can't burst in to help.

* * *

I made an appointment with a therapist today. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Actually, I am. I feel like it's going to be a complete waste of my sick time and co-pay because I'm going through one of my "good" phases right now. And this doctor is not of the type who can throw more medicine at the problem, which is kind of all I want right now.

* * *

I want a drink. Badly. We have two bottles of cheap champagne in the fridge that didn't get used at New Year's because our friends had to leave early and B fell asleep by 10:00. I'm so tempted to crack one open. But I know if I do, I'll drink the whole bottle, and then I'll feel guilty. And hungover. Which doesn't work so well when you need to be at work an hour earlier than normal in the morning.

* * *

I kind of hate that I know so many women who are pregnant right now (most of them for the first time). They're all so excited. I want to be excited for them, too, but all I want to do is tell them to run far, far away, that they're making a huge mistake and ruining their lives. But no one wants to hear that. And I don't want to be that person.

* * *

More than not wanting to ruin anyone else's pregnancy, I want to enjoy my own.

* * *

Last night, as we were talking before bed, B made some off-handed comment about how I'm almost in my third trimester. After a moment of silence, I responded, "Yeah, I know. I really don't like thinking about that because it means I have to start thinking about eventually birthing this thing, and I really, really don't want to go through all that again."

* * *

I know I'm supposed to be learning something from the clusterfuck my life has become, but I can't for the life of me figure out what that something is.

* * *

I have a three-day trial starting tomorrow, and I'm really not looking forward to it. Why? Because I'm going to have to wear heels.

* * *

I finally got my new washer and dryer on Friday (after nearly two months of needless waiting and endless store employee incompetence). I love them. Laundry is my happy place, and they make my happy place so much happier.

I was also able to do all of my laundry between 4:00 P.M. and 11:00 P.M. Normally, that much laundry would have taken aaaaaaaaaaalllllll day on Sunday with a load or two left over for Monday.

* * *

I found a list of baby names B was working on. He has Marshall on it. First, I'm not a fan. Second, that name is so unlike something B would normally pick that I'm wondering where in the world he came up with it.

* * *

B was told last week that he might be getting the call to go back to work. He didn't. He was told the company needs another week or two. He's so excited about it, and it just breaks my heart because I'm guessing this delay means that he's not getting called back right now, and he's going to be crushed when he finds out.

* * *

There's a house across the street from us that we looked at when we were house hunting. I liked it because the innards had all been updated, and it wouldn't have required tons of work from us (If I'd had my way, we would have moved into a brand new, cookie cutter suburban house that needed no work...I hate house projects). B seems to remember that it needed a bunch of mechanical work, but I think he's nuts.

Regardless, when we looked at it, the bank had accepted a short sale offer that was about $10K more than we wanted to pay, but it fell through. We assumed that the bank would be willing to go down to our price, so we didn't put an offer in on it. I noticed a couple of weeks ago that it sold, so, being the nosy person that I am, I looked it up. The guy bought it for $19K less than the short sale offer. They actually got their house for $6K less than we paid for ours, and we got a kick ass deal. I couldn't believe it.

* * *

I don't know why I watch Secret Life of the American Teenager. It's really pretty awful. Tonight's topic is masturbation, and it would be disturbing if it weren't so hilarious.

* * *

If I can't have booze, I want a Diet Coke. But we don't have any in the house. I'm thinking a McDonald's drive through trip is in order in the morning. They have the best fountain Coke.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Tonight, I miss my laptop

My laptop is a bit on the non-functional side right now. I keep hoping it's not dead, but my rational side tells me it probably is. My friend's husband is going to look at it for me, but we've had some scheduling conflicts and haven't been able to meet up yet. So, I'm stuck using B's crappy desktop that neither of us likes. It's old and slow, and the noises it makes when it's processing something are scary.

Although I've missed the speed and convenience of my laptop occasionally over the past two weeks, it hasn't been too bad. I've been spending a lot less time on the internet, which I suppose is a good thing. Tonight, however, I miss my laptop. I had to bring some work home with me, which would normally entail me plopping on the couch with the laptop - work papers on one side of me, remote on the other - and plugging away at whatever decision/instructions/project I'm working on while enjoying some sort of trashy TV.

The orientation of the home office area and the forced use of the desktop are making that impossible tonight. This decision is taxing my brain a bit, too, and some TV trash (I have an episode of Teen Mom on the DVR that is begging for some attention, and it's Project Runway night!) would be a welcome relief.

But enough whining about no laptop and no TV. I have work to do. I super puffy heart when attorneys decide to wait until, oh, less than three days before trial to bring up super huge, major issues. Good thing I don't have any plans this weekend.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Ugly baby gifts

As I was rummaging through some of the many boxes of crap in our basement, I came across a couple of gifts from W's baptism. They're both hideous ceramic crosses that will never see the light of day in my home. They both came from relatives, and I truly appreciate the thought behind them, but...well, they're ugly. Hideously so. To the point that I would be embarrassed to have them hanging on a wall. Think old lady knick-knack ugly. They're awful. I figure these will stay in their boxes, safely tucked in a bigger box in the basement until someday I throw them away give them to W when he moves out.

Some ugly gifts are easier to deal with than others. Clothes, for example. There are a couple of outfits W never wore because they were so awful, and now they're in the "Baby Two isn't the right season for these, so I can get rid of them" bag. Other outfits were worn to the sitter's (never in public), with the warning as soon as I walked in the door that it was "ugly baby shower clothes day." She always found that amusing. And she usually agreed with my assessment of the outfit. Fortunately for me, these clothes have also generally found their way to the donation bag, and will soon be out of my life forever.

But then there are the hand-made things. Someone knitted me a blanket for one of my showers that is only slightly bigger than a dishrag and has no practical applications whatsoever. Someone else cross stitched a birth record for W that is not at all my style, and I don't want to display it anywhere. You can't just dispose of handmade gifts. That feels as wrong as throwing away those Gideon's Bibles people hand out on the corner.

And then there are the Precious Moments gift. Sweet Lord, the Precious Moments gifts. I am not, in any way, shape, or form, a Precious Moments fan. Their stuff is much too saccharine for me. Unfortunately, we have a relative that really likes Precious Moments (and B actually likes them some, too. Barf!) and has given us many things with those freakishly-large-headed children on them. Again, these are not things I want on display anywhere in my house. Nor do they have any redeeming qualities - like being useful - that might make me forgive them for being Precious Moments.

Right now, all of these things are packed away in boxes, and I have the convenient excuse that there is currently no shelving or storage space in W's room. But once we've painted and shelved, what do I do about the ugly gifts? What if people start asking questions? How do you tactfully extricate yourself from the "Oh, where's that lovely cross I got W for his baptism?"-type questions.

So, what do you do with ugly, unwanted baby gifts? Is there a rule on how long you have to let them rot in the basement save them before it's appropriate to donate, sell, or throw them away?

Friday, January 15, 2010

A mother's intuition

When I got home from work tonight, W was being much more clingy and whiny than normal. I was sitting with him on the couch and cuddling, when I looked up at B and said, "I have a sinking feeling that I'm about to be puked on." And not 30 seconds later, I was covered, head to toe, in puke. Gotta love that motherly instinct.

This is our first experience with a puking baby. Oh, sure, we had PLENTY of spit up for the first few several nine or so months of his life, but this is the first time we've had sick puking. It's been fun. Really.

Between 5:30 and 8:00 PM, I went through four changes of clothing, W went through four changes of clothing, I emptied the puke bowl (which doesn't work all that well for a 14-month-old, by the way. I'd put it in front of him when I could tell he was about to hurl, and he kept trying to shove it away and/or stick his hand in it) five or six times, I cleaned two dripping wet books and four different spots on the carpet, B brought me six or seven towels, and B almost puked just from seeing W throw up six time (that would have been more, I'm sure, but I sent him out to the store to pick up supplies).

The sitter and her kids had this pukey crap on Monday, and I guess it hadn't quite gone away by the time W got there yesterday. I feel bad for the poor kid. He cries every time he throws up. I'm hoping this bug is short-lived and he's better in the morning. And he doesn't puke through all two of our crib sheets tonight. And I'm really hoping that I don't come down with this. I have stuff I want to get done this weekend.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Bootcamp up date

Well, glasses boot camp went pretty well, but it hasn't seemed to have any lasting effects. W actually did pretty well over the weekend. He would leave his glasses on for up to 30 or 45 minutes at a time (I consider that a success), and would usually leave them on when we put them back on him. However, when the kid didn't want to wear his glasses, he didn't want to wear his glasses. If he's not in the mood, he'll pull them off continuously until we give up and decide to take a little break.

He's been doing worse as the week has worn on, too. I'm thinking it's because B hasn't really been making him wear them while I'm at work. I'm pretty sure his glasses were in the exact same position on the mantle when I got home the other day as they were when I left. I think all we can hope for right now is getting them on for stretches that get close to an hour. I'm hoping the eye doctor will be ok with that because I don't think anything more than that is realistic at the moment.

Prior to boot camp weekend, I e-mailed the amazing Swistle to see if she had any sage advice regarding babies and glasses. She suggested not forcing the issue right now. I never actually got around to e-mailing her back (bad Emily!), so I'm posting about it now. Unfortunately, we've already tried the "let's just wait and hope he likes them better in a few months" approach. B and I liked that approach. But then we got yelled at for it. The hope is that he's young enough that consistently wearing his glasses now might help his eyes improve so he won't be quite so farsighted in the future.

I guess we'll just keep plugging along and hoping it might stick some day. Blah.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010


I've never been all that good at asking for help when I really need it. I tend to plod along, getting more and more distraught and miserable, until someone notices that I need help and either points that fact out to me, or offers me whatever it is that I so desperately need. Even then, I sometimes fight the assistance, thinking I can do it or handle it myself.

The awful depression roller coaster I've been on for almost two years now is no exception. I always, always know when I get to the point of needing some sort of mental health intervention. But I won't do anything about it. I keep trying to fix things myself until someone in my life points out that I need something more than willpower to solve my problems. Even then, it takes me a while to take action. Don't know why, but that's how I've always been. It's one of the many of my traits that I'm not particularly fond of.

I have one friend who is good about calling me on my deterioration, and about suggesting I do something to help myself get better. It's one of those things that sometimes makes me want to tell her to mind her own business and leave me the hell alone, but it's also one of the things I love about her. I need people like that in my life. Especially since I've gotten good at hiding the depths of my despair (that sounds so hokey, but I can't come up with anything better right now) from my mom and B, the two people historically most likely to catch on to potential issues.

I'm at that point again. Things are not good in my brain (and are probably far worse than even those close to me know). My mood and outlook fluctuate from day to day, and even hour to hour on some days, and half the time I feel like I'm more bipolar than depressed (does pregnancy-induced bipolar disorder exist? If it does, I'm screwed). I want to run away from my life and never come back. I want to go to sleep one night, and wake up to find that the past couple of years were all a dream, and I'm back in a place where I had some freedom. I want to trade in my kid(s) for cats and go live with creatures who aren't so demanding and obnoxious. Actually, that's not true. My cat has been just as annoying as my kid(s) lately...I'm reconsidering the cats part, but not the rest. I spend hours ruminating about my role as wife and mother, and how I don't think I'm really fit for either. And this is just the surface. Revealing any more would probably get me committed.

I see my OB tomorrow, and I'm going to talk to her. My own personal theory is that the dose of meds I'm on is enough to keep me sane and level when I'm not pregnant, but the effing of my head that the pregnancy hormones causes requires more intervention than I'm currently getting. We'll see what she says. I know I probably need to see a therapist on top of that, but that's just not in the cards right now for a variety of reasons. I can't talk to people I know in real life about a lot of things because I'm 99.9% sure none of them would understand or be able to help, and I'm guessing most of them would judge me. I'm so sensitive to judgment from others right now (no idea why), and I couldn't stand my friends or family looking at me differently right now, and maybe forever.

I'm so over all of this bullshit. I just want to be mentally stable again. Of course, it's been so long since I've been able to achieve that on my own that I'm not sure I even know what it looks and feels like anymore.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Legal funny for the day

Overheard during a trial sidebar:

Prosecutor: "Were you represented by a lawyer or a public defender?"

Public defender (with an offended look on his face): "Last time I checked, public defenders were lawyers, too."

Prosecutor (realizing what she said and turning bright red): ---

Me: *uncontrollable, likely inappropriate giggling*

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Time for some will-breaking

B and I were chastised by W's eye doctor earlier this week because we aren't trying hard enough to get him to wear his glasses. Fine. But if you're going to yell at me, you also need to give me some suggestions on how to fix the problem. The doc suggested following him around all day and putting his glasses back on every time he takes them off. Brilliant. We haven't tried that before. /dripping sarcasm. He also said to try holding him on one of our laps and restraining his arms so he can't get to his glasses for an hour. Also brilliant. W just loooooooves sitting still and being held, especially when he can't move his arms. (Sorry, that sarcasm kicked in again)

I was whining to my mom about the whole situation, and she suggested a weekend-long wear-your-damn-glasses-kid boot camp. This boot camp will consist of nothing but making W wear his glasses, no matter how much crying, screaming, and frustration results. We need to get the kid to stop thinking it's super fun to pull his glasses off his head, and to realize that those things on his face are what's making him see better (I can tell he sees better with the glasses on, and he gets really excited about seeing better, but he hasn't quite made the connection between glasses and sight yet).

Now that's a brilliant idea.

Mom also suggested that she and I could do it at her house this weekend, as B has very little with patience with W sometimes, and I mentioned that the boot camp would probably send B over the edge

So, we're going to try it. W and I are headed to Grandma's tomorrow after work. I think it's going to be a long weekend. I'm just hoping to come home with my sanity intact, and a baby who wears his glasses.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Stealing me time

Tonight, when I put the baby down at the (very) early end of his normal bedtime range even though he wasn't really acting tired simply because I was done playing mommy for the night, I felt a teeny, tiny twinge of guilt.

But then I justified it by telling myself that it was for his own good because he has to be up early for an appointment in the morning, and the guilt went away.

The things we do for a few extra minutes of me time...

Friday, January 1, 2010

How I rang in my New Year

Alone in the living room, empty plastic cup that once had "alcohol removed" champagne in it in hand, watching Dick Clark screw up the count down, listening to W's wailing in the background.

I'll go ahead and say that I've had better.