It's been awhile

I haven't blogged in ages. I've missed it and it's been hard to get back into the groove. I've been so busy living life that it's been hard to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard).

I've also been struggling to figure out what the hell I want my blog to be about. My life is more than just about being a mother to Elly. She's a hoot, don't get me wrong. And I love her more than anything on this planet (even more than bacon), but I'm more than just a mom.

The struggle then becomes how do I write a blog that is interesting and compelling, that has some kind of central focus about my life that people would want to read without it spiraling into some kind of crazy mommy/sex in the city/dear diary type of blog?

The answer is: I have no freakin' clue.

Here's what my life has been like the last six months:

Running, and lots of it
Mommy guilt
Co-parenting challenges and successes
Watching Elly blossom into an amazing little person with a tremendous personality
Dating- the good, bad and the ugly
Work
Sports watching
Finding myself
Taking new risks and challenges
Oh, and a little knitting in there too.

So the question is, where do I go from here? I mean, the little dating life I do have is insane. I've just decided what my 2014 personal challenge is and it has nothing to do with running or marathons. (Although I will be doing another one of those this year.) Every day Elly says something absolutely hysterical that makes me think she's going to grow up to be Tina Fey. Oh and I'm almost done with the damn sweater I started knitting last year for Elly... and I finished a scarf!

Needless to say, I need to get back to this and I need to figure out what to tell you about. I may start with how I plan to plaster the city of Alexandria with signs looking for a guy I met last week in a bar. I can only imagine how this will turn out.

Congratulations?

There are certain events in people's lives that you know just what to say when the moment arrives.  Congratulations to the new graduate, what a beautiful baby to the new parents, Mazel to the newly married couple, my condolences when someone passes.  But what exactly do you say to someone when they get a divorce?

It's really weird for me to tell people that I'm divorced.  Now that it's official, I haven't felt the need to make a giant facebook status about it.  I didn't run out and tell everyone I know (well, I did tell my mom and close friends, but ya know...).  There was no single ladies party. 

I'm not sad or embarrassed about it.  I'm not upset that I'm divorced.  I'm not even mad. 

I am content. 

And because of this feeling of contentment, I don't need to announce it to the world.  But when it comes up, I do tell people of my new status.  I think the biggest reason I haven't said anything publicly is because I don't know what to do with the reactions.  Because people just don't know what to say. 

I think the reason people don’t know what to say is because every divorce is different.  Some are terrible and messy and bitter.  Others are drawn out and exhausting (probably like the marriage was).  And some are like mine- neatly amicable.

We went to court, walked out, got a cup of coffee and then cheers’ed each other.  We then went our separate ways and it wasn't a big deal.  We work together pretty well for Elly's sake.  The biggest compliment I think we've had as a divorced couple so far is that Elly's daycare workers can't tell the difference of which parent she's with when she gets dropped off.  They don't know because she's the same no matter what.  I'm not sure if that's an example of our solid co-parenting skills or if we need to chalk it up to her blissful resilience.  Either way, she doesn't seem too phased by it.  And that's good. 

When people ask why we even get a divorce if we seem to be doing much better now, I say it's because we're not married that we get along.  It only works because we're not together. 

I'm happy now.  I feel like a weight is lifted.  I feel relieved. I can focus on my life and my goals and know that I can achieve whatever I want without compromise.  Stoofy isn't a bad guy.  He's not a bad father.  He's just not the guy for me and I'm not the girl for him.  We can't succeed together. 

So for me, when I tell you I'm divorced, a solid congratulations is enough.  I don't need the noisemakers or confetti thrown, because it's not that kind of congratulations.  But I don't need any sorrow or pity.  I'm happy and content.  I'm in a good place and I'm looking forward to the next chapter of my life.  

Earth Day

Today is Earth Day. What did I do for the planet? I remembered to take out my recycling.

Pretty exciting stuff! While it's no highway clean-up or a hemp sit-in, it's something.

I actually recycle regularly. And by regularly, I mean when I stop being lazy and dump my recycle bin from the upstairs patio into the downstairs approved bin that gets picked up about every two weeks.

I recycle just about everything I can. As it turns out, my earth-saving techniques have been honed over the last few years.

But I must confess, my green behavior is pretty selfishly driven.

It started off with turning in pop and water bottles when I lived in San Diego. Unlike Michigan, in California you can turn in just about any beverage receptacle for $.05. Not too shabby.

Then I just got greedy and started taking all the bottles off the ship.

See, on a Navy vessel you have to sort your trash. Contrary to Green Peace's thought, the Navy does its duty to save the planet. All plastic is kept, melted down and then shipped off to be recycled. I just didn't take the bottles to the compactor on the ship. Instead, I'd smuggle them off and turn them in for money. (My Senior Chief flipped his lid when he found out and told me I better not get caught, because he didn't want to hear about it in the Chief's Mess!)

When I moved east, the deposit system wasn't available. So my recycling took a giant step back.

But don't worry, I found another green choice that saved me money. Shortly after moving to Virginia, the area passed a bag tax. You pay more every time you buy something unless you bring your own bag. Then you get $.05/bag back.

I always had a million bags and I'll be damned if I got taxed for shit when using my own bag! That pocket change adds up!

Then I moved to a place that had curb-side recyclable pick up. I didn't have to sort a thing. I didn't have to bag anything. I just had to stick it in the blue trash can and not the green trash can. Perfect! That's easy. And you know what? It saves me money.

How? Because I'm not sticking every cereal box in a trash bag. I'm not flattening every milk jug to get it to fit better in the trash bag. I'm not worried about how I'm going to get the newspaper in the trash.

I just toss it in a bin and it saves room in the trash bag, which means I use less trash bags. Cha-Ching!

Turns out, this whole recycling thing isn't so hard after all... When I remember to wheel the bin out for the week, that is.

How did you celebrate earth day?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Best worst decision ever

I've made some bad decisions in life.  Any of my high school photos can tell you I don't know how to style my hair. I typically make dinner decisions based off what would best be topped by cheese, not by what's best for my waist line.

But the decision I've made recently is easily the best worst decision ever.

Abby (my BFF) made a bold decision to get motivated and organize a team to run the Marine Corps Marathon this year for the organization she works for. She was apprehensive and gung-ho all at once.  I mean, she's a Marine vet and has run the MCM once before.  It was the organizing a team of 25 people to come out and run in honor of Disabled American Veterans PLUS running a marathon that was daunting for her. 

So I did what every best friend does and said, "Sure! I'll help you."

Somehow (my memory is a little fuzzy how this happened) we got from "That's so exciting! I'm all about helping you organize the team and finding runners," to "Hey! Why don't I run it with you?"

Yeah. I decided to run the Marine Corps Marathon... just like that.

How does that even fucking happen? I HATE running.  In fact, some of my most popular blogs talk about how much I really hate running.  Like really, really hate it.

So why not go ahead and decide I want to run 26.2 fucking miles.  Psssh! No big deal.

Then I started to think about the people I've seen running the MCM when I cheered on Abby. I saw tons of disabled veterans running.  I saw a double-amputee running.  I saw a couple blind guys running it.  I saw guys juggling and girls in tutus. I saw thousands and thousands of others out there running it like it was no big deal.  All in support of the Marine Corps and the sacrifices service members and veterans have made.

That's when I realized that if they can all do it, so could I. I have no excuse in the world big enough to get me out of it.  Because if a guy without legs can run 26.2 miles, then my fat ass needs to get out there and suck it up. 

It helps that I'm running to bring awareness to others about DAV and what they do to support veterans.  It also helps that Abby will be there to support me. And it also really helps when the MCM public affairs team posts videos like this that make me cry and motivate me to do it. Because honestly, I can, I just need to get off my ass and do it already.

So from now until Oct. 27, please expect plenty of bitching and complaining updates about running to go along with the crazy crap Elly does. And if you'd like to travel to the D.C. area to support me along the way, feel free.  Because honestly, I'm going to need it!!!

Linking up this week with Yeah Write. It's a great community for writers who blog and bloggers who write.

Mondays suck

Mondays are terrible.  They flat out suck.  This week especially.

I didn't have a very restful or peaceful weekend.  It's my own fault.  I have 10 million projects and side jobs going on right now and I'm over extended a tiny bit and grumpy about it.  Getting paid for these extra jobs makes me a tiny less grumpy. Coffee and/or booze also helps.

There were some snow flurries when I woke up this morning.  For me, that's not a big deal, for the rest of the D.C. area, you'd think the sky was falling. Traffic sucked even more than usual, which means it's not a great way to start the week. 

And on this particular Monday, the exhaustion from last week, coupled with the non-restful weekend, plus lack of good coffee creamer for my joe, makes for a really crappy Monday.

To add insult to injury, this week will seriously blow at work.  This week I get my formal letter stating Congress officially can't do their job, forcing the Defense Department to drastically cut spending.  And by cut spending I mean cut my pay by 20% starting next month until the end of September.  Fucking glorious.

It's like a pink slip, but worse. It's a slow-moving amber slip.  This is a warning signal to let you know to slow down (especially your spending) and brace for impact. I'm going to have one day off a week to figure out how to live off of 20% less of my income.  (Did I mention that I live in one of the most expensive places in the country to live.  If I could find a job elsewhere with as much career growth potential, I'd move.)

I've begun applying for second jobs.  I've updated my sitter-city profile. I've been taking on crazy ass projects to make extra cash. All in the attempt to survive this. 

What blows my mind is I don't think people across the country understand how this budget crisis can and will affect them.  It's not just going to be me taking a cut.

For example, in my home state of Michigan, the mitten will lose approximately $22 million in funding for primary and secondary education, putting around 300 teacher and aide jobs at risk. In addition about 25,000 fewer students will be served and approximately 80 fewer schools will receive funding. (Don't believe me? Or just want to know more about how much your state is going to lose? Check this out.)

And that's just one state.  People are up in arms about military service members' tuition assistance being suspended because of the budget cuts.  And I get it, I used TA when I was active duty.  But who is worried about the medical care they're not going to get because 40% of the medical staff in military hospitals are furloughed just like me?

Oh, and I love how everyone supports hiring our veterans... even the federal government.  But what they don't tell you is that they've hired us (yes, I'm a vet) and now they're giving us yellow slips.  So much for the support of the country's heroes. (Where's the Facebook petition on that?!) 

It's exhausting to think about how much this is going to suck.  I've been preparing for it for weeks.  But now, today, this Monday, the week is finally here.  The week my life as I know it for now comes to an end and I'm going to have to get creative financially and craft my way out of this financial burden. And right now, there's not nearly enough coffee or hot glue for that!

Mondays seriously suck.

Make Monday a little better, and come check out some great blogs linked up with Mod Mom.

Birds of a Feather

I've been crafting a lot lately.  I'm bouncing around from project to project.  I said I wasn't going to do that, but I just can't help it.  I have crafting ADHD. But I've got a lot of super cute things I'm working on.  The lastest is a super cute owl pillow.

I'm in a few diffent facebook groups (who isnt?). Someone asked if anyone could make this pillow:

Finding stuff on Pinterest to covet but with no way to buy
or instructions on how to make on your own- losing!

As a crafty girl, I responded.  I mean, I can make just about anything I see.  So a bunch of women requested pillows!

Here's what I did:

1) Find soft flannel fabric for the pillow and coordinating felt fabric for the owl body.

2) Cut out owl pieces.

3) Lay out to make sure it all fits right.



Everything cut and laid out.

 4) Start hand stitching all the pieces.

5) Sew the owl to the pillow.

6) Make the pillow and stuff the pillow.

7) Enjoy!

Pillow is done and super cute and soft!

I used felt to make all the owl pieces and then used embroidery floss to do all the owl sewing details.  I did add a "Baked by Betty" tag into the pillow.


I've gotten a ton more felt and fabric to make some more pillows for customers.  I can make them in almost any color based what felt is available.  But first, I need to finish the Jedi capes! Stay tuned for more details on that Star Wars adventure!

Snow Day

We've got a snow day today! YAY!!!!  I love snow days! They're the best.  I'm a Michigan-American and have enjoyed a few snow days in my life.  I probably enjoy them even more as an adult now because I have plenty of craft projects to complete and my DVR is nearly full.

Usually on snow days you get to sleep in.  Turns out that's not the case when you're a parent to a toddler.  I woke up a little after 4 a.m. to start notifying the masses (a.k.a. my job). Elly woke up at 5:51 a.m. to start her day. Awesome.

But you know what? The great thing about snow days is you get to do things you don't normal do.  On this snow day, I'm going to be the kind of mom I always dream to be, but am usually too busy with work to actually be.  I'm going to be the kind of mom who has time for a cup of coffee in a regular mug (not a travel, spill proof mug) in the morning.

I'm going to be the kind of mom who makes freshly baked muffins for breakfast for my daughter.  And I'm going to be the kind of mom who enjoys the day with my daughter doing fun inside activities and hopefully putting on our boots and snow pants and playing in the snow (when it actually accumulates).

Muffins and coffee on this perfect snow day.  I even made them in my heart-shaped tin!

I'm jealous of my stay at home mom friends who get the opportunity to be this kind of mom every day.  They make it look fun and easy (I know it’s not always).  They all seem to have such a great time doing amazing things for their kids.  I’m jealous. There, I said it.

I greatly respect my SAHM friends. They are amazing.  And their choice to stay home and raise their kids is, I’m sure, not always an easy one. I also greatly respect my working mom friends.  They work hard for their families and the sacrifices they make aren’t always easy either. But I’m still jealous.  I’m a single mom now.  I have no other choice but to work. 

As a working, single-mom, there's never enough time in the day for doing everything I want to do as a mom and as a professional.  I’m stuck leaving work at a certain time so I don’t get overcharged by the daycare, even though my work day really hasn’t ended. There's not always time to make homemade dinners from scratch. And there's definitely no time to make muffins in the morning (unless I was on some really awesome drugs and could survive on only a couple hours of sleep).

So this snow day is a blessing.

Tomorrow I'm sure I'll be ready to get back to my job and get back to work, but today I'm going to embrace the snow day and be the mom I always dreamed to be.

Check out all the great work over at Yeah Write Me. It's a place where bloggers who write and writers who blog hang out. And don't forget to stop back over on Thursday to vote for your favorite blog!

Elly do it

Last night wasn't a great night for me and Elly.  I picked her up from daycare, give her a hug and a kiss and she proceeds to pick up her jacket.  I go to help her put it on and she says yells "ELLY DO IT!!!!" 

Zipping her own coat

Ok fine.  So I let her put on her coat. But I was in a hurry and she was taking forever since, you know, she's two and hasn't quite master figuring out which hole to put her arm through.  So I try to help a tiny, little bit and get her going in the right direction. 

"ELLY DO IT!!!!!!!!!"

Ok. FINE!

Finally we're dressed and ready to leave. But before we can walk out the door, she has to press the button to open the door.  She has to walk out to the car on her own.  She has to climb into the car on her own and she has to get into her car seat on her own.  Because after all...

"ELLY DO IT!!!!"

We get home and she's trying to help open the door.  It's really more of a pain in my ass for her to do this, but she's screaming again.

"ELLY DO IT!!"

Time to make dinner, "ELLY DO IT!!!" (It took 15 minutes to convince her that she needed to play in her sensory bucket and not try and help me cook the taco meat.)

Time to clean up the house, "ELLY DO IT!!!" (This took an additional 25 minutes to clean up after her, but not let her know I was doing it, since “Elly do it.”)

Walk up the stairs to bath time, get the bubbles in the bath, take off clothes and try on the potty, climb into the tub...

"ELLY DO IT!!!!!"

Except she can't do it all yet.  The kid takes for FOR.FUCKING.EVER. to get things done.  Probably because she really has no actual life experience doing half these things yet.  I mean, she's only two, but she thinks she can do it all and won't accept any help. 

So here we are, in a conundrum. I'm the experienced 30-year-old know-it-all mother.  She's the stubborn and independently-minded child who won't accept help. I want things done quickly and efficiently.  I have limited time to get everything done and don't have 15 minutes while she figures out pulling her arm out of her sleeve and sticking it through the head-hole of her shirt will not equal a successful attempt at undressing herself.

Yet, here she is, all needing to do everything on her own. And I know she has to learn all of these important life skills.  I have to encourage her to learn or else I'm going to be stuck still wiping her ass when she's 30 because she still won't have figured that out. (She'll probably blame me because I never cut her hair.)

I have to take a moment and realize that her stubbornness and desire to do things on her own, learn new skills and take charge are all qualities I love about her and that I've given her. (The apple doesn’t exactly fall far from the tree.) It's this desire to learn and take on new challenges that will make her successful in life. 

I should be grateful that she is excited to help me put the soap in the dishwasher and start it.  I should be thrilled she wants to help me put the clothes in and out of the dryer. I should be happy she wants to venture on her own and learn how things work. After all, this means in a few more years I'll be able to put her to work around the house, right?

After a deep breath, a mental regroup and a few bedtime stories, I asked her to help turn out the lights for the night. I picked her up so she could reach the light switch and said, "Elly do it."

She looked at me with big eyes and said, "Momma do it." 

You're killing me kid.

Cousin It

I'm a hairy woman.  Stoofy is a pretty hairy guy.  When we were dating and engaged, I knew that we would eventually have a hairy child.

In fact when I was pregnant, I used to dream that Elly would come out looking like a monkey. 

What I pictured my unborn child to look like at birth

The doctor would hand her to me and then hand me shaving cream (extra sensitive, super-specially formulated for my minutes-old baby) and a razor and I would have to shave her before being weighed.  She would only need that initial shave and then would be fine until she became menopausal. 

So it was no surprise to me (given the amount of heartburn I had during my pregnancy) that she came out with a full head of hair.  I WAS surprised she didn't look more like a monkey. 

Although, Elly WAS born with hair on the top of her ears, like on the ridge of them.  She looked like an elf.  It actually took me about 2-3 hours of her life before I figured out that the hair I kept tucking behind her ears and under her cap was actually attached to her ears and not her head.  (Mother of the year already.)

It should be no surprise that she's got lots of hair now. In fact she's got longer hair than me.  In her nearly two years of life, I have yet to cut it.  I used to think people who never cut their kid's hair and let it grow past their kid's ass were nuts.  I mean, who lets a kid who can barely wipe on their own let their hair dangle back there and get in the way?  Gross.

But now that I'm faced with the milestone of her first hair cut, I just can't do it.  I'm prepared to let her hair grow to her kneecaps if I have to.  I'll just embrace her hair and dress her as Cousin It for Halloween. Shit, I'll even spring for the Repunzel costume if that's what it takes.



"AAAHHH! My hair is out of control!"



Why am I protesting the shears? Probably because the moment I cut her hair is the moment we can never go back. Once you get your first hair cut, that's it.  It's the end of the baby phase of her life.  It's the start of a whole new confusing part of life where you're desperately trying to get a "Rachel" hair cut when you have "Felicity" hair. It's the start of worring about all things coifed.

I'm not ready for it and I'm not ready for her to grow up.  I'll just buy more hair ties to keep her locks out of her yogurt in the morning.

Check out all the amazing writers linked up this week at Yeah Write Me.
And don't forget to stop back by on Thursday to vote for your favorite blogs of the week.

It's just terrible

In one week Elly will be turning two.  I'm crying just writing that.  Why am I even crying? I mean it's not like she's leaving for college next week or anything.  It's not like she's going off to have her life adventures, meet her soul mate, get married or have kids.  She's just turning two.

But then she'll be 5 and going to kindergarten.  And then she'll be 10 and having her first playground boyfriend.  And then she'll be 13 and going through all the terrible things that happen to you when you become a teenager.  Not to mention she'll be turning 16 in a blink of an eye and will never be home since she'll be able to drive.  And then it'll really happen.  She'll turn 18 and go off to college or do whatever and she'll be gone forever.

Now I'm really sobbing.

And laughing.

Let's call it slaughing (because slobbing sounds gross).

Why do I always have a melt down when she has a birthday? (all two of them so far.) Will I always sob leading up to her birthday? And why am I even crying?

Maybe I'm crying because I know that she'll never be this small again.  Her toddler vocabulary will develop and she eventually will stop asking for "oh shit" when she wants lotion.  She's going to grow out of the phase of needing to curl up on my lap to fall asleep. 

I mean, it’s already begun. She won't hold my hand to walk anywhere. 

Or maybe I'm crying because the years ahead are only going to get harder. Just thinking about all the milestones yet to come is paralyzing.  I can't even bring myself to take Elly for her first hair cut! Instead, I've succumbed to the fact that I'm allowing my child to walk around looking like Cousin It.

My child, Cousin It

Or maybe the real reason I'm crying is because every time I tell Elly something I'm met with a resounding "NOOOOOOOO!"  And I mean EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.

That must be why I'm crying... I've just hit the terrible twos/threes phase and all I'm going to be hearing for the next year (plus some from what I hear) is NO.  This is just terrible.

Half Baked

My name is Betty Bakedgood and I like to bake.  I also love to knit, crochet, quilt, sew, cross-stitch, scrapbook and make whatever other fun crafts I find on Pinterest.  I also work full time and I'm a single mom trying to survive life with a toddler.

So my baking has taken an unfortunate dip in production.  It makes me sad.  I really want tasty morsles of delicious cookies in my house.  I love to make cookies, cupcakes, pies and tarts.  It's soothing and theraputic for one, and two, it makes my house smell yummy.

The problem is all of my projects are half baked.  I'm in the middle of five ten crochet projects, a knitting project, two cross-stitch projects and I've got supplies for at least 10 Pinterest projects in the queue.

Someone once told me that it's a sign of intelligence  when you bounce between projects because you can always remember where you left off and can pick it up and carry on with no problem.  I find that to be a load of horse shit because half the time I can't figure out where I left off and it takes awhile to get back into a project.

I get the crafting equivilant to writers block when I look at my half baked projects. I actually seize up a little when I see a project sitting there, glaring at me.  Elly's felt food pile is waiting to be embellished with hand stitching.  It's mocking me.   

So here's my vow to my half-baked projects.  I will complete you before starting anything new.  I will bake cookies for my coworkers because they deserve it.  I will complete my blogs (even this one took a week to finish!). 
I will finish my first knitted sweater project. (It's coming along nicely actually!) And I will finish it with enough time for Elly to actually wear it before she outgrows it. I will also finish this project because my knitting club friend is providing the adult supervision for me and holding my feet to the fire.

I will finish the baby blanket for Ms. B before she pops out her baby.  And then, and only then, will I make these adorable monster slippers for my friend. 

(Don't worry, I'll start them in the next couple weeks as promised! Because I know that I'll just skip around my other projects and work on this one anyway!)

Bakedgood weekend

My mom is coming to visit this weekend!!!! Yay!!!

The only thing on our agenda is nothing! I think I'll teach her how to crochet and maybe I'll convince her to help me make peanut butter cookies.

Until then, I'll just keep working on Elly's sweater.





It's coming along nicely. In fact, all of my projects are coming along nicely. It's a Bakedgood weekend!





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Lego Landmines

There are mornings that Elly wakes up bright and early.  Those mornings suck.  She is usually yelling from her room while I'm trying to fumble through my getting up and dressed for the day routine. To keep her from climbing into the shower with me (which leads to a melt down because she's part cat and doesn't actually like being submerged under the shower nozzle), I often poke my head out from behind the curtain and tell her to go find some blocks.  She scurries off to find her Duplo Legos and brings them into my room and tosses them all over the floor. 

As I climb out of the shower trying to dry my hair and make sure she stops poking the dog in the eye, I usually step on one of the Legos. 

Instant pain.  It's like stepping on a landmine.  A Lego landmine. And it freakin' hurts. 

I usually hop around in pain and then bang into my vanity.  I'm lucky if I don't cut my shin on my bed frame. All of this usually makes Elly squeal with laughter like the kid on Monsters Inc. Being mocked by my own kid is just a sucky way to start a morning.

When you're pregnant, no one tells you how painful parenting can be.  It's not just the pain of child birth, it's the entire life of your kid.  Sure there are plenty of things that help ease the pain... laughter, memories, wine... But it still hurts when you step on one of those Lego landmines.

I've recently discovered there are other landmines in the world of parenting.  No one really warns you about these either, until it's too late. 

It usually comes in an innocent form. You meet one of your kid's friends, Suzy.  You meet Suzy's mom. And then you think, cool! Elly and Suzy are the best of friends, so I'll like her mom and we can have play (wine) dates. 

As you wade into this new found friendship, you discover Suzy's mom doesn't like Suzy to eat certain things.  Fine.  To each their own.

When you mention you don't like Elly playing with certain items (say stickers or glitter) because she can't stop ruining your upholstery with said play items, Suzy's mom shrugs and makes a snarky comment about how you just have to show her how to do it right. (FYI- there’s no right way with glitter unless you’re Ke$ha.)

And while I bite my tongue because I want this new friendship to work, Suzy then takes a turn with the crayon, stickers, glitter, etc. toward my upholstery.  Suzy's mom does nothing.

And that's when I step on another landmine. I make the bold attempt to stop Suzy from breaking a rule and try a gentle, approved discipline technique in my house.  (Scolding, redirection and maybe a time out if hitting is involved.)

KABOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!  And there goes my life, limb and budding friendship. 

Because no mom wants another mom stepping on her disciplinarian toes.  I get that.  However, don't let your kid break the rules in my house just because you've taught Suzy the right way... because clearly you haven't yet and she needs some work. 

No one tells you how to avoid these landmines.  No one tells you when you're knocked up that it's not just your own kid you have to figure out, but it's everyone else's kids and their damn parenting styles.

So this is my warning to the barely there parents.  Watch out.  Parenting is painful and you're likely to step on some landmines... mostly of the emotional or plastic variety.

Because I don't like Mondays either...
Check out some great blogs over at Mod Mom Beyond Indie Dom!

Sunday Funday

Sunday was one of my first full days of being kid free and with nothing but me-time on my schedule.  I didn't have errands to run, I didn't have grocery shopping or cleaning to do.  I planned ahead and got it done so I could have a Sunday Funday all for myself.

So what's a young 30-year-old single woman to do with 24 hours all by herself? I went to a knitting club meet up, of course!  That's right. Instead of hitting a single's event or finding a super bowl party, I went to a meet up with a couple of married women... to knit.  

Honestly, I don't know anything about dating really, but this is probably not how you meet a guy. It's not like Ryan Gosling is in my knitting club or anything! (In case you missed that, the Hollywood hotty's perfect day would include knitting!)

I also checked out "date night mass" at my church.  Yup, you read that right.  The priests actually billet it as a place to either meet a mate or take a date!  Brilliant marketing and incredibly progressive for a Catholic church.

Here's the thing. The first date night mass (starts at 5 p.m.) I chose to attend was on Super Bowl Sunday.  Guess what?  No one's there, because they're all at a freakin' super bowl party!!!  Even if I had wanted to meet my soul mate (check disclaimer below), I picked the worst Sunday of the year to do it at church! 

Here's what I learned from my Funday: 1) I'm glad I can find a way to enjoy some me-time away from Elly. 2) I will be single until I'm 60 when my Funday activities are considered cool by my peer group. 3) It turns out I'm really ok with that!


****** Disclaimer********
I have no intention of dating any time soon.  I'm not on the prowl or making any effort whatsoever to find a new man for my life.  In fact, the only proactive step I've taken since being newly single is to actually start wearing concealer before leaving the house.  The next step will be to stop wearing sweatpants in public.  So keep in mind, I'm being sarcastic about actually wanting to date.










Check out all the great blogs over at Yeah Write!
And don't forget to head back over on Thursday to vote for your favorites!



This is 30

A friend of mine just posted on her Facebook about her day with her kids, how she was going to watch some tv and then go to bed early. Yup, sounds pretty much like my day. In fact, when she posted that, I was doing my final check of Facebook for the night and debating whether I was going to go to bed or read a little bit of my book and then go to bed. It’s 8:30 p.m. on a Saturday night.


My friend summed it up best, "This is 30."


Gone are the days of Saturday night primping and pre-gaming at 8:30 p.m. Because the only reason I'd be leaving the house to go out at 10 p.m. is if there was a medical emergency and I was headed to an ER with my kid (KNOCK ON WOOD!!!!)


It really wasn't that long ago that I would just now be getting ready to figure out the night's plan. It usually involved a lot of booze, music and crazy girl antics. Nowadays I barely have the energy to make it to the fridge for wine. The thought of hard liquor turns my stomach.


I'm pretty sure if I did a shot of tequila at 30, not only would my clothes fall off; I'd probably fall down instantly and puke. This is 30.


While I write this blog, I'm checking the time. Because God knows that with an incredibly energetic toddler who is an "early bird gets the worm" kind of kid, I actually can't stay up past 10 without paying a price for it tomorrow.


I'm glad I got all my partying done and wild oats sowed when I was younger. Because there's no way in hell that I could work full time, be a single mom, have a tiny tornado toddler AND still go out and hang like I did when I was 21.


Tomorrow morning Elly is going to wake up and yell for me to get her. She's going to play coy while I try to snatch her up out of bed. She's going to run streaking throughout the entire upstairs when I try to stick her on the toilet to try and potty. When I give her a hug and squish her face for a kiss and tell her I love her, she'll say, "Love you too, mama."


This is 30.

 

Struggling

So I haven't written anything in what feels like a decade.  I've wanted to get back out there and write again but I've been struggling.  There's been so much I've wanted to write, so many things that are funny and worth writing and so many things worth writing just so I could get it off my chest.  The biggest thing I've been struggling with is how to start really publicly announcing that I am getting (just a few more pieces of paperwork away actually) a divorce. 

After nearly 6 years of marriage (it'll be just a couple weeks shy of 6 years by the time it's all said and done) I will be single again. There's a ton of emotions that go through me when I've tried to type this all out.  For the last year, Stoofy and I have been separated and preparing to file our paperwork.  And in that year we've hit some very serious bumps in the road. 

I haven't written because I didn't want to vent all my frustration on my blog.  That shit's for my diary! I didn't want you guys to have to endure reading my rants and listen to my sobs.  That shit's for Abby and my mom!  And I wanted to make sure that I didn't post anything that I would regret. 

I didn't ever want to post something I couldn't take back and then one day Elly would see it.  While Stoofy and I are about as amicable of a split as you can be when you don't want to spend the rest of your life with someone any more, we haven't always been perfect during this last year.  I just didn't want my words to spill out and Elly to ever have to hear them.  That shit will NEVER be for her!

So now you know why I've been absent.  It's not that I didn't want to write.  It's that I've been knee deep in love hangover land and I didn't want to subject you all to reading my woes. 

I will say, that I'm doing well.  I'm still crazy. And I still have an insanely crazy toddler running around.  So now that it's time to potty train, you'll get to hear about that. Oh, and Elly talks a whole lot now (shocking) so the shit she says is pretty crazy!  There's plenty left to tell you all about, and if I get too "single-mom crabby" on you, tell me to write it in my diary, not my blog!